Barren

Barren
(as defined by Webster's Dictionary):

1: not reproducing: as
b : not yet or not recently pregnant c : habitually failing to fruit

Infertile

 (as defined by Medicine.net): 

 Infertility means not being able to get pregnant after one year of trying.

Last April when my period returned after having Kaia, I figured I wouldn't bother starting any type of birth control.  Although we didn't exactly WANT a second child at that point, I felt fairly confident due to my previous experiences of needing added progesterone to get pregnant, that it likely wouldn't happen on its own.  And hey, if it did, that might be welcome change and a sign from the universe that we should just go with it.

Turns out, I was right.  (Sometimes it sucks be right all the time).

We've been 'not trying/not avoiding' for a year now and can now officially be classified as among the 'infertile'.  Not surprising.  I have a feeling if we had never added in the progesterone with either Aidan or Kaia we would have gotten that designation the first two times around.

What pains me to admit however, is that in January we decided that we'd start actually 'trying' and started on progesterone for the second half of my cycle.  It worked the first time in both of my previous pregnancies, so I felt it was bound to at least do SOMETHING.  January I started with 100mg of Prometrium once a day starting after ovulation.  It did NOTHING.  My luteal phase was short as always and I had spotting for a number of days before my period as usual.  Okay, I figured, no biggie.  I got pregnant with Kaia using 200mg once a day.  So, we upped it to 200mg for February...and March...and April...and the spotting continues.  My luteal phase is slightly longer, but I have yet to need a pregnancy test to tell me I'm not pregnant (which I should since the progesterone should stop the uterine lining from shedding, thus cuing me to pee on a stick).  I've yet to make it past day 27 of my cycle without spotting.

Shit.

My family doctor said she is willing to prescribe Clomid to help strengthen ovulation which will hopefully sort out my luteal issues, but if we need any further help than that, she'd refer me again to the fertility specialist we saw in the Fall of 2010.  That fertility specialist had the easiest time in the world helping me get knocked up.  One ultrasound for a follicle check and a prescription of Prometrium later and 'ta-da'!  They said it was almost too easy. Too bad what followed was not.

I don't know what to do.  I have a hard time admitting the level of my desire for another child to my doctor or my friends and I haven't even mentioned it to our families, because I'm so afraid that giving a voice to my wish will somehow make it harder if it never happens.  I still carry so much disappointment and sadness around both my pregnancies and Aidan's loss that I'm not sure I can really stand to add another defeat to the pile.

Sometimes I like to trick myself and think "Hey, maybe you don't REALLY want another baby. Let's just hold the phone and think back here for a moment. Remember how little sleep you got with a newborn? Remember the nervous breakdown you had over trying to breastfeed?  And the 14 months of pumping? Remember the quasi-sleep training and the hours and hours of nightly crying that preceded it? Oh, and hey...remember your water breaking in the second trimester...TWICE?  Remember the combined 27 weeks of bed rest?  Remember the lack of income?  Remember the stress and the worry and the fear?  Remember the preemies, one living and one dead?  The NICU?  Remember Dr. Eeyore?  Remember how they have ABSOLUTELY no idea why your placenta exploded once, let alone twice.  Remember?  Life is much better now that all that's behind you."  It would honestly be so much easier if, like friends of ours who have just one daughter and are happy to keep it that way, we didn't want any more children.  No more choices to make.  No more decisions to stress over.  One (living) and done would be so easy.

But, I do.  I do want another baby.  I have Kaia, who I am more grateful for every day. She lights up our lives.  And I had Aidan.  He made me a Mom.  Who even in his absence continues to teach me things and helps to make me a better person.  How special and important they both are to me.  How much I love them.  OF COURSE I want another child.  Both Brian and I do.  And one day, I bet Kaia will want a sibling.  I would love to make that happen.

I honestly feel that likely, our third child is possible.  Right now, he or she waits in the fabric of the universe, just waiting for our genetic material to combine, implant and begin to grow. According to the reproductive endocrinologist that we saw in 2010, the likelihood of us being able to conceive is high based on the fact that we have before, it will just take the right combination of patience, medical technology and genetic material.  I know this isn't the case for EVERYONE, but since I'm still fairly 'young', the possibility is on the higher side.  That the 'likelihood' ends at the two pink lines is what gets me.  It makes me quake in fear that there are no guarantees beyond that.

I'm just not sure I have the strength to really GO for it based on our pregnancy history.  I'm not sure I want to pour time, money, energy and hope into a pregnancy that would take more than a few pills and a bottle of wine to make happen.  If it happened on it's own, naturally and easily with little or no outside help...and things went badly again, it would be awful, and heart breaking and soul crushing. If it all went badly again and we had spent months (years?) going to doctor's appointments, multiple invasive tests, failed procedures and PAID for all of it to happen, well that's just like rubbing salt in the wound.  Maybe our current infertility is the universe's way of telling us it's just not meant to happen, and we'd be better off not tempting it again. 

