I've Failed

Emma had her first dentist appointment today! She was very excited, as brushing her teeth is one of her most favorite things to do.

The appointment was at 9am. So we get there like 10 minutes early. Easy to do as we live literally 2 minutes down the street from the office.

We hang out in the waiting room for a bit, watching cars drive by and reading books. Then her name is called, she wants to walk cause she's a big girl, so I let her.

We're directed to room 2, 2nd on the left. We go in, exchange pleasantries, and then she asks Emma if she wants to get in the big chair.

No.

Emma, you have to get in the chair. I set her on it. She slides off. No.

Eventually she is persuaded with an Etch-a-Sketch, and she sits. She shows how she brushes her teeth, and then is asked if the hygienist can count her teeth. She obliges.

Then she turns the overhead light on and gets a better look at Emma's teeth. "She has a couple spots." Time to get the dentist in.

Dentist comes in, takes a look. Then he turns to me and says she needs a filling in one of her teeth. And xrays. And he's not equipped to do that on her, because she's so little, so we get a referral to a pediatric dentist.

It's not a big deal, he says.

Ugh.

I knew about the spot. It's been there for a long time. Over a year probably. I still feel like a failure. My 2 year old needs a filling. What 2 year old needs a filling.

We brush every day. She never had bottles in bed. She doesn't get candy, and only has juice once a day (sometimes not at all). I don't know how it happened.

Sure, it's not a big deal. But it is. It's another crack in an already unstable wall. I feel like I fail my kids every day. I'm not home enough. When I am home, I don't do enough with them. I don't feed them well enough. I don't take them enough places. I don't buy them enough things. I'm not patient enough. I don't show them I love them enough. Enough. Enough. Enough. Nothing is ever enough.

Now my baby needs a filling. And I don't take care of her oral hygiene enough.

It's a perpetual cycle we, as parents, put ourselves through. I read something once, that said something to the effect of, if you're wondering if you're being a good parent, you are. That struck me, and has stayed with me. I forget it sometimes, but eventually it will come back to mind, and ease my worries some.

Of course, I will always question if I'm doing a good job. And there will always be days like today where I will feel like the biggest failure over something fairly small. But there will also always be smiles, and hugs, and I love yous, that will make none of that matter at all.

.

Going South

I had a follow up with my doctor on Tuesday, to check on progress and what not. She still couldn't really see anything with her machine, I did get a "I'm pretty sure that's the heart." But nothing definitive. She sent me to make another appointment with MFM and their multi-million dollar machines. That is scheduled for next Wednesday, which was the earliest they could get me in.

On my way home, my doctor called me to come back in for a Rhogam shot, just to be on the safe side, since I'd had one spot of spotting a couple days earlier.

That night I had a little bit of spotting. I didn't think too much of it, and it went away. Figured probably just from the internal ultrasound, jostling things around a bit.

That night, I dreamed I miscarried. I woke up super early, around 5am, and when I went to the bathroom, the toilet was red. I've been bleeding now for the past 3 days, sometimes heavier, sometimes just spotting, every now and then it seems it's stopped.

I have not gone to the hospital for confirmation. I really don't feel like sitting there half the night to just be told what I feel I already know, and I've already had the Rhogam so there's really no need. I spoke with my doctor again yesterday and she said to keep the appointment with MFM, even if I'm sure it's a miscarriage, to still get checked out and be sure I passed everything. I sure hope so because I absolutely do not want to have to do the surgery for a third time. So I will be going on Wednesday and will have confirmation then.

So right now I'm just riding it out. It's bizarre to me how normal this seems at this point. I'm not sad. I've barely shed many tears. I'm angry. I'm so angry. We get hope, and positivity, and it just gets ripped away every time. Leaving us empty and back at square one. I don't need a 4th child. I don't do this for me. This was for Emma. I don't want her growing up alone. In a few years both her sisters will be out of the house, building their own lives as new adults, leaving Emma by herself. I want her to have a sibling. One she can be close to. When I got pregnant last May, that was perfect. They would have been just under 2 years apart. I could see them growing up together, the best of friends. But no, that was not to happen. We lost that one at 9 weeks in July. Coincidentally I am supposed to be 9 weeks with this one as well. The other 2 pregnancies I lost last year were both very early, within the first week of finding out. I never got excited over either, those early times are so full of apprehension for me.

