Birth Story-8 October 2021

 I feel terrible about not doing updates during this pregnancy. The exhaustion of working several part-time jobs and hanging out with my two sweet girls really took a toll on me over the past nine months.

This baby's due date was much anticipated. Her due date was 5 October. My father booked a flight to come out and visit us on 4 October. A couple of our friends were on-call before he arrived. The Saturday before my due date, I had contractions for a few hours in the late afternoon. Because with my two previous babies, I did not have a single contraction before active labor, we wondered if this baby was going to show up three days early. Those contractions fizzled out before we headed to bed.

Fast forward a few days and my father arrived. My two girls quickly fell in love with him again and had so much energy when he was around, showing off tricks and being silly. My husband and I felt relieved when he arrived and felt ready for this baby to show up. My due date came and went without any sign of the baby. I went on lots of walks, ate spicy food, did squats holding my toddler, and watched funny shows. The baby seemed very content with where she was.

On Thursday 7 October, I had my 40 week appointment. The ultrasound was with an OB instead of my midwife. I found out less than a week before my due date that my midwife was going to be on vacation the week of my due date. We were disappointed to hear that, but because we had hired a doula through the hospital, we still felt confident that the birth would be incredible. I had only met this particular OB once- 10 minutes before my last baby was born and he walked into the delivery room at 2:00 in the morning. Because I knew there was a 50% chance that he would be the one delivering the baby, I was pleasantly surprised that he was more personable than when I last met him.

When he learned that the last ultrasound I had received was 20 weeks prior, he had me head over to the hospital to do an ultrasound to check my amniotic fluid levels and monitor the baby for thirty minutes to make sure everything was still fine. As I left the office to drive the five minutes to the hospital, I made my next OB appointment, but I told the girl at the checkout desk, "I adore you, but I hope it's a long time before I see you again."

I was happy to be assigned to a nurse in the hospital that I had met several times. She is a midwife-in-training and had performed several of my checkups. After hanging out in the hospital for ninety minutes and getting a green light, I was sent on my way.

The next morning was Friday 8 October. Our family traditionally does their grocery shopping on Fridays so as soon as our favorite grocery store opened, we packed the girls in the car and headed to the store. While we went to our two stores, I had a few decent contractions, but thought nothing of it. When we got home, we started doing our regular activities. The groceries were put away, the girls started playing with their dad and grandpa, and I mopped the floor.

I put my toddler down for a nap around noon and then realized that the few contractions I had earlier in the day were continuing. I started timing contractions at around 12:15. The contractions were not regular, ranging in time from 4 to 8 minutes, but within just a few, I was surprised at the intensity. I told my husband I thought today was the day, but with the time between contractions and the inconsistency, I thought we had several hours before we would leave.

I started thinking about the potential of having a baby that day and decided to be extra prepared and make the soup we were planning on having for dinner. That way, if we had to leave early, my father and the girls would have a meal they could warm up. After peeling the outer skin off an onion and cutting it in half, I had to stop. Even with the length between contractions, the intensity was starting to pick up. I mentioned this to my husband and he announced, "We're going now." I was a little surprised. I had only been in active labor for around 30 minutes, but he looked serious and concerned. When we told our plan to my father, he was surprised. I had made him aware that we thought it was the day, but he also thought we would be leaving around dinnertime. I gathered the last few things that I needed to bring to the hospital, left my oldest playing a game with my father, and headed out the door around 1:25

The drive to the hospital usually takes just over an hour. Within 15-20 minutes, we could tell that because it was Friday afternoon, our drive was going to be longer than normal because of extra traffic. During the entire drive, I stayed as relaxed as possible, listening to birthing affirmations. The contractions quickly became every three minutes, lasting 45-75 seconds. My husband was a calm driver, not showing any of his agitation over the stop and go traffic. I could tell that he was glancing at my timer whenever we were at a stoplight or it was safe for him to do so.

The closer we got, the more convinced I was that this baby was ready to arrive. Because I had no distractions and was staying quiet and calm, I could feel her slowly moving lower. I was thankful as we pulled off the highway, but I started getting worried. With ten minutes left in our drive, I turned to my husband and told him I was feeling pressure. To his credit, he did not change his demeanor at all, but he started panicking. Neither of us wanted a car baby.

As the hospital came into sight, we both felt relief. Our hospital has a free valet service option. My husband turned to me and asked if we should use the service. Looking at the four cars in line, I quickly shook my head. He quickly found a parking spot and he jumped out of the car, grabbing my bag as I slowly maneuvered my way from my seat. Standing up felt so much nicer than sitting, but I started feeling anxious about getting into labor and delivery. It was around 2:40.

We made it into the hospital and walked past the information desk. "Do you know where you're going?" I was grateful I had visited just the day before so I nodded my head as I tried to ignore everyone. "Wait! You need to grab some surgical masks." Frustrated, my husband grabbed several and accepted a wheelchair on my behalf. After clutching their desk during a contraction, someone from the information desk rushed us to the elevators. We cut in front of someone waiting for an elevator and made it up to the fourth floor. Our group approached the doors to labor and deliver, the assistant scanned a card to made the doors open, and my husband took over pushing, bringing me just inside the doors.

"Stop."

I jumped out of the wheelchair, turned around, and grabbed onto the back of the wheelchair for support. I was done. I knew I would not make it any farther. My husband waved frantically to several nurses sitting at their station. In a non-hurried manner, one came over and tried to coax me back into the wheelchair.

"She's coming."

"You can't have your baby here." Around this time, I heard more activity around me.

Another contraction and I looked down, feeling the baby crowning. "The baby is in my pants!"

Very quickly, a bed appeared behind me and arms gently but forcefully pulled me back onto it. A nurse pulled my pants down. There was a gush of fluid and the rest of her body emerged along with crying (from the baby) and relief (from me) at 2:44 pm. (I am pretty positive she started being born in her amniotic sack.) They placed her on my chest as they pushed me into the same triage room I had been assigned to the day before. The nurses started working and checking on both of us. They helped me with my shirt so I could do skin to skin and threw a sheet over the two of us. Within minutes of the baby being born, my husband texted my father to tell him she had arrived. He was shocked by the speed.

After ten minutes, an OB from my clinic made it to the hospital and with a loud booming voice, inquired as she approached, "Where's that troublemaker?" I had not seen this doctor in almost two years, but she was the OB we used for the first half of my second daughter's pregnancy. She was very personable and I enjoyed chatting with her during my appointments. She told me she was going to help deliver the placenta, but after pulling the sheet back, told me I had done that on my own as well.

We were moved to a room later where they cleaned me up, stitched me up (I tore less than with my previous two), and eventually measured the baby. 8 pounds 7.4 ounces and 21.5 inches long. The exact same size as baby number 2.

Because the birth happened so quickly, we did things out of order. I had to sign a paper stating that I was okay with my husband being present during the birth. I wanted to turn to him and exclaim, "What!? I didn't want you with me during the birth!" I had a COVID test. They asked several questions. The doctor made sure I ordered a dinner and eventually things quieted down.

Later, a woman who worked with the billing department wandered into my room and asked if I was the one who had her baby in the doorway. Word was getting around! She told me that her office was on the opposite side of the floor as the labor and delivery unit. Everyone became very interested in what was going on when they heard a nurse shouting for a warming unit.

I had the same nurse that day as well as the next day. When she returned to my room, she told me that my story was the talk of the department. The main nurse who delivered the baby loved sharing her favorite parts of the story.

We stayed in the hospital for less than 30 hours. I was happy to leave the next day even though they wanted to keep us due to jaundice.

A few weeks later, the main scheduler at my OB office called to schedule my 6 week appointment. She asked me who delivered the baby. After I hesitated and then mentioned the name of the OB who showed up after the birth, I said, "Technically, none of the doctors delivered the baby." "Oh yeah! You are the one who delivered your baby in the hallway! I remember reading about that." I was slightly perplexed. Did I make the office newsletter? I am curious to see what my midwife says when I see her in a couple weeks.

I'm Pregnant and I Feel Guilty

 I never thought the day would come that I am nearly eleven weeks pregnant with a natural pregnancy and it's viable. And I feel guilty about it.

In early February, I approached my husband late one night.
"My period's late."
"How late?"
"Like a week..."
"What are you thinking?"
"I don't know."