I just all makes me so sad.  I never blamed any of my own actions for Aidan's death or for either of the early pPROMs.  But I have such anger and disappointment when it comes to my body.  How could it fail me so badly, not once but TWICE?  How could things go so wrong?  I don't even really feel that I had much to do with Kaia's positive outcome.  It's like she lived in spite of my body's failings.  The bed rest, the gallons of water, the good food, good hygiene, all the supplements, the love and hope I clung to were only my way of attempting to counteract the absolute failure of my uterus.  That Kaia lived is only due to her own hardiness and because biology didn't screw up *quite* enough to cause her death.  Kaia lived because she, and we, got extremely lucky.  From my earliest memory my body has been deemed 'less' because of my heart defect, which my pregnancy history only seems to confirm.

The idea that I would dream of chancing all that again; that I would dare to even contemplate it in the face of my body's obvious unwillingness to cooperate smacks of hubris.  We got lucky once, what makes me think I deserve that again?  

On the other hand, I feel like I am failing that third baby of mine if I don't try. If I choose comfort, safety and physical ease over the fear of loss or hardship, what kind of mother am I?  I imagine third baby out there, just waiting for us to make him or her a reality, but unfortunately third baby brings no guarantees about how long he or she plans to stay, or how healthy he or she plans to be, or how mentally or physically healthy he or she will leave me.  There are never any guarantees when it comes to children, but I feel somehow, like we have less of a guarantee than most.  We have more of a reason than others to believe it will all go badly, more of a reason to fear the worst.  Third baby, you aren't even real and I already love you, want you, wish you were here...but I don't know if I can risk it again.

The hardest thing for me maybe, is that I know I can live without third baby.  Life will still be good.  It will still have meaning.  Because I have Kaia, I can go on.  I didn't feel that way before or after Aidan.  The desire to have a living child was so intense, so overwhelming, it was all I could think of.  I could not imagine my life without at least one living child.  Even while I stared at the ceiling on bed rest with Kaia, swearing that I would not put myself through this again, I knew I wouldn't quit in my desire to have a family. I was prepared to do anything, pay anything, risk anything.  

But I'm not anymore.  For me, primary infertility and secondary infertility are two very different things.  As much as I love third baby, he or she does not take precedence over my current child and my current life.  I have other dreams now, which I am prepared to put on hold, or delay, but not give up on, to have another baby in my life.

Which in the end, for me, is the saddest thing of all.  I know if third baby were to make it here, alive and well (which sometimes feels as impossible as a planned mission to Mars), third baby would be as loved and as cherished and as needed as Aidan or Kaia.  He or she would be cease to be abstract and would become real.

And, oh how I want him or her to be real.  

I'm just not sure I have it in me to try.

I'm sorry third baby.  Mommy's so sorry.

Imagining Three

"Aidan do you know what today is?"

"It's my birthday Mommy!"

"Yes, you're right it is my big boy!  Aidan, how old are you today?"

"I'm three!"

"Yes you are!  What are we going to do today for your birthday?"

"Go to the zoo!  I love the zoo!"

"Are we going to see the lions and tigers and gorillas and turtles?"

"Yes, and the Orange-tans too!"

"Orange-tans?  Oh right, yes, the O-RANG-U-tans, yes we can see the Orangutans too. Aidan, this is a very special day.  Three years ago you were born and you were so small.  See this picture here?  Yes, that's you.  Look at how tiny you were.  Tiny tiny feet, tiny tiny hands...tiny, tiny everything".

"I'm not tiny, tiny anymore....I'm a BIG boy, now!"

"That's true.  You are a big boy, now.  You're a big brother now too.  But three years ago, you were so, so small that you had to live in a warm plastic box for a long, long time until you were bigger and stronger.  You had tubes and wires going every which way.  Yes, see this picture?  Mommy would sit beside you and hold your little hand in mine and put my hand over your head to keep you calm and feeling safe".

"Why, Mommy?"

"Because you were so small Mommy couldn't always hold you. We had to wait a long time for you to get big and strong so you could come home.  Your doctors and your nurses and your RTs said they have never seen such a remarkable boy!  You did so well and surprised just about everyone!  Even me!"

"Even YOU?"

"Yes my baby boy.  It took you awhile, but you grew so well and got so strong and healthy, I could hardly believe it.  You barely even look like that tiny baby anymore.  Except for your feet and your nose, those look just the same.  Just like your Daddy's"

"Some day, I'm going to be as big as Daddy and drive the car, just like him!"