I don't know what the future holds for us. Nobody does, really. All I can do is look at it with optimism and the hope that eventually, everything will ok. (And maybe Emma might even sleep through  the night. Ha.)

Update

So I went for the follow up ultrasound today. She pretty much immediately found the gestational sac. In my uterus where it belongs, so that was good.

What also was good, was she was explaining to me everything she sees. Usually the techs don't tell me anything, they just send it over to my doc, who then gives me the results.

I get the usual, "Are you sure about your dates?". Yes lady, I keep really good track of my cycles.

She's looking, and she tells me she sees a yolk sac in the gestational sac. And also a freshly formed fetal pole.

She takes some pictures.

Then she says to me, "You see that flicker, flicker, flicker? That's the heartbeat."

Whaaaaaaat.

I went into this fully expecting to be told I've got a baby in a tube and I need emergency surgery before it ruptures. Or at the very least, an impending miscarriage.

Was not expecting a heartbeat at all.

Now, we are not 100% out of the woods. By my dates (which are on point), I should be 7 weeks, 5 days right now. But the ultrasound today is putting me at 5 weeks, 5 days. Had i gotten pregnant 2 weeks later than I think I did, i would have gotten a positive test before I even ovulated. Which is impossible.

But for now, everything looks good, and we just wait to see how things progress.

She didn't give me a picture, but she gave me good news, so I'm ok with that. But here's another one of Emma anyway.

Here We Go Again

I had a doctor's appointment today.

For a pregnancy confirmation.

I should be 7 weeks 4 days today. But my uterus is seemingly empty. She found something she said she thinks could be a yolk sac, but it's so far off she can't even figure out where it is.

So, I may be having another miscarriage (this would be my 5th now), I may have an ectopic pregnancy, or nothing could be wrong and they just can't find the baby.

Tomorrow I go to Maternal Fetal Medicine for a more detailed ultrasound to figure things out.

I don't know why this keeps happening. It's taxing and stressful.

I'm hopeful that baby is just playing hide and seek, but I'm prepared for the worst. This waiting game is the absolute worst though.

Emma's good btw. She is currently jumping on the couch like a maniac, living her best life at 2.

Here's a picture of her eating her birthday cake.

The Buffet Is Closed

Well, I did it.

I cut her off.

We are on day FIVE of weaning. And it is going surprisingly well.

I just finally decided Monday night, after Emma woke up 2 hours after going to bed for the 8 millionth time, I was done. D-O-N-E. Done.

I didn't go into that night thinking I would never nurse her again. In fact, I nursed her right before she went to bed.

That night was a bit of a nightmare. She was tossing, and turning, and whining most of the night. But we toughed it out.

Tuesday, I figured if I'm not going to give it to her at night, I probably shouldn't give it to her during the day either. She tried, of course. But I redirected.

Tuesday night. Ugh. She woke up around 1am. And stayed awake until 5. At least. She wasn't whining or crying or anything. She just wouldn't sleep.

That was the worst of it. Every night she seems to be doing a little better. Last night she only woke up twice! Once at 1:30, and once at what I remember as 4:30. And both times she went right back to sleep.

I'm hoping that this is all going to lead to her finally sleeping through the night. She has become a champ at going down on her own (she still cries every night, but not for very long). Fingers are crossed!

We Waited So Long For You, Little One

As Emma's first birthday is rapidly approaching (3 more days! Aaaah!), I can't help but reflect back to the journey that got us to this little miracle. It took over 2 years, which felt like an eternity. And then an entire pregnancy minus one week.