I did know. I had done copious amounts of research when my period was more than a day or two late. Can periods be late for reasons other than pregnancy? Can you skip periods when you traditionally have had a pretty regular cycle? Can breastfeeding make you skip a period? That last question was where I hit the jackpot. It turns out that lactating women can have a skipped period. It's normal. I still was anxious. This never happened after my first daughter.

"What do you want to do?"

After talking for a while, I determined that I would not take a pregnancy test unless I skipped a second period. I do not like home pregnancy tests. I have had more false positives on pregnancy tests than actual positives or negatives. After my first miscarriage, the OB center I was at (and then quickly left after they poorly handled the beginning of our infertility) requested I do weekly blood work to check my hcg levels. Once we realized that each blood draw cost over $80, I stopped. The OB clinic was not amused.
"Is there anything else I can do that will not cost $80 a week?"
"Well...I guess you could take a home pregnancy test once a week and then once it comes back as negative, you can do a blood draw a couple weeks later."
I chose that option. Week after week for over a month, I dutifully took the home pregnancy test, cringing when I saw the digital screen light up with "YES." What a liar.

I kept to my decision of not taking a pregnancy test until 12 February. I felt a little off all day. By 13 February, I was noticeably nauseous most of the day unless I was munching on the Aldi brand of extra toasty cheese crackers. By that evening, I knew what I had to do.
We needed to make a CVS run because our sweet baby was teething and she could expel liquid baby medicine from her mouth with high entertainment value for the person not giving her the medicine. We bought her chewable medicine and while we were there, I determinedly walked a couple aisles over to grab a pregnancy test.

That evening between putting the baby to bed and tutoring a sweet boy who lives in China, I took the test. My husband was reading bedtime stories to our three-year-old and I solemnly walked out and stared at him. At a break between books, he looked up. "Well?" I showed him the test. "It's negative?" I shook my head.

A positive pregnancy test for a naturally conceived child has only ever meant one thing to me. A miscarriage. Seeing a positive test brought out so many emotions. I was not excited. I was sad and anxious. I did not want to have a miscarriage again. How would we time the miscarriage? Having a miscarriage when you are childless is one thing, but having a miscarriage when you have two sweet girls who love to cuddle up with you and be with you all the time is another.

That evening, my husband and I started talking about the logistics. "I think it would be best if the miscarriage could happen on a Friday so I have the weekend for all the heavy bleeding. If I could time it, I would want it to start around dinnertime. I think with miscarriage #1, I bled the most heavily for around four or five hours." In a factual manner, we talked through how we wanted it all to happen. It never occurred to us that we would have a little miracle arriving later. 

I picked the worst week to have to schedule an OB appointment. First, there was a huge winter storm to tear through our area and many states. The OB office was closed for most of Monday and all of Tuesday. Second, neither my phone nor my husband's phone worked for the next two weeks due to ice on the cell phone tower. If the OB office tried to leave me a message, I never received one and every time I tried calling from my computer, I never got through to a human. Third, when I was able to connect with someone, they sent in labs for a blood draw and scheduled an OB history appointment for me. In my mind, this made no sense. I didn't need to give anyone an OB history because this pregnancy would not progress. I was told that during the OB history appointment, I would schedule an ultrasound.

The two blood draws went off without a hitch and we discovered that my hcg level was not decreasing like I dreaded.

The day came for the OB history appointment and because our phones were still not working, I drove to a nearby building in town and did the 45-minute long appointment there. The nurse was very sweet, but when she realized this was not an IVF pregnancy like my two daughters, she became very excited for me. "You must be so happy! Did you take more than one pregnancy test? Well, congratulations! You and your husband must be so thrilled." I did not want to tell the nurse that, no, we were not excited, because we did not want to get excited about a pregnancy that we were positive would end in heartache. At the end of the appointment, she told me about the next step. "We really only schedule ultrasounds at ten weeks unless it's high risk." This is my sixth pregnancy. I have two children. Both my children were conceived via IVF. How was this not a worrisome pregnancy? I felt sick with frustration at the end of the phone call. I didn't even bother to write down the date and time that was scheduled for me because I was determined that I would either start to miscarry sooner than that or we could find a different clinic that would do the ultrasound sooner.

No such luck. My husband called a clinic in town and discovered that in our area of the world, ultrasounds are rarely done before ten weeks.

The feelings of frustration melted away within a day or two and I focused on getting through the next two weeks until the ultrasound. The biggest challenge, as we expected, was the closer we got to the ultrasound, the more we talked about the pregnancy as though it were going to result in a live birth. I started thinking about October in a positive light, whereas before the OB history appointment, I refused to look up what a potential estimated due date might be. I began thinking of the baby I was carrying as a boy.

The evening before the ultrasound, we told my daughter. Her original emotion seemed indifferent. We emphasized that we didn't know if the baby would be healthy and if he/she would be able to be born and live with our family.

The day of the ultrasound, we drove the 75 minutes to the clinic. (Road work now means that the drive will be an hour and fifteen minutes. We still feel committed to going to the hospital and working with the midwife and her staff.) My husband decided to make it a family outing with the idea that if I did receive bad news, I probably would struggle driving the distance home by myself.

He dropped me off at the imaging center and he took the girls to Costco to wait out the ultrasound and OB appointment. I was taken back my the ultrasound technician within a few minutes of arriving. I was more than a little glad for the mask I was wearing because I am sure I looked terrified. The tech had the imaging wand on my abdomen within a minute of me getting into position and I glued my eyes to the screen. Almost immediately I felt a wave of relief. I saw a small figure and more importantly, I saw the tremor of a heartbeat. I was strangely very collected as she went through the motions of a ten week ultrasound. Having been to enough ultrasounds with my first two, I was able to correctly identify that I had a sub chorionic hemorrhage even though nothing was said to me. (I was hoping I only got those with IVF pregnancies.) The measurements of our little one gave a slightly later due date which did not surprise me. My estimated due date was given to me based off a 28-day cycle and mine are normally 31 days long. The tech asked me a few times if I was feeling okay. I was speechless the entire time she measured everything. When the scan was complete, she took me through the secret hallways to get to the OB clinic. I passed the nurse that works with my midwife and felt at home. She gave me a very surprised look. "Oh, hi!"

Several minutes later when she called my name in the waiting room, we were able to chat. "You just had a baby! A girl, right? Did you do IVF again so soon? A natural pregnancy!? Congratulations!" When the midwife came in, we had a very similar conversation. After I told her our reproductive endocrinologist had given us a 0% chance of getting pregnant naturally, my midwife told me that she had gotten pregnant with her tubes tied. We also connected when I told her that I provide child care for a friend. She ran a daycare before she went back to school to be a midwife. I really hope she is the one to deliver this baby this time.

We chatted a bit more, I learned that I get to do genetic testing at my next appointment, and I left. My husband happened to be pulling into the parking lot again as I got dressed, so our timing was perfect. I was able to show my three-year-old the ultrasound pics and after scrutinizing them for a few minutes, announced that only two of them looked like a baby.

We make one stop on the way home and I asked her how she felt about the baby. Her eyes got misty as she told me, "I'm just so happy that the baby is healthy!" We were all feeling a similar emotion to hers.

I guess I'm having a baby at the beginning of October!

And I feel guilty. We have five beautiful embryos in storage waiting to join our family. We have a duty to those embryos. I also feel bad because we are supposed to be infertile. I am currently supporting two friends (and maybe a third soon) who are doing rounds of IUI. I dread telling them that I got lucky. Why was I so blessed when others suffer?

We obviously need this baby in our lives this year.

Birth Story. April 28, 2020

Leading up to the birth of my second daughter, I felt all sorts of emotions. Excitement eclipsed all the other emotions, but at various points in time, I felt worried that my husband would not be able to attend the birth, overwhelmed at trying to keep up with all the new rules being thrown my way from the hospital, nervous that the baby would not arrive when my darling aunt was visiting, and hopeful that I would have the type of birth I wanted.

My aunt arrived on April 23, rather late in the evening. My husband and I were so excited to see her, and not just because COVID-19 had restricted our in-person relations with others. We only chatted for a short period of time that night, but spent almost every other night talking for hours after my daughter had gone to bed. I am so thankful that we were able to strengthen our relationship with her and I hope we can keep up that relationship in the future.

