Nurses, Beeps, and Chaos

The coolest thing happened in the middle of September.  My heart and Dann's heart slipped out of our bodies and formed into a perfectly handsome little human being whom we call Lennon.  He is by far the most gorgeous "creature" I've ever laid eyes on.

I've been thinking about you guys. I've shared so much with you since the moment I found out we were expecting a little one that I think it is not only fair but necessary that I write about the experience of his arrival.

I think I should start by mentioning one more time that I did not think that I would survive the surgery.  Again, I wasn't concerned about dying.  I was concerned about Pip not having a mama.  It had nothing to do with the competency of the doctors but rather the overwhelming and obvious fact that I am a medical mystery and no one was really sure what do to with me.  This was proven true by the end of the afternoon but I'll get to that.

 I was hardly able to sleep the night before. How in the world can someone sleep knowing their lives are going to change dramatically the next day. I don't want to call it "Dooms Day" because that is not the appropriate title for it, but at the time I felt like Pip and I weren't able to both survive and I just remember thinking to myself, "If just one of us survives, please let it be Pip."  Although I felt it the whole time, the morning of the 12th I think I finally understood how my mother must have felt all of those years I spent in the hospital because all that ran through my head was "please just let him be okay."  I was cashing in every chip and waiting  for, no counting on, my ship to come in. Anything that I thought Karma, God, the Universe may have owed me for all of my good deeds I was bringing up because if I ever wanted to be paid back for all of the good things I've done, it was that day to make sure Pip was okay. I even clutched a rosary blessed by the Pope and a wooden cross, that has a story behind it but I can't remember what it is.  I think at some point I even muttered a prayer.

Naturally, Lolly and I argued the whole way to the hospital. I'd like to say it was nerves but we argue over each other's driving all of the time. I drive too fast; she drives like a madman.  It was comedic, if it was anything at all. At that point my nerves were shot but that was nothing compared to what the next few hours would hold. 

It was weird. The whole getting to the hospital process - parking and registering. I remember closing my car door and thinking that it might be the last time I saw my car. Silly, I know.  Registering was interesting because the lady who checked me in acted like I had no reason to be there.  Then, of course, Dann had to use the restroom and tried to leave during registration.  It's a wonder how he survived those nine months!  Once I registered, I had to go register, again.   As I mentioned my nerves were shot and I had no patience to repeat myself.  I have this thing - I will not respond to someone who hasn't heard me after the third time. So by this point in time I was completely finished with giving my information. Thankfully Debbie was there so she gave it all.  Three more times. 

It was time to go into the pre-op room which meant it was time for my mom to go in the waiting room. If you thought I had problems letting go of my car then you can imagine the mess that was going on in my own head when my mom was told to go away.  

But, then as we were all walking to the pre-op room, a wonderfully happy lady came bouncing out of a door and said "Are you Lisa?" to my mother.  My mother said, "No. I'm Debbie." As she was saying that that wonderfully happy lady looked at me and said, "Autumn," looked at my mother and said, "Your husband is Buddy? I took care of Autumn when she was a baby at CMC. I'm Marie. I'm going to be with Autumn the whole time." My mom immediately remembered her and was so excited to see Marie that she didn't even have a snarky comment about Buddy. Marie then went to say that she "fought" to be in my surgery because she couldn't believe I made it this far. Marie was going to be my nurse anesthesiologist.   

Now, as you know, I don't believe in much, but I do believe in signs.   The fact that Marie, who I didn't know from Adam, knew me back when I was a baby and then she was here to help my baby bounce into the world was a little overwhelming for my poor heart. I saw my mom get tears in her eyes, as if we were thinking the same thing, and I started to cry. I thought for sure this is a sign that at least Pip would be okay.  Marie was so very nice that she even convinced the not-so-lovely nurse to let my mom stay in the pre-op room until another patient came in, if another patient was coming in. This was such a relief because, it doesn't matter how old you are, when crap is about to go down, you want your mom there.  It really worked out because she was able to tell the nurse information that I still didn't know.  

And then the not-so-lovely nurse decided that she was going to try to put the IV in me. My veins are terrible and although I begged and pleaded for her to use a small needle, even a pediatric one, she didn't want to listen. She tried twice and then called someone in. The new someone tried again, with the same size needle, she got it in but then a valve blew and apparently blood went everywhere.  My eyes were closed because I cannot handle watching blood go out. It was very good that my mom was there for this because by this time I was in pain and my first instinct is always to bring my legs to my belly. At some point, I just felt someone hold my leg and I knew it was my mom because she is the only one who knows that I do this from all of my trips to the dentist. This new lady, who was very nice by the way, was so upset that she didn't want to try again.  I mean I was crying by this point, which you probably would be, too, if you were stuck that many times.   Then the original nurse thought she'd have another look at my arm while the other nurse went to get Marie to do the IV. I actually said, "Please just wait." She didn't listen and she stuck me again, in my wrist, and my vein blew, again.  Then she decided to wait.  The fifth time was the charm and whoever the nurse was, I think it was the second lady actually, got the IV to go in and the vein to not blow, but they couldn't get blood to come out for the labs.   This meant one more time for a needle. It doesn't matter how many tattoos I have, I absolutely hate needles.  Between the last bad and successful IV attempts another patient came in and my mom had to leave.   This was fine because my brother was on the way and it would be dumb for him to sit in the waiting room alone.  As she was leaving she told me she loved me and I said I loved her and that was that. And I couldn't help but think, "That was that? 29 years and that is it for my mom and me?"  She walked out with my bags and she smiled. It was a peaceful smile, a confident one. I couldn't help but to let fear creep back in though. 

It was right before they finally got the IV when my heart strings started to come undone. My back was starting to kill me, remember the back pain that I had (and still have)? Well, I was laying on my back for a good hour already so I asked nicely if could please sit up for the last attempt. I was sitting up for a few minutes and they were starting to try to get another vein for this blasted IV and I see my mom in the doorway and then my brother steps in behind her.  My mom played some story asking Dann if she left one of our bags back there but it was really so Corey could come back and see me.  Or maybe so I knew he was there.  It was very important that to me that he was there because if anything went wrong, I left it up to him to call the shots and not leave me to be a vegetable.  I am not sure if all of you know this but Corey has been my go-to-guy for as long as I can remember. I know that when he is involved nothing bad, short of out of his control, will happen.  He's been my protector since 1984 so when I saw him in the doorway I was relieved, and terrified.   I am sure he didn't mean it and I could even be imagining it but I haven't seen the look that he had in his eyes since I was hospitalized when I was 12(ish).  He could tell I was terrified.  I could tell he was nervous and scared.  This was out of his control and it was at that moment that we, or at least I, really realized it.  I was left to the doctors, who didn't know me like Corey did/does, and we both had no say at what was happening from this point on.  He came in the room, mid IV placing, didn't care what the nurses said (neither did I) and gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me, "Good luck. Love you," and went back to my mom.  As they walked away my mom said she loved me and Corey said, "See ya later, A" and that was that.  Again.  That was that.  The not-so-nice nurse said, "Was that your brother?" "Yes," I said and just broke down in tears.  I didn't even notice the needle go in that time.  I saw how scared he was.  He doesn't get scared, or he doesn't show it.  Crap. We both knew that this was a mess that neither one of us could get me out of.  That hardly happens.  

A few minutes went by and the lady from the lab came up to draw blood.  I looked at her, with tears in my eyes and said, "Please use a butterfly."  And she did.  And it worked.  I really had to pee by this point.  But they wouldn't let me. They were preparing to put the catheter in.  That was sort of awful.  I mean it wasn't the worst bit but it did stink.  What made it worse was at that moment the anesthesiologist and the OB came in and introduced themselves. Well, the anesthesiologist, Dr. Klein,  introduced himself.  I already knew the OB, obviously, and we all know I adore him so getting the catheter put in as he was walking in was a bit embarrassing   Dann didn't even roll his eyes at that point, then again I think Dann was as terrified as I was.  Dr. Klein was very nice.  I'll write more about him in a bit and Dr. Drozdick reminded me that pretty soon I could eat all of the Froot Loops I wanted.  He cut me off of them about three weeks before Pip was born.  I still ate them though.  I told him I cut back, which I did - instead of two or three bowls a day, I had one. :) 

Before I knew it Marie was back in the room telling me what the next steps were.  They handed Dann the scrubs to get changed and said that as soon as I was settled!with the spinal, they would come back and let Dann in the room.  We were so nervous.  I was so nervous.  After Dann got changed, he just looked like a different person.  An older person, like the last two hours aged him ten years.  (He was still handsome though.)  He sat down by my bed and grabbed my hand and I found myself in tears again.  I don't know if it was all the stress from the nine months but everything got to me.  Whether it was Dann needing to use the restroom again or the absence of one of my friends in the last nine months or the fact that I was now peeing into a bag and my curls fell out of my hair, I can't be sure. I did know one thing: I was sobbing again. 

