Tag Archives: Bicornuate Uterus

Theodore

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Theo1

I was actually in the middle of a blog post on Monday when I clicked “save draft” and headed to my doctor’s office. My blood pressure had been high for the past few weeks, so they asked me to come in for another check. Sure enough, it was even higher. They sent me to Labor and Delivery, where it was determined that we should go ahead with my C-section, three days earlier than scheduled.

I was nervous about the C-section, but I’m nervous anyway when it comes to surgery. It did seem as if my body was giving me signals that it was time. The high blood pressure was a problem and, sure enough, when the OB opened me up she found the uterine window that we’d be warned about.

When I had Emmy, my uterus was very thin, and we knew that we would have to be careful during this pregnancy. A thin uterus could lead to a uterine rupture, which would be bad news for everyone involved. I was monitored during this pregnancy but, sure enough, when the OB performed the C-section a very, very thin window was there. She also saw my baby’s hand under it, waving. So, yeah, we were advised not to have another after this one…

But here he is! My third baby, Theodore. We call him Theo. 🙂

When they put Theo on my chest, I immediately noticed that he was coughing up a fair amount of mucus. I knew right away that he was going to the NICU. I’ve learned so much since Emmy was born. I know the signs. Theo actually didn’t look as bad as Emmy. When she came out, she was blue, ice cold, and had a strange cry (like a cat with its tail caught). Theo, on the other hand, was rosy and warm, and his cry sounded substantial, though a little garbled from the mucus. But I just had a feeling.

Sure enough, Theo ended up in the NICU. His blood sugar was low, but it looked like all he needed was a little intervention and some time to clear the mucus out of his lungs. I actually felt ok with him going there. It wasn’t ideal, but I knew that they did wonderful things for Emmy when she was born, so I wasn’t as afraid as I was the first time around.

I put on my brave, big girl smile and waited patiently for him to come out of it. And he was doing ok for a while…until he wasn’t.

A day or two later (I can’t even remember…), the doctor came into my room to say that Theo was requiring more oxygen support and would have to go on a ventilator. I couldn’t help myself and asked about all kinds of hypothetical situations. And then I just lost it. Everything came up again. And I mean EVERYTHING: Emmy’s time in the NICU, Emmy’s heart surgery, Emmy’s cardiac arrests; Emmy’s crash onto life support. I relived all of it. While Dan went down the hall with the doctor to watch Theo’s vent get put in, a really sweet nurse came to comfort me. I told her that you can only be brave for so long before you just lose it…and I lost it.

When I wiped my tears and was able to make my way down the hall to see Theo, one of the NICU nurses kindly handed me a tissue and said that it’s been a tough few days. I heard myself say, “It’s been a tough few years.”

I was really down.

When I got back to my room, my sister sent me a text that said she was amazed at our positivity when Emmy was in the hospital last year. She was impressed by our optimism and our faith that everything would be fine. She loved that we cheer-leaded Emmy along to good health. Emmy needed that positivity, and luckily it was radiating out of me.

But now it was harder for me to conjure up that positivity. I just felt completely drained. I guess I never thought I would need to harness that ability again. And I didn’t know how I was going to get it back.

Luckily, a wonderful friend called and talked me through it. She’s a very smart and solution-based person, and she’s also spiritual. All of it helped IMMENSELY.

One of the things that was difficult for me was that Theo’s numbers would jump around whenever anyone touched him or talked near him, including his mama. So I had to leave him be in order for him to get better. I felt so helpless. But my friend had a great suggestion, which was to ask for some of Theo’s swaddling blankets, sleep with them, and then give them back with my scent. That made me feel soooo much better. My spirits came back up, and Theo also started doing well.

So now it’s the slow and steady wait. He’s still on the ventilator, but he’s showing signs of progress. I’m sad and exhausted and still in pain from the C-section…but I’m also positive! I know he can do it. I can’t wait to have him home, and his sisters are SO excited to meet him. Emmy keeps saying, “Theo coming!”

Yes he is, Emmy. Sit tight. 🙂

Theo2

The Passing of Time

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I’m so aware of the passing of time right now. Charlotte turned 5 years old  on May 21. Last year, we were celebrating her birthday with my mom and my aunt at home, when I got the call from my husband who was in the hospital with our other little girl–they were going to try and take Emmy off life support in about an hour. She had been on life support for a week and, on Charlotte’s birthday, they were going to see if Emmy’s heart could beat on its own. I was terrified, nervous, and excited. I felt like Emmy had come so far already, and I had confidence that she could pull through. But I was also scared that this wouldn’t go well. Either way, it had to be done. She was starting to bleed from the life support machine.

