Two

Caiden is two months old as of Tuesday!! I can't believe it. Time has gone by so fast. He had his two month shots yesterday and because I've been sick my husband took him. Well, he's 7lbs even now, exactly double his birth weight and 21 inches long! He's come such a long way. I keep thinking about how little he was when he was born. He was light as a feather and now he's getting so chubby (:

When I was pregnant I used to think about if he'd hit milestones early or on time and now that's out the window. He's two months and still only smiles and laughs in his sleep. Its hard to adjust to "adjusted" age. He might not smile for another two months. I just can't wait for him to catch up. Being the mom of a preemie takes everything out of you. Its so easy to go from thrilled that he's sleeping four hours to upset because he won't pick his head up during tummy time. I find myself torn between telling people he's a few days old, the way he looks or telling them his actual age and explaining that he came early.

I found out more about the clotting disorder that forced his early arrival. I am compound heterozygous for c677t and a1298c for the MTHFR mutation. Basically this means that I got a mutated gene from my mom and a mutated gene from my dad. My body doesn't metabolize folic acid or vitamin b the way its supposed to because these genes are mutated. Unfortunately I have the second worst form of the mutation. Research shows it causes repeated miscarriages so we were extremely lucky that my first pregnancy was a successful one. I'm at high risk for blood clots and high blood pressure, but whats worse is because children get half their genes from each parent, Caiden definitely has some form of MTHFR.

The good thing about it though is it causes a hodgepodge of different things. From migraines to cancer to schizophrenia. Because I have this form of MTHFR my mom must have some form. Which means other members of my family likely have some form as well. It could potentially explain why my family tree has been filled with diabetes, chronic migraines and depression among other things. Its a wonderful feeling to finally have some answers. I no longer have to blame myself for Caiden's early arrival. I don't have to feel like my body failed me, my DNA did ;)

Well, That Explains It

Today I called my OB. I went in the beginning of the month for a blood pressure check because mine was still very high. Not wanting to put me on medication for it at such a young age, they decided to do some blood work and check for clotting disorders one of which was Lupus.

For the last week and a half I'd been freaking out over whether or not I had one of these potentially deadly disorders. Finally, today I got fed up and called them to see if my results were in yet. They were.

Turns out I have a rare genetic clotting disorder called Methylene Tetra Hydro Folate Reductase or MTHFR. This disorder is a mutation of a certain gene or genes. Typically it doesn't cause any problems but when it affects two specific genes instead of just one it can actually increase chances of miscarriage. During a "successful" pregnancy, it can cause severe pre-eclampsia which can lead to HELLP Syndrome. Both of which I developed and caused my emergency induction at 31 weeks.

While talking to my doctor she informed me that I had a textbook pregnancy of people with this disorder. Only difference is my pregnancy lasted longer than most. Typically this disorder leads to emergency inductions/cesareans as early as 24 weeks. We got extremely lucky that I managed to stick it out for as long as I did.

Unfortunately with this disorder it causes these additional problems during pregnancy so odds of having the same issues in future pregnancies is pretty much guaranteed. This in turns means I'll never have a term baby. Any pregnancy I have will result in a preemie again. My husband and I were only planning on having one child so now our problem is finding an effective birth control that doesn't contain Estrogen as I am unable to take hormonal birth control with this disorder and IUDs and the Depo shot scare the crap out of me. In addition to all the medications the hospital sent me home on after I had Caiden, I now have to add a baby Asprin to my pile every day for the rest of my life as it puts me at a significant risk of clots and high blood pressure, which mine has yet to go down to normal.

While I'm glad to finally have some answers and not have one of the more deadly disorders its still hard to accept that I can't have another child should we change our minds about having another. However when Caiden is much much older it'll be a nice story to tell him about how lucky he is to even be alive.

Happy Due Date

Yesterday was Caiden's original due date (his doctors go by August 18th but I never did). To say its bitter sweet is just a scrape off the surface. While I'm thrilled he's home and healthy, I knew it would be a difficult day to get through emotionally. Yesterday should have been his birthday. Instead he's 7 weeks old. Up until yesterday, I should still have been pregnant. Its hard to imagine ever forgiving myself for him coming so early. I know one day I will. I know its really not my fault and I did what was best for the both of us but there's always that little voice in the back of my head that tells me we would have been fine. That it would have gotten better. But I know that's not true. Even if it were, I couldn't change it. He's here with us now.

Someone asked me if I was going to do newborn photos the other day. I honestly hadn't even considered it. He's not a newborn anymore, he's almost two months! His newborn photos are the ones we took when he was in the hospital hooked up to monitors and a tube down his throat. I kinda felt like to take newborn pictures would be an insult to everything we went through when Caiden was a newborn. As rough a start as he had, I don't want to forget it or pretend it didn't happen.