Marie and the not-so-nice nurse came in and said it was time to go into the OR.  Jesus.  I still don't know how I just didn't explode out of fear.  I think about these next few minutes every day. Each day another part comes to my memory.  In fact, I just realized, nearly one whole month later, that I didn't get a kiss from Dann before I went in the room.  Dr. Klein was speaking to him. I remember asking Marie to tell my mother the second everything was okay and telling Dann that I would see him in a minute.  Never thought about a kiss.   

I think this is where my PTSD would kick in, if I had it.  I am now too tired for anything short of nursing a baby so PTSD just doesn't fit in my schedule at the moment.  I know that I shouldn't have expected the operating room to look anything like they do on TV, but this one looked nothing like any of them do on TV!  It was very small and bright.  The bed was very tiny.  Not like I was rolling over anyway but if I wanted to I couldn't.  I'd roll right off and that would be awkward with a million tubes sticking out of me.  Dr. Drozdick was waiting off to the side until Dr. Klein gave him the go ahead.  I only knew him, Marie, and not-so-nice nurse.  I focused on him until Marie came back around, which was a matter of moments. Marie explained to me what was going to happen one more time before they started the process.  Some lady that I didn't see before was the one who was going to hold me in place while they put the needle in my spine but I distinctly remember Marie telling her that she would do it and that lady could do something else.  They put the oxygen on me. At this point I could tell you that I was more than terrified   I never felt so stuck in my life.  And what was I going to do?  The baby had to come out.  I certainly couldn't waltz around pregnant forever. 

I heard Dr. Klein tell Marie that he was ready.  She told me that I had to put my chin to my chest and curl so my spine was, you know, out.  I had a purple stress ball - that really made it all the way into the OR with me- that I was squeezing.  Let me tell you, that stress ball did nothing when that needle was going into my spine.  Marie told me to hold her hand and to put my head on her shoulder.  The fact that I had someone hugging me at that moment is something I will forever be grateful for.  I don't know if I ever needed a hug so badly before this moment. I didn't expect it to hurt that much because I have had a spinal tap before and that didn't hurt.  I now realize that when I had that spinal tap I already had morphine in me. Definitely explains why it didn't hurt.   Anyway, the plan was for Dr. Klein to give me a small dose of whatever was in the needle first (it wasn't an epidural) and hopefully that would be enough.  Once Dr. K put the needle in, they had to move me quickly and lay me down, so the medicine would work.  So they laid me down and waited.  And waited.  The only place that I felt the medicine work was my feet. My feet were not being sliced open that day so that made things really inconvenient. Dr. Drozdick told me that he was just going to poke at my stomach and see what I felt.  What I felt was not nice.  So up they put me to do another spinal. 

I was squeezing that stress ball as if it were a lifeline and just waiting for Dann to come in. Some kid from the medical college had to hold me for a minute while Marie did something.  I remember telling him, "please don't let me fall."  He asked me how my day was going, with a smirk which I appreciated. I told him I was terrified and he told me not to worry. Marie then came back.  This one didn't hurt as much but I still felt it.They laid me back down faster that time. Dr. Klein told me that this one should work and that they would give it a few more minutes.  I started to get really scared at this point because I knew what was going to happen if it didn't work that time.  They were going to knock me out and that was that.  Again.  That was that.   Dr. Klein held my hand while we waited.  That is when I realized I really had a stress ball in the OR with me.  I apologized to everyone for bringing it in and they laughed at me.  Silly girl.  That stress ball is that least of our problems right now. 

Dr. Klein told me that they were just going to wait a few minutes longer and I remember telling him to wait because I can feel my body getting heavier.  Please wait.  I started to cry a bit harder now. Marie asked me why I was crying.  Oh, yeah, she stayed up by my head the whole time and told someone else what do to so I wouldn't be alone while waiting for the medicine to kick in and for Dann to come in.  As I was saying, she asked me why I was crying and I said because I don't want to be put under.  She said we won't put you under but at the same time I heard Dr. Klein tell someone, "I wouldn't do that with her," "we can't use that on her," "don't do that." So I was freaking out.  Dr. Drozdick told me that he was just going to do a "test slice"  to see what I was actually feeling.  I felt him touch my stomach on the left side and by the time he got to the right I was actually able to feel the cut.  I tried to be quiet about it.  If I could fake  it then I could stay awake. Marie saw my face, as did Dr. Klein. They immediately told Dr. Drozdick to stop. I heard something about getting "it" ready to put in the IV.  Marie told me that I was going to feel a burning in my arm but it would only be for a little while.  I hoped it was a stronger medicine (I know that it makes no sense for them to put it in my arm but I wasn't thinking clearly). But I knew.  I knew they were putting me out and I sobbed.  I wasn't even going to meet this baby that I grew for nine months.  I wasn't going to see my mom or Dann again.  Or Jacob, whom I have been telling for months that I love him from here to heaven.  Or anyone.  Levi wouldn't remember me.  My friends and family were all waiting in a room to meet the baby and they were going to be greeted with bad news.  Poor Dann was still out in the hallway.  I was never going to meet Pip.  Ever. I was never so sad in my life. Pip. 

And then the burning in my arm started. 

And then I felt like I was suffocating. 

The best way I can describe it is like I was indeed falling down the rabbit hole.  It was almost like I was spinning and my chest was so heavy I couldn't breathe.  Even as that was happening, which I am sure wasn't for long, I remember willing myself to fight to stay awake so I can at least see the baby.  Just once, let me see him. 

Apparently I am more philosophical than I think.  My dream while I was out was nothing short of hysterical.  For those of you who are Harry Potter fans, pay attention.  My dream was at King's Cross Station but all white like when Dumbledore and Harry are there talking about what Harry should do next. (I dream of Harry Potter??  Really?  Not something that I am obsessed with but something Dann is obsessed with?!)  Everything was white except for the platform signs. They were black with white numbers.  I could only see numbers three and four. There were no humans around.  It was just all white.  Then before I knew it. I was heavy and spinning again.  It felt like I was trying to catch my breath but my mind couldn't figure anything out.  The spinning was constant and hard. Uncomfortable.  It was like my existence was just to spin.  I questioned the existence of human beings.  I remember thinking, "maybe I was just dreaming of being human.  Maybe this is existence and I am just going to spin forever."  Then I rebutted that with the defense that if there were no humans then I wouldn't know words. Somehow, my knowledge that humans can think because we know words came through. 

My eyelids were heavy as I tried to open them.  My head was turned to the left.  I kept forcing them open but they would close back to the spinning and back to King's Cross Station.  Eventually I was able to keep them open long enough for my eyes to somewhat focus on Marie.  But I told myself I couldn't trust that being real because I didn't know her long enough. I couldn't turn my head. I remember opening my eyes to her three times at least.  It was also when I was looking at her that I could feel myself talking. By feel I mean the vibrations of my vocal cords, if that makes sense.  I don't know what I was saying. Dann told me it was mostly "Ow."  However, it was because I felt myself speaking that I knew I could turn my head.  

And there he was holding my hand. He was dressed in scrubs.  I could trust this sight.  If I wasn't a human or wasn't alive, he wouldn't be wearing scrubs.  He'd be wearing a God awful Star Wars shirt. 

"Dann?" 

"Blue," he said.

"Am I alive?" 

"Yes, you're alive." 

"Is Pip alive?"

"Yes, he's alive."

"We both made it?"

"Yes, you both made it." 

I smiled.  Then I began to hear background noises. Nurses, beeps, and chaos.  I heard a tiny little cry.  Almost like a lamb.  It was a beautiful sound. The most wonderful noise I have ever heard in my life. 

There are moments that change you slightly or greatly. Moments that are so clear you can remember them for years afterwards. But then there are moments that once you live them, your life will never be the same.   Moments that make you realize what you're doing here on earth.  There are moments that just give you life to your existence. 

I saw his toes first.  Red and attached to kicking feet.  Kicking feet that were attached to kicking legs.  His legs were moving faster than mine ever did. His, what I thought to be big then, belly. His arms were flying all over the place. His little mouth wailing, no, singing the most gorgeous love song I have ever heard.  His eyes, barely open, but I saw them.  "Pip," I said quietly. And it was at that moment that I realized that I was made for this little guy.  My whole existence, every stumble, laugh, and tear along the way was all a part of a greater scheme to get me to bring this perfect little person into the world. 