I gave Charlotte birthday wishes, hugs, and kisses, and hopped in the car. The hospital was about an hour away, so I would hopefully be able to get there just in time. I don’t think my own heart has ever beat as rapidly as it did on that drive. I kept talking to Emmy in my head: “You can do it! Come on, Emmy!”

Right before I crossed the bridge to the hospital, a song came on the radio. It’s called “Keep Your Head Up” by Ben Howard. I’d heard this song a couple times and always liked it, but this time the lyrics affected me differently. I flew over the bridge with the chorus in my ears: “Keep your head up. Keep your heart strong.” I cranked up the volume and, with tears running down my cheeks, sang along: “Keep your head up. Keep your heart strong.” I kept singing louder and louder, willing Emmy to hear me.

I got to the hospital just before she was taken off life support, and it was such a relief when the doctor came to get us in the waiting room. She said Emmy had transitioned off of life support nicely, and her heart was beating on its own!

First we felt joy and relief! Then the exhaustion of the prior week came washing over me. Emmy had gone in for heart surgery on May 16 and, after two cardiac arrests and a crash onto life support, we had been living on pins and needles. We were also trying to make things as “normal” as possible for Charlotte–keeping our promise to celebrate her birthday; trying to devote as much time to her as possible. That day alone, I had made several trips to the hospital. I brought Charlotte in to celebrate with Daddy in the waiting room. Then went back home. Then drove back when Emmy was ready to come off of life support. Dan and I were beyond tired–physically and emotionally–and it would be another few weeks before we were able to bring Emmy home…

And despite all of our hard work last year, Charlotte’s birthday was still kind of a disaster. I think that, emotionally, she is very tuned into us. She could feel that things weren’t right, even though we tried to make the day special. She was a trooper about celebrating her birthday in the hospital’s waiting room, but she also sensed that this wasn’t how birthdays usually go.

This year was much different–thankfully. She had an absolutely awesome birthday, and Emmy was there to celebrate with her.

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Looking at 5 year old Charlotte, I keep thinking of the little baby we met in the hospital in 2009. How quickly it all goes by! It makes me want to freeze time.

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Ironically, during the newborn stage, I wanted time to speed up. We were so tired! We didn’t understand why our baby didn’t sleep. No one told me about that part. Ok, they did, but I apparently didn’t listen. 😉 Now I’d like to go back to that day we met her and learn to take it slow.

I’m constantly caught between focusing on the future and settling into the present. This morning, Emmy was saying funny things at the breakfast table, which is typical for her. She loves to make people laugh. And I found myself thinking, “I can’t WAIT until she’s 10 years old!”

I mean, now the funny things she says are short and sweet: “My birthday too! Need presents! Emmy need presents too!” I can only imagine what a ham she’s going to be as she grows older. But then again…when she’s 10, I’ll be longing to recapture these toddler years.

So here I am at 36 weeks pregnant.

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And on the one hand, I am SO ready! I want to meet this baby, and also I’d like to fast forward through the uncomfortable feelings of the next few weeks (heaviness, lethargy, etc). I’m also nervous about my uterine window holding up and my third C-section. I’ve already been to Labor and Delivery twice over the past few weeks! Once I gave myself an electric shock (by putting my finger in a socket, which was beyond dumb), and the second time I was bleeding (but I’m ok now). So let’s get this show on the road! I’m ready for baby.

Then again…this will probably be my last pregnancy. I really need to try and appreciate these last few weeks. When I let fear and anticipation get the better of me, I live in the future. I want to just end up on the *other* side of everything. I have trouble with the right now.

Sometimes it’s ok to focus on the other side, like imagining Emmy off of life support. That’s an experience that I don’t want to relive.

Other times, it’s better to settle into the present. Time passes whether we appreciate these moments or not. Makes more sense to appreciate them. Hope you enjoy today!

Party of Five

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We’re going to have a Party of Five in June! I’m excited, nervous, happy, and hungry.

I’m trying to be calm and zen during this pregnancy, and I feel like I’m doing a pretty good job so far. My pregnancies with both Charlotte and Emmy were roller coaster rides, so I’m doing my darnedest to take everything down a notch this time.

You know how, when you’re young, pregnancy seems like the easiest thing in the world? Here’s how I imagined it at first: You get pregnant. You glow. You eat a lot. You pat your growing belly and smile. You decorate the nursery. You go into labor. You deal with some pain at this point, but you’re immediately given your beautiful baby as a reward. And your life becomes perfect.

(I thought that not only was pregnancy easy, but that parenting was easy too. HAHAHA. I guess I’m an idealist…or naive. Probably naive.)