"That's right, you will. You're a big boy already who can run and jump and count to 10 and say his A, B, Cs!"

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

"Yes Aidan, that's very good.  Okay, it's time to get your shoes on...time to go to the zoo!"

"Yeah!"

"Wait, Mommy needs a hug and a kiss from the birthday boy!"

"Love you Mommy."

"Love you too, Aidan."

***

Forever and Always my baby boy.

Just another day at the office

He has creamy pink skin.  Rosebud lips. Ten tiny toes, ten tiny fingers. A covering of peach-fuzz hair on his head. He is loved.  His room is waiting at home for him.  He is 7 and a half pounds of glorious perfection.  

Except for the brain damage.

She's standing at her son's beside gazing down at him. She is sore and slow and tired, with her swollen post-partum belly covered in sweats.  Her husband stands stoic beside her.  They don't know what went wrong.  He was fine, fine, fine on ultrasound just days ago. They have just finished a conversation with the nurse practitioner covering her son's care that day.  It's not good, but it's not the WORST either.  He's got a chance. We'll have to see how he does once we finish the cooling protocol and do an MRI.  Then the real waiting begins. It might be years before we know what he's going to be like.  Able?  Disable? Walking?  Talking?  Deaf?  Blind?  Who knows.  We left our crystal ball at home today.

She's standing at her son's beside gazing down at him.  He is still.  So still.  He has tubes and wires coming out of every which way.  The amount of technology surrounding his bedside looks like it could control a missile and is equally formidable to anyone who doesn't know it's purpose. His nurse (my colleague), offers his mom the chance to do his bath.  You know, something totally normal, if she didn't have to work around the breathing tube, the umbilical lines and the urinary catheter.

His mom begins to cry.  As tears roll down her cheeks she wrings her hands and manages to choke out, "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt him!"

I'm going about my day, trying to mind my own business while charting on my patient, but standing 3 feet from her, I can't help but hear everything she says.  My dead baby mother's heart responds so keenly, as I know what she is REALLY saying.

I'm afraid I already hurt him.  I'm afraid I've killed him, or damaged him beyond repair.  He's broken and it's all my fault.

As a nurse I could tell her "it's not your fault" and really mean it.  She did nothing wrong.  It was an accident. Nobody meant for this to happen.  Not the midwife, not the pediatrician, not the doctors, not the nurses, not her husband, not the baby and certainly not his mother.  But I know, she will blame herself...we always do.

A few days later he is breathing on his own.  Learning to eat from a bottle.  He will have challenges, but he will go home.  His mom is holding him and she looks a little better.  At least she smiles back at me.

He is one of the lucky ones.

Another day, I'm over at the fridge.  Searching around for the containers holding my patient's breast milk so that I can draw it up into tiny syringes to push down the tube in his nose into his stomach where it will hopefully stay to be digested and not end up back on my shoes.

I look over into the room next door.  The lights are dim, even though it's the middle of the day.  The staff doctor is speaking quietly to a couple sitting in matching rocking chairs by their son's bed side.  They are absolutely still.  I can tell just by their posture, and the blank looks on their faces that it's not good.  His nurse leans over to me and whispers, "she's talking to them about withdrawing fluids..."  They have already been told their son is beyond hope.  Unlike other organs which can recover from a lack of oxygen, the brain cannot.  His death certificate will read asphyxia.  Withdrawing fluids will help to not prolong things.

Withdrawal of fluids is completely appropriate in this case.  It is only offered in situations for which nothing can be done, and the family has agreed to a DNR.  But as I stand there watching that couple hear a doctor speak so calmly and plainly about hastening their son's death, I remember what it's like to get that news.  Nothing can be done.  No hope.  Beyond saving.  Might as well end it now.  It hurts.  Hurts like a gut wound.  You feel your stomach dropping out beneath you.  You feel dizzy and sweaty, like if you could only just block your ears, your mind, your heart, maybe all this awfulness will just go away and leave you and your family alone.  But it won't and it doesn't.

I look at the parents.  They are so completely, totally ordinary.  A month ago she was probably at her grocery store, or in the mall, or at church or at work, getting belly pats from well meaning old ladies chirping "oh, looks like it's any day now!"  She likely smiled and then rolled her eyes as they walked away.  He probably assembled the crib and attended birthing classes feeling like a fish out of water.  Worried about being a good enough dad, and maybe even rubbed her feet after a long day.