I imagine August 10th will always be a difficult day for me to face, as will his actual birthday. They will always be a reminder of what happened, what we all went through together and the odds we continue to overcome.

Caiden at birth

Caiden today at 7 weeks

Perspective

Its become apparent to me recently that some people simply don't think before they open their mouths. While I'm sure plenty of people know this already, it becomes even more clear when people make comments about your child.

After having Caiden I expected to have nosy onlookers. What I didn't expect were peoples' reactions to how small he is and their constant need to remind me. "Oh, look how small he is!" "was he early?" "how old is he?" "is there anything wrong with him?" "how much did he weigh?" "how much does he weigh now?" "were you scared?" "what happened?"

I shouldn't be bombarded with questions every time I leave my house. Don't people realize its not polite to ask 50 questions about a potentially touchy subject? I'm quite aware of how small my son is but he's a porker compared to when he was born 6 weeks ago. I really don't appreciate being reminded of the circumstances that brought him into the world 8 weeks premature and having to spend 4 weeks in the NICU being poked and prodded.

The only thing worse is when people complain about having big babies. I'd give anything to have pushed out a ten pounder rather than have a son who didn't even weigh four pounds at birth. My son weighed less than half yours and you're complaining about having a big healthy baby? Perspective people.

Now, I am well aware it could have been worse. I know better than most that we could very well have lost him and nearly did. I know some people unfortunately do lose their babies. I'm not pretending to be better than them. I'm not. My son isn't better than their child. We were just one of the lucky ones.

There's No Place Like Home

Caiden finally came home on Monday July 16th after a very stressful sleep in at the NICU. Its standard procedure at the hospital he was at for feeder/grower NICU baby's to spend a night with mom in the hospital on their monitors to make sure they still gain weight and maintain their temperatures under strictly mom's care. Caiden didn't have a problem and passed all his test with flying colors. What made it stressful was his monitors.

Earlier in the day we'd been in for his car seat test. He had to sit in his car seat for an hour without any breathing or heart rate issues. His monitors had been having trouble keeping a signal and his nurse refused to change them before the test began. We thought for sure he'd fail because of it. Thankfully, even with the problem he passed and we were allowed to begin our sleep in. Still his monitors were being an issue and causing problems. They would start beeping every few minutes even though there was nothing wrong with him, they just weren't keeping a strong signal. We couldn't figure out how to silence them and the nurses were convinced there was nothing wrong. We didn't sleep.

Finally about 4am a new nurse came in and agreed there was something wrong with the monitors and changed them. Sweet relief! No constant beeping and having to attempt to adjust them or fail to sleep through them. Caiden was still doing great!

A few hours later his nurse came in, weighed him and took his temperature. He'd put on .7oz in the past day. He passed! We were going to be able to take him home, we just had to wait on his doctor to make rounds and discharge him. Roughly noon we were packed up and walking to the car and this time Caiden was coming home with us! 25 days in the NICU was more than enough! 

The first few days home went great but its a hard adjustment going from changing his diaper and feeding him twice a day to round the clock care. It was still wonderful having him home and being able to hold him whenever without having to worry about pulling on wires or someone snapping at us. Every little thing he did we snapped a picture of. 

Some nights I just want to bash my head into the wall when I cant figure out what it is he needs or he won't latch to be fed when I know he's hungry. But after I get him to calm down and wake up in the morning and see his chubby little face, I know how worth the frustration he is. I could have lost him. The traumatic experience we all went through in getting him here safely was well worth it. I'm grateful for every smelly diaper because I know that had things gone differently, we wouldn't have any to change right now.

Tomorrow he turns a month old. Its amazing to see how much he's changed. I can see his progress every day. There's still four weeks until his due date and considering everything went smoothly, I'm honestly glad I've got him home now. Knowing him now and seeing his personality develop as much as it has already, I couldn't stand to have had to wait another whole month to have my baby.

He may drive me nuts sometimes and I might want to give up on occasion and just walk away, but I think that's something every parent has to overcome. And in the end we'll make it and twenty or thirty some odd years from now, I hope he'll be happy and taking home a baby of his own. 

Battle Scars

Every pregnant woman dreads getting them. We do everything we can to prevent them, but unfortunately it seems to be genetic. What am I talking about? Stretch marks of course.

With our bellies going from flat to basketball sized in a matter of months our skin is stretched to its absolute limit. Some of us get them worse than others, some are lucky enough not to get them at all.

Before I delivered my son, I only had one stretch mark due to my pregnancy and it was tiny. I had plenty due to going through puberty at record speed. My poor hips will never be the same. I was just waiting til it got worse. I knew there was no way I'd get lucky enough to escape with only one. And I was right.