As soon as my aunt arrived, we were a little anxious to get the baby out! I bounced quite a bit on my exercise ball. Sunday for dinner, we had spicy Thai food (normally I completely avoid spicy food because I have a food intolerance to onions, peppers, and garlic). 

Monday April 27, I went for a walk. I loaded my three-year-old in the stroller and power walked! ...for about 15 minutes until we started going uphill and then slowed down into a regular stroll. I texted a friend whose home we would be passing, hoping we could wave and talk across her lawn, but she did not see my message until we were on our way home. We meandered, smiled at all the dogs, observed any birds that passed us, and stared at a stream that cuts out a path near my subdivision.

When we got home, we sat and chatted with my aunt as my husband worked on one of his classes. It was the Monday of his last week of classes. As we talked, I noticed my Braxton Hicks were making an appearance again, but this was nothing new. I had felt their presence for at least thirty weeks. After a while, I made a comment that even though they felt uneventful, I noticed there was a pattern emerging. My aunt suggested I start keeping track of them. I recorded my first one at 3:28 that afternoon.

The next two hours, I did not pay much attention to my surroundings, but kept a close eye on the timer. At around 5, I started to really feel them. They were becoming real. I heated up leftovers for my daughter to eat for dinner and made myself a protein smoothie. I wanted healthy calories, but nothing that would sit heavy on my stomach or cause discomfort if my dinner ever wanted to make a reappearance.

After dinner, I tried to enjoy my time with my daughter and not appear too distracted. I helped with bath time and gave her a very long hug after I tucked her in. When she was successfully in bed, my husband said he was planning to mow the lawn that evening. I didn't respond. After he debated with himself for a few minutes, he ruled out that idea. At this point, the contractions were every 3-4 minutes apart and lasting approximately 45 seconds each. After some experimenting, I learned that they seemed to progress more quickly the more I moved around so I tried not to sit too much.

I took a shower at around 8:00. A friend that I had been keeping updated on my progress reminded me to have my husband give me a blessing before things got too crazy. I remained calm during the blessing until he paused at the end. He quickly told me that my mother would be there with me as I went through the labor. That brought the waterworks.

We debated what to do for the next hour. Finally, just after 10, we bid farewell to my aunt and headed out the door. The night was cool and quiet. I tossed my small bag in the car and fiddled with the Gatorade bottle I had brought. As soon as we started our car ride, the contractions immediately went to being over 7 minutes apart.

Right before we got on the freeway, my husband suggested we call my father. We had a nice chat before my call was dropped and continued the rest of our drive listening to solo classical piano music and talking off and on.

We arrived at the hospital at around 11. With the ability to move my body again, my contractions immediately went to 1-3 minutes apart again. We noticed that the main doors of the hospital were completely dark so we meandered towards the ER. We entered the doors and I chuckled under my breath. Those manning the front desk looked at us very expectantly and very ready for any COVID patient that might walk through the door. They were covered in medical gear and there were several medical personnel with a huge space for long lines, but no patients. Seeing my large state and the bag we carried, they probably could have made an educational guess, but instead, "Hello! What brings you to the hospital?"

"I am hoping I will have a baby!"

They chuckled and directed my husband to one person and had me go to another. For all the intensive COVID talk and for being in a county with a high count, I was surprised that they only asked a few questions. We were not tested for COVID nor was our temperature taken.

After we had passed, they told us to head down the hallway to the vending machines and a gentleman would escort us to Labor/Delivery. (Vending machines? That everyone can touch with their germy fingers? During COVID? Strange.) No sooner did we arrive at our destination then we saw our helper. I ensured him that I did not want a wheelchair and he took us down a hall, up an elevator, and a few steps over to the labor and delivery desk.

We checked in with the nurse at the desk and she printed off a sheet of 20 stickers with my information on it. As we waited for her to finish checking us in and fumbled with our masks one of my friends made for us, I noticed something vital on the stickers.

"Huh. Look at the doctor's name." My midwife's name was not listed. Nor was the OB that we had seen during the first trimester. It was the name of the only OB we had not met prior to that night. My husband shrugged. "Maybe they just put his name down, but the midwife will show up."

We were quickly walked down to the triage section, I was handed my attractive gown and shapeless socks and we were told someone would be by soon to connect me to all the monitors. The triage section in this hospital was at the end of a hallway. Each triage "booth" was just large enough for a bed, a chair on one side, and space on the opposite side of the bed for someone to shuffle to the computer. A curtain separated us from the other three triage rooms. As the next nurse came in, I asked if I could walk around, even just pace back and forth on one side of the bed.

"Nope. Sorry. I know that you 'natural birth' girls like doing that, but with COVID, we need you to stay in your bed." Huh? I didn't want to tango down the hallway of the labor and delivery section, hospital gown flying open behind me, breathing my diseased breath on all surfaces, tossing my mask at a nurse in a defiant way. (How does one tango well if they are overdue?) I wanted to pace the four feet to the side of the bed, still hidden from sight by the curtain.

And so we sat.

We settled into our nook at around 11:45. By examining the computer, it was easy to see that my contractions had slowed way down. I was at every 7-10 minutes.

Around 20 minutes passed and the nurse returned. Apparently one of my monitors had come loose. "It looks like your contractions are around every seven minutes. Does that seem accurate?" When I confirmed that what I felt was what I saw on the screen, she said they were consulting with my doctor on call to see if they should keep me.

Oh boy.

My husband and I looked at each other. I didn't want to be released because our drive was so long and it was so late and I was starting to feel so frustrated.

So then, I started what any slightly crazy, overdue woman would do. I stayed on my back as instructed, but started kicking my legs and moving as much as possible while serenading myself with a song of my own impromptu composition.

Whatever I was doing must have worked because not much longer, the nurse came back, said I was getting a room, and checked my dilation. I was only at a 4.5. I glamorously draped the monitor cables around my neck, my husband grabbed my hospital bag, and the nurse speed walked to my room. "Can we go a bit slower?" Pause for contraction.

The room we were led to was beautiful and large. I followed the nurse to the hospital bed, plopped down, and she hooked my up again. We were told that our delivery nurse would be in shortly to introduce herself to us and see if we needed anything. It was around 12:30.

When our nurse entered the room, something seemed off. She quickly introduced herself and after speaking to us for just a minute, quickly left the room. My birth plan sat untouched and we were at a slight loss. I struggled with contractions. I was incredibly warm. In the middle of one contraction, I turned to my husband and asked for a hair tie. My hair was still damp from my shower and it was making me miserable. After I asked, he requested I repeat myself.

"WILL YOU GET ME A HAIR TIE...PLEASE!" He fumbled at a tie on his wrist, handing it over and muttering something about the fact that I was lucky he had long hair.

Around half an hour later, we called in the nurse. Every time we requested her presence, it seemed to take a long time for her to enter the room.

The first time we called her in, I asked for water and ice. I could not believe how hot it was in the room. She came back with them five minutes later and quickly left.

Around thirty minutes later, I started to really feel the pain. I was expecting my midwife to be there and helping out. At the very least, I was expecting a nurse to be in the room with us and helping me with pressure points to help relieve what I was feeling. We called the nurse back in.

"I understand that I want a natural birth and it's something I need to do by myself, but are there any pressure points you can help with? I am struggling a bit here."

"Well, do you want me to check you?"

"Sure."

"Oh! You're at about an 8! It doesn't really look like you need much help. You're progressing just fine on your own."

...I may have been progressing, but I was not getting any enjoyment out of it.

She quickly left again.

Around that time, I started to do everything in my power to help myself. Every time I felt a contraction coming on, I furiously rubbed the area on my forehead between my eyebrows. My husband offered to try doing a counter pressure point that he had used when I was delivering my first child. It was very sweet of him, but it would not have worked in the bed I was tied to.

After she left, I turned to my husband and we started having a discussion. I laid it all out for him. This was not what I wanted. We were completely alone. I planned on my amazing midwife to be there and help coach me. I was basically strapped to the bed. I did not want to be in a bed at any point during my labor or delivery. I wanted to be walking around the room, possibly relaxing in the shower. I wanted to move. The nurse seemed very uninterested in us. "I am so frustrated. I do not care any more. I just want to hold my baby and get over this delivery. Let's call the nurse in and ask about an epidural. I'm done."

