Life at 23 weeks

I wasn't going to post until after my appointments this week, but with coffee in hand, kids playing quietly downstairs, and a freshly immunized girl of misery sleeping off her fever in her crib... I felt compelled to write this morning.

I turned on the heat this morning. *GASP! My husband would be mortified, but it was so chilly in here, my feet were cold, a sweater wasn't cutting it, and so our little furnace got a rude awakening after so long in disuse. Aliyah had her shots yesterday, they were definitely the worst ones yet, 3. I couldn't bear to give her chicken pox. Four is just too many. Then I came home and started researching immunizations and started panicking that my daughter was going to get autism or febrile seizures or encephalitis. At first, with family who have had adverse reactions to immunizations, I was completely against them. But Jonathan was on the other end of the spectrum and so we decided to give our kids most of their shots. His reasoning is that he is in contact with so many people, bodily fluids, etc. Our kids are naturally going to be more exposed. I saw the wisdom in that. Over time I have given them more and more and now the only one they haven't had is their varicella (chicken pox). Yesterday I felt like God just asked me to trust him with this.

There are two camps, the immunization camp who feels VERY strongly and judges anyone who does not. And the Anti-immunization who is on the other end of the planet on this matter it seems. I now stand in the middle. I think there is truth to the research linking autism to immunizations. I have been reading these studies and they are legitimate. I also know that some of these diseases kill and it would be devastating to have your child contract one and die and blame yourself the rest of your life. If I had to do it all over again, I honestly might have not immunized. But now that we have walked this path I do feel a peace that if God can protect my children from disease, he can protect them from their immunizations and adverse reactions. He has a plan not only for me, but for my children, and I have to trust him to complete that plan. Needless to say, I have some research and praying to do before number five comes along and I am getting calls from the health clinic again.

Today we pack up for Vancouver. We have been so blessed to have Matthew and Sonia offer to take our kids for the day. We are going to sleep over at their house, leave really early in the morning for our appointments and drive back as soon as they are done. It is going to be a long day, but it will save us money on a hotel and food, and at least the kids won't have to go through all that sitting. I have a TON to do. I still wanted to do a bit of school this morning, my house is somehow yet again destroyed. I have kind of taken a break from routine and schedule this week to get caught up on some sewing projects. And as always when I am not on top of this house like a drill sergeant... it falls to pieces. So really what this post is doing, is allowing me to procrastinate my to-do list for five more minutes ;)

It has been a good week, we have been getting some stuff done that has been looming over my head for a while. Baby is active, although as dainty as can be. I don't remember the other kids being so dainty. She is like a little doll, blooping around inside of me. I know she can kick hard, from the few ceremonial sucker punches I receive, but they are so rare I can count them on one hand. She mostly just moves, maybe we have a little ballerina in there. Graceful, calm, and smooth. I could handle that. We could use a little grace and calm around this house ;)

I am REALLY looking forward to appointment day tomorrow. I have so many questions from last time, I am going to be asking for a referral on as well as to bump up the date of the MRI. I am not looking forward to pushing this wonderfully nice doctor, but I am determined I have to do what is best for not only me, but the baby as well. I am hoping we get some more answers, that the ultrasound gives us a better indication of what is going on. All the uncertainty and reading all the horror stories has my back up against a wall and I feel like I am ready to know where I stand on the "scale of doom". I am also thrilled Jonathan will get to be in these appointments with me. I hate telling him second hand. He can ask questions, hear details I might miss, and just be there to hold my hand.

I will update you all as soon as we know more information, or as soon as we are recovered from our busy week ;) Hope you enjoy your fall day wherever you are. Light a candle, have a coffee, read a book. I am on to my daunting to do list.

Diagnosed with Increta: 22 weeks

Well this week was full of the remainder of our vacation, getting home and settling back in, getting ready for school, etc. We have done a LOT of talking, a lot of praying, a lot of research, and getting familiar with what we will be doing the most of.... waiting. We will hopefully be getting referred to an OB here in Kamloops to monitor our care in between by appointments in Vancouver. We are starting to make our lists of questions for next time and considering asking for a referral up despite how much I liked our OB in Vancouver. At this point its just a lot of questions and not much we can do about it. We got a call with our appointment times on September 19th which we will be looking forward to if for no other reason than to start working through the whirlwhind of questions in our minds. I am sincerely hoping Jonathan can either be in that appointment or else at the very least drop me off and be on speakerphone back in the hotel with the kids. Not sure what we'll do or how we'll arrange it but at this point it is just infomation overload and I can't even think what to say or ask or how to respond when I'm in the hot seat.