 I couldn't move. I was under a warming blanket and I was still so heavy.  A nurse picked him up.  She stepped towards me with this little piece of perfection and laid him on my chest.  I kissed him, "Hi, baby," I said softly. He stole my heart.  I have been head over heels in love with him from the moment I saw him.  

I am the luckiest girl alive to have him as my son. 

All I really was doing was waiting for you - John Lennon 

I Should Write a Book About the Glorious Time in a Woman's Life Known as Pregnancy

Some of you may know that I want nothing more than to write a book or few. My problems are that I am terrified to write because a professor who scarred me for life and that I have 15 million ideas in my head and only one of them actually made it to paper.  However, that one is a children's book and it turns out I draw with less skill than I write. 

Although I dreaded the thought of being on bed rest from June until two days from now, I had big plans to get a book going and see what happened. I can tell you what didn't happen: bed rest and a completed novel. One of those I am thankful for and the other haunts my nights when the thoughts of a C-Section take a vacation. 

As I am sure you know I am full of charm and grace so I expected nothing less during this surprise of a pregnancy.  I stayed away from "What to Expect When You're  Expecting" and other books like that because I knew I'd have more than enough biddies chirping in my ear of what to do and what not to do while a little human was using my body as a dorm during his freshman year of existence. And it dawned on me this evening as the thoughts of the looming C-Section went out for her ten minute smoke break that I should write a book on pregnancy. The problem is that the book would never be long enough or short enough or complete enough. So I'll give you the gist of it in the rest of this work...

Ahem...

The Joke of a Beautiful Nine Months 

Misconceptions After Conception 

(Working Title)   

Why in the world do people say "good job" or "well done" to father?  What did he do to deserve a "well done?"

I mean we all know what he did and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to make that happen. How about the mother, who most likely, is exhausted and feeling sick for a good ten weeks? What about a well done for her? How about a good job for not killing her baby daddy in those early weeks or actually at any time during the pregnancy? 

And whose bright idea was it to have a calendar to track the baby's growth while in the womb? (Like on strongmoms.com.) Yes, I followed along for quite sometime but then the doctors told me  that my baby was tiny and was not on track with that calendar at all. Why even have those cute little things when your experience could be completely different? 

Experience.  Pft. Pregnancy, naturally, is a completely different experience for every woman and also for everyone in involved in said woman's life.  (STEFANIE, DO NOT READ THIS PART!) For example, as I was throwing up my cereal for the third night in a row, my hair was all matted, my face all sweaty, and my nerves completely shot as I was cuddling up to the filthiest garbage can I've ever seen (which was a better alternative to the toilet in the disgusting apartment I was renting), Dann takes a moment to tell me he loves me.  I know his intentions were in the right place but honestly I'm puking into a bin tell me you love me at a more attractive time. (STEF, COME BACK.) He probably will never love me like he has in these last nine months and like he will the moment he sees our son for the first time but goodness save the emotional stuff for a time when I can speak!  Some people are just so excited when their friend or loved one is pregnant that they forget or may not consider how difficult it is to be pregnant- like all I want to do is put my darn shoes on without help! Or maybe load paper in the printer or slip into a booth without bumping my ginormous stomach three billion times. 

And you know what, you will be hungry.  Don't let anyone tell you any different  or make you feel bad for eating, with that being said try to eat healthy for most of the day.  So I'll tell you this:  EAT! EAT! EAT! It's the only time when no one will judge you for having six slices of pizza and a bag of chips. (P.S. I'd eat like that even if I wasn't pregnant.) Your significant other will gain weight. Relish in that fact. He got you into this mess; he should get some stretch marks too! 

You're most likely not doing anything wrong. For a while I felt like every move I made was a sure way of doing things wrong.  I think I was too hard on myself for most of it. With the exception of smoking, doing drugs, and drinking (do not do any of that crap)  I think that women need to lighten up during pregnancy.  I still get upset when I think about the time I passed out in the shower. Not because I passed out but because I didn't wait for Dann to get home to shower.  Now I'm convinced that Lennon will have a funny nose due to my fall even though doctor after doctor assured me that his nose was hardly a nose at that point.  But go easy on yourself, you're growing a human and that's hard work. I'd rather go back to grad school than do this again, it's that hard.  I gave up a lot of what I used to eat and I stay home more now than I ever have before but I still think I'm doing everything wrong - even right now I should be sleeping. 

Sleep. People will tell you to sleep when you can and obviously this is true. But my two cents, the most valuable two cents at least, is to invest in a Boppy pregnancy body pillow. My mother got me one as soon as I came home from England and I don't think I would be able to sleep without it.  Put it between your knees and behind your back in the first and second trimesters.  As your belly grows put it under the baby to hold his weight as your stomach feels like it might fall off in the third trimester.  And I would also recommend establishing "Tootsie Tuesday" and "Foot Rub Friday" early on so that your mate knows he's definitely rubbing your feet at least two days a week, as he should since you're growing his human anyway. Foot rubs are the best and even better when you're carrying an extra 20 - 30 pounds.  

 

You are not fat. You are pregnant.  This is a hard one for me to get through my head. I see no difference when it comes to size. You will gain weight.  Your face will get rounder and your legs and arms will probably get bigger.  I try to remind myself that this is just a temporary weight and that I'll be close to old self by Thanksgiving, but since my boobs have blown up a few band and cup sizes and my badinski has passed the audition to be the star in the 2013 remix of Sir-Mix-Alot's "I Like Big Butts" video it's hard to accept that my body will be close to normal ever again. In some aspects I did get lucky. My shirts and pants are just getting too small on me within the last week but with two days left I'm definitely not going out and spending cash on overpriced maternity clothes that make me feel bigger than I want to feel anyway. 

Whales.  I love whales. But not feeling like one.  Dann, the sweetheart he is, loves to watch me fall asleep at night and I will ask him "What are you looking at?" Or "Why are you being a creep?" And he will just respond with "You're beautiful."  Well I try to tell him that there is nothing beautiful about a beached whale in your bed.   Never mind the fact that my belly takes up more bed space than he and I together but my breathing is also comparable to that of a 1,000 pound woman who chained smoked all of her life. For real, my breathing is so heavy now that I wake myself up because of it most nights.   There is little self pride in pregnancy. 

My friend told me that I won't have any dignity by the time this is over and that it will take much more to embarrass me once this is said and done.  I didn't believe her at first but I sure do now. All I can say is that no matter how unprepared you are to have your junk exposed and your business shown to the world, you are not the worst that the doctors have seen. There will be an appointment or two where they catch off guard and tell you to get in a gown, only then in that moment will you wish your big, fat, pregnant arse shaved in the last four days. But then that same sweet guy who tells you that you're beautiful and that he loves you while you're puking will remind you that the doctors do this all day, and if you think he's going to remember that you didn't shave your legs by the end of this day then you are quite full of yourself and you should probably stop prancing around with a crown on your head.  

And you will master the art of peeing in a cup and by week 33 you will no longer care that you are carrying it around with you like a medal you won for most popular chick in the breastfeeding class. I think the whole peeing in a cup thing prepares you for the first time your son pees on you. The Universe helps us out like that.  And bring snacks to your appointments!  You most likely won't be waiting long, but let me tell you if your OB office plays General Hospital every time you're in the waiting room then you're going to get bored quickly.  

Do not let anyone else make you feel like you aren't a good mom.  You are a good mom.  You haven't had a real chance to mess it up yet. I've realize that when it comes to breastfeeding or formula feeding, the choice to circumcise or not, and vaccinate or not, they are all YOUR choices as parents.  Not anyone else's and do not let anyone else judge you or make you feel craptastic for the choices that you think best fit for your child.  We are all trying to do our best and I've decided that those choices should be treated like religion and politics at the dinner table - just don't talk about them.  And if you do talk about them do not judge others on their choices. 

You cannot do it all.  I consider myself to be a very independent person.  I hate asking people for help and lately it's all I've been doing. By week 28 you might have a hard time bending over to pick something  up.  Learn the art of picking things up with your toes or learn to say please and thank you over and over again. Bending over will be a thing of the past.  So will sitting Indian-Style or "Criss-Cross Applesauce."  You'll need help getting up from the couch and sometimes you just need someone to reach something in the back of the fridge. Don't try to carry things that were too heavy for you before you were  even pregnant. And pee before you leave the house.  Don't worry, you'll have to pee two seconds after pulling out of the driveway anyway. 