After I delivered and was finally able to get up and look at myself in the mirror, I saw them. Dozens of little pink lines on either side of my belly button and over both hips. I hated them.

They felt gross and made my stomach look like a washboard. They itched. I wished they would just go away. I didn't need another reminder of how my body had failed me.

And then, as I was laying in bed last night unable to sleep wondering if Caiden was doing okay at the hospital, I realized something. They really are battle scars and I shouldn't be embarrassed by them. I should embrace them.

They prove to me and the world that I was able to create life. I was able to carry my child long enough to survive out in the world. My body may have given up early, but it held on long enough to ensure he'd make it. At night when I can't physically be with him and show him how much I love him, I can look at them and remember what I've sacrificed to give my son a promising future.

A child touches your heart and spirit and you often can't tell if a woman has had a child when they're not with her. Our belly buttons are proof we came from our mothers, she left her mark on us. My stretch marks are the visible mark my son has left on me, they are the physical evidence he left behind. I love them, even when they start to fade they will always be there as evidence of what I went through, what we went through together.

Unconditional Love

Most women have 40 weeks to get used to the idea of being a mom. We all love our child long before they're born and want what's best for them. When that moment finally comes and we get to see the face of the person who's changed our bodies from the inside out, everything changes. Most would just assume that you're only becoming a mother. But its so much more than that. What you want and what you need comes second to that child. If they're happy and healthy that's all that matters. It's humbling to know that little person depended on you for life for nine months and will continue to do so for some time. Everything you do from then on will revolve around that child. No one understands unconditional love like a mother does.

Perhaps a woman who makes it to full term will feel a sense of accomplishment, I will never know. I never expected my son to be premature. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened. No amount of time or number of stories could have calmed my nerves or made me understand what it means to be the mother of a preemie. Seeing your child dependent on machines and outside help for survival hurts in a way so severe, your broken heart becomes a physical pain.

You aren't just worried about their health in the moment, you find yourself looking years ahead at all the potential dangers to your child. Simple everyday sicknesses turned deadly just because they came before they were ready, development issues...

And yet, with every small step forward you find yourself filled with pride. You push the what ifs to the back of your mind and try and ignore the guilt. The guilt that it was your body that failed, that even though there was nothing you could do to prevent it, it's your fault your child is hooked up to wires and unable to go home with you.

But they're alive. And each morning is the beginning of a long fight, each night, the completion of another day they beat the odds. Even though you can't snuggle them when you want to or comfort them each time they cry, that little piece of hope in your heart reminds you it's not your fault and they're where they need to be to have the best possible life in the future.

In the beginning....

I started this blog back in March of this year with the intent to document the second half of my pregnancy. I, however never posted anything. I figured no one would care what I wrote and those who did probably wouldn't bother reading it.

So it sat here.

Now you might be wondering why I decided to come back to this at all. The answer is as simple as it is complex: my son.

Let me start from the beginning. In November of 2011 I got married and we got pregnant shortly there after. By Christmas the morning sickness had begun. I was unable to eat or drink anything and was slowly getting sicker and sicker. The first week of January I saw my OB for the first time to date my pregnancy. I luckily enough picked a doctor who had an ultrasound machine in her office! I laid down and there certainly was no mistaking there was definitely a baby in my belly! We were given the due date of August 10th, 2012 (later moved to August 18th). She gave me some prescriptions to help the sickness and sent us on our way... but unfortunately they didn't work for me. January and February I was in and out of the hospital due to dehydration caused by the morning sickness. I was one of the unlucky ones who gets something called Hyperemises Gravidarum- basically super horrible morning sickness that lasts all day and night and may or may not go away once you hit the second trimester. Mine didn't go away.

More pills were prescribed and when they didn't work I was admitted to the hospital for a weekend when I had lost 10 pounds in a week! Thankfully after that I started improving and we found out we were expecting a little boy! We named him Caiden James. I was only getting sick a few times a day and I had put back on the weight that I'd lost in just a month. That should have been our first warning.

March came and so did the weight gain. In four weeks I'd put on ten pounds. Not too concerning since I was finally able to eat again and I was four and a half months pregnant!

April, four weeks later I'd gained another ten pounds and I was starting to swell. My wedding ring had to come off, it hurt to bend my toes and my face looked as if I'd been stung by a hundred bees. My doctor marked it off as normal for pregnancy and so I believed her. She's the doctor, what do I know?

May. Another four weeks, another ten pounds. This time though the nurse that took my blood pressure and weighed me before I saw the doctor asked if I'd left a urine sample. Usually I only did so if asked, I never had to go when we were there and they didn't make a big deal of me not doing so each time. On the way out the door I left one and that was that.