A month from now she will be back at that grocery store, slowly walking down the aisles.  Avoiding the one with diapers and wipes and formula, because even though she was going to cloth diaper and breast feed, it's all just too big of a reminder.  He will be at work, shooting the shit with the guys...but breaking a bit inside when colleagues mention their kids.  He'll quickly look away and busy himself with something else.  This year won't be what they thought it would.  No camping trips with an infant.  No holiday parties with the 'grandparents'.  Just them, alone again in an empty house.  I can see it all because I've lived it, and now they will too.  I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

***

How is it that so many babies traversing the,what? Maybe 10 cm total?, through the cervix and down the birth canal go from 'fine' in one spot, to 'dead, or dying' and the end?  It seems completely ludicrous that the only 10 cm you absolutely HAVE to cross in your life is the most dangerous of all.  Good job mother nature.  You can be such a cruel bitch.

***

Oh look at that, it's 7 o'clock.  Quitting time.  Yep, just another day at the office.  

Should have been a librarian.

The Ides of March

Where have I been lately?  Nowhere special.  I'm at a low energy point, probably due to the continuing dreariness of winter.  I hate winter.  I'm sick of the cold.  I'm bored with my winter wardrobe. I'm boycotting the outdoors until the sun shines and I can see the grass. I haven't felt like exercising and haven't felt like getting out much.  Instead I've been reading...A LOT.  I discovered Goodreads soon after Christmas and OHMYGOD, it's like I've found my tribe.  Hello people who love books more than movies, more than social interaction, more than food! I've read 30+ books over the last couple of months and I go nowhere without my Kindle.  Sometimes during the day when I'm home with Kaia, I'll follow her around, Kindle in hand, waiting until she gets distracted playing on her own for 3 minutes and in that time I'll try to read a few more pages.  I know, I'm a book junkie. "What's that Kaia? Sorry baby...mommy missed that totally awesome amazing thing you just did because I was reading."  Mother of the year award over here for sure.

***

So how is Kaia, you ask?

She's walking!!!  (Take that Breus mole, pPROM, prematurity and hip dysplasia!!!)

She finally started to walk at the beginning of February just before she was 19 months actual (17 months corrected).  Just as suspected she would, she did it first at Grandma's house while Brian and I weren't there.  Kaia's stubborn. VERY stubborn, especially with us. Any time we would try to encourage (or coax, trick, or bribe) her into walking, she would freeze up, flail around on the floor and cry, so I knew it was going to take someone who she's generally more agreeable with (such as the grandparents) to get her walking.  That first day she took about 6 steps total unassisted and since then she's been hanging on to things less and less, and becoming more and more adventurous.  She still walks like she's either a zombie, or very drunk, but she can bend down to pick something up without falling and has walked a bit outside while wearing her winter boots.  Her orthopedic surgeon who we visited last week was happy with her hip development (looks good on x-ray!) and pleased to see she was walking, so if he's happy, I'm happy.  It often amazes me when I'm distracted and see her out of the corner of my eye and think "who is that?  Oh wait, that's Kaia WALKING!" It's awesome to see her become a bit more independent.

What else?

She's got a few more words, but not as many as I thought she would by now. According to her pediatrician she is suppose to have 15-20 words at 18 months which is about where she's at (unless you count animal noises as words, then she's got double that).  However, she still grunts, moans and whines a lot and points to whatever it is she wants.  She understands a ton, and can point to pictures in books of things I didn't know she knew, but she doesn't like to use her words as often.  I'm finding this kind of baffling.  I talk to her ALL THE TIME.  I repeat things a million times a day. I pause when I'm speaking in order for her to answer.  I'm doing all the things you're suppose to in order to get your kid to talk, and we're still stuck on whining more than I would like.  I'm not concerned, per say...just a bit frustrated because I would love to know what she is thinking and you can only tell so much by "uh uh UH!!!".  It's also hard not to compare your kid to others.  According to my mother, I was talking full sentences by the time I was 18 months, and one of my friend's kids is practically a savant when it came to acquiring language (she was picking out letters correctly by the time she was 17 months), so the fact that Kaia's yet to (understandably) string two words together feels like we're behind.

In order to have a record somewhere (and where else is the best place but posted publicly on the internet?), here are the words she's (somewhat) mastered:

-Up (this is far and away her clearest word, usually uttered standing at my feet with her arms stretched)
-Mama
-Dada
-Keys
-Cheese
-Grapes
-Apple
-Banana
-No (always said in a sing-song voice "no-no-no" while shaking her finger)
-Hi
-Bye
-Lynx (our cat, but it comes out -ynx)
-Please (pees!!!!)
-Down
-On
-Off
-Uh-oh (usually said when she purposely drops something off her highchair tray)
-Wow
-Shoe and Boots (both of these I would only be able to make out if she had her shoe or boots in her hands as they are very vowel sounding "ooe" and "oooots".  This goes for "Snow" too...'noooowww').
-Tickle (always repeated "tickle-tickle-tickle" while she tries to tickle our arms or under our chin).
-Various animal noises including howling "oooooo" for a wolf. 