The nurse was summoned again.

"Can we discuss the possibility of an epidural?"
"Well, what do you feel?"
"I feel pain and pressure."

"Where do you feel it?"
Uh, I feel it where all women in labor feel it. "My lower uterus."

"Oh. An epidural wouldn't help with that pain."

...

What?

...

An epidural would not help with the pain of labor and delivery? I admit I do not know much about epidurals, but I am pretty sure that the entire purpose of an epidural is to help relieve the pain of labor and delivery.

She left.

Around this time, they started prepping my room for delivery. A sweet technician was moving equipment in and actually seemed to care. She stayed in my room, hovering over by the door. As she noticed me sweating profusely and frantically rubbing my forehead as the pain surged, she asked if I would like a cool washcloth. Yes, please!

Just before 2:00, we paged the nurse again.

"I need to pee."
"Oh! You might have to push!"

"No. I need to pee. I promise I will not push my baby into the toilet."
"I bet you're at a ten. You have the urge to push!"
"Nope. I just need to pee." Please release me from this bed!

She unhooked my monitors and helped me up. It felt so good to get out of that bed. I should have asked to use the bathroom an hour ago! I slowly (so as to savor more time out of bed) waddled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. It felt so good. I did not want to move.

As I perched on the loo, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eyes. The door to the room had opened and in strolled the OB, confused at his patient sitting on the toilet.

"Why is she on the toilet?"
"She said she needed to pee."
"She might have to push! We need to get her back to the bed."

"She just said she needed to pee."

"I'll go back to the bed in just a minute."

It took the OB a couple minutes of coaxing for me to get off the toilet. I slowly walked back to the bed, but stopped five feet before the foot. I glared at the bed. All eyes were on me. I did not want to resume my stroll. I didn't care if I delivered my baby standing up. It sounded like a much better deal for me. Blood was pouring down my legs. The medical professionals in the room started looking a little anxious.

"It sounds like you're at a 10. Has your water broken?"
"Nope."

"Okay. After your next contraction, let's get you back on the bed. If you are okay with it, I can break your water. I bet your baby will come very quickly if I do that."

My brain was so foggy and I was very frustrated. I did not feel like I could make wise decisions at that point in time, so I turned to the person I trusted much more than anyone else in that room.

"I need you to make this decision for me."

My husband paused. "Let's do it."

A couple minutes later, I flopped back onto the bed. The OB pulled out his amniotic hook and moved to break my water. I squirmed and he pulled it back. Everyone paused. Nothing happened. My nurse turned to him. "Did you break her water?" He looked slightly perplexed. "I did. I think the baby's head is so far down that she's blocking anything from coming out.

Things got serious.

"I need you to push."
"I don't want to."
"Okay."

"Wait! I do now!"

The next few minutes were crazy and chaotic and not controlled. Thankfully, I only needed to push for four or five minutes before she came out. It was 2:18 am. I was handed my gorgeous baby and was so happy to be done with that experience. I gushed over her and cried and noticed that she seemed large. We eventually learned that the baby was 8 lbs 7 oz and 21.5 inches long.
The doctor seemed to take forever to stitch me back up (I had apparently torn in the exact same place as last time).
An hour later after things were cleaned up, we were left alone except for our nurse. My husband turned to her. "Now that my wife has given birth, is there anything she could have to eat?"
"The cafeteria is closed right now."
"When does it open?"
"6:00"
"Is there something she could have now?"
"I think there's a Steak and Shake that is open 24 hours around here."
My husband and I were confused again by this nurse. There were no snacks available? Especially if we were told we could not bring in any outside food?
It took my husband around 40 minutes to get back with something for me to eat. Because of COVID, hardly anything was open. He had to leave after just a few minutes so he could get home before my daughter woke up.
The rest of my stay at the hospital was delightful. The rest of my nurses were witty, helpful, kind. One brought me snacks when I mentioned I was getting hungry for dinner (so they did have snacks after all...). One went above and beyond with getting lactation to see me twice in one day. One of the nurses I knew from the OB clinic. My final nurse brought a present for my toddler and helped me get discharged early. She also grabbed the car seat from my car. She loaded my bag with lots of freebies from the hospital.

There are definite things I would have changed about my labor at that hospital, but I like to think that I came out of the experience with a positive mindset. Even though I had a very disgruntled nurse (I like to think she was jut having a bad night), because she was very uninvolved, I feel extremely empowered. I did basically everything myself except catch the baby. I think the experience may have been traumatic had I not had a very positive birthing experience with my first, but I used that knowledge to help when I  was literally left alone with this delivery.

OB Appointment 39 Weeks, 2 Days (And Reaching 40 Weeks)

My OB appointment at 39 weeks was uneventful. I sat in my hot car for 5-10 minutes prior to entering the office. Because of that, my temperature was up by a couple of degrees. I was told I barely made the cutoff. Joking with a friend later, she suggested they do drive thru OB appointments. You drive up, lean your seat back, and the doctor can quickly come by to do measurements and check for the heartbeat.
Today I was told that I would have a cervix check. It was not something I was interested in (because honestly, a cervix check means nothing), but I got ready for that. Baby's heartbeat sounded great and my cervix is apparently nice and soft right now. In my midwife's words, "I don't think you will make it to your next appointment."

And yet, here I am. It is my due date today and my next appointment is in two days. I never made it to my due date with my daughter. She was born two days early. One of my darling aunts arrived at our house this past Wednesday to help out when the baby comes. I knew, after inviting her in January, that there would be a chance that the baby would come early or late and my aunt would not be here. I feel slightly anxious to get the show on the road because I would love to take full advantage of having her here. My older daughter is adjusting to having her here (even though she still hisses like a snake at my aunt).
The baby still squirms like crazy every day. I honestly feel great. I need to visit the bathroom more frequently like all pregnant women. My only painful side effect is that my fingers are so bloated that the joints pop every time I bend my fingers-especially on the left side. As long as Baby is healthy and I am healthy, I have no qualms about being pregnant for as long as the baby needs. I do not plan on setting an induction date. If we reach 42 weeks, I will have a discussion with my midwife, but I do not know what will come of that conversation. That is not to say that I do not want to meet this little girl and cuddle with her and hibernate in bed for a week or two until we find some semblance of a routine.
So far I have had very few pre-labor signs. I have had very few real contractions, but have had Braxton Hicks since around week 10. My husband and I joke about making grand plans so that the baby can come and ruin them. The only problem is that with COVID going around, we cannot make any plans except what we plan on cooking. But I do not mind that we have been planning very delicious meals. Will I get to enjoy the delicious Thai curry with strawberry lassies and flourless chocolate cake with hazelnut ice cream for dessert? Probably. But if I end up in the hospital, that would be good too.

I would just ask someone to save me a slice of that cake.

OB Appointment 38 Weeks, 2 Days

As I planned on this appointment, my husband and I discussed the idea of having the whole family drive up together because he had a pharmacy pickup at Costco. (The nearest Costco to our home is just over an hour away. It is a mere two minutes from my doctor's office. He is more than a little fed up with CVS right now and determined that the savings for the Costco pharmacy would pay off the Costco membership every year.) We thought that they would hang out in the car while I was at the appointment and then my daughter and I would stay in the car while he visited Costco. We would then enjoy a picnic lunch at a nearby park before heading home. We were excited about this idea and I was looking forward to spending the drive with my little family. We ultimately decided against it so that my husband could grab a few more groceries from Costco without worrying about the timing with a three-year-old in the car.

I made the drive up North by myself and donned the beautiful homemade mask a dear friend had made for me. I was once again ushered back within moments of opening the side door of the OB office. The staff is incredible with dealing with all the changes. They know all the usual patients and simply asked for my birthday instead of name, phone, address.

As I chatted with the nurse before my midwife came in, I learned that she works in Labor and Delivery every other week at the hospital. I really like this nurse so it made me hope that my labor aligns with one of her shifts.

She informed me that when I get to the hospital, I will most likely have to check in at the ER to be tested before going to labor and delivery. In my non medical mind, this makes no sense. I made a mental note to have my husband call the hospital as we are on our way up so that we can learn what the regulations are for that specific day. She also was lucky enough to relay to me the information that I get to labor in a medical mask. "Bring the mask that you are wearing and we will make sure your husband wears one." I was told that I only had to wear it when there was a doctor or nurse in the room with us. She mentioned that none of the women had been bothered by it yet. I remembered how hot and uncomfortable I was as I labored with my daughter. This is something I am not looking forward to.