But, as life has gone along, I’ve seen all different sides of pregnancy. There are the glowingly perfect pregnancies, and I am thrilled for them…while also being slightly jealous. It sounds like most celebrities have perfect pregnancies, but maybe they’re only giving us one side to the story. I’ve also become very close with people who have tragically lost babies, who have had trouble getting pregnant, who have had very challenging pregnancies, and who have found out that their babies needed to have surgery right after mom gave birth.

I also have a very cool friend who delivered her baby BY HERSELF IN HER LIVINGROOM because the baby arrived so quickly. My friend wrapped her baby in her jeans and waited for the ambulance to arrive. This happened in 2012, not in 1970 or something. I will forever be impressed by this woman.

I didn’t expect any of these stories, though. I had one vision of pregnancy, and I thought everyone fell into that category–except maybe .1% of people.

I think it’s important to be sensitive to other people’s stories. I’ve learned this both in pregnancy and in having a daughter with special needs. I’m really drawn to people who are humble. It means a lot to me when someone says, “I haven’t experienced what you’ve gone through…but I get it.” If I had a magic wand, I would get rid of all the gloating in the world. I don’t think it gets us anywhere. I met a mom at a playground once who was trying to one-up me on all the things Charlotte wasn’t doing but that her daughter was doing. Yikes, does that rub me the wrong way! It’s not about putting your story in a better light. It’s about understanding that all of our stories are unique and important. We can learn a lot from others, and I feel so much love for the people in my life who have gone through so much.

So here’s my story: I found out that I had a bicornuate (“heart-shaped”) uterus shortly before I got pregnant with Charlotte in 2008. This sounded like the worst news ever, and I was beyond devastated. I’ve come to find out that it’s not as awful as it sounds. My uterus didn’t form completely when I was born, which is really bizarre because that means I have a birth defect that I didn’t even know about until I set out to have kids! My uterus stopped short of the upside down triangle and, instead, formed into a heart. I know the heart sounds lovely, and so many of my friends tried to put a positive spin on it. But I was REALLY mad at my uterus for a while. I felt like it deceived me.

Of course, I immediately Googled “bicornuate uterus” and devoured all the horror stories. (I’m good at that. I tend to skim over the good stories to get to the real doozies.) The biggest problem is that I could go into pre-term labor.

So for my entire pregnancy with Charlotte, I was a mess. I let my mind go to all the bad places it could go, and I white-knucked the entire pregnancy. Because of the bicornuate uterus, I’m considered “high risk” so I also had a lot of doctors’ appointments and ultrasounds, which just made me more nervous.

You get the picture. I suffered mentally for 9 months. PHYSICALLY, I was doing pretty well! I had some minor issues that had nothing to do with my bicornuate uterus and were all resolved (like the time I fell flat on my stomach at 9 months pregnant…). But I wasn’t listening to my body. My body was doing great, and my mind was a mess. The two things were completely out of sync. It’s funny how my mind can take a life all on its own with zero regard to what is ACTUALLY going on with my body.

All the bad things I had read about through my endless Google searches never happened. Charlotte was born via C-section at 39 weeks, and she was happy as a clam! Such a good baby.

Ok, so you would think that my lesson would be: Don’t let your mind run away without you. Listen to your body. Do things differently next time. CALM DOWN.

Here we go again. I got pregnant with Emmy in 2010, and I started to follow my own advice. Caaaaaalm down. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fiiiiiine.

I was doing awesome until 7 weeks along, when I had heavy bleeding–the likes of which you would not believe. My mind immediately went back to panic mode. We had an ultrasound that showed Emmy was fine, but I was a nervous wreck for the rest of the pregnancy. I couldn’t get back to that zen place again. Also, Emmy was always measuring small. We’ve come to find out that this is pretty common for Williams syndrome, but we had no idea that she had Williams syndrome until 5 weeks after she was born. So the fact that she kept measuring small seemed odd to me and, again, made me nervous. I was still considered high risk and had all the doctors’ appointments and ultrasounds that you can imagine, which heightened my nerves even more.

But, again, for the majority of my pregnancy, I was fine physically. It was the mental aspect that took a toll on me–again! Even though I swore it wouldn’t.

Emmy was born via C-section at 39 weeks. She had a lot of problems right out of the gate and had to go to the NICU–and then of course we got the diagnosis of Williams syndrome a few weeks later. But we didn’t know about any of this during pregnancy, and I could’ve saved myself a lot of stress while I was pregnant if I just focused on how my body was feeling instead of paying attention to my over-active, always-working mind.

So here we are with Baby #3–a boy! And I have a whole HOST of problems. But I think I have finally learned my lesson. I refuse to let my mind get away from me this time.

