This time around, I asked for progesterone a few months into the pregnancy. As I mentioned before, all my hormone levels tested normally, but those tests were done when I wasn't pregnant and I'd done some reading about low progesterone possibly causing miscarriage, so I asked my doc if I could take it this time. She okay-ed it, telling me that even if it ultimately didn't help my pregnancy, it wouldn't harm anything. I took it for a month. Now I don't know if this is what helped this baby stick; all I know is that if we pursue another baby in the future, I'll ask for this med again. Oh, and I had to stick the capsule up my vag every night before bed. That was new for me, but pretty unremarkable overall. I dropped one on the ground once and elected to not apply the 5-second rule since it was going up in my business.
This third pregnancy was the charm, but for about 90% of it, I was in a constant state of muted terror, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Two miscarriages in a row had pretty much convinced me that a baby was not meant to be, so you can imagine how anxiety-inducing this pregnancy was. Every single trip to the bathroom for the next 9 months involved checking my underwear for bleeding. Every week that passed made me wonder how many more weeks I had before something happened to the baby. I remember feeling like this pregnancy was nothing more than a roadblock to drinking, because I was so convinced it wouldn't last. (Told you I love the booze!) Even during the week before my scheduled c-section, I was paranoid when I didn't feel him kick or move every single hour of the day. Hearing from a friend their story about a friend who'd had two (count 'em: TWO) babies die in utero at nine months was not a helpful conversation AT ALL.
I had an early ultrasound due to my previous losses and overall had a couple more ultrasounds than normal. I asked my husband to come with me to the first two so I wouldn't have to endure any bad news alone this time around. Maybe he was the lucky charm, because those ultrasounds showed the baby doing just fine. (Random sidenote: I don't have any sonogram pics from my second pregnancy because by the time I had the first ultrasound, the baby had already died. The tech had asked me if I wanted pics anyway, and I declined. Now I kind of wish I had. I just remember feeling too heartbroken at the time, and the thought of looking at a sonogram pic of my lifeless baby was too much to bear.)
For the duration of this pregnancy, I remember thinking how strange it was that whenever I saw my OB for appointments, she was really happy and upbeat, because I was always so nervous and assuming bad news was going to be sprung on me at any moment. She told me that I should try not to worry and that every pregnancy is different and that things were fine this time. I remember thinking that she was crazy for saying that after she had performed two D&Cs on me. I was confused as to why she wasn't more cautious, like I was being. I don't necessarily regret not letting my guard down for my own emotional protection, but I do wish I could've relaxed more and enjoyed the pregnancy for longer than I did. I didn't really start to relax and enjoy being pregnant until I was in the third trimester, and by then the time is going by so fast it's hard to savor being pregnant. Not to mention that the third trimester is when you pee every ten minutes, your cootchie cat feels like it's been kicked by a mule, Braxton-Hicks contractions are happening every hour or two, you probably haven't gotten laid in awhile, rolling over in bed has become an Olympic event and your back/neck/legs/hips/feet hurt like a motherfucker.
While this pregnancy was not without its hitches, (constant anxiety, gestational diabetes) I was healthy overall and not a thing was wrong with the baby. Well, he was breech for most of the pregnancy, which is why I had to get a c-section. My doc asked me if I wanted to try a version, where they try to turn the baby from the outside by pushing and massaging on my belly. After some deliberation and discussion with ladies who have had it done, I decided it wasn't for me and scheduled my c-section.
I know a lot of people assume c-sections are not as difficult as vaginal deliveries. I am here to tell you that they are just as big of a deal, in their own special sliced-open-like-a-fish kind of way. More on that in a separate post. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat some cinnamon rolls.
I had an early ultrasound due to my previous losses and overall had a couple more ultrasounds than normal. I asked my husband to come with me to the first two so I wouldn't have to endure any bad news alone this time around. Maybe he was the lucky charm, because those ultrasounds showed the baby doing just fine. (Random sidenote: I don't have any sonogram pics from my second pregnancy because by the time I had the first ultrasound, the baby had already died. The tech had asked me if I wanted pics anyway, and I declined. Now I kind of wish I had. I just remember feeling too heartbroken at the time, and the thought of looking at a sonogram pic of my lifeless baby was too much to bear.)
For the duration of this pregnancy, I remember thinking how strange it was that whenever I saw my OB for appointments, she was really happy and upbeat, because I was always so nervous and assuming bad news was going to be sprung on me at any moment. She told me that I should try not to worry and that every pregnancy is different and that things were fine this time. I remember thinking that she was crazy for saying that after she had performed two D&Cs on me. I was confused as to why she wasn't more cautious, like I was being. I don't necessarily regret not letting my guard down for my own emotional protection, but I do wish I could've relaxed more and enjoyed the pregnancy for longer than I did. I didn't really start to relax and enjoy being pregnant until I was in the third trimester, and by then the time is going by so fast it's hard to savor being pregnant. Not to mention that the third trimester is when you pee every ten minutes, your cootchie cat feels like it's been kicked by a mule, Braxton-Hicks contractions are happening every hour or two, you probably haven't gotten laid in awhile, rolling over in bed has become an Olympic event and your back/neck/legs/hips/feet hurt like a motherfucker.
While this pregnancy was not without its hitches, (constant anxiety, gestational diabetes) I was healthy overall and not a thing was wrong with the baby. Well, he was breech for most of the pregnancy, which is why I had to get a c-section. My doc asked me if I wanted to try a version, where they try to turn the baby from the outside by pushing and massaging on my belly. After some deliberation and discussion with ladies who have had it done, I decided it wasn't for me and scheduled my c-section.
I know a lot of people assume c-sections are not as difficult as vaginal deliveries. I am here to tell you that they are just as big of a deal, in their own special sliced-open-like-a-fish kind of way. More on that in a separate post. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat some cinnamon rolls.
No comments:
Post a Comment