Thankfully, I'm starting to get sleepy and my breathing doesn't seem too bad at the moment so I will end my first gist of my book with this : 

Never ever,  under any circumstance, should you tell your significant other that you have a crush on your OB, even if it is just because he has a Dave Matthews Band ringtone set on his phone. It will make that appointment when you're told to drop your pants a bit awkward, regardless of whether or not you shaved. 

And remember it's supposed to be one of the most beautiful times of your life so be sure to grab some rose-colored glasses when you're picking up that pregnancy test! :-) 

10 Days Until Baby

It's scary to think that you're going to be responsible for another human being for the rest of your life.  As if my life hasn't already changed dramatically, in ten days it's about to get real.  I'm sure he'll be a cool baby and that, once the initial fear wears off, it won't be that complicated and not very different than spending summers with Jacob or hanging out with Levi, except for it being 24/7, 365 days a year. But that calm and collected attitude is not my most worn game face these days.  In fact, friends, I have never ever been so scared in my entire life. And, I mean, I've been through some crap in my time. But Debbie's wrath, Corey's lectures, moving to a foreign country on my own, and my most feared horror movie all seem a bit easier and more inviting than the thought of being sliced open in ten days, even if it is to give birth. 

Pip doesn't scare me and death doesn't scare me. To be honest, I've always considered myself being okay with dying at any moment. I always believed I lived a good life and when your time is up then there isn't much you can do about it. I've always thought of it as an old friend waiting to have a nice long chat and catch up with me. With that being said, Pip dying scares me and Pip growing up without his mama scares me. Now, there's still so much that I want to do. Now, I want to control when my time is up. I want to see this baby that I've been growing and housing for the last nine months.  Also, if I am not around who will make sure that he gets my taste in music and not his father's? If the fact that Pip might grow up thinking 80's music is fantastic doesn't scare you then you need to get your courage cloned for me, for reals. 

And, I mean, there is really no reason, other than the doctors admitting they have no idea what to do with me, for me to think that I wouldn't survive. With lawsuits and bad press these days, I have to believe that if the doctors really believed that they couldn't get me through this successfully that they would wash their hands of me to avoid a death on their record.   I'm morbid, I know. 

The thing is that I've been a science project for so long, my whole life actually. It's all I know.  I've grown accustomed to, and quite fond of the response, "I don't know," from doctors that it's kind of what I expect at all times.  But lately, I'm not okay with being a science project. I would love to just have ten days of normalcy and go about this like every other expecting  mom and be excited about this baby getting out of my belly and being able to have my body back, but excited is just not there. Fear is.  Anxiety is. Doubt is. Excited must have hitched a ride to someone else's due date. 

I met with the anesthesiologist two weeks ago and he's quite confident that the team at Moses Taylor are competent enough to make this work and the doctor assisting my OB during the section is actually the head of the department (because I am a medical mystery? In the name of science? Or coincidence?) so that's comforting. But there is also the reality that they may not have any idea of what they're getting themselves into, like when I hopped on a plane to England two years ago. They could be thinking that they're going to have a barrel of monkeys on the 12th and it could end  up to be a cage full of hungry tigers! 

So I have my "Just In Cases" ready to go. Of course, I try to be as humorous as possible when telling my mother that she better not have my funeral in west side and if they decide to cremate me to at least play "Girl on Fire" while it's happening. I have an utterly adorable notebook to write silly, unnecessary things/wishes in - it's called my "Just In Cases" book. I will get around to writing stuff in there, I also purchased fancy colored Sharpie pens to add some pizazz should people have to actually read through it.  Thoughtful, I know. 

But, then I start to think of after.  This is always a blurred line for me because I don't believe in a lot of mumbo jumbo. (Science project, remember?) This is where I contradict myself the most and where I am probably the biggest hypocrite going.  I believe in good and evil. I think I believe in some sort of Divine Being, maybe it's just the Universe that really has a bigger plan set up for everyone but then I get annoyed because I am not cool with something or someone controlling my life. I don't think I believe in a God that the Bible speaks of. Maybe because too many fools take it and analyze it and push it down other people's throats, I can't be sure.  I do not believe in Hell, or maybe that people actually go there, but I do believe that there is such thing as a Devil and that is because of all of the evil I see in the world.  However, there is much good in the world so surely there should be an equal and opposite entity to balance all of this crap out. The  Universe is big and maybe I'm a bit more for recycling than I originally thought but who's to say where we go from here?  Surely it would be easier to send our souls to another place than to just have them linger around here. But, then again, I don't really believe in ghosts (I say this as my feet must be covered so that I am protected from any ghost that may want to drag me under the bed) and, as we all know, the body is what takes up the space not our souls. So what happens next?  My great grandma always told me that I would be rewarded in Heaven for the seemingly hard life that she knew I'd have but I didn't yet understand.  I was young, like four or five, but I think even then I thought it was a load of bull. Heaven doesn't help me now. But then again if Heaven is for eternity, surely this temporary home is the worst of the two. And I'll take the challenges now rather than prance around in Heaven with all of this crap holding me down.  

Now, Heaven that is what I really think about often. If it exists at all, what it is like?  Does it change for everyone? How does that work when you meet up with old friends and family members who passed away before you? Surely there is someone up there who thinks a forever filled with 80's music is a great way to go about it and that would absolutely stink for me!  Dann's Heaven would probably be full of Star Wars, Marvel/DC and superiffic geek-like things, and I'm just too cool for that so what happens then? This is surely where Heaven can get tricky. Don't even get me started on the whole idea of what happens if your spouse dies and then you remarry. You have two partners in Heaven then? I'd be furious if I spent 56 years waiting for my husband to get to Heaven only to learn he married some chick after I croaked and I have to share him for eternity.

But if there is a Heaven I can tell you what I think it's like. Dann and I talk about it often. Obviously, if there is such a place, Heaven would be like Candy Land. Yes, the board game.  Not the new version either, that stuff is too politically correct for my liking. I'm talking about Candy Land pre-2000s when you still had to worry about getting tossed back down to Plumpy and his sugar plums, but I always thought he was a nice looking guy. If anyone is going to meet you at the gates of Heaven, why not that happy looking green guy? Imagine how fun it would be to just prance around in candy for eternity.  I'd hardly mind being sent down to Plumpy because I'd get to go on those rainbow slides, which is probably made of  regenerating Skittles anyway.  The only beef I might have is with Lord Licorice. I never really enjoyed licorice before because I have a terrible underbite which prevents me from chewing many things, and licorice tastes like butt.  But maybe in Heaven I wouldn't have an underbite and licorice would not taste like butt.  Who knows?! Anyway, I'd definitely enjoy that Peppermint section. I googled the characters and apparently he's called Mr. Mint, I can't recall if that is what he was called back in the day.   Debbie probably still has our VHS hanging around somewhere. I'll let you know if I find it. But, Mr. Mint, reminds me of Christmastime and that is always joyous.  We have Grandma Nutt who would always be waiting with hot chocolate.  Gloppy would eventually give up the molasses deal and let all of that be chocolate which is just delicious. Queen Frostine and King Kandy would also be nice to hangout with from time to time. But I'll fill you in, I'm too much of a feminist to prance around with a king and Frostine always seemed too prissy for me.  All in all, I think my idea of Heaven is an okay idea. I could be wrong (and right at the same time) and once I croak that's the end of the story but at least I have it out there that I'm not nervous about the death part or what comes after because it's only Candy Land anyway. And let's face it I'll end up spending a good chunk of time waiting for Princess Lolly to get there anyway so I'll wait around there for her to arrive, in another hundred years :) 

So that's what I tell myself, "It's Candy Land anyway."  Sure I don't want Pip to not know me but if the last nine months have taught me anything they've taught me this: Some things are just out of my hands.  He will be taken care of. He has people on both sides of the world who love him already. And since he's my son, he might inherit my sense of humor which will help him bunches, along with my sense of adventure and determination which I hope he gets. 

Some people sleep at night, other people are rudely awakened by little feet kicking on their bladders. I'm one of those people and this blog was brought to you in part by the letter P. 

Baltimore/Scranton in July

The things that people do for someone who is almost a complete stranger to them is fascinating and the way they care about those strangers is also equally fascinating. I am overwhelmed already by the amount of people coming to my baby shower.  I feel terrible that people are spending money on gifts and to throw the shower but at the same time I am in awe at the fact that we are all getting ready for this little Pip that we don't even know if we will like!  ;-)

Anyway, my point is that I amazed at myself and the love I feel for this creature that is really a pain in the arse.  So far, he kicks me, hangs out in my ribs all day, has caused me to gain an crazy amount of weight, and gives me the most excruciating back pain I have ever felt.  So far, I love him more than I ever knew it was possible to love someone, let alone someone I don't even know.