I am starting to feel so frustrated with being pregnant during this pandemic that I wondered (silently) in a very sarcastic tone if the baby would have to have a mask fastened to her face as soon as she emerged.

My midwife emerged and did her quick measurements of the heartbeat and fundal height. She mentioned something that took me aback and made me wonder if she wasn't actually going to be the one to deliver the baby. I was a little shocked so I did not think to ask questions.

I left the building feeling slightly frustrated at the new information I had gathered.

Since that appointment, I have started to notice a few signs of pre-labor including much more noticeable contractions, but I still do not expect her to make her appearance for at least a week. We cannot wait for this baby to make her appearance and then get out of the hospital as quickly as possible.

OB Appointment 37 Weeks, 2 Days

Today was my 37 week appointment! I cannot believe how close the delivery potentially is. My husband and I had a conversation tonight about projects we still want to accomplish and order of importance. In my mind, I am delivering within a week of my due date on either side, but as many nurses pointed out today, it would not be a surprise for it to happen any day.
On my drive up to the office, I stopped by a dear friend's home. She had made a fabric mask for myself and my husband. I was really touched that she had done that and it meant that I did not have to hold medical paper over my face for the entire time I was at the midwife's office. I followed her text instructions and grabbed the masks then rang her bell as I left. She popped out of her house for a couple of minutes so we could chat, 30 feet apart from each other. It was so good to see her! I miss seeing friends right now.
I made it to the office with a few minutes to spare. Like last week, I was greeted at the door and whisked back to be weighed in less than a minute. Because I had an ultrasound first, I was seated in an empty examination room for a few minutes while the ultrasound tech prepared for me. It was obviously not an OB room, but more of a GYN room. There were lots of posters about STDs, a container of condoms with instructions on how to use a condom, and information about what to do when you want to get pregnant.
The tech grabbed me and I excitedly went to her room. I will miss her examination table. For some strange reason, whenever she raises or lowers the exam table, it makes a noise like an air raid siren. As we got started on the ultrasound, I because so excited to have this baby! She is big and fully developed. Her head is 9.5 cm. I am okay with it not getting bigger. All her other measurements are also perfect. She was practicing breathing and her heart looked perfect. She is head down and managed to have a foot up to her mouth. I received three adorable pictures of my miracle baby. The coolest part of all is that I could see her hair! Not ever having an ultrasound this late, I did not even think about the possibility of seeing hair.
My 20 minutes of bliss ended and I was taken into a regular exam room. I was surprised when my midwife was a little late coming in. She has never been in the room more than a few minutes after I was brought back.
The exam was very fast. She measured me, listened to the heartbeat, and then asked about the ultrasound. When I told her that the current estimated weight was 7 lbs 5 oz, she laughed. "I thought your baby was tiny! That's why I had the ultrasound ordered. You are carrying this baby extremely well. It sounds like she is doing wonderfully." With an encouragement to go straight to the hospital if my water broke or I had regular contractions, the appointment ended.
As I checked out with the receptionist, she was the third person in the office to remind me that I could deliver any day now. "If I don't see you again, good luck! You will be great." It changed my mindset from still being laid back about the due date to realizing I should probably prepare a little faster.

OB Appointment 36 Weeks, 2 Days

Between my 35 week and 36 week appointments, I received yet another phone call with announcements. As they began to tell me what the changes were, I could not imagine what else they would be able to alter. Would I have to change into a sterile gown before entering the office? Would I need to wear a gas mask?
Thankfully, the only change was that the office was moving back to their former building. (I still have no idea why.) I was told I would enter in a side door and was not to go in the main entrance.
I pulled up on March 31 just before 1:15 to a sparsely populated parking lot. The side entrance was thankfully clearly marked. I opened the door to a small room with one patient who was in the process of being called back, a folding table with the receptionist and her computer, and a nurse ready to grab me. I was immediately asked for my name and date of birth before the door closed behind me. As I told the receptionist my information, the nurse grabbed my chart and guided me to a scale in the hallway. After my weight was noted, I was handed disposable medical paper (the kind a dentist uses for your bib during a dental exam) and asked to keep my nose and mouth covered the entire time I was in the building.
Once I got back to the examination room, everything else felt normal except for the fact that everyone was wearing masks and seemed slightly hurried. They were a finely tuned clock and I was out in ten minutes! The midwife said everything still looks and sounds great, but she ordered an ultrasound for next week. When I was reading my chart after the appointment, I noticed that under the associated diagnosis for the ultrasound order was listed, "small for dates infant." I have gone back and forth on what I feel about that. The midwife said everything seemed fine and I trust her. My husband reminded me not to borrow trouble. Maybe we just have a petite baby on our hands, but with the height genes she is receiving from my husband and myself, she probably will not be a short woman.
The other news is that my strep B test came back negative. I had completely forgotten about the test with all the craziness happening in the medical world right now, but I was very thankful to hear that I am negative.

OB Appointment 35 Weeks, 2 Days

This was my first appointment after the COVID-19 scare. At my last appointment at 33 weeks (which I did not write about), both the nurse and midwife seemed sick of the idea of the virus. Just two weeks later, it was crazy how differently it was treated. In the two weeks between the appointments, I received several phone calls from my midwife's office to tell me about changes.
Call #1: I was told that I could only have one person accompany me and they had to be older than 18. The darling nurse who called to tell me said she would be sad not to see my daughter anymore.
Call #2: I was told that I could not have anyone accompany me to future appointments.
Call #3: I was told that the entire office was changing locations and I still had to come by myself.

Tuesday arrived and I was happy that the new office location was 10 minutes closer to my home. Shortly before I left, an AC repairman dropped by to check out our unit. The scent of cigarettes filled our home as he and his wife entered. I mentally made a note to remind my husband to open all the windows once they left.
This was my first drive up to the office completely by myself. I enjoyed the quiet solo 50 minutes in the car. The new location was very different than the old familiar, standalone office. I arrived at a three story medical pavilion with a rather empty parking lot. As I approached the building, there were large signs everywhere by the door. It was easy for me to find out I was not supposed to use the regular doors, but instead use the automatic rotating door. I got inside and was immediately stopped by two nurses. Behind them sat who I assume was security. (If I made a break for the elevators without talking to the nurses, would he have tackled me to the ground?) One of the nurses took my temperature while the other went through a list of around 20 question asking about my health and travel recently. (Good thing we canceled our trip to NYC last week.)
After I met with both nurses' approval, I was instructed to take the right elevator. The right elevator only went to the second floor (OB area) and the left elevator went to the third floor (people not at that pavilion for a well check).
I arrived on the second floor and found an empty waiting room with some familiar faces behind the check-in desk. We joked about the level of security to enter the building and I grabbed a paper about current hospital restrictions.

The previous day, I had read about these restrictions. My husband's response to everything was, "They'd better feed you well." The restrictions thankfully do not change much of what we had planned. I am bummed that once my husband leaves to go stay with our toddler, he cannot come back until I am discharged.
I was called back to meet with my midwife by the regular nurse. We chatted a bit and then she left for the midwife to come in for my regular appointment and for my group B strep test. My midwife seemed slightly frazzled with the new environment. Baby's heartbeat sounds great and I am measuring right on track. The midwife did say, while feeling my belly, that she might order an ultrasound next time. I was a little thrown by that comment that I forgot to ask why. The midwife did ask how large my daughter was when she was born and was happy when I told her 7lb 7oz. I did tell my midwife that at the beginning of the pregnancy, I was constantly measuring around 2 weeks ahead. The midwife responded that I was measuring just fine now.
Right before I left, the midwife mentioned that I looked like I was slightly opened when she did the test, but we both looked at each other and I said, "but that doesn't mean much." She nodded in agreement.
I am now officially on weekly appointments!

