Darren's Arrival Story

Well, I have been silent for some time, mostly because of the arrival of my sweet son, Darren. He is finally here, after all the waiting and worry, and he is a huge blessing to me. It seems so strange that you can love someone so intensely from the moment you meet them. It seems strange how full my arms feel and how much I love to hold and snuggle him. I have a confession: I am a Darren hog. I don't really want to share him.

Tuesday, March 22, the doctors determined that I was dilated to five cm and that we should consider speeding things along, so they stripped my membranes to push me into labor. They were concerned that I would have a quick labor and told me to stick around the hospital walking the halls. When labor started, I should proceed to the birthing pavilion. But after 45 minutes, I still had no serious contractions - so I proceeded home instead.

Then on Friday, March 25 the doctors determined that I was dilated to just shy of 7 cm. "Why aren't you in labor?" they asked, as if it was my choice. Beats the heck out of me, but I wasn't. I was getting increasingly concerned about not making it to the hospital on time for the delivery at this rate, and was relieved when they finally admitted me to the hospital, even though I wasn't in labor. They broke my water convinced that I'd have him quickly. But eight hours later, I was still not in labor. My dad put it nicely when he asked me if the I was sure the doctors hadn't removed my spark plugs.

Finally, with a little help of drugs, I started contracting in earnest - pretty ironic after they had to stop my contractions earlier in pregnancy. Darren was born about 2.5 hours later. Born on March 26, 2011 at 7:35am. He came so quickly that he had a perfectly shaped head and great color, with Apgar scores of 8 and 9. He weighed 7 lbs 12 oz and is 20 inches long. Darren is one healthy little boy.

Forty five minutes later, I still had not birthed the placenta. When bleeding began to worsen, I was rushed across the hall to the OR. The scariest part was when they told me on the way over that they were unsure of whether or not they would need to perform a hysterectomy. However, they were able to simply extract the placenta with their hands. Anemia is the worst that came out of it. I squeaked by without having to receive any blood. We are hoping that since they did not need to use instrumentation that I will heal without any Asherman's, but only time will tell.

I love Darren intensely. And I am continuously amazed that we actually made it through this pregnancy without the anticipated trauma. I was so fearful, for so long, about so many things. But we have arrived. My heart is brimming with gladness, relief, gratefulness and joy.

Darren seems to be quite a contented little fellow as well. He is just shy of a week old, and he still hasn't really cried. Perhaps he is as grateful for success as I am. Or maybe it is the love that he has been given since his delivery, starting with the birthday cake that Seth and Cora brought him the day he was born. When I am not basking him with Mama lovin's, Cora is loving up on him with kisses, hugs and calling him "Cutie, cute" or "Baby Darry". And when she isn't doing that, Seth is showing him everything. Pine cones. Tools. Baby toys. Seth built him a fort out of the sofa cushions to play in. And he has drawn so many pictures of owls for Darren that I might start a museum. John has been all smiles for a days now. Relaxed and cheerful and glad.

Unfortunately, after being home for two days, I developed a uterine infection. Fever, cramping that can be likened to labor, nausea, woozy. I actually don't think I have ever been so sick, ever. Like that cat that came back, I have been readmitted to the hospital. Here I have developed a new love for some extremely good antibiotics. And here I sit, just starting to feel on the up and up, blogging away, and with a beautiful baby asleep on my chest while I type. Hopefully I'll be out of here for good by Sunday.

Vocabulary

I have always loved words. I love to read poetry, and to hear the way the sounds and rhythms roll. I laugh with gusto over puns. I enjoy cryptograms. I love scrabble. And though I am not a great writer and I often make up words, or use the wrong word or misspell a word, I can't help but pour over words.

While I was in the hospital, I joined the International Scrabble Club. I didn't ever get up my nerve to play. After observing a game for about five minutes, I wasn't so certain it was in English, though it explicitly was listed as such. A bludgeoning didn't appeal to me that day. I assuaged my bruised pride by imagining that I would just end up playing some nasty sixty year old man who is sitting around in his boxers with his laptop on his knees and a vodka in his hand. Yuck.

I resorted to Merriam-Websters online dictionary. There are all sorts of wordy-nerdy things on there. There is always the word of the day. But my favorite is that there are word games to play. Jumble Jong is excellent - sort of like one man scrabble. Jumble crosswords are another of my favorites.

Then there is Word Drop. Word drop has the potential to be a great game - it combines words and Tetris. How fun is that? But Word Drop has a horrific dictionary. At first I tried to play to see how many levels I could conquer. But after that seemed a little easy, I made it my goal to score high points, not worrying about levels. I am disappointed that you can't use a lot of words: qiviut, swivet, jonquil, or even groat