I'm always surprised she doesn't have a word for her bottle and/or sippy-cup (there is much pointing and whining and crying if she's thirsty).  Nor does she ever ASK for milk or water. Don't kids usually have a word for that ('wawa' anyone?)  A friend of mine's daughter is 3 and still uses her baby word for 'milk' which was 'white'.  I'm not sure how much clearer I can emphasis the words "WA-TER" and "Mmmm-ILK".  We'll keep trying though.

She does have a couple of "Kaia-isms" which aren't exactly words but I thought I'd record them here because damn are they ever cute.  The first is 'duba-duba-duba'.  This was first uttered while she had her fingers together and we finally realized she wanted us to sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider".  Then somehow this same 'word' transformed into meaning "open" when she stood at the baby gate that prevents her from falling down the stairs.  No idea how she made that leap.  It's weird, but we understand what she means now, so I suppose it works.  For 'yes' she kind of makes an 'uh-huh' noise but basically uses her whole body to agree. She kind of nods her head and bounces her torso and looks at you expectantly.  You really know she means "YES!!! ABSOLUTELY!!!".  I also LOVE how she says "I don't know". She throws her arms out to the sides in a palms up gesture and says "I don't know" in the same way Scooby-doo would say it where it basically sounds like a long cascading vowel sound with a "?" at the end.  It's the cutest thing ever.  Must remember to get this one on tape.

Kaia loves things that jingle (she's got ears like a bat for keys hidden in pockets or purses), things with buttons (picks up anything that remotely resembles a phone and says "Hi").  She can throw the craziest tantrums over nothing which include red face, tears and ear piercing screaming, but her mushy fishy lipped kisses totally melt your heart.  She loves animals, and screams with joy while standing at the window watching the dogs run around in the park behind our house.  Kaia eats fairly well, and can use a fork, but often chooses not to since that would ruin the tactile experience of eating.  She has definite food likes and dislikes and will NOT be talked into eating anything she's not completely sure of (and will pull away and give you the "are you CRAZY?" look like you've just offered her booger or dirt to eat when it's a piece of potato). She also likes to share food and will gladly feed you a piece of whatever she's eating, but will throw anything on the floor she doesn't want (crusts of bread are a current 'will not eat'). She charms all the adults in her life, including her grandparents, aunts, uncles and babysitter. She gets called "good" by them a lot, which is lovely to hear about your kid, but I'm pretty sure it means she saves all her "not so good" moments for Brian and I.  I suppose this isn't unexpected, and in my better moments I try to take it as a compliment.  We all save our inner most selves (good and bad) for the people we trust the most, and this is Kaia's way of saying "I trust you to still love me and look after me, even when I'm not on my best behaviour".  Thanks kid, I love you too.

When I really look at it objectively, Kaia pretty much falls into the category of 'average toddler'.  She's average weight (24 lbs) , average height (81 cm) with an average sized head (47cm) for her corrected age of 18 months as measured today at the pediatricians.  She fits into 18-24 month clothing.  She sleeps 12 hours at night with a 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon.  She's hitting her milestones (roughly) on average, and was really only held back physically because of her cast. I have to remind myself at times that it's silly to get hung up over comparing the exact moment when she could sit up, crawl, walk and talk with others because less than two years ago I feared she wouldn't survive.  Or if she did, that she would be plagued with handicaps resulting from her gestational and birth circumstances.  The fact that she's so completely AVERAGE is a miracle in itself.  

You don't often hear parents brag about it but here it is: Whoo hoo!  My kid is AVERAGE!!! Hurray!!!!

***

Two women at work who had babies within weeks of when I had Kaia (but ya know, full term and without all the drama), have recently just had their second.  Full term and healthy.  The one who had a boy first, had a girl and vice versa for the other.  Two kids each.  One boy, one girl.  Ta da!  Perfect family. My sister-in-law is approaching twenty weeks as we speak, and when we found out about the pregnancy last month they were humming and hawing over whether to find out the sex this time at their 20 week scan (they didn't last time).  I hope it's a girl for Kaia's sake since then at least if she never gets a (living) sibling she'll have one boy and one girl cousin.  On the other hand it will be another family who has what I could have had.

Do other people wonder about this who've had an opposite gendered living child after the dead one?  I think about it sometimes. What would it be like to have a boy?  Growing up I honestly imagined myself having a girl, and I'm glad that one dream has been fulfilled...but when Aidan was born, I got attached to the idea of a little boy running around my house.  I was so happy when Kaia was born alive that it didn't even occur to me to be concerned about what gender she was.  But, I confess, in my dreams of having another child it's generally a little boy.  I would be happy for a healthy baby and a normal pregnancy either way, but a boy would somehow restore the mom-son relationship that I lost when Aidan died.