OB Appointment 29 Weeks, 5 Days

We had a pretty normal appointment with my midwife on Valentine's Day. We were running one minute late and as I rushed into the waiting room, I almost stopped in my tracks. There were no other patients in the room. This is a shock because the waiting room is not only for the two OBs and one midwife, but it also serves as a waiting room for a pediatrics clinic and family practices clinic. It was not surprising that I only sat down for one minute before we were called back.
We went back and chatted with the midwife. The appointment went well, but we had a slight disagreement about one point. We are planning a short trip to visit my father when I am 34 weeks pregnant. I called the clinic before we booked our flight to have them verify that they would be comfortable with a trip at 34 weeks. The nurse I talked to assured me that at 34 weeks, it would not be a big deal and I should just make sure I walk around once or twice while on the plane.
The midwife said she does not usually suggest traveling farther away than 3-4 hours once you reach 30 weeks. Maybe at some point, I will provide feedback that the nurses should talk to the providers about this subject.

The best part of the day came later with the biggest pregnancy moment I have had in my life. We stopped at a grocery store on the way home to do our shopping for the week. We sat in the car for a couple minutes to finish a conversation before getting out. As I opened my door and moved my body in the direction of the door to exit the vehicle, I found I could not move. I struggled for a few seconds, wondering if the hood to my coat was caught on  the chair somehow. Once I realized that my coat was not caught on anything, I panicked for a couple more seconds, worried that I was getting so pregnant that I could not move with ease anymore. After a total of around five seconds, I remembered that I had not unbuckled my seat belt yet. I laughed as I walked the span from the car to the store.

Three Hour Glucose Test

So, you failed your one hour glucose test? Yeah, me too. If I am blessed to be pregnant again, I will not change my glucose test unexpectedly and do it around noon.
My husband and I debated how I would the three hour glucose test several times. Because my clinic is an hour away, doing the test would take a minimum of five hours. He was really dubious about me taking our daughter. When I did the one hour glucose test, I felt very shaky and unwell. He was worried that I would have to entertain or deal with a toddler tantrum while I was in poor health myself. I struggled with the idea of finding someone to watch my daughter for five hours while I was gone. We discussed several options and I finally decided to head up with my daughter early this morning (28 weeks, 1 day). I got her really excited to hang out with me today and I prepped my purse as though I was going on a three hour plane ride with her. I had around a dozen activities for her to do and she was pretty stoked to go to the lab with her mom.
I woke up at 5:30 and gently roused my daughter at 6:15. She immediately jumped up and gave me a big hug and kiss which swiftly calmed my nerves. She was a gem in the car on the way there. She ate her breakfast and made small talk with me. I encouraged her to sleep, but she told me she was not sleepy.
We made it to the lab just before 7:30. Every time I was called back to have my blood drawn, my little girl stared intensely at everything that was going on. She looked intrigued at the glucose drink, but when the phlebotomist told her it was gross, she immediately lost interest. The drink, with double the sugar from last time, was so sweet it made my throat itch.
We hung out in the waiting room the entire time. I was told that I could leave this time if I wanted, but I knew we would not.
We watched the waiting room fill and empty several times. My toddler rotated through the activities and never once was unhappy or upset over anything. Several older patients tried to start a conversation with her, but she was quick to ignore them and inch closer to me.
After I drank the glucose, I felt normal the entire time we were there. I did not feel any negative effects of my blood sugar and did not feel hungry. I have been trying not to read too much into if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I had no negative side effects while we were in the lab.
When I was done, we had a quick lunch and I felt very shaky and light headed so we sat in the car for five minutes until I felt safe driving. As we drove home, I was extremely tired and was even more happy that my toddler was in an agreeable mood.
I am planning on calling my clinic tomorrow afternoon to see what the results of the test are. I am assuming and hoping that the test comes back negative for gestational diabetes. The first test was not completed in favorable circumstances so I hope it was just a fluke. We will see tomorrow!

Update: The following day, I was too anxious to wait until the afternoon to call. Instead, I made the call shortly after their office opened in the morning. The sweet nurse took quite a while to look up my information. After she tried entering in my birthday a couple times and had me spell my last name over and over, she finally typed in my social. "I've talked to you dozens of times! I know you are a patient. I am not sure why I cannot look up your info." She gave me the disclosure that a doctor had not looked at the results, but she said she saw no yellow or red numbers. She said it looked like I passed with flying colors. When the results were uploaded to my patient portal, I was quick to examine the results for myself. None of my numbers were even close to the upper standard range. I am kicking myself for scheduling the one hour test when I was not ready for it, but am very thankful that I was able to check and make sure that the baby and I are both healthy.

OB Appointment 27 Weeks 2 Days

The morning of January 28, I quickly called my OB office to see if they could change the date of my appointment from February 1 to that morning. After the receptionist helped me out, I woke my very sleepy husband to tell him we were going to head out to an appointment in just a couple hours. As we headed north, I wondered if changing our appointment was a slight mistake because I was also scheduled to do the glucose test. I was not ready for it at all! I thankfully only had eggs for breakfast, but the appointment with my midwife was scheduled for 11:30 which meant I would have to go until almost 1:00 until I ate.
The appointment with my midwife could not have been better! We asked her about the hospital and my birth plan. She explained how natural-birth friendly the hospital is. It sounds amazing. The hospital rarely asks if a woman would like an epidural. They are known to send home women whose labor has stalled rather than giving them pitocin. They have three labor tubs. They have a nursery. The midwife helped deliver all her grandbabies in that hospital. (I feel like if you want your grandchildren born in a specific hospital, it must be awesome.)
The midwife agreed with every point in our birth plan as well. We have one point on the birth plan that I will eat or drink during labor if I feel like it. She said the hospital is fine with broth, juices, and ice chips. She mentioned that most women in labor do not want to eat and many of them throw up if they do consume food. (Definitely happened to me. I took a bite of a delicious chocolate croissant at the beginning of a contraction. After throwing up, I thought about that chocolate croissant the entire time I was in the hospital after giving birth and was sad to learn my husband had eaten it while I was gone.)
We were incredibly happy with everything we heard. With the exception of how far away the hospital is, this seems like the ideal situation to be in for us.
Immediately after the appointment, I had the glucose test. I had not prepared in the least for this test. I was just hoping I would chug the drink, have the blood draw, and think nothing more for the rest of the week. Sadly, two days later (happy birthday to me), I received a call from a nurse saying I had failed the test and needed to come back in to do the three hour glucose test.

OB Appointment 24 Weeks 4 Days

We were anxiously awaiting this appointment because it was the first time we met the midwife. We felt just fine about the OB we had been seeing, but part of the reason are crazy enough to drive an hour to deliver our little girl is to have a midwife experience.
The appointment was early enough that we had to wake up our toddler early. She was very sad to be woken up and we barely got in the car on time.
The morning was frigid and the drive to the office was smooth sailing. We have been thankful that, so far, no matter what time of day I have had an appointment, we do not see much traffic. It gives me hope that when it comes time for me to deliver, we will not have any anxiety over congestion. Next year, the main highway we are taking to the hospital will be closed for some period of months as they renovate it into a freeway, so we are grateful that they (probably) will not start until after my daughter's birth.
We arrived at the office and were pulled back within five minutes. As soon as the midwife walked in, I knew that she was what we wanted. I loved her bedside manner, her sweet personality, and her confidence. All my worries left. We talked for several minutes and she made us feel like we had all the time in the world with her. She assured us that as long as my pregnancy progressed normally that she would be able to deliver the baby.
We gave her brief details about my first child's birth and the midwife urged us to book it to the hospital at the first signs of labor. "Your next baby is going to come faster! If you were only in the hospital for 3 1/2 hours for your first, I do not want you delivering that baby on the side of the road." I know statistics range for subsequent deliveries, but I certainly hope my next deliver is faster (but not too fast).
As we left the office, we both commented that we loved the midwife and we were so excited to have her as an option. She is a joy and just the kind of person I want in my labor and delivery room.

I am currently (almost) 26 weeks and get more and more excited about the viability of the baby. We are all so excited for her arrival. My daughter tells me several times a day that she loves the baby so much and comes over to give her hugs and kisses. Let's hope the love continues in just over three months.

My next appointment also has my gestational diabetes testing and then we move to every other week appointments. I cannot believe how quickly time is flying.