Now, I'm no spring chicken, as they say. But when we started this journey, I was just shy of being 34. Not quite to the point of being called that lovely phrase, "geriatric maternal age" (35),  or the term which doctors use more often now, "advanced maternal age", neither of which is particularly pleasant. But hey, I guess I was close enough.

In the beginning, I knew the basics of baby making. Those two long, tough years, however, led me to become something of an expert I believe. I now know more than I ever thought I'd like to about the female (and male) reproductive systems. Those years also left me with an addiction I never thought possible. We'll get to that a bit later.

At first it was all just relaxed, hey it'll happen, it's bound to take a couple tries, right? It became concerning after some time, but after a while it became a desperation. And every time we failed, that was another month wasted. Another month we had to try again. Another kick to an already sore spot.

I got an app on my phone, to track my periods, and see when I ovulate. Apparently cycle day 14 is the average when most women ovulate. And because all I was tracking was my period, that's the day my app picked for me too. It was wrong. I didn't know this until I bought some ovulation tests. And then i did some more research, and learned about temping (when you take your temperature every morning when you first wake up, with a special thermometer - because your body temperature changes at certain points in your cycle) so I started doing that too. Turns out, I was ovulating on day 10 or 11, not 14. Which made sense, as my cycles were also pretty short.

A couple more months go by, and I'm still not pregnant. I do more research. I find out about certain vitamins and things that can help with fertility. So I go to Amazon once more and order what amounts to enough vitamins and herbs to stock a small drug store. I take them.

A few months go by. Nothing is working. I give up the vitamin habit. I stop taking my morning temperature. I start blaming Wayne. Because obviously I've done everything I can, and it hasn't worked. But in my mind I'm still questioning if it's me, not him. Could the iud I had for 8 and a half years have ruined me entirely. Could I be too old. Could I be too overweight. Is it because I don't live the healthiest I could. The answer to all of those is probably yes, but I felt defeated. But we continued on.

Now the fun part. The addiction. I became addicted. To peeing on sticks. I can't tell you how many pregnancy tests I took in all this time. In the beginning it wasn't too much of a problem. But once the desperation set in, I was a maniac. It got to where I couldn't continue to pay $12 for 2 tests, as the costs would be astronomical. So I took to the internet, yet again. DID YOU KNOW, you can buy pregnancy test sticks in bulk? I'm talking like 50 for $20. Cause, yeah, you can. Amazon feeds my addiction. They're not in pretty plastic shells and you have to pee in a cup to dip them. But they work, and are actually fairly sensitive.

After about 10 months, I finally got that second line. Feb 20, 2015. We were elated. We told people. We picked out names. We started a registry. It was a happy time.

I had insurance issues which did not get straightened out until April sometime. I wasn't able to get to the doctor for an actual check up until May 11. The day after Mother's Day. I was a couple days shy of 15 weeks. It was the worst appointment I have ever had. The baby had stopped growing at 6 weeks. I was given options, wait to miscarry naturally, take some pills and force the miscarriage, or get a D&C. I didn't want surgery, and obviously my body wasn't letting go as it continued to carry this baby for over 8 weeks after it was lost, so I opted for the pills. I was prescribed Cytotec, and sent on my way with instructions. I won't go into details of that, but the first dose did not work properly, so I did it a second time. The second time seemed to have worked.

My birthday is May 16. I spent my 35th birthday mourning the loss of a baby I never met, or even felt. None of that mattered. That baby was already imprinted on our hearts, and it was a great loss.

I'm not a spiritual person. There are times I wish I was, so I could have something to take comfort in. This was one of those times. But alas, there was no comfort.

We were told that with early losses like this, it's likely the baby just had something wrong with it, it hadn't developed properly, so mother nature does her thing. "It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong." Ok, keep telling me that. Because it was my body, obviously it was my fault. (It wasn't, though.)

When I went for my follow up, and got some ultrasounds done, it was discovered that there was STILL tissue left behind, so I ended up having to get the surgery anyway. That was on June 2. It was such a rough couple of weeks. After the surgery I was just relieved that it was all over. It had turned into quite a nightmare.

