After some scary BP readings in the night, I held out til my appointment this morning, and my dear, sweet wonderful midwife drove me there. I saw a CNM who was okay...I wouldn't call her the warmest medpro I've ever met. She was pretty respectful, though I could sense the occasional urge to roll her eyes. I held my ground as best I could under the circumstances, she went along with my choice of BP meds - Labetalol - and we basically came to an understanding about how this will all work. I am officially transferred into care at this office for pregnancy hypertension, hopefully not the beginnings of pre-eclampsia but it's impossible to tell that right now. I will now be going in for checks twice weekly, with one of those visits including ultrasound each week for a BPP (biophysical profile - essentially an assessment of how she is growing, how well the placenta is functioning, etc.).
I'm devastated....crushed....worried....I know this is the best choice for now. The risks to the baby and myself with the dangerous levels my BP was rising to make the switch to the medical model of care a necessary evil. But it hurts...I cherish my pregnancies spent in peace, the lovely chatty prenatals with the midwife, the low-key anticipation of labor knowing that I will not have to leave my safe, comfy nest for the cold germy hospital. This birth was to take place at the midwife's house, surrounded and supported by good friends, where we would have total freedom for the birth to happen however it was destined to, the new mother would not have to fight off hospital staff and go into protective mama bear mode before she even gets to know her new daughter...it seems cruel that this should be the pregnancy that becomes problematic.
On the other hand, I'm almost not surprised. Nearly everything about this whole bizarre experience has been unexpected; I suppose I should just adjust my mindset that things will go as they go, and as much as I like to believe I do things "right", and as much as I desire control over the process, sometimes it just doesn't matter and sh** happens anyway.
There is so much in my mind right now. I'm angry, but I don't know at whom or what. I'm scared, and confused, and yet I have complete clarity too - in the wise words of my midwife, it is what it is.
I despise uncertainty, unpredictability...maybe that is my biggest lesson here. We'll see...I'm sure more ramblings will be forthcoming as time goes on...
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Not much of an update
The new doctor's office gave me an appointment at 1:30 today, but then called to say they were having some kind of heating problem and had to reschedule all their afternoon appointments. Tomorrow at 10:00am instead...I'm tired...we'll see what tomorrow brings...
A fish out of water
I had fully intended to post again before now. Unfortunately, Thursday night my blood pressure spiked and I landed in the hospital on magnesium sulfate (note to self: if ever on a visit to hell, take devil to task for invention of mag sulf).
I had my youngest 2 babies at home. Birth research has been my life for the past decade. Going to the hospital was not an enjoyable experience, either for many of the staff, or for me. It is where I needed to be at that time, because when problems arise, that's when medical care comes in handy, however it was very disheartening to witness again and again the illogical things that supposedly "educated" medical professionals do and say.
It was also frightening, as I constantly had to be on guard. I had to make considerable efforts in the middle of the night to convince the nurse that something was very wrong - they had the mag sulf too high, I reacted to it, and my BP plummeted, nearly causing me to lose consciousness. They would not believe me at first; I guess when they realized I couldn't articulate a sentence clearly enough for them to interpret, and my legs produced no reflexes, gee, maybe something really is wrong. They turned the mag down and magically I started to get better. If I'd been able to sleep at all, they might never have known anything was wrong and who knows what would have happened.
I was released on Friday night, by a pompous ass of an OB who treated me, well, shall we say, less than respectfully (because I came in as a midwifery client planning a homebirth with a CPM). He sent me home - on the eve of a weekend - with no BP meds and no care plan other than "bedrest" until I can get to the doctor this week, knowing that I have children here at home and bedrest would be a joke. I have had to struggle to keep my BP under control while I wait to make a doctor's appt. tomorrow. I am angry, and complaints will be filed. If I'd been in traditional OB care - i.e. monthly visits - I probably never would have known I was in trouble at that point. It was the close monitoring by my midwife and myself, the every day contact that I have with an excellent care provider, that allowed me to realize I needed to seek out help when I did. He had no right to treat me the way he did.
Vent over.
Now the real adventure begins - figuring out how to navigate a high risk pregnancy while meeting my other responsibilities. If the doctor can fit me in tomorrow, I will find out if I can get on meds, and hopefully have some level of functionality. With 2.5 mths. left to go, this is going to be a long haul, juggling my life as it is, protecting my own health, and getting this little girl safely into her new parents' arms. We're all concerned, and my mind is racing and overwhelmed. Will update tomorrow after I call the doctor's office...
I had my youngest 2 babies at home. Birth research has been my life for the past decade. Going to the hospital was not an enjoyable experience, either for many of the staff, or for me. It is where I needed to be at that time, because when problems arise, that's when medical care comes in handy, however it was very disheartening to witness again and again the illogical things that supposedly "educated" medical professionals do and say.
It was also frightening, as I constantly had to be on guard. I had to make considerable efforts in the middle of the night to convince the nurse that something was very wrong - they had the mag sulf too high, I reacted to it, and my BP plummeted, nearly causing me to lose consciousness. They would not believe me at first; I guess when they realized I couldn't articulate a sentence clearly enough for them to interpret, and my legs produced no reflexes, gee, maybe something really is wrong. They turned the mag down and magically I started to get better. If I'd been able to sleep at all, they might never have known anything was wrong and who knows what would have happened.
I was released on Friday night, by a pompous ass of an OB who treated me, well, shall we say, less than respectfully (because I came in as a midwifery client planning a homebirth with a CPM). He sent me home - on the eve of a weekend - with no BP meds and no care plan other than "bedrest" until I can get to the doctor this week, knowing that I have children here at home and bedrest would be a joke. I have had to struggle to keep my BP under control while I wait to make a doctor's appt. tomorrow. I am angry, and complaints will be filed. If I'd been in traditional OB care - i.e. monthly visits - I probably never would have known I was in trouble at that point. It was the close monitoring by my midwife and myself, the every day contact that I have with an excellent care provider, that allowed me to realize I needed to seek out help when I did. He had no right to treat me the way he did.
Vent over.
Now the real adventure begins - figuring out how to navigate a high risk pregnancy while meeting my other responsibilities. If the doctor can fit me in tomorrow, I will find out if I can get on meds, and hopefully have some level of functionality. With 2.5 mths. left to go, this is going to be a long haul, juggling my life as it is, protecting my own health, and getting this little girl safely into her new parents' arms. We're all concerned, and my mind is racing and overwhelmed. Will update tomorrow after I call the doctor's office...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
The story
I've thought all along that I should keep a journal of sorts regarding this pregnancy and process, both for my own future reminiscence, as well as for the baby's adoptive family, whom also happen to be dear friends of mine.
So, due to the fact that I've procrastinated on doing this for so long, future postings will contain updates and random ramblings on my thoughts and feelings, but this first entry will be an explanation of what has already transpired.
I was married for 14 years, a devout Catholic for most of that time. I have 5 children from my marriage, ages 3-12. It became necessary to end the marriage nearly 2 years ago. I became involved in a short-lived relationship this past spring, and ended up very unexpectedly pregnant. I used to despise it when people used the term "unexpectedly" - to my way of thinking, if you are intimate, well, it follows that you could expect to at least potentially run the risk of ending up in the family way! Alas, despite 12 years of successful Natural Family Planning experience under my belt (hardyharhar), and the biological father having been diagnosed infertile, a miracle happened.
Unfortunately, although children are always a gift, now being a struggling, single, homeschooling mom, having just begun college myself, panic set in at the notion of adding a newborn to the mix. I survived a tumultuous month before deciding that ultimately, this baby must have been intended for my friends. They have 2 children, and as Catholics themselves, had dreamed of a large family. Tragically, in December of 2005, they lost their third baby, a sweet boy, to stillbirth. Due to the circumstances of the birth, they are unable to have any more biological children. Having been there with them, holding their hands, attending the funeral, I knew how much this pained them and how eager they were to get to that day, someday, when they would be able to arrange to adopt. So when I found myself in utter panic, yet not wanting to do something I'd regret, it was obvious to me that if I were to bring something good out my mistake, it would have to be by blessing someone else with this gift.
I was very nervous about asking them if they wanted to adopt this baby. Many of the other wonderful friends upon whom I'd leaned during those initial panicked weeks advised me to be cautious in approaching the couple, and not to expect an immediately boisterous reaction. Of course, I had absolutely no idea *what* to expect. I'm not exactly a seasoned pro at this sort of thing. It was difficult, and a bit nerve-wracking on both our parts, but once they had a couple days to consider it, they jumped in with both feet and have never expressed second thoughts or doubts. As for the biodad, there is little to say, as he has declined to be involved in any way.
The baby is due in January and I expect it to be a very emotional experience, yet positive in so many ways. A lot of people ask me if I'm sure I can give the baby up, yet, that's not even an issue because with the surrounding circumstances, the timing, the way in which this all has come into being, there is no doubt in my mind that this baby was really never mine, beyond my egg being used to create her. She is their child - it's a delightfully natural state of perception among all involved. I strongly believe that God took my error, turned it into this wee baby girl, and said okay, what are you going to do with this? How are you going to handle things? I hope that I'm doing what He would want. I am doing what's best for my children and myself, and something I hope will bring much joy to her adoptive parents after so much sorrow has visited them. They are gentle, kind people and I could not have hoped for a sweeter family for her.
That's not to say that I don't worry about other issues - the impact on my kids, the impact on the baby's future and how she perceives these events, whether she will one day understand why I made this decision. I hope and pray that she will see it as we do - that there is no limit to the number of people who can love a child, and she is very lucky - and loved - indeed.
So, due to the fact that I've procrastinated on doing this for so long, future postings will contain updates and random ramblings on my thoughts and feelings, but this first entry will be an explanation of what has already transpired.
I was married for 14 years, a devout Catholic for most of that time. I have 5 children from my marriage, ages 3-12. It became necessary to end the marriage nearly 2 years ago. I became involved in a short-lived relationship this past spring, and ended up very unexpectedly pregnant. I used to despise it when people used the term "unexpectedly" - to my way of thinking, if you are intimate, well, it follows that you could expect to at least potentially run the risk of ending up in the family way! Alas, despite 12 years of successful Natural Family Planning experience under my belt (hardyharhar), and the biological father having been diagnosed infertile, a miracle happened.
Unfortunately, although children are always a gift, now being a struggling, single, homeschooling mom, having just begun college myself, panic set in at the notion of adding a newborn to the mix. I survived a tumultuous month before deciding that ultimately, this baby must have been intended for my friends. They have 2 children, and as Catholics themselves, had dreamed of a large family. Tragically, in December of 2005, they lost their third baby, a sweet boy, to stillbirth. Due to the circumstances of the birth, they are unable to have any more biological children. Having been there with them, holding their hands, attending the funeral, I knew how much this pained them and how eager they were to get to that day, someday, when they would be able to arrange to adopt. So when I found myself in utter panic, yet not wanting to do something I'd regret, it was obvious to me that if I were to bring something good out my mistake, it would have to be by blessing someone else with this gift.
I was very nervous about asking them if they wanted to adopt this baby. Many of the other wonderful friends upon whom I'd leaned during those initial panicked weeks advised me to be cautious in approaching the couple, and not to expect an immediately boisterous reaction. Of course, I had absolutely no idea *what* to expect. I'm not exactly a seasoned pro at this sort of thing. It was difficult, and a bit nerve-wracking on both our parts, but once they had a couple days to consider it, they jumped in with both feet and have never expressed second thoughts or doubts. As for the biodad, there is little to say, as he has declined to be involved in any way.
The baby is due in January and I expect it to be a very emotional experience, yet positive in so many ways. A lot of people ask me if I'm sure I can give the baby up, yet, that's not even an issue because with the surrounding circumstances, the timing, the way in which this all has come into being, there is no doubt in my mind that this baby was really never mine, beyond my egg being used to create her. She is their child - it's a delightfully natural state of perception among all involved. I strongly believe that God took my error, turned it into this wee baby girl, and said okay, what are you going to do with this? How are you going to handle things? I hope that I'm doing what He would want. I am doing what's best for my children and myself, and something I hope will bring much joy to her adoptive parents after so much sorrow has visited them. They are gentle, kind people and I could not have hoped for a sweeter family for her.
That's not to say that I don't worry about other issues - the impact on my kids, the impact on the baby's future and how she perceives these events, whether she will one day understand why I made this decision. I hope and pray that she will see it as we do - that there is no limit to the number of people who can love a child, and she is very lucky - and loved - indeed.
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