Rambunctious Rib-kicker

     So today I entertained myself by trying to make videos of Elora kicking. She is battering my ribs from the inside with her kicks. It feels like someone is tickling me with their fingers. She is 22 weeks, 5 days old, which would round up to 23 weeks if she were born prematurely. We do not want that to happen though, because even though the hospital would now try to save her, it is likely she would have to have many surgeries and medical issues. I have my next prenatal appointment on August 5th at 10:30 am.
     I'm trying to decide what Ryan and I should do for our Anniversary. We will be staying at the same hotel we did for our honeymoon, in the same room, which will be awesome! He would like to go to the I-MAX, as he's never been. We both will definitely go to Mass, maybe noon at the Cathedral. I'd like to maybe go to R Coffee House, which we went to on our first date. Lee will probably stay with Ryan's grandparents, Pat and Ed.

   
My boss at WATC commented to me today in the tutoring lab that I looked like I was positively glowing with my pregnancy, and "you look like someone right out of a magazine!". I answered, "Thanks, but I don't feel like it!", laughing. It sure made me feel better about my bulbous midsection.

 


 I'm craving Coconut Cream Pie from Spears or the Village Inn, but I'm trying to content myself with just the odd dark chocolate now and then. If I bought a Coconut Cream Pie I would end up eating the whole thing in one or two sittings. So far I have done really well at getting lots of protein, fruits and veggies. I have not gained any weight, it has simply converted into baby, it seems. However, I asked Grandma Pat recently if she liked Coconut Cream Pie (because my husband, his mother, his brother, and maybe our son) are convinced coconut is the most noxious substance God created. Turns out Grandma likes Coconut Cream Pie! So I have resolved to get us one to share next time we're over there.

     I've also been reading a lot of news bits today, mainly on Marriage, the Planned Parenthood sale of baby body parts, etc. I researched the infamous abortionist Leroy Carhart a little. Apparently he bragged a few years ago that he had killed over 20,000 babies who were 24 weeks or older! But the whole idea of abortion at any age is sickening. Even at conception, there exists a tiny, unique human who just needs time to grow.
    More musing later...got to go home and fix dinner for my family!
   
   

Samuel and Elora

   Today is July 27th, 2015. I am sitting at home in our living room, watching our snapping turtles play. We have two; one is an adult male, with a 13 inch shell, named Mr. Big. The other I raised from a quarter-sized hatchling. His name is Carl. We also have a Tarantula, Rosie; a cat, Chiquitita; a ball python, Justine; and a beta fish, Skittles. Lelan is downstairs watching "Meet the Robinsons". We are going to have pizza for lunch shortly.
   Today, Elora Alberta Patricia Nadine Oster, our baby girl, is 22 weeks, 2 days gestation. This morning after Ryan got off the phone with me at 6 am she was kicking up a storm, and it was the first time I could see all of this activity on the surface of my skin!
     If she were born today, our hospital will not resuscitate, as the cutoff is 23 weeks at Via Christi. But if she is born in 3 days, my understanding is that they will round up to 23 weeks. Still, what I have read indicates that only 10-25% of babies given intensive care at this age will live. I will feel much better after another month, when her odds of survival will be 80-90%.
     The cerclage is holding fast. What I worry about today is placental abruption. With Samuel, our baby lost at 20 weeks, 5 days, my cervix opened prematurely while I was standing upright at a prayer service in St. George Orthodox Church. It was a Friday. I felt that I had to defecate, but when I pushed in the bathroom, something large and smooth came out vaginally.

     We went to Wesley hospital. Samuel seemed to be fine and in no distress at that point. We watched him on the ultrasound and found out we were having a boy. I had no pain or bleeding. The high risk Dr. said I was open too far for her to attempt a cerclage, so we decided to go home until we could get another opinion from a Dr. on Monday. That night I was fine and stayed in bed all the next day. I tried to use a bedpan but it was too difficult to empty my bladder. Every time I tried to waddle a few feet to the bathroom, Samuel's amniotic sack would begin to slip out again. When I laid back down it would retract slightly. I kept my rear elevated on pillows. I made lots of phone calls to midwives and natural doctors to try to find a way to save Sam.

     I tried so hard to hold my baby inside me, but at some point when I used the restroom I think something slipped a little farther than it had before. I began to have very slight cramps, but I hoped it was from lying in bed too long. Around 3 or 4 pm that Saturday they were getting very strong and annoying. Shortly after I began bleeding. It ran down my legs as Ryan carried me to the car.

     When we go to St. Joseph hospital, Sam's heartbeat was found. It was 144, which was good. But I was in so much pain that the nurses wanted to give me morphine. I asked if it would hurt Sam and they looked at each other and said, "It will just make him a little drowsy". I told them, "I will only take it if you promise me it will not contribute to his demise". One of the nurses said, "At this point we need you to calm down. That is the best thing for you and your baby". I asked, "Will it stop the labor?" She said, "It might". So I let them administer morphine, which I now regret. Before taking me from that tiny room to the delivery room, Sam's heart was checked again. It was dropping; I believe it was around 120.

     It was 10-15 minutes later that Sam's heart was checked in the delivery room. The Dr. could not find it, so ultrasound was called for. My heart and Ryan's broke to see our little baby unmoving in the womb. The Dr. felt inside me and said she could feel part of his body in the canal. Everyone including Ryan told me it was now alright to push, but I still didn't want to. I wanted to believe I could save Sam by holding onto him.

     I began to push and felt a pop. I pushed a few more times and my water broke and overflowed the table, along with the contents of my bladder. Our beautiful son was lying in the mess. The Dr. picked him up gently in a blanket and tried to find a heartbeat but there was none. He was the most beautiful thing in the world.

     I have asked myself many times, "What caused his death? Why was he not born alive?" That is why I am so worried about placental abruption. I will talk to Dr. Wolfe, my new high risk Dr., soon to find out more about this.