I am tired. Bone weary. Probably a combination of this being my fifth baby and the emotional upheaval of it all. I can't seem to sleep enough. My blood pressure is EVERYWHERE. I feel nauseous, I'm blacking out and dizzy every couple of steps, out of breath. As soon as I am up my BP is 130/80 and then when I am resting it is crashing to 80/40. It makes me feel like crap. In my first trimester I found out I am quite low on iron so it is yet another thing I will have to bring up at my next appointment. In the meantime I am beefing up my iron supplements and just trying to move slowly so I don't fall over. I am supposed to start school this week with the kids, I have a few other things planned in as well as their booster shots, and some sewing projects to complete. It makes me want to cry. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything. Other than school that is. I might be able to manage that, but anything over and above is just simply too much. My home is my sanctuary. My kids are my distraction. I have everything I need here and I just don't want to leave. Growing up with me you would have never guessed I would be such an introvert and homebody, but alas my love and need for people just disappeared somewhere along the way. My life takes up all of my emotional and physical energy, it isn't that I don't miss those "girls nights out" its more that I just don't have the time or energy for them anymore. I would rather spend my few spare moments reading a book, or taking a bath, or heck... GOING TO BED EARLY! ;) One day.

Anyways, baby is healthy for another week. Another week closer to being viable out in this harsh world. In the meantime, I have a house that needs to be cleaned, but I might just call it and go to bed instead ;) Happy first week of school everyone!

Diagnosed with Increta: 21 weeks

21 weeks pregnant

I am currently pregnant with my fifth baby. Thats right folks, number 5! I am young, but would like to clarify that NO, I was not a teen mom. I have had my kids pretty much one on top of another. In fact, in the nearly 7 years of Jonathan and my marriage, I have been pregnant for 41 months. He has known me officially more pregnant and breastfeeding than not. So hey, I must not be a complete crazy person when I'm pregnant ;) Our beautiful kids are 6, 5, 4 (in a few months) and 1 1/2. We are thrilled that our littlest one is  going to have a little buddy to play with and found out that she will in fact have a sister to keep her company. We wanted a baseball team ;) Well, not necessarily. But we wanted to keep on having kids. Our plan in life was to trust God for the spacing and timing of our children and to keep on having them until we got to the point where we could not or were not coping with it. We both feel as though this is our greatest calling in life and each new baby has brought so much joy for both Jonathan and I, I guess you could say we are a bit addicted.

How could we NOT be addicted, look at these little monkeys! 

But alas, my addiction to babies is being called into an intervention of sorts. With my last two pregnancies I had problems with retained placenta after the birth and difficulty removing it. So this time we decided to go down to Vancouver and get some more detailed tests done. On Monday, August 26th we found out that we have placenta increta as well as notching along one side of my uterine arteries. These are two completely seperate conditions and both dangerous in their own way. Placenta increta was a bit of a shock, I was prepared for accreta, but not expecting to already be hearing such bad news. Placenta accreta is a condition in which the placenta adheres to the uterine lining. In a normal pregnancy, the placenta and uterus are like velcro. They are separate, but stuck together. With accreta, you can imagine that the velcro gets overheated and glues together. The natural barrier between the placenta and uterus is nonexistent. This is what they think I had with the last two pregnancies. This time, I am diagnosed with increta. This is where the placenta grows INto the uterine wall. It can grow in just a small area or large. It can grow deeply or not. It varies greatly in severity and although it can get worse as my pregnancy progresses, it cannot reverse or get better. In my case, a very large portion of my placenta has grown into the wall and they are concerned that it will continue to grow. At this point my placenta is is high and at the back of my uterus. If it continues to grow, it will grow through my wall and begin attaching to my intestines. You can imagine that this would put the "danger level" of my pregnancy much higher. As it stands now, it is more than likely that the only way to save my life will be to remove my uterus as soon as the baby is out. The risk is still there that I could bleed out or haemorrhage while they try to get my uterus out and so they would be using as many interventions as possible in order to minimize the bleeding and keep me stable. Including putting balloons through my arteries in my legs towards my uterus to inflate and cut off the blood while they preform the surgery. It SUCKS.

I am sitting in this appointment by myself, getting texts from Jonathan wondering what is happening (it was an hour of talking and me just trying to grab as much info as I could at the time). My head was REELING. "So, what your saying is... right now it is bad. There is a 5% chance I could die even if it doesn't get worse. You think it is going to get worse. I can't have any more kids. This is my last pregnancy. Oh, and wait... I have ANOTHER condition??!?!?!?!??!?!"