***

I've missed him more lately.  Some situations at work have been sad reminders, and one of the books I was reading ('love Anthony' by Lisa Genova) I had to put down for awhile because it's about a woman grieving a dead son.  It was just too overwhelming. 

Grieving his loss has become such a part of who I am that sometimes it catches me off guard at how sad I can still be, and how much some things still affect me.  I wonder if that will subside in time too?

I miss you Aidan.  I wish you were here, always.

Lost In the Fire

When I was 12 years old I use to check out books about pregnancy from the library, just because I found the subject fascinating.  I'd hit puberty and I found it amazing to think that my body was developing into something that could grow another human. It seemed almost unreal.

My best subject in University was embryology.  An entire course on the first 10 weeks of pregnancy.  It was detailed, with intricate drawings and charts. We started off with the sperm and the egg, and by the end of the course we were into embryonic hearts, brains, intestinal tracts and thyroids.  All of that is formed by the time you head for your 12 week ultrasound.  I got a 96% in the course.

When I dreamed of going to medical school I wanted to go into Neonatology, and when that didn't happen I headed to nursing school with only one desire: to work in the NICU.  The care those fragile newborns needed was fascinating and so high tech and complex for such small patients.  I wanted my career to revolve around babies.  There was nowhere else I even considered working. 

***

It seems almost farcical that someone like me who has loved the idea of pregnancy and babies since before I can even remember, now finds the whole subject kind of depressing and sad.  I own my pregnancies, and I'm not ashamed of them, and it doesn't bother me to talk about them, or about Aidan...but they weren't happy times.  They weren't joyful or amazing or full of excitement.  I remember them as some of the most stressful, saddest and depressing times of my life.  It continues to amaze me that the wonderful being that is Kaia even came from those disastrous circumstances.  I look at her and marvel sometimes that she's just so normal, so herself.  She has none of the taint that was her pregnancy.  She is goodness and happiness and light.  That Acorn, the baby I worried for and cried so much for is actually the same person who toddles around our house, exasperating us by throwing her food on the floor, whines to be picked up to look out the window, and (on a good day!) falls asleep in my arms at nap time...seems almost unreal.  She's so alive...how could I ever have worried otherwise?

But I did  Oh I did.

One of the hardest parts about being back at work, is the constant surroundings of co-workers who are pregnant.  On my unit I work with 150+ women, most of child bearing age.  At any one time a dozen or more are off, going off, or coming back from maternity leave.  I can't go a day without bumping into a baby bump or hearing about so and so's ultrasound or baby shower, or other equally normal, happy pregnancy details.  I have very little to share and feel very "other" when these conversations come up.  Nobody else can relate to pPROM before viability.  Nobody knows what never ending weeks of bed rest is like.  Nobody gets what it's like to hold your dead child in your arms and live in fear for the life of the next. In truth, I have way more in common with my patient's parents than I do with my co-workers.  I wish I had happy stories to share, but my happy story starts months after the second pregnancy ended, when the baby finally came home, relatively unscathed.

So maybe it's no wonder that today when we found out at my nephew's 1st birthday party that my sister-in-law is 16 weeks pregnant with her second, I had to force myself to smile.  Truly, I'm glad for them, I'm happy they are happy and I'm excited to meet my future niece or nephew...but it just brings up so much sadness for me.  Brian and I talked about it on the way home, and we both feel it.  That kick to the gut that is the happy announcement.  The healthy pregnancy.  The anticipated delivery.  The plans for a living, breathing child.  We never had any of that.  WILL never have any of it, because when your first dies and you have a shit track record in the pregnancy department, well you just don't DO happy and excited anymore.  You do "cautious" and "anxious".  At your happiest you might do "pleased". And at your worst?  You might be left with "Not unexpected".   

"Things We Lost in the Fire" was the title of a movie released a couple years back, but I feel it could perfectly describe my feelings towards pregnancy now.  Sure it can produce wonderful, fantastic results (of which Kaia is but one example)...but it will never hold the same joy for me again.  Pregnancy lost all it's magic, all it's innocence and joy.  It's a source of jealousy and depression and anxiety and sadness.  It didn't work right for us.  It wasn't easy or carefree.  My son died and my daughter just barely escaped.  

Pregnancy, while a source of wonder and excitement for others, tastes like ash in my mouth.

How do you experience pregnancy now, both your own or others?  Does it still hold any joy or wonder?

Toddler Girl

Kaia you are 18 months old today!  As of tomorrow you are closer to age 2 than you are to age 1, which feels monumental somehow.