So I found myself in a terrified wreck on Monday at Hopkins.  I am not one for dramatics and I am not one to get worked up over things easily.  I think those of you who know me know that I am a pretty calm person.  I can blame it on the ultrasound tech's completely asshat bedside manner or that I was tired because we were partying all weekend for Jacob's birthday, but the truth is that I was a wreck on Monday because Pip means more to me than life itself, and. apparently, I am a mom so when I think something is wrong with him, I get freaked.

Although I am told it isn't much to worry about and I am trying to believe the doctors on both sides of the state line, there is some concern going on in this body of mine.  The amino fluid is low it's at 7.1 and I imagine that it should be at 10 but the doctor here assured me that if it goes down to 5 is the time I should worry.  Not now. Pip is kicking fine and everything looked good to the people in Baltimore, but then when the doctor up here read the sonogram reports he was concerned about Pip's growth, or lack thereof.  In April his growth was at 60%, May 50% and here in July is at 29%. He couldn't even stay at 30%!  The doctor told me again that there is nothing to worry about yet.  That if it was at 10% then he would be concerned.  And if it got to that point I would be injected with steroids - twice- to bump up Pip's lung development.  His head is the smallest part of him right now and his belly is the biggest.  My mom said that that is what the doctors said about Levi.  He called Levi a Buddha. Pip can be a Buddha, too, if he wants.  Dann and I are pretty peaceful people so surely our baby would be a peaceful person as well.

Today I will go for another ultrasound up here in Scranton.  Just to double check, just in case there were technical issues, or asshatish issues, that made the readings incorrect.  I know that is a long shot, but considering how idiotic the people at Hopkins have been with this pregnancy, maybe it's not as long as a shot as we think.

I've also made my first "motherly" decision.  I am not going back to Hopkins for this baby.  Dr. Kelley okayed the choice and said that he was much more impressed with the doctors up here than he was with the OB down there.  The icing on the cake was when my appointment was canceled AGAIN on Monday, when I was already in Baltimore.  I had an appointment with Dr. Kelley that afternoon as well. When I told him that they canceled again he said "well then that decision is made for us already"- little did he know that I already told the OB office where to go and how to get there.  Kelley said that there are some things that Hopkins is great for and other things not so much.  Dealing with me having a baby is not one of them.  Maybe if I had a different OB there it would be okay but I didn't like him and he wasn't impressing Kelley very much either.

It is decided that I will have a C-Section.  There is great relief in that.   The neurologist that I met with almost a month ago said there would be no way I could deliver a baby naturally - even assisted.  My muscles just aren't up to par.  Dr. D at Physician Health Alliance wants to schedule the Section soon.  He would like to wait until 39 weeks unless the MFM doctor, Dr. Kraus, thinks it should be earlier. Last time we spoke Dr. K said 36 weeks but that was before Pip decided to attempt to be a runt.  We will see today I guess.

So as usual, we are requesting all good juju, positive vibes, prayers, even good witches and their voodoo dolls to send some positive things our way.  

What a Wild Ride!

So today I won a contest on Facebook and I had to reveal what we are naming Pip to someone who isn't in our every day life. This person responded told me that the name is so cool and then we started to chat on how Dann and I met and what the heck I was doing in England in the first place. Sometimes I blow my own mind.

I genuinely still find myself shocked at times at all of the obstacles I had to jump through to get to this point. Never, not even in five zillion years and two billion lifetimes, did I think that my getting on a plane to move to England, when most people told me I was crazy, would lead to meeting a man who I was infatuated with from the moment I knew his name, never mind tricking that guy into proposing to me, and creating this human being with him.  None of this was a part of my plan when I took off to England in August 2011!  

Someone said to me yesterday that sometimes whirlwinds are the best way for things to happen. Considering I am a very impatient person when it comes to things happening I agreed. I couldn't really see this happening any other way, don't get me wrong this baby was not planned at all and it's still a shock but prior to January 2013 if you were to say to me now just isn't the time to have a baby (talking about yourself because I always wanted babies) I would tell you that there is never a good time to have a baby. There is never enough money. There is never enough time or energy or strength.  I would close it up with saying now is the perfect time because now is all we have.  I've definitely tried to keep all of that in the back of my mind especially when fear and/or pain try to override every other emotion that should be dominating my soul. 

I cannot lie when I think about how far along I am, in twenty minutes I'll be 23 weeks, I still get blown away.  It is surreal to me when I think "I'm five months pregnant."  I get overwhelmed  so easily when it comes to things now.  I dared to go to target and finish things on the registry that I couldn't pick out online and I couldn't ignore the anxiety.  How in the world does one person know what to do for another person when they person doesn't speak but rather cry to get his way?  

And then he kicks me.  It's like we have our own secret code. I'll drink something and I think if he likes it he'll kick me. When he likes the music that I'm listening to he'll bounce around in there.  It doesn't feel like butterflies. I actually don't know how else to describe it but to say it feels as though my digestive system is working hard.  It startles me but not in a bad way at all.  I guess it kind of reminds me of a hiccup when he kicks me. You know that it's going to happen but you can't really stop yourself from jumping over it.  It obviously doesn't last long but in those swift nanoseconds I don't feel pain or fear. I just feel this little guy saying hey mom I'm getting bored in here. I'm thinking in a couple months  going to want to get out of here and cause some chaos for you until then keep the music coming and I'll keep using your bladder as a piano  and your back as a kick drum.   

I hope that you guys are just as shocked when you think "Autumn's going to be a mom."  Because I sure am! 

The Heat is On.

I actually didn't have a better title for this post.  I just need a place to vent or rant or rave. I'm not seeking pity. You all know me better than that but I just need to get this down and out so that I can just let it go. 

This should be such a happy time for me.  I find myself a bit envious of all of the moms that are so excited to be pregnant and go about their day without wincing in pain or only worrying about what will happen the day their baby is born 75% of the day.   That is not my experience with pregnancy.  And I am so sad about it. 

I have a huge pain tolerance.  I remember at a doctor's appointment years ago, when my mother was still allowed to speak for me, the doctor asked what my pain level was and I just shrugged my shoulders and with that my mom said, "I don't know if she even remembers what it's like to not be in pain. She doesn't really complain about anything that hurts her even though I can see that it does."   For some reason that has stuck with me after all of this time.  While I believe this still holds true, I cannot help but be angry about how much pain I am in.  Between my back and my stomach (muscles) aching constantly, it's often overwhelming. There are things that people do every day that would hurt me before I was pregnant and now that has intensified by thousands and there are some things that I do, like sneezing or coughing, that are just painful. I just don't know how I will get through the next 18 weeks. 

It also makes me irate that I am not enjoying this time because, while my doctors are confident Pip and I will both survive, I am not.  Krissy tells me that my feelings (I'm quite intuitive) are really just fear creeping through but I have a hard time imagining meeting Pip.  I hope I'm wrong and I probably am, but that fear is there and it's not going anywhere.   Add on that I can't even enjoy this pregnancy and you have a perfect formula for a miserable Autumn. 

I am trying very hard to keep on keeping on.  You know, fake it until you make it.  I'm still working as many hours that are available to me because I need the money (who doesn't?) but that is getting difficult too.   I find myself in pain much faster than I was even two weeks ago. I desperately want to work as much as I can because of the trips to Baltimore and then you know saving for diapers and formula on top of the normal bills. I know that everyone has to do this and I do not want anyone to think that I do not want to do it.  I just wish the pain would ease up.  I wish it wouldn't hurt every second of the day so that when I have the opportunity to work ten hours for four days a week I can take it. 

I also know that the universe wouldn't give me anything that I couldn't handle. I believe that if we both survive this that no one in this world will be more proud of me than myself. The amount of fear I have going through my veins is unlike any other time in my life.  For once I can actually say I am afraid. 

And for once I can actually say I am afraid to die.  I was never afraid of that before because we all have to do it.  But now I have this kid counting on me for so many things and now I'm afraid of not following through for him. I have eighteen weeks until I reach full term.  It's odd and not justified at all to think of that as a death sentence but sometimes I do.  The thought of bringing a child into this world in hopes that he will be a good, just, humane, and peaceful person but not knowing if I will be able to help him become that person, to be an example for him, is more unbearable than the back pain.   

So I had to write.  I don't know if it's because this pain has reached an all time high or if it's the weather (it's not the weather) but today I had to write. 

First Appointment with the High Risk Doctor in NEPA

OY!