On top of all of this, I have uterine notching. There are two main arteries that supply blood to the uterus. One on either side. When you are pregnant the muscle wall that is around our arteries to constrict them when we are in shock or stressed dissolves. This is to protect the baby and ensure it ALWAYS receives what it needs, no matter what. On one of my arteries there is restricted blood flow, meaning the muscle has not completely dissolved. I have heard of one side being completely restricted and the baby still surviving through the other artery, but it is dangerous for me and the baby and needs to be closely monitored as my pregnancy progresses. The two main things they will watch for is that baby is growing, as it can cause IUGR (intrauterine growth restriction), as well as signs of preeclampsia (high blood pressure in pregnancy) as it is very closely linked to causing this condition. The fact that I have had preeclampsia in the past combined with this notching puts me at high risk of this condition. Which also puts the risk for the surgery and whole procedure, pregnancy in general, that much higher.

There is still TONS of information we need. I will be going back down to Vancouver in three weeks time to have another ultrasound to check in on the notching. I am not sure as it was one of the million questions I thought of AFTER my appointment, but I think it can get better and/or not get worse. In which case it might not cause anything, just be something to watch. But at this point, they want to see it again and see what is happening with it. In another month after that I will go back for an MRI, consults with all the doctors who will be doing my surgery, including the surgery to implant the balloons, the people that will be putting in my spinal and epidural, and the people that will be putting in my central line to take blood/monitor my blood pressure. We have a lot of decisions to make, a lot more tests to do, and a lot of waiting and praying in the meantime. I will definitely be delivering by C-section and most likely quite early in order to ensure I don't go into labor and the condition doesn't get worse.

And so it is that the girl who is afraid of going to the dentist is going to be sliced and diced every which way, have balloons and tubes inserted into her arteries, IV's, epidural and a spinal. Lets just say that I am dreading going through all of this and trying to process a lot right now. Including the risk to my life and what that means (preparing my will, slowing down my life, etc), the fact that this is my last pregnancy (heart wrenching), the risk to this little one and concern for her safety, and the sheer dread of going through all of this. Lets just say I would be thrilled to "bring on the pain" of a natural birth compared to all of this :(

I don't fully understand it. I am an anomoly in the medical community. "You can't get pre-ecmlampsia unless its your first baby or you've had it before..." um, I got it in my third after two healthy babies. "You don't get accreta unless it attaches to the front, your placenta is in the back so you're good" Third times a charm? But at the same time there is a peace that comes from knowing that after this, I don't have to worry or stress or be afraid of all this stuff again. Each pregnancy is so stressful wondering what will happen and worrying about the complications. Hopefully the interventions will be successful and everything doesn't worsen so I can be home for Christmas. That's my goal. Be alive, with a safe and healthy baby, and home for Christmas. And we will be praying every day to that end.

If you want to stay up to date on this condition and our journey through this pregnancy, please feel free to follow our blog. I will try to do an update each week through our appointments and tests.

The Chaos Chorus

The sun has set not long ago

Now my time to relax and sew

Minky blankets, bibs and bags

I work until midnight nags

Exhausted now I go to sleep

But in three hours I hear a peep

Nursing babies, soothing fears

The night wears on, dawn appears

Children wake up, wanting food

I stumble out of bed, I brood

A shower, ha! Makeup, me?

I’ll simply live in sweats so free!

A messy house that never goes

A pile of never ending clothes

Kids are fighting, TV’s on

“Time to start” I sigh and yawn

School time, the books come out

And like a bunny I hop about

Helping this one, and then the next

Finally, its time to rest

OUTSIDE TIME! I exclaim in glee!

Time for coffee, time to breathe!

At my computer, so still, so calm

I talk with adults, a soothing balm

The day wears on, it keeps me hopping

Never ceasing, never stopping

Dinner hour, the time I dread

Why oh why can’t I go to bed?

7 o clock, bedtime at last

Story time, asleep so fast

These little monkeys I love so dear

They are the reason for my cheer

For although I’m tired and weary

The bags under my eyes are oh so dreary

I would not have it any other way

And so I start another day.

The Plague... or something like it!

Pain and sickness are the same. Outside of the situation, you simply do not grasp the entirety of the problem. Even if you have gone through it yourself! Take childbirth for example, in the moment you swear to yourself  that you will NEVER do this again! The pain and exhaustion and sheer overwhelming trauma of it are all consuming. However within a year, months, or even minutes for some brave souls... you think to yourself, "it wasn't that bad, I could do that again." Some part of us, deep down, knows that that is a bald faced lie. But for the most part, we repress the bad stuff and focus on the good.

Sickness is much of the same. In the moment I lose all sense of time. It seems to go on forever and my misery is palpable. I promise myself we will wash our hands more, bring hand sanitizer with us to the store, in our times of sorrow I even promise myself I'll never leave my house again. But the sad reality is that within a few days or weeks our lives resume as normal and we are once again injected to the heart of society and its vast arsenal of diseases. I am discouraged to admit a pattern has emerged. Yes I suppose it is unavoidable. Alas, I cannot lock us up in our house never to leave again. However during this horrible season of colds and flus we get better, then sick again, then better, then sick. The small joy of getting together with family and friends is quickly dampened with the stark reality of the germs that were shared and the ensuing infection that results.

As you may have correctly assumed, we are sick. Every single one of us. From baby girl crying in the distance, refusing to be put down and smearing her snot all over my shirt--to myself feeling faint and nauseous and like I am going to cough out my innards. My counters are covered in food. I suppose I feel as though if I simply leave it out I don't have to prepare it. Buns are left in bags and when the kids are hungry they simply help themselves to what they can find on the counter or in the fridge. Apple cores litter my floors, half-eaten stale buns are hidden in the folds of their blankets. Plates, crafts, play dough, and toys are strewn about the table and the floor. Diapers are tossed on the floor like land mines to be avoided in the middle of the night. A bath tub full of cold water sits brewing with yesterdays filth while pee from my potty training toddler is forming a dried crust underneath my toilet. Clothes lay in wild abandon throughout the house and the piles of laundry are forming a small mountain beside my unused washing machine. Cold cups of coffee sit about the house like glasses of water from the little girl in "Signs" (think Mel Gibson and alien invasion). Toilet paper sits in clumps around our beds and we all live in the blessed comfort of our pyjamas. The batteries on our phones and tablet are left on empty as the kids play them ceaselessly all day long. The TV rests in the "on" position and I am sure our eyes are somewhat glazed from the lack of outdoor air and activity. Yes, this is the residence of sickness, from the people to the resulting pandemonium that is my house we practically scream DISEASE!

And so it is that in the moment I beg with myself to never leave the house. I reason that this is not worth the sips of coffee as I visit with my friends whilst my kids swap spit on the nearest toy. I promise that grocery trips will be a team effort with the strategy of one adult sitting in the car with the kids while the other fills the grocery cart. That I will stock my purse with sanitizer and be a nazi with drinking our kefir each day. But the naivety has left and the veteran is in its place. And the veteran shakes her head in the sad but inevitable knowledge that in a week all promises will be forgotten and life will resume once more.

Happy flu season everyone! May your hygiene practises be vigilant and your intestinal flora be strong! :)

The Lonely World

I have long been struck but the world-wide view of Canadians as being "polite". We are the polite nation. Always using our please and thank you's, being so kind and caring and compassionate. People hear Canadian and they think "Due South". I wish they weren't wrong. Canadians are just as self-centred as everyone else. Always looking out for number one. Whether they be old or young, busy or not, it is rare to be offered a smile or a kind word. No, most often when I am out on my own with the kids I feel more alone than when I am at home in my house. Surrounded by people everywhere and yet either they can't look me in the eye or else they point and talk about me instead of to me. I was struck by this the other day. I have gone out by myself with the four kids since having Aliyah, but not shopping. If I have to go out I try to keep it to a simple thing, and the other day I decided to brave the big bad world on my own! Swimming lessons, shopping and lunch were on the agenda and I was determined to do it by myself. 

Trying to unload kids, get them to walk in some sort of unity across a parking lot and into a store is massive accomplishment. Doors slammed in my face as people tried to avoid me and I struggled through pulling my stroller behind me and holding toddler hands in front. As I hold a wobbly tray for lunch, people just whiz on by. Sometimes they see me struggling as I try to maintain control of my brood and pay at the same time or try to walk while pushing a stroller and holding a tray of food. But not one person will offer to help. They just watch me and I can't help but wonder what is going on behind those eyes. Are they pitying me? Are they judging me? Are they simply amused and watching to see how I will manage? I honestly don't know. But I can feel so alone, so cold and deserted in that sea of people. And in moments like that I don't see our country through the naive eyes of Paul Gross, instead I see us as selfish and self-involved. Too caught up in our own worlds to think about someone else. We're angry on the roads, honking horns and cutting people off. We are rude in stores, ignoring others and only saying hi when we can't avoid it. 

I may not be able to change the way I am treated when I go out with my little brood behind me, but I aim to change the way I treat other people. And even if I can't necessarily help them out while balancing my little circus act, at least offer a warm smile or kind word to make them feel a little less ostracized and ignored. And so tonight I challenge you to hold open a door for someone, ask someone how they are doing without walking by before you've heard the answer. It might not "make the world a better place" but it might make the streets of Kamloops and Chase a little less cold and indifferent for one person. 

Final Stretch

I am laying in my bed, slightly uncomfortable as always, with a quiet and yet incessant voice in my head (and my abdomen) telling me to get up and pee for the hundredth time. I try to ignore it. It persists. And so, I start the ever-increasing ordeal of shifting positions around my pillows in order to get my fat butt out of our memory foam sinkhole. It is then that I see my husband float through the door, so smooth and graceful, like a cat trying to hide its indiscretions. Calmly ignoring him, I proceed out the door to do my business and return to look at my clock. Alas, it is 5am. Did my dear husband work until 5am? No, he came home several hours earlier and watched TV for three hours. Does this upset me? You better believe it! I give him a huge lecture about taking care of himself (really for my sake because at this point in my life, I can't handle when he is grumpy because he refuses to sleep), and roll over in a huff. Such a huff, in fact, that I now have a 4 1/2 pound baby jumping in my uterus and a new, not so quiet voice, telling me to eat. I am no longer tired (although come 2pm I will be most likely a dead man walking) and decide to get up. Already planning on how I will blame my exhaustion on him later on today... I find myself wondering what to do with myself. My kids are still asleep, I can't do anything too loud for fear of waking them. So, I clean. Mopping my floors, tidying up toys, folding laundry. At last, the time came for me to sit with my green tea and do some much-needed devotions.

I have been trying to work my way through Beth Moore's "David" study. In nearly a month, I have watched the initial video and today I finally finished the first week of homework! But today was the story of David and Goliath, a favourite of all Sunday School children out there. I was struck by the wonder of it all once again as I read about David's courage and tried to imagine myself having the same faith, the same courage, the same boldness. I could not. One thing that she wrote really impacted me, and I decided with what little time I had left, I would share it with whoever still reads this poorly neglected blog.

"FAITH IN FAITH IS POINTLESS. FAITH IN A LIVING, ACTIVE GOD MOVES MOUNTAINS"

Now, turn off your sunday school brain that is telling you, "yes, sure, of course, didn't you know that dear?" and think about it. How often do we place our faith in our spirituality? How often do we feel discouraged or intimidated or even unable to complete a task because we are uncertain of our faith? Didn't we also grow up hearing "if you only have enough faith..." The problem with this statement that is stuffed down our throats, is that it leaves us thinking on our own terms, in regards to our own strengths.

"I can't do this because I am not strong enough, because I don't have enough faith, because I don't do enough devotions, or don't pray enough"

We may not put it into words like that, but I often feel discouraged, even in my day to day tasks because I just don't feel like I can do it. For example, right now I am 8 months pregnant. I feel big and uncomfortable. I have constant heartburn making eating a chore, bending over a literal pain up my throat. Sciatica so bad my hips pop with EVERY single step I take and shooting pains whenever I twist the wrong way. Varicose veins that throb all day long and get worse every time I can bear to look at them. I am irritable, impatient, annoyed, and most of all exhausted. I am so physically tired, I will look at my day, at a situation with the kids, at the clock even, and think to myself "I can't do this". I feel like I am failing as a mom every time I snap at my kids, but I feel like I can't help it, because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to achieve more patience. So I sit in my little slump of the day-to-day, feeling sorry for myself and feeling like a failure.

Then I read this and I am once again reminded.... IT IS NOT ABOUT ME! It is not about my strength, or my ability to have more patience, or my ability to ignore my hormones, or my ability to have a better attitude, or even my physical ability to survive. I can't do it. That is the whole point. It is about God's ability. It is about his strength and his love for me and my kids, and his unwavering goodness that I can depend on. That I can lean on, that I can dip into like a well and drink deeply and say, "I can't do it God, help me". I often pray that prayer throughout the day like a drunkard on his last legs, "ahhhh! God, I need you!" But do I believe it? Do I actually give up trying to do it on my own strength and surrender to the Lord of my life? That is the key. Not saying it, but surrendering. And I never stop trying. I always think that now that I have prayed the prayer, I can just try harder and the strength will be there somehow.

And so today, dear readers, I challenge you to truly surrender to God. Put your faith in him, and stop trying so hard to do what we simply cannot do on our own. Have a victorious day! I am off to clean the basement before my little monkey's start clawing at me :)