At 18 months old (16 months corrected...I still like adding that in because it makes you seem younger and still more like my baby), you are getting a pretty definite personality.

Things you love:
-books. Today you didn't want to let go of "Goodnight Moon", even during breakfast.  Unfortunately you were eating another favourite: blackberries.  You proceeded to get blackberry bits all over the edges of the book.  So you now have a blackberry stained copy of Goodnight Moon. Whoops.

 -walking with your "push".  You still can't walk on your own yet, but can motor really well with your push toy.  You steer it around the furniture and if the edge gets caught on something you ram the handle over and over and over until you can maneuver your push around the obstacle and continue on your way.  It makes me a little nervous for when you get your license.

- phones! You love our cell phones.  Like seriously LOVE them.  I think you'd marry one right now if you could.  You even know that Daddy keeps his in his pants pocket and have 'Artful Dodger-ed' it on occasion. You love the lights and the noise and pushing the buttons.  I know you aren't unique in this regard as it seems to be a common love among the toddler set (to the point where some parents buy their kids their own devices...no you can't have one).  Still...it's cute to watch you get all excited when the phone comes out.  If I have to check a message when you are around I have to do it out of your line of sight or you'll come crawling over to see what I'm looking at.

Notice the blue glow on her face, and the fact that she is holding still enough for me to take the photo.

- the cat.  Every morning when I open your door you are standing in your bed and, after smiling at me, proceed to look out the door for our cat Lynx.  You've learned from your babysitter how to 'call' animals by making 'kissy' noises while making a 'snapping' motion with your fingers.  It's so cute, even if Lynx never responds.

This is a crummy picture, but getting the two of them in the frame at the same time is nearly impossible.

 -your stuffed animals.  Kaia, so far, you aren't a doll person. You got two dolls for Christmas and have little use for either of them.  You do however, LOVE your stuffed animals. You will feed them with a toy baby bottle, and like to cuddle them one second, then throw them in the air the next.  You LOVE it when Daddy or I make them talk, walk, or hop.  You think it's the funniest thing ever and will get your crazy laugh going.

This is Molly, given to you on your birthday from Grami and Poppi with Aidan in mind.  They felt Aidan would like his little sister to have such a cute monkey. You couldn't agree more. Hannah Hoppy, who is in the picture of you reading a book above, is another favourite.

-back rubs, face rubs, ear rubs, head rubs.  I have no photos of this since usually my hands are occupied doing the rubbing before bed, but you love having your head rubbed, your eyebrows and bridge of your nose massaged, your ear lobes tickled, or your back patted while you lay on your stomach in bed.  I know when you're ready to let me soothe you this way at nap or at night that you are tired and ready for sleep.

-baths.  I also don't have photos of this (well I do, but I'm not posting naked baby photos on the internet).  You love splashing in the bath, playing with your bath toys, and getting a swing in the towel on your way back to your room when bath is over.  Nothing is cuter than a freshly washed baby....sorry...toddler.

Freshly washed toddler hair...so wispy.

Of course, when you begin to be old to enough to love certain things, you also become old enough to HATE certain things.  And you aren't afraid to let people know it.

Things you hate:


-When we try to 'help' you walk on your own by attempting to have you let go of our finger.  When this happens you immediately bend and put your hands on the floor. You just aren't ready to take steps unassisted.  You're barely holding on to us when walking, to the point it sometimes feels like you're carrying our finger, but you still occasionally need that balancing aid.  I'm betting it's partly your weaker left hip slowing you down, but it's also mental at this point. You DO NOT like falling and will CRY something awful at even the smallest bump, so you've just decided you will walk only when you are good and balanced and ready and unlikely to fall.  I know it won't be, but sometimes it feels like it could be eons at this rate.

-Closed baby gates.  You HATE when the baby gate is closed that stops you from falling down the stairs (sorry...I know, I should just let you play at the top of the stairs.  It really is the only truly fun square footage in the whole house).

-Having ANYTHING taken away (especially a phone!!) or being made to go when you want to sit, or sit when you want to go.  I can tell this by the whining...and the crying...and the screaming.  I think I jinxed it in a past post when I bragged how you were such a good baby and had never thrown a tantrum in public.  HAHAHAHAHA. Rookie mistake. Toddler Kaia is a whole new ball game. Christmas shopping with you this year wasn't candy canes and gum drops, let me tell you.  Even when I tried to bribe you with said delicious treats. I'm sure in retrospect I'll look back on this behaviour and fondly sigh "oh where does the time go"...wait, no I won't.  EVER.

The camera has a SCREEN on it, with BUTTONS...and guess who KNOWS IT!!!!

Kaia, despite your sometimes challenging ways, I love you so much and am SO happy to be your Mommy.  

You were worth it baby toddler girl.