You know for once I would like an appointment to just be completely full of good news! I don't really think that is all that much to ask but that could just be me.   I went to the doctor for an anatomy ultrasound today or to try to complete it since it wasn't possible at Hopkins.

What a can of worms.

I have to say that the doctor at this place was phenomenal.  He was thorough and compassionate and brutally honest. He spoke with Dr. Kelley while I was getting the ultrasound done and had a pretty good idea of my story by the time he was off of the phone with Kelley.  That didn't really make any of the news better as I had hoped.

Apparently, Kelley still believes that a C-Section is the best bet for me.  I am very okay with this.  It is because of my underlying muscle weakness that is driving him away from regular delivery or assisted delivery.  Kelley and this doctor, Dr. Kraus, both believe that my uterus will not contract for labor which will cause problems.  Like my uterus tearing.  You must understand that not only did not expect to have children for another two or three years, I wasn't even thinking about preparing to have children anytime soon.  I was planning a wedding on night and then next night  I found was pregnant.  So I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to ask what happens if my uterus tears.  Dr. Kraus just looked at me and said "it's very bad."  I mean I expected that it was very bad but just because you see something on Grey's Anatomy doesn't make it true.  But my assumptions were right and it surely is very bad if that happens.  For this reason I am sure that the baby will be delivered by C-Section anyway.

But then there is another reason.

My placenta isn't where it's supposed to be.  For those of you who do not know - your placenta should be at least two centimeters away from your cervix.  My normal ultrasound was interrupted by an internal ultrasound because it was suspected that there wasn't enough room.  Dr. Kraus was optimistic and said that there is probably enough room but we just need to double check.  Optimism killed the cat, folks. Not stupidity or curiosity, plain old optimism. My placenta is hardly half a centimeter away from my cervix which is a risk because that can cause bleeding. He said that this can fix itself but I need to play it safe and let any doctor know that no other internal exams can take place for the risk of bleeding.

But wait! There's more!

While this doctor admitted that he doesn't have a lot of information to tell me because he isn't familiar with me and I do not exist anywhere...

Wait.  Hold on here's a funny...

Dr. Kraus comes in from speaking with Dr. Kelley and he turns to me and states, "You're a zebra."

You can imagine my face.  I've been called many things in my time but never a zebra.

Then he proceeds to say that when students start med school they have a bunch of common sense and some book smarts.  And if they heard a sound of hoof steps behind them and were asked what they thought was behind them, the student, before medical school, would say a horse as that is the most likely result.  But then by the time they graduate and become doctors that same scenario gets a response of a zebra. The rarest and most unlikely answer but that is what doctors look for - rare and unlikely.  He told me this story and then said, 'But you.  You are the actual zebra and it is safe to say that no one knows what they are doing now that answer is finally zebra." And he had a zebra tie on today.  Comedy of Errors.

Okay back to what I was getting to next.

The muscle weakness issues continue.  While neither Dr. Kelley or Dr. Kraus believe that the baby and pregnancy will be affected by this disease of mine, they both, or at least Dr. Kraus, believe that I will be affected by this pregnancy.  He is concerned about the calorie intake, as I need more of it and I may not be able to keep up with it, and he is concerned about my breathing in the third trimester.  The respiratory system is obviously run by muscles and works extra hard in the third trimester so there is some concern there. He continued to say that he wouldn't be surprised if I would end up going for an amniocentesis at 36 weeks and if Pip's lungs are strong enough and good to go they will do a C-Section and he will be in the hospital until he is okay to come home.

I think besides the whole bleeding to death thing, the biggest issue I had was that the doctor kept referring to Pip as a fetus. Pip isn't a fetus. He's a little person already.  He has his personality and he is impossibly stubborn as we have to try to do the anatomy ultrasound again.  He couldn't stop moving his hands today and he gave us a thumbs up twice during today's ultrasound. He sat cross legged pretty much the whole time and for most the ultrasounds he can't get over showing us his butt.  He has ears that he can hear me with and I am quite sure he smiled for a photo today.  He's hardly a fetus. Oh and please don't think that this is the time or place to get into a religious or political debate.  He's a person not just a fetus. He's my son. 

 The doctor did say that their first priority (Kelley's, Hopkins', and his) is to me and to make sure I survive. Even if that means Pip doesn't.  I can't really wrap my head around that.  I can't imagine going through all of this and not even get to meet Pip.  I can't really even comprehend that this is a possibility.  To be honest, I really think it effin' sucks.  I've always wanted children and, although now is not the ideal time, he exists and he is on his way now.  We didn't have to struggle to get pregnant.  Hell, we didn't even have to try. I wonder, if things happened in an orderly way, if the doctors would have told me that I couldn't have children, that it would be too risky.  So here I am with my little miracle child that I didn't even know would be a miracle (besides all children being miracles) as we go against every odd out there. So I can't help but want to scream at someone when they tell me in not so many words that the choice is going to be me over Pip.  From the moment I learned of him, no matter how scared I was, I knew I'd always choose Pip. How can someone else make that choice for me?  I mean everyone else is on the other page and agrees that my health and survival comes first. I don't want Pip to not have a mom but how does one recover from that?  I know people do it all of the time but Pip and I are buddies already. I just can't see myself bouncing back from that heartbreak.  Dann, my mother, brother etc etc are all concerned and drumming into my head that I come first.  I am just not on that page.

I've always joked that I would live to be 124 and die of old age because I can't see anything that would take me down after all I've been through.  Yes, I have met my match.  My 11 ounce match.  It's weird because I love him, please don't get me wrong, but each day he gets bigger and each day September comes closer and  when I think of the science side and  not the emotional side of this, it's like I am a ticking time bomb that just needs to be disarmed in time. Pip isn't aware of this. He just gets mad when I eat too much and there is no room for him. He patiently waits for story time every night and he likes to tick off the ultrasound techs on a regular basis.  I mean I think he's pretty cool already. He has no clue that he is a six inch ball of chaos.

So here's to hoping some good news comes our way by the end of the week.

Moody Mondays + Maternity Clothes Shopping =

A terrible idea!


I am uber miserable today.  I think it's because I am bored and when I am bored I have tons of time to think about how much control I do not have over things.   But then I noticed that when I am miserable, all of the crazy people that I know come out to bother me. It's like they have some sort of monitor on me and really know when to get to me.  And it was a rainy, crappy day today.  I know there is such thing as seasonal depression, but I wonder if there is such thing as a legitimate rainy day depression.

There is nothing glamorous about pregnancy.  This glow that people speak of must really be the shimmer make up that I use. People tell me I look great.  Really?  I mean my self-esteem was the size of a sperm cell before I was pregnant. Now that I am fat and tired all of the time, it is even smaller than that.   I had absolutely nothing to do today so I decided to try to find some pants that fit me instead of wearing yoga pants everyday. The sizing was utterly confusing and the prices are outrageous.  Yes, I would love to pay $40 for pants that I will wear for the next four months and then never again.  Cannot think of anything better I need to do with that money. Nothing like charging you that much when you're not going to wear the clothes that long. Heffer sized clothes at heffer sized prices, welcome to motherhood.

I chose to relax on the maternity pants.  To be honest, that band is overwhelming and I wanted to cry when I held up said pants with band. For the love of God, I felt like a beached whale just looking at them.  Krissy just laughed in my face when I grunted at them.  And then they only had the color I liked in ankle length.  Short fat pants.  Sweet. Just what the doctor ordered.

Then I asked the lady, who was very nice, about the belly band vs the pant extender.  She proceeded to tell me that the band will hide my pants when I cannot button them (did it look like I needed to be reminded of that time) where the extender will make my pre-pregnant jeans last longer because they add five inches.  For real?  I am really going to gain more than five inches?  I DO NOT WANT TO BUY BIGGER CLOTHES, LADY! TELL ME SOMETHING GOOD! So I spent $20 on that pant extender.  And I hope they last for the better part of the next four months.

Let's talk about the bras.   All of my life I wished to be bodacious however the wish fell on deaf ears.  As I got older I gained weight and obviously the ladies got bigger but I was at a size that I enjoyed all around, from bust to belly, the butt was never a concern of mine as I sit all of the time. I have an obsession with knickers and bras.  So I have a plethora of both in a variety of colors and coolness.  Some have tags still on them.  Then I get my arse knocked up!  WHAT?!  My butt blew up immediately and the ladies just won't stop growing. We obviously do not need to talk about the belly.  Be careful what you wish for, folks.My friends say "You always wanted to be bodacious" and kindly remind them that I wanted to be bodacious without getting pregnant.  Anyway, I asked the lady what to do about a bra situation and she had the audacity to tell me that I will probably go up a cup size after Pip is born.  Apparently, she wasn't aware of the small fortune in bras with tags on them I have sitting in my top drawer just waiting to be worn.  And these are cute ones!  Ones that I've hunted for and waited for that cannot be used now!  I couldn't bring myself to paying heffer prices for these bras.  I decided to buy an extender for bras instead.  They'll fit me again.  They have to.  They're so pretty.