Within a few weeks my cycle had returned, and we went back to trying (it was okayed by my doctor). By August I was temping again, and raiding my vitamin stores. This went on for a while. Eventually though, I quit again.

During this time, after the loss, it seemed like everybody i knew  was getting pregnant. I wanted to be happy for them. I truly did. But I was just still so overcome with grief, and the frustration of still not getting pregnant myself, I couldn't be. I pretended to be. I hid the tears. It was a really tough time.

The girls who were pregnant at the same time as me started having their babies. I tried to be happy for them, but inside I was just incredibly sad and jealous. My baby's due date was November 4, 2015. We weren't even able to find out if it was a boy or a girl. I still cry over this little one sometimes. It's easier now, of course, but I still wonder all the what ifs.

I had my annual exam at my OB in March. We talked about my frustrations and failures at getting pregnant. My incessant need to take 10-20 pregnancy tests every month. The fact that for a couple months I'd gotten some very very faint positives, but still always went on to get my period shortly after. She sent me for some bloodwork.

Good Friday she called me to go over the results. I was at work and unable to answer her call and by the time I was able to call back, the office was closed. That weekend was a long one. Monday I finally got the results. I have hypothyroidism, and needed to see an endocrinologist. I don't know why, but this information broke me. I cried. A lot. Hypothyroidism is very managable. Some people I am very close to have it. I knew how easy it is to manage. But I still broke down. And did more research. Turns out hypothyroidism can cause fertility issues.

I got in to see the endo mid April. I was prescribed levothyroxin. I started taking it. I also started temping and ovulation tests again. As time went on, I marveled at how the medication changed my cycle. I started ovulating later, and my cycles got longer. Within 3 months, I was pregnant. We found out on July 28, 2016.

This time though, we were much more cautious. We only told a handful of people at first. Those first 8 weeks (5 really, cause I found out when I was "3" weeks - which was quite early, on account of my addiction) were long and worrisome. Then at my 8 week appointment, we heard that glorious sound. A heartbeat. It was like a weight had lifted and we were able to get excited. We still worried some, of course, but by the time we had the 12 week scan, and everything was still perfect, we were able to breathe fully.

The Monday after Thanksgiving we had the anatomy scan. We went in, me wanting a girl but thinking it was a boy, and Wayne 100% team blue. Well, you know how that turned out. They checked at like the next 3 ultrasounds and sure enough, she was still a girl. And everything was still perfect.

At 28 weeks I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Which was an awful pain having to watch what I ate so closely, and having to prick my fingers 3x a day. But it got us weekly ultrasounds near the end, which was quite nice to be honest. Being able to see her weekly and know everything was ok was so reassuring.

At the last ultrasound they said my amniotic fluid was low and I had to be induced. Which was odd, considering one of the worries with GD is too much fluid. Another is high birth weight, which again, she was tiny, only 6lb 7oz. So I can't help but wonder if I really had GD after all. Or if I just controlled it that well. My sugar levels were always perfect.

We never saw anything on the ultrasounds to suggest a nevus. In hindsight, we think we can. But honestly there's so much goop in there, who knows what we are actually seeing. I am fairly surprised they never picked up on the hair though. When she was born, there was so much! It was so long too. I made jokes that she had more hair on her face than she did on her head. Terrible, I know. But it was true.

I don't know if there are any more babies in our future. We certainly aren't trying anyway. If it happens, cool. If not, that's ok too. I cannot commit myself to the stress of trying again though. I'm also getting old. I'll be 38 next month. Aside from the fact that at my age it's harder to get pregnant, I also don't want to be having babies in my 40s. Nothing against those that do. I just never even really wanted to have any in my 30s. But here I am. The only reason that I'm even open to another one is so Emma can have a sibling that she's close to.

I Blinked

Aaaaaaah! Emma will be a year old in less than a month! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! Where did my baby go?! I already miss her being little.