OB Appointment 20 Weeks, 2 Days

On Tuesday, I had my 20 week appointment and anatomy ultrasound. Because my ultrasound at 16 weeks was extremely thorough, I went into the ultrasound without worries that a defect would show up. I was more anxious to see what was going on with my subchorionic hemorrhage.
The appointment was in early afternoon so we headed out soon after lunch. On the drive this time around, we timed how long it took to arrive at the doctor's office after getting off the highway. I was surprised to see it took 13 minutes (with only 10 to the hospital). I still do not love that the drive to the hospital is an hour, but we are still confident with our hospital choice and doctor's office choice.
We were in the waiting room for the least amount of time for this appointment. After just a few minutes, we were called by the ultrasound tech. We made our way back and I got settled on the examination table. As this table rises up, it makes a noise like an air-raid siren.
The ultrasound began and I was in heaven. I love watching my little wiggling baby. We had a third confirmation that it is a girl. There were a few times when the tech had to wait for her to shift positions because she was all over the place. We watched her close and open her mouth, rotate around, and grab her foot with her hand. As I watched the tech take measurements of everything, I noticed that the average length matched up with a baby closer to 22 weeks.
Everything was checked. She is perfect. The hemorrhage is gone. My daughter had to use the bathroom twice while we were doing the scan.
After thirty minutes of bliss of seeing my darling girl, I received an envelope of pictures and sent to an examination room to await the OB.
The OB was proud of my weight and said I didn't have to consume 3000 calories a day anymore. (Thankfully.) I am up to eight pounds of weight gain. My fundal height was measured and I matched the measurement for 22 weeks. My first child was a pretty average weight and height at birth, but if this girl keeps up her growth, she could be a bit bigger.
This was the best visit we have had with our OB in terms of the flow of conversation and the interaction. A problem arose when after chatting about Christmas, she stood up and left without addressing our couple of questions or asking if we had anything to ask her. My husband was a little frustrated.
As we made our 24 week appointment, we asked to see the midwife. I would love to have the OB deliver our baby, but the type of delivery experience we want to have would be better supported by a midwife. We are really hoping we will like the midwife.

OB Appointment 16W2D

Earlier this week, I went to my sixteen week appointment. I was scheduled to do an ultrasound first to check out my subchorionic hematoma and meet with the OB shortly thereafter.
As I was showering that morning, I missed a call from the clinic saying that their ultrasound tech was out for the day and if I called back after 8:00 (when their office opened), I could hear what my options were. We were planning on heading out at 7:50 in order to make it to the appointment on time, so we followed through with our departure plans and I called the office once they opened. They gave me the number for central scheduling for the health network so that I could still schedule an ultrasound.
After lots of discussion over several phone calls with a delightful woman, I received an appointment at an imaging center next door to the OB's office. The only problem was that the earliest available appointment was at 1:30. We were going to have lots of down time.
My husband and I decided that if the OB appointment went well, we would cancel the ultrasound and just head home.
Our hopes of getting home early were dashed during the OB appointment.
"You have a lot of blood in your urine!" was the first thing we heard from my doctor after pleasantries were exchanged. After asking a couple of questions that could explain where it had come from, she said I most likely had an infection and she would send off a sample to be examined.
"The next problem is that you are not gaining enough weight." I was more than a little perplexed that there was more than one problem. I've always passed my OB appointments with flying colors. They normally listen for a heartbeat, we chat for a few minutes, and then they send me on my way. "You have only gained two pounds this pregnancy." Let's ignore the fact that I was also in cold weather gear that added a bit of bulk to my outfit that day as well... "I am putting you on a 3000 calorie diet. It's not that hard. Just add a bit more to each meal and maybe a few more snacks." They wanted me to have gained between 4 and 7 pounds by this point.
Leaving the appointment slightly discouraged, we decided that we should keep the ultrasound appointment.
We killed time for three hours by buying my daughter's Christmas present and stopping by Trader Joe's to grab some lunch. We thought we would be home in time for lunch so we hadn't brought anything with us.
The ultrasound appointment was the highlight of the day. I thought it would be a quick five minute ultrasound with the tech measuring the size of the hemorrhage and moving onto the next patient, but we were pleasantly surprised to be there for over twenty minutes. I think we had a scan just as thorough as the anatomy scan that I will receive at my next visit. We got to see all four chambers of her heart, the beautiful structure of her spine and ribs, her curled up legs, and her adorable face. She kept opening and closing her mouth. The hemorrhage is still present, and the tech said we had to wait for the OB to compare the two scans. The tech was wonderful to chat with and I feel she shared things a little more openly than other techs I have worked with. We left with six more pictures of our adorable little baby that my older daughter loves to study.

Ever since the appointment, I have been trying to get my calories up, but it has been a challenge. I cannot eat much for breakfast without feeling sick and on the days I try to eat more for lunch, I am still full at dinnertime. I tracked my calories a few times and realized I am not getting close to 3000 calories. I am not even eating as much as someone in their second trimester should eat. My goal is to eat more snack and keep my meals the same, but now I need to plan ahead and brings snacks with me when I have outings.

Blessed

Every night before my daughter goes to bed, we say a prayer together. Tonight my husband was at school until late so it was just the girls. These days, I usually say the basic prayer with my daughter chiming in as to what she is thankful for. I always get a kick over what she decides to thank her Heavenly Father for. Tonight, she listed off a half dozen letters (including capital and lower case specific ones).
As I added more to her prayer, I said that we were thankful that we were blessed with another baby. My voice broke and I needed a minute to compose myself before continuing. I had a flashback to earlier in the day.
This morning, a darling friend dropped by for a short period of time. She was talking about a trial that she has been going through.
Even though it is not similar in the least to what I have had to go through to get my babies, she influenced me. She is so optimistic about it and is looking at all the positives. She is such an inspiration to me. I really do not know how she does what she does, but it makes me feel bad about the pity parties I have on occasion.

I am blessed. It is incredible that with our infertility problems, I have a very healthy pregnancy with a second child. It would be impossible for us to conceive children not that long ago (in medical years). I am able to connect with so many people. I do not take motherhood as lightly as I probably would had we not been through this. Will I ever look at my infertility without any sorrow? Probably not. But I can at least slowly change my heart and my point-of-view to a much more positive one.

A he or a she?

Ten days after the blood work (October 25), I excitedly checked my phone every time I received an email to see if my clinic had the results of the lab. I desperately wanted to know before my husband got home from school so I could quickly put together something to announce the sex of the baby to him.
The email about test results never showed up.
We did our grocery shopping late in the afternoon and I noticed a text from my friend.
"Hey I won't be at institute tonight but I'm dying to know if you guys found out your babies gender!"

I turned to my husband. "Should I call the clinic?"
"Of course." There was no other option from him. I did not want to be that irritating patient who calls too frequently about something. It had been a long week. I needed something exciting in my life.

"I had some blood work performed last week and was told the turn-around time would be approximately ten days. I wanted to know if there was an update on when that would be available."
"Which test?"
"Panorama."
"What would you specifically like to know?"
"Gender."
"Is this your first pregnancy?"
"It's my fifth pregnancy, but it will be my second baby."
"Do you want a little boy or a girl?"
I could tell the nurse was having lots of fun with me. I bet these are their favorite calls to have.
"Honestly, I just want a healthy baby."
"Is your child at home a little girl or a little boy?"
"I have a little girl."
"Well, you are going to have two little girls soon!"
"Thank you so much!"
"Is there anything else?"
"No. You were wonderful. Have a great day!"

My husband turned to me. "Well?" I repeated to him the conversation I had with the nurse and started crying. We excitedly turned to my daughter and were so happy to tell her that she was going to have a little sister.
My husband insisted that I call my father right then. He was on a train to JFK to go to Texas for a couple days, but celebrated with us. We were on cloud nine!
This baby girl is even more special because boys run in my family. Out of all my siblings, there is only one that has had more than one girl. We will be the second of my father's children to have two girls and the only family to have two girls in a row. This baby is also special because my little sister and little brother are also expecting babies in the spring. My sister is due around four week before me and my sister-in-law is due within a week of me. These three babies will have the closest birthdays out of all their cousins.

We also think we have a first name picked out. My daughter started saying a name a few weeks ago out of the blue. My husband and I both decided we like it. We will try it out a bit longer, but I think we have a winner!