I'm also having a bigger issue than normal with homophones and grammatical conundrums that I normally use with ease.  I forget things all the time and I have a hard time concentrating whether it's conversation or listening to the GPS.  Baby brain is making me insane.

Then my biggest problem is myself.  I must say that before I type the rest of this is that I know I am not seeing things clearly and that I am being rather impossible but I am pregnant so it's excusable.

It sucks to have a baby daddy on the other side of the world.

It sucks to not have someone to count on every second of the day (my friends are doing a fantastic job but they don't want to cuddle with me). What sucks more  is that Dann is in the middle of preparing for finals and is impossible to talk to.  He is busy doing projects and papers and when he isn't doing school work he is at work. I understand how much this time sucks for him.  I've been there for like eleven years.   I shouldn't complain and I really don't want to complain but sometimes you just want to speak to your other half. Or Someone to lay next to or to cry to because you're so freaking scared of the next four months you want to crawl into a hole and come out for the baby's first birthday and hope that you're both still around for it.  I know that I am lucky that Dann is in England and not in Afghanistan or Iraq and I know I am lucky to know when he is coming home and that he is more than likely going to come home in one piece. But it still sucks. He tells me it's hard on him too, but I find that impossible to believe. I feel like a total witch for but not enough to change my mind on it. But until he has to buy bra and pant extenders and make room for his belly and boobs while he's sleeping, I just don't think he should really tell me it's hard on him because the mutation of my body is just the tip of the iceberg.

It stinks when I wake up in the  middle of the night with indigestion and would love nothing more than for someone to rub circles in my back.  Or someone to watch tv with at night. Or to read to Pip when I am too tired to keep my eyes open.  It sucks doing this alone. As I stated earlier my friends and my mom are all doing a great job in supporting me but there are just some things that I want him here for. I am definitely acting like a teenager posting my life on the internet.  I should stop now but this is therapeutic and it's my blog so if you don't want to read this then stop!

I'm also annoyed that he goes out when he can talk to me instead.  This is not to be taken as I am mad he goes out.  I ultimately do not care that he goes out. I care that he goes out and doesn't come home at a reasonable time or in a reasonable condition to talk with me.  He hardly goes out. I cannot pretend that he does but I think it was that he went out on a weekend that we were hardly able to speak during the week that did him in.  
Again, if I wasn't knocked up I'd be out anyway so what would it matter.  Why can't the pre-pregnant Autumn just make pregnant Autumn see things this way?

 I do appreciate my friend, Stefanie, trying her hardest to help me see things his way.  I also appreciate her turning around and saying that I am right two seconds later even though I know I'm not! The Wrath of Pregnant Autumn has only touched Dann and I'm desperately trying to keep it that way.  You may all think I am calm, cool, and collected but once I start yelling I don't stop.  I guess that is the Irish in me. So for these people telling me that I am wrong, they are definitely real friends and I appreciate that because I need to stay grounded somehow.

It's like I'm a single mom.

I hate when I am in a store and I see baby mama and daddy all happy as can be looking at baby things while I am hoping that Dann's stupid effin' internet works long enough to hear from him.  It sucks. I hate that I have to go to doctor appointments and drag one of my friends with me, and mess with their schedules, because he isn't there to go. I hate what the doctors/nurses/techs must think when they see no dad with me.  I feel like I have to explain that my fiancé is in England and we were engaged well before I was pregnant so that they don't think I'm some chick that doesn't know who her baby daddy is or, even worse, this guy is just marrying me because he knocked me up.  

I hope that tomorrow is a sunny day and I hope that Pip shows his face at the ultrasound tomorrow because I would love a normal picture of him. I also hope to feel him move soon because I go crazy daily thinking that something is wrong with him because I haven't felt him move yet.




And for the record I strongly dislike the following celebrities   Kevin Bacon, Nicolas Cage, David Hasselhoff, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift, Kanye West (and Kim by proxy), Chad Kroger, and Alec Baldwin.   Especially more today than any other day.  Except for Kevin Bacon and Nicolas Cage, I dislike them more and more everyday.

The Second Appointment in Baltimore - Round 2

There isn't much to be said in this one.  I met with the doctor who will more than likely be the guy I speak to form now until Pip is born.  He is more than willing to use the ultrasound photos from up here and he wants me to go to Baltimore every four to five weeks.

He is concerned about the distance as the due date gets closer.  He said, "If you happen to go into labor at 30 weeks, we are just going to fly you down anyway."  Nothing is easy, aye.

This doctor also believes that a C-Section wouldn't be the best way to go for me.   I looked at him like he was crazy.  He then continued to tell me that there are women who have a normal delivery that are much worse off than I am.   I expressed to him that there is no way I am going to be able to push this baby out and he continued to tell me that there is an assisted delivery method in which the mom doesn't push at all.  I mean this all sounds great but what am I supposed to do just lay there?  He also isn't necessarily interested in me being induced.  What am I supposed to do? Make my delivery happen. He reminded me again and again that nothing is set in stone and that just because he thinks this way would be best for a delivery doesn't mean his colleagues and Dr. Kelley will agree with him.

I appreciate his honesty though. He was kind enough to admit, which I obviously heard before, that they really have no clue what to do with me because I am no where to be found in any textbook or Google search.  Of course, if you Google "awesome" I am sure I will pop up then.

So, needless to say, I am anxious.  I would never really consider myself a control freak but I definitely would say that I like to have some sort of plan.  I begged the OB to at least compromise and let me be induced so that I do not have to have an anxiety about going into labor, and then hitchhiking via helicopter, in Scranton.

I have to go back on May 17. I hope that there is some sort of plan lined up by then. Meanwhile, I will go for another ultrasound (to hopefully get some measurements) in Scranton on Tuesday.  I know that many people believe I should be enjoying this time, but I cannot lie I am not. I just want October to get here so I know we are both safe and sound.

I just have to trust that the doctors (who do work for the #1 hospital in the country) will know what to do and are going to come together to provide the best care for Pip and me. I have to trust that the Universe couldn't steer me too wrong, right? And would never leave Pip without a mom or me without a Pip.  At this point, I love him already so I can't stand the thought of him not making it.

Onward and upward.

Wrap Up of Today's (4/23) Baltimore Visit

This one isn't really full of good news or bad news.  Today was not as exciting as I wanted it to be or as productive as I was hoping for. This is going to be short and sweet because I know some of you are waiting to hear from me; it's been a long day and I just can't be bothered with writing enthusiastically. In fact I am quite pessimistic tonight so you might want to skip this one all together.

The first bump in today's road was the fact that magically, and not surprisingly, the two appointments I had at the OB office were double booked, actually my appointment times only existed in their old system.  So I, the tired chick that drove 3+ hours, had to be rescheduled for the appointment.. You'd think they would reschedule one of their Baltimore patient's appointments but I guess that is just me.  I have to drive back on Friday for a 45 minute appointment, which means canceling PT again and blowing another $65 in gas.  Unreal.   BUT they were able to squeeze me in at the hospital for my anatomy ultrasound.  Well I must tell you Mr. Pipster was none too happy about his lack of food intake and his mama being annoyed in a waiting room for an hour.  He wouldn't show his face to complete the anatomy scan.  They said he wasn't big enough to complete it but I think it's really  because he wouldn't move.  I asked if I could have a picture from this ultrasound.  The chick gave me a picture which was zoomed in on his foot. Really? Do I look at all entertained by any of this, lady? Then Miss Mystery Doctor comes in and tells me that everything looks good so far but they want me to come back down in two weeks in order to take another ultrasound because they couldn't complete the measurements.  I kindly (with difficultly on the kindly) told her that I was getting an ultrasound and consultation in Scranton and surely they can just send the photos down to Hopkins. Nope.  She said, "Yeah, we really don't like to use other people's photos."  They are not down with OPP.  An upside to that fiasco of an ultrasound, the tech let me audio record (not video, you cannot video record your own child) Pip's heartbeat.  I was happy that she snuck that in because that "phoot" photo just wasn't doing it for me.  His heartbeat is now my text tone :) 

I finally made it to Dr. Kelley, late and frazzled, around 4:00.  He was absolutely furious over the scheduling confusion and even more baffled by that doctor, that I really will never see again, not being down with OPP. Hopefully, he will be able to take care of all of that and  I won't have to go down on Friday.  