Flip

Christmas is coming.  I'm excited and looking forward to it.  At least on the outside.

Inside, I've been feeling more conflicted, anxious and irritable lately.  We are coming to the point in our lives where we have to decide whether or not to try for another child.  I want to start my Masters in September 2014 (I can't do this night shift stuff forever!!) and we'd like to be done procreating the summer of 2014 at the latest. I've known since Kaia was born that we would have to make this decision at some point, but back then it was comfortably far in the future, no need to worry about it too much...  Except the time is now and the reality of it is starting to hit me. 

You know how it goes:

1) The 'trying' (fun for the first time or two, stressful after that).  And if it does work...

2) The 'finding out' (No going back now...  Should we do betas? What if they don't rise as expected?  Do we do an early ultrasound?  What if it doesn't show a heart-beat? Definitely want to be on progesterone...will my doc prescribe it? Cue the stressful watch for spotting EVERY TIME I go pee. Plus, if everything goes well there is still the nausea ad. nauseam to look forward to.  Oh and don't forget that all day crushing tiredness. "Kaia, Mommy is not to be woken up prior to full daylight for at least the next 12 weeks. You're good with watching Backyardigans and Dora all day while I pretend to watch but really try to nap here beside you, right sweetie?!")

3) The second trimester. (Usually other couples are doing the happy dance at this point. 12 weeks! Way to go little fetus!  Smooth sailing from now on! Time to get the grainy ultrasound photo up on facebook and start planning the registry!  Except in our case this is historically when the shit hits the proverbial fan. Do we tell people we're pregnant at this point?  It will likely begin to be pretty obvious, but then we'll also have to say "yes, but as per our previous pregnancies it's not a sure thing yet...we'll keep you posted".  Also, this is when my stress levels will sky rocket since at this point I'll be afraid every.single.twinge. is disaster beginning to strike. "Kaia darling, Mommy would like to lie here quietly until we hit at least 24 weeks and would prefer to spend all our free time in the ultrasound suite scanning for abnormalities in your little sibling's placenta. That's cool with you right?" Fun times all around.)

4) After that? Who knows.  Let's label it: the great unknown (???)

So while all this is stewing around in my brain, it didn't help that I had a few tough shifts at work lately.  The worst was looking after a little baby the night before his family had to withdraw life support due to the absence of brain activity.  This is sadly not a terribly uncommon thing in our NICU, but what made this particular baby's case so personally stressful for me, was that his mom was also very sick.  She was on life support, with a very guarded prognosis.  She had a pre-exisiting medical condition (like me) which led to complications and then her heart stopped when she was within spitting distance of a full term pregnancy. The baby would go on to die the next day leaving mom to either get better...or not. My heart broke to see the family members come in to get the news regarding the baby's prognosis.  Because, what do you say to a family in a case like that?  Sorry your whole life has just imploded. Sorry you got the exact opposite of what you expected. Sorry you are living my worst nightmare.  Sorry...sorry...I'm just so...sorry.  I settled for "I'll take good care of your baby tonight"...which I did, but it hurt my heart to do so.

I worry maybe even more that I ever did before about something happening to my own health, or to our possible future baby's health now that Kaia is around.  Because right now, life is pretty good.  Kaia is thriving.  I could stand to lose a few pounds (after Christmas, I promise), but otherwise, I'm pretty good too.  Our life feels good, with manageable amounts of stress.  It's daunting to consider tinkering with that.

Then of course, in my personal life, friends of ours have become another cautionary tale.  They just had their 3rd child.  They have two school age daughters, but Mom really wanted another baby.  So they had one....at 28 weeks.  Her first two were preemies as well, but were both over 32 weeks.  Their third wasn't so lucky.  As far as we know, he's doing well in the hospital, but he'll be there awhile, and visiting their tiny son in his isolette was not exactly how they planned to spend the holidays.  The kicker is his mom had a doctor's appointment only days prior to his birth in which she was told she had 'no signs of impending labour'.  Good call OBs.  Guess you forgot to look in your crystal ball that day.  It makes any predictions that we are 'unlikely' to have a recurrence of any of our previous problems seem like a shot in the dark.

On the other hand, I hate to live my life ruled by fear of the 'what ifs'.  Afraid by what I see at work, or with friends, or on the news. I don't want to be afraid to make my life what I want it because something might go wrong.  All of that discounts the possibility that something may go very right.  Might turn out wonderfully.  Might be a healing and happy and normal experience.  Despite the challenges we faced last time, my baby did come home.  It is possible.  I don't want to live with regrets.  

I'm just not sure what I would regret more.  Something awful happening, but knowing 'well, at least we tried', or the never knowing what could have been.  

Maybe I'll have to flip a coin or something.