What a year it has been, though. For all of us. From the initial shock, to the unknown, to fear and worry, and finally to nothing but love and acceptance. There is still some unknown, of course, but it is not nearly as much, and we are confident in tackling things as they come. Her nevus does not define her. She is beautiful and smart and funny, and I would not change a thing about her.

Emma is one big ball of energy and personality. She is very independent (except at bedtime...) and has learned so much this first year. She's already walking, and has gotten very good at it over the last couple weeks. The baby who I thought was never going to roll! (Maybe this means she will eventually sleep as well, as I don't think she will ever do that either. Ha!) She loves to feed herself, and drinks from a sippy very well.

She has been giving us the BIGGEST laughs lately. I LOVE this stage. Big baby belly laughs are the best. Her favorite seems to be her 16 year old sister. Maybe it's because she gets bored of the rest of us, seeing us all the time, and she hardly sees her. Or maybe Jordyn just has some special quality about her that Emma loves. It's probably both.

We had an appointment with the dermatologist last month. Everything still looks great. We go back in May, and she said we will start spacing visits out longer after then. I asked about the MRI on her spine we still hadn't gotten done, and she said that right now it is not necessary, Emma is developing absolutely normally, and as long as no concerns arise she doesn't think we will have to. She also said to stop using the timolol on her hemangioma on her arm soon, so that's good as well.

Emma has become a champ at naps! Granted, she's doing it in her swing, but I see it as a good start. I put her in it, turn it on, and she drifts off to sleep. Usually for about 2 hours. Sometimes a little longer, sometimes a little shorter. I'm hoping to start transferring this nap to her crib at some point. And then eventually bedtime. Bedtime is kind of a nightmare at this point. She rarely ever goes to sleep unless we are lying in bed nursing. Most nights not until 10 or 11 o'clock. I do transfer her to her crib once she is asleep, but the last few weeks she has only been sleeping in there for at most an hour. Most nights it's 20-30 minutes. I just keep telling myself this can't last forever. And to enjoy the cuddles now, as eventually she won't want to. Even now, unless it's bedtime, she's not a cuddler.

She still only takes 4 ounces in her bottles. A lot of the time she doesn't even finish that. We do offer 6 at times, but it seems when we do, she drinks even less. Sometimes she'll finish 5 ounces though. But very very rarely. I find it weird, but she's growing and not starving, so I guess it's ok. I think weaning her off the bottle will not be any trouble though, so that's one good thing about it.

I do trim/shave the hair off her nevus every few weeks. It gets really hairy. Up until this last time (which was today, actually), it has been a struggle. She does not want to sit still for it, and usually I lay her down on a towel, which for a wiggly baby who is constantly on the move, is absolutely the worst thing. Today though, I just sat her on my lap, let her check out and touch the trimmer, and gave her something to play with. She sat so well, and didn't cry once! And we got the best trim we've ever gotten so far.

We're not doing a huge birthday bash. I thought about it (ok, maybe not huge, but big), but I decided against it. Emma still has a bit of stranger danger, and I didn't want to risk her being miserable and ruining her party. We're just going to do a small gathering of close family at home. And let her eat cake. We are doing a theme, though. Unicorns, and rainbows. Quite fitting for Emma, even though I know it's not original by any means. I still can't believe almost a year has gone by already!

She did grow 6 teeth in the past 2 months! Perhaps that's why her sleep habits have gotten so bad. She was never really very fussy with any of them though. I really only ever noticed she was teething when a tooth popped through. Otherwise, she's been pretty normal.

One thing Emma is still working on is growing hair! It's finally starting to come in on the sides and back a bit, but for a while she was growing the most glorious mohawk. It's still itty bitty, and not much there, but at least it's something. The bald ring that went around the back of her head from ear to ear is starting to fade as well. It looked like she had a rubber band wrapped around her head. Wayne even thought it was dented for a bit! But no, baby's head is shaped perfectly. She just has weird hair.

Still can't believe she's almost one! Eeep!