So Kelley seemed to have had a rough week too as the "thing" he thought was wrong with me is not wrong with me.  The symptoms or markers do not fit my lab work. I am back to where I started.  Actually I'm even worse than when I started because what he thought was originally wrong with me isn't wrong with me at all anymore. My body adapted and the speech I would give to those who wanted to know what my story was no longer fits.  I'll tell people my old story anyway though because it's better than shrugging my shoulders.  Kelley does still believe that the chances of Pip having what I have are extremely slim, but what the heck is slimmer than one person in the forkin' world? I am now concerned that if whatever is wrong with me is wrong with Pip that they do not know what IS wrong with me to help Pip.  I mean surely they will be able to keep him alive but I guess I hoped that if he was born like me it would be an easy fix and he wouldn't have to live under the conditions I live with.  Dr. Kelley is very optimistic that Pip will be fine but, naturally, I worry.  Another upside is that I will be able to stay awake during the C-Section. I didn't anticipate this and I have a bit of anxiety about it because I am sure my nerves will be shot by that point in time but I am also very excited that Dann and I will be the first ones to meet Pip and I won't be the last one to meet him.  Surely I should be the first one since I've been carrying him all of this time. Kelley doesn't anticipate any extreme circumstances that would make me have to be put under for the C-Section.  Whatever gets you through the night, right?

And lastly, he is still very optimistic for the surgery that would straighten by body out.  Naturally that is not even on the table until after Pip is born but it's something that I have been wanting for a long time and hopefully that works out.  

So for now Pip and I are going to chill out, listen to the Beatles, and I'm going to read "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" to him.  Oh, I am quite sure he kicked me in the ribs when I took the headphones off of my belly the first time I played the Beatles for him.  Like he won't ever hear them again. 

Sorry I don't have better news for you guys.  Sure appreciated all of your support and good vibes the over the last month. Keep them coming for Pip though :) 

And I've been up for 21 hours so if there are any errors you can just deal with it because everyone in a while you just need to accept that life is one big run on sentence that you just can't figure out

First Visits to Baltimore for the Pipster and I

I know that I said I wouldn't "share" this blog as it was more for me than it was for you readers, but in this instance I think it is okay because I have so many people who care about Pip and me.  Blogging it means I can tell you all at once which gives me a bit of peace.


I'll start at the beginning because that is my favorite place to start. I started my morning with an appointment with Dr. Richard Kelley at the Kennedy Krieger Institute at Johns Hopkins.  Dr. Kelley and I go way back. He found me when I was eight months old and he's been saving my behind since.  Over the last twenty years there was not a need for me to see him so our correspondence was via telephone and then email, and then Pip came along and Dr. Kelley suggested that I come down to get things started to insure Pip's arrival and my survival.

My mom and I spent about three hours with Dr. Kelley this morning.  It's important that I cover these details as they will most likely directly affect Pip if everything works out correctly (ha!).  At first Dr. Kelley just caught up on what has been going on with me in the last twenty years. He made sure there were no hospitalizations that he wasn't aware of and covered old details that were no longer or still relevant.

He believes he figured me out.  This whole time he believed that I had a fatty acid deficit.  This is because in the 80s there were only so many tests, screenings, and technologies that were offered to doctors that tried to solve the puzzle called Autumn. However, now he believes that I actually have a mitochondrial myopathy.  Yes, the words mean nothing to me as well, but the story means a whole heck of a lot.  If this is the story with me then there is a treatment plan, not a cure, which is fine, but a way to cope even better than I have been.  He was quite impressed with how much I have improved over time.  You have to keep in mind that I wasn't supposed to live to see a year, or go to school, or do anything that I've done.  I imagine that when he saw me today he was blown away by this crazy chick who moved to England, fell in love, got engaged and is now pregnant.  A long way from CHOP's NICU! So the bottom line is that I donated seven vials of blood to the genetic counselor and Dr. Kelley.  We initiated another go at physical therapy and, if this is what he thinks it is, it will all revolve around a new "diet" plan that hopefully will provide improvements to my body and quality of life in time for Pip's arrival.

Dr. Kelley also believes that this has actually been passed down from both my mother and father. I am not certain if I believe this one.  I have no reason not to but no logical reason to believe it other than because he told me so, which is usually good enough but up until today it's always been environmental.  My concern is passing this to Pip. Dr. Kelley told me that it is a 1 in 400 chance that Pip will get it.  The odds are greater if Dann is also a carrier but Kelley also said that the chances of Dann being a carrier if this extremely rare disorder is slim to none.  Although all of these odds are great to hear, the outstanding truth is that I am literally one in a million.  I am the rare one so odds and I are not the best of friends. BUT a way to look at this is that the doctors know more about my case now than they did when I was born, than twenty years ago, than five years ago.  There is more information out there than I ever had AND if Dr. Kelley is right and what he thinks is wrong with me is what IS wrong with me then Pip is already a step ahead of me.  I hope and hope that it skips Pip and Pip's kids and grand kids etc because this life is hard but if it doesn't skip him/her the doctors know what to do and what not to do for Pip; I suppose that's all Daddy and I can really hope for.  Naturally, I am also hoping that Pip gets my hair and my eyebrows (and my sense of humor) but that Pip is healthy and normal is most important to me.  I know I make this life look easy but it's hard every single day there is some sort of struggle.  The bottom line is that it sucks to be different and I want for Pip the exact thing that I wanted for myself my whole life - just to blend in with everyone else.

I digress.


Dr. Kelley is concerned about a C-Section just because of the fasting that occurs for the days after the operation. I did express to him that I am very concerned that I do not have the stamina or strength to make it through labor and he understands. I would also like to have a planned C-Section rather than an ER Section.  The C-Section will most likely be scheduled at 38 weeks but will be confirmed later.


Another thing is that when I was seven or eight Dr. Kelley arranged for me to meet an orthopedic surgeon at Hopkins, Dr. Sponsellar. I know that I didn't spell that right but I've been up for a long time and had a long day.  Google it if you want to stalk him.  Anyway, the meeting was to start the proceedings for surgeries that would straighten my body out, hamstrings and legs would be just like yours.  Back then Dr. S didn't think that the odds were in my favor.  He believed it would be 50/50 that it would be successful or I would end up paralyzed.  Those odds, my mother and Dr. Kelley were not comfortable with taking.   I have been thinking about it for the last year or so and I brought it up to Dr. Kelley today and he believes that with medical advancement and my improvements it is much more realistic than it was in the past.   As long as the odds are better, especially with Pip being around, I will hopefully be looking at surgery within the next two years (year). So the wedding might be postponed a year because if I have the chance to walk down the aisle, you can bet your behinds that I will moonwalk right down to Dann, no wheels attached.  And if Pip has a "normal" mom that would make me almost as happy as I would be if Pip ends up normal. I cannot even begin to hide my excitement when I think about standing straight and having muscles that work better than they do now.  It's an excitement that you will never understand but I hope you're excited too.

Then we had an appointment with the OB Practice.  There is nothing really exciting to tell here because it was just an "intake" appointment. Besides the fact that I donated five more vials of blood to them and that the nurse's last name was Starr and the doctor that I will see first has a first name of Jude (FOR REAL!) there is nothing really interesting to say.

I have an ultrasound Thursday in Scranton.
I go back to Baltimore for round two April 23rd.


Again, I apologize for putting this on a blog but texting a thousand people the same story really doesn't tickle my fancy!

The Blues of Baby Making

It's hard to be away from your significant other and it's even harder while pregnant. I know that I am lucky that he isn't in the off with the army in Afghanistan somewhere and that I do get to speak with him all of the time but it's still hard. It didn't help that Dann spoiled me during my first trimester.  Granted it hurt to move then even more than it does now but sometimes it would still be nice for someone to get my clothes together for me or rub my feet or hug me when I am crying for absolutely no reason at all.

And that isn't to be confused or thought of as me being ungrateful for all of the people who are helping me.  My mother and father are being absolutely wonderful right now.  All of the help that they give me I can never return or express enough gratitude for.  My friends are definitely making me laugh, when I let them.  But sometimes you just want your other half with you. Especially when I can't sleep/

I know it's hard now so it won't be hard later  but that doesn't really doesn't make me happy about it.  I rely on Skype and Kik messenger like I rely on the air that I breathe. It's just eight more weeks until Dann is here and that is something to look forward to. I just hate that he will miss all of these firsts with me - hearing the heartbeat, seeing Pip as more than a dot etc.

I hope this blues go away soon!