Week 12 OB appointment

At 12 weeks and 2 days, we once again packed up some car toys for my daughter and drove the hour needed to go to my OB appointment. We were excited because this would be the first time we would actually meet the OB I had chosen. We are still hoping to switch over to the midwife in a month or two, but if things did not work out with her, it was important to us that we like the OB.
The wait time was not significant and we were quickly ushered back into an exam room. This was really the first time I felt as though I had graduated. I felt like just a regular pregnant woman who did not spend thousands of dollars, have dozens of injections, and require a flight halfway across the country to successfully become pregnant.
The doctor entered the room and I could tell I was going to like her. She was very sweet and caring with a slight "no nonsense" attitude. I wanted to sit on my front porch and drink a cold glass of lemonade with her on a hot summer day, talking about nothing.
We went over everything. She seemed a little confused about my due date, but I figured that would work itself out very soon. I didn't need to get into a discussion about my transfer. (I learned with my first that some computer programs OB offices use are not very IVF friendly. Many of them require me to guess when my last period would have been had I gotten pregnant naturally.)
We did a quick physical exam, listened to the baby's heartbeat (the best!), and I thought we would be sent on our way. Instead, we were asked a question. "Would you like to do genetic testing?"
My husband and I looked at each other with confused glances. We had never discussed this. In my mind, I did not care about the test. Nothing would change how I feel about this baby. Nothing would cause me to abort the fetus or think about the baby in a different light. As we hemmed and hawed, the OB quickly added, "You would find out the sex early."
My husband's eyes lit up. I knew the answer. It was a definite yes.
After checking to see if our insurance would cover it, we agreed.

We almost did not do the blood work for the genetic testing in the end. We excitedly stepped into the lab for blood work and stopped quickly. There was quite the crowd waiting in the lobby and the wait time promised to be an hour. We stepped back outside. We couldn't wait that long. We had a slightly hungry toddler, not to mention hungry parents. After a quick discussion, I went back into the waiting room alone while my husband drove off with our daughter to run some errands.
Miraculously, the wait time had dropped to ten minutes and there were only a couple people in the room. I still do not know how that happened.

We did the blood test and drove home, excited that in ten days, we would know the sex of the baby!

Week 9 Ultrasound

Upon the completion of my seven week ultrasound, my fertility center reminded me that we needed a nine week ultrasound. I called the OB clinic to set up the appointment and sent over the order form only to receive a phone call a day or two prior to the appointment.
"Hello, I am calling about the appointment you have. Why do you need another ultrasound?"
"I have an IVF baby and my fertility center wanted me to have two ultrasounds two weeks apart to ensure the beginning stages of the pregnancy are progressing like they should be."
"Well your doctor looked at the scans and she doesn't think there's an extenuating circumstance that would require one this week."
"Could I still have one done?"
"Because she doesn't think you need one, your insurance wouldn't pay for it."
"I understand. This is important to me and I do have an outside order for it. We are willing to pay for the ultrasound out of pocket if needed."
"Well, our ultrasound tech is actually out of the office for a couple of weeks. She broke her foot and is unable to come in."
"Is there another place I could send the order form to in order to have this ultrasound this week?"
"We have another office [an hour and a half away from where you live]. That's where we are sending everyone right now. They can probably take you, but because it is an out-of-state order, I cannot guarantee anything."
"Okay. Thanks." (No thanks.)

I quickly texted my husband to ask for his opinion. He said we should either use the fertility center here that has saved us so many times or just cancel the second ultrasound. I quickly called the fertility center. The woman on the other line was terrific and said the doctor could squeeze me in that same day in 50 minutes (we live 90 minutes away). We scheduled an appointment for 10:00 the following day.

As we drove up to the fertility center the next morning, I realized as we were past the point of no return that I had left the order form at home! We arrived at the center and after a few frantic unanswered calls at my own fertility center, I took matters into my own hands. I signed up for a free fax service online and sent the pdf order as a fax from my phone. The marvels of modern technology! It went through one to two minutes after we were called back to do the ultrasound.

In the room for the ultrasound, we had a tech that we have met once or twice before. The fertility doctor himself came in along with an OB. We once again praised this fertility doctor up and down for his willingness to work with patients that are not his own. The technician did the scan and the baby looked perfect! The baby was measuring exactly where he/she should and everything looked great. The fertility doctor kept asking if we needed anything else from him, but we were just happy to hear the heartbeat again and see our growing little one.

I received a few more pictures of our newest addition and we all enjoyed the not insignificant car ride to and from the center.

Why I still can't do baby showers

This summer, I was invited to my first non-family baby shower that I was able to go to post move. It was for a sweet friend of mine and my daughter adores her boys so I was happy to go.

I quickly learned that I had made a mistake when the women present started going around in a circle telling humorous anecdotes about their labor and delivery experiences.

It caused sorrowful feelings to resurface that I had not felt in quite a while.

I do not share my daughter's birth story very frequently. If I do, it goes something like this:
I made it to the hospital at 12:30 and she was born just after 4:00 with around 15 minutes of pushing.
Simple. Minimal. Not very detailed.

When I think back to that day, I remember such special, sacred moments. Even when I was at my worst, I asked the midwife to look into the epidural and was later told the anesthesiologist would not give me one due to the blood thinners I took. I still smile. I cherish bringing my daughter into this world. My point of view for my daughter's birth is dramatically different than how other women view births, and that's okay.
Even though I get to spend time with my beautiful daughter, infertility will always be a huge part of my life. Once our next child is born, I will still feel some intermittent sorrow when I hear a baby announcement. I will still keep track of how old our miscarried children would be had they been viable pregnancies. I will occasionally ponder how old our child would be had we been able to conceive at the very beginning of our marriage. However, I think about these things peacefully (in general) now and do not need a baby shower to rip ugly old emotions to the forefront of my brain.

I will not make an appearance at a baby shower in the near future. This is my current boundary and I very much support myself in this decision.

First Ultrasound

My next step, after having two positive blood draws, was to have my first ultrasound! Shortly after moving to our new location in the Midwest last year, we decided that the local hospital's labor and delivery section did not sound like a place that would mesh well with our ideal labor, delivery, and recovery. The problem? The local hospital is around 15 minutes away and there are only a few hospitals within an hour of our little home.
We did a decent amount of research to determine which hospital would be a good fit. We chose one, an hour away, that has beautiful labor, delivery, and recovery rooms (I will stay in one room the entire stay) and has a midwife that can deliver there.
We called the office and set up an appointment for the initial visit. Just like all the other doctor offices we have worked with here, they were confused about any special requests we had because of the IVF. ("You want an early ultrasound? I don't know if we can do that..." After being on hold for half an hour, it was determined they can do that.)
We set the appointment for a Thursday morning and got excited to see a wiggling baby and hear the heartbeat.

The morning of the appointment arrived on September 12. We thankfully arrived without much traffic and signed in. As I sat peacefully in the waiting room, my toddler started getting antsy so she wandered over to hang out at the fish tank. It was an interesting setup for a doctor's office waiting room. Not only were there OBGYN patients, but the waiting room was also shared with a pediatrics office and a regular family medicine practice.
As we waited (and waited and waited), I overheard the receptionist talking with a patient that the ultrasound machine was currently not working. At that point, I was feeling as though nothing about this pregnancy was going to be easy. I was hoping that they would fix it before it was my appointment time.
After we waited for close to an hour, I was called back. The nurse that did my initial appointment was a delight. She took the usual information about health history and family health history. ("You have how many siblings? Give me a minute... I need to add them one at a time.")
She gave my daughter a container of bubbles and had a coloring book and crayons ready for her to use. We really enjoyed chatting with her. We were all having such a delightful time that after we were done with business, we all agreed to stay in her office and chat while we waited for my ultrasound appointment.

Fifteen minutes later, we got to see the baby! He/She was adorable! I forgot how different they look when you have an early ultrasound (7 weeks). My daughter was really excited until we actually saw the baby and then she became very confused.
Seeing a baby on an ultrasound is the best feeling ever. So far with this pregnancy, I have not been feeling quite as anxious as with my daughter's pregnancy. I am unsure why. I am definitely in a better place right now than I was sooner. I have also had a successful pregnancy, so I might just be more confident because of that.

We finished the appointment and I had to go down a few doors to their phlebotomist. (Before we moved, every medical clinic we visited had a phlebotomist in office. Here, I have not seen many medical offices that have their own phlebotomist. It gets a little frustrating.)
After waiting 20 minutes, I had given 9 vials of blood and we headed home.