June 14th. Three weeks since my last appointment. My weight? Nine pounds heavier. The swelling? So painful I couldn't bend my fingers or toes without wanting to cry. My face was huge! I'd been having rib pain so bad that I couldn't sleep and it was making me physically sick. When I told my doctor, she dismissed it all as normal parts of pregnancy. She said there were no proteins in my urine and though my blood pressure had been higher the last few appointments (still don't know how high) she "wasn't concerned."

When I got home that day I did more research. I knew since March that I had preeclampsia, it was just a matter of getting my doctor to realize it. All my symptoms fit.

Sunday, June 17th at about 10pm I started having severe chest pains. It felt like there were a ton of bricks sitting on my chest. My chest hurt so bad the pain was radiating into my back and my ribs. I tired changing what position I was sitting in, I tried laying down, I tired walking around. I drank about a gallon of water. Nothing helped. Eventually I was able to fall asleep. I woke up sore and still in pain but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Monday, June 18th at about 11pm I began having the same chest pains as the night before. Moving hurt, not moving hurt. Never in my life had I been in so much pain. My husband had to work the next morning so I didn't want to wake him up to take me to the hospital only to be sent home after being told it was a normal part of pregnancy.

Tuesday, June 19th. I hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before. I asked him to please ask his grandmother if she could come take me so he could go to work and I could still get checked out. I was admitted to the hospital at 8:30am.

I was hooked up to monitors to watch my baby's heartbeat and for any contractions I might have been having. The labor and delivery nurses asked me questions about my various symptoms and I told them everything from the last few months. When they took my blood pressure it was a staggering 189/102.

I was given medicine to lower it and my doctor was paged to come to the hospital and check on me. By the time she arrived I had received a steroid shot to help mature Caiden's lungs in case he would need to be delivered early and a catheter was placed.

My OB arrived at the hospital and told me while the nurses were attempting to get an IV started that I had severe preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome. My blood pressure was so high I was at risk of seizing and my liver was starting to fail. I needed to be transferred to another hospital with a better NICU because my son was going to have to be delivered as soon as possible, most likely by cesarean even though she knew I had my heart set on a natural birth.

11:00am I arrived at the second hospital after a 30 minute ambulance ride. I was hooked up to IV fluids, a magnesium drip, antibiotics and magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures. A quick ultrasound was done and Caiden was thankfully head down and in position. I'd be able to have a vaginal delivery if everything went smoothly. My mom and brother were on a plane to be there hopefully in time for me to give birth.

Around noon on June 20th I was put on a pitocin drip to start contractions. A fuly bulb was placed to help me reach 5cm by midnight. Midnight came and I wasn't dilated enough. The pitocin was upped and a new doctor was on shift. 4:30am on June 21st, I was dilated just enough so they could break my water. It was the most painful moment of my life and the worst part of delivery.

I was lucky or unlucky enough that the contractions I was having I didn't feel at all. I was able to sleep in between the nurses coming in to check on me. A little after 2pm I hit transition. I was only dilated to 8cm but my baby and my body were ready to deliver. At 2:27pm after less than 5 minutes of pushing, I delivered Caiden weighing 3lbs 8.4oz and measuring 16 1/2 inches long at only 31w5d gestation.

He was sent straight to the NICU and I was still on strict bed rest for at least the next 24hours. I wouldn't be able to see my son until the next day at least. And so the wait began. The next 24 hours passed by slowly but thankfully I wasn't in any pain from delivery. I was actually refusing the pain medication the nurses were bringing me.

When I was finally taken off bed rest the next day, I got to go to the NICU and see my son. He was doing wonderful, even though he was on a CPAP machine, had a feeding tube and was under lights for jaundice. It was easy to tell who's facial features he had, but it was still heartbreaking to see him so small and helpless. I wasn't even allowed to hold him. The hardest part was leaving him there with the nurses to go back to my room when I couldn't stand any longer by his side. There was nothing I could do but wait until he got stronger.

I was finally discharged on June 24th after spending six days in the hospital. I was forced to leave him behind. He wasn't strong enough to come home with us and it was unclear as to when he'd be able to. The nurses and his doctor assured us he was doing just fine, better even than most babies born when he was. I still cried myself to sleep those first few nights.

Now, its 18 days later and he's doing better than we had ever hoped. He is in an incubator now and almost ready to move to a bassinet. He's breathing perfectly on his own and is being breast and bottle fed. We're hoping to be able to take him home the middle of next week but it depends on his progress over the next week.

There's nothing else in the world as gratifying and humbling as being a mother. I'm so proud of my son.