The first problem is that I have a thin window on my uterus. Basically, this means that part of my uterus has been deemed “paper thin” and, if I were to go into labor, my uterus could rupture. My second problem is that, because of our history with Emmy, we have to do more in-depth ultrasounds to make sure that there are no heart issues. No one thinks this baby has Williams syndrome (though it would be pretty amazing, considering it’s a 1 in 10,000 completely random event). We’re no more likely to have another baby with WS than any couple would be to have a first baby with WS. But when one of your babies has a genetic issue, they do want to look closely to make there there is nothing else that we need to be aware of. (For instance, if the baby had a Congenital Heart Defect, which is a 1 in 100 statistic, we would have to schedule surgery for after the birth etc.) My third problem is that I’m technically still at risk for pre-term labor because of my bicornuate uterus, so I have to get checked more often than your average patient. And, fourth, this baby has a kidney issue, which is apparently common in boys and nothing to worry about–unless it’s something to worry about…and we won’t know that until we get further along.

Given my history, you’d think I would be freaking out, particularly about the kidney issue. But here’s what I’m doing this time. I’m staying grounded. I’m NOT Googling. I absolutely refuse to Google. I won’t go searching for all the horror stories like in the past.

Sure, I have my moments of worry and panic, but I’m able to bring myself back down again.

How am I getting there? Well, I’m listening to my body. I feel…fat. 🙂 But good and happy and comfortable and calm. I’m looking forward to spring. I’m thinking of all the things I want to do with my girls to enjoy the last memories of the Party of Four. I love seeing Charlotte and Emmy together. Their sisterly bond has gotten so much tighter. It makes me SO happy.

I want to capture this moment of zen and carry it through to the delivery in June. I want to trust my body, which has proven itself before. I want my body and my mind to be in sync throughout this pregnancy. I want to enjoy and remember many moments throughout this pregnancy. And, this time, I want to savor that pregnancy glow.

As Long As It’s Healthy

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I was at the salon the other day, making casual conversation with the hair stylist. She was asking how many kids I have and if I want another. I don’t normally venture into the Emmy story unless I know someone pretty well so I said, in a general way, “I have two kids, and I’d love to have another.”

She responded, “Do you want a boy or a girl? Though, I guess it doesn’t matter, right? As long as it’s healthy.”

That phrase stopped me in my tracks. She kept asking more questions, but I was still on the “as long as it’s healthy” statement, turning it over and over in my mind.

I used to think the same thing. When I was pregnant with both of my girls, I prayed every single night for a healthy baby. That was, in fact, my only wish. I was terrified of having a baby that wasn’t healthy.

And then, five weeks after giving birth to Emmy, we found out that she has Williams syndrome. (They don’t test for Williams syndrome during general pregnancy screenings because it is so rare.) In my mind, my worst nightmare had come true. I wondered what I had done in life to deserve such a thing. I had been a good person, right? It felt like a punishment. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I had done in my past to bring this diagnosis upon my entire family.

Those feelings were so real back then–so painful. And today, I can’t even put myself into that same mindset if I tried. I love this kid so much, and she has brought such incredible joy to my life. The way she crinkles her nose, and gulps down her milk (“glug glug glug”), and reaches for her favorite book, and gets her red shoes when she wants to go outside, and drops her toys into an empty bathtub for us to find later, and giddily throws balls to our dog, and says “Charlotte.” Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, this was the baby that I prayed for.

Really, I can’t imagine that any pregnant woman wishes for an unhealthy baby. So it seems like a natural prayer. Who wouldn’t want a healthy baby?

But let’s look at the other side of that coin. What happens if the baby is unhealthy? Then what? Do we send it back? Do we ask for another? The “as long as it’s healthy” statement doesn’t allow for the other side of that coin.

Because what if it isn’t healthy?

Perhaps, instead of praying for a healthy baby, I should’ve asked “Please give me an open heart to love my child fully, no matter who he/she is” or “Please give me the ability to see how my child fits in perfectly with our family.”

Yes, I’d like to have another baby. At this point, I’m actually much more worried about carrying the baby than I am about who the baby will be.

I, too, was born with a birth defect but, surprisingly, I didn’t find out until I was thirty years old and pregnant for the first time. An ultrasound revealed that I have a bicornuate uterus, which means it’s heart shaped. It sounds lovely, but it can be very problematic. I also have a secondary issue with my uterus which resulted from my first c-section.

So my mind hasn’t even gone down the “I hope it’s healthy” road yet. I’m still wondering if my own body will be able to hold strong.

But if I were to get pregnant again, I hope I won’t obsess about the health of my baby for nine months, as I’ve done twice before.

I’ve learned that health isn’t everything. It’s the whole picture that matters more.

Our Emmy turns two years old tomorrow! I can’t wait to see her opening the mountain of Elmo presents.

I spoiled her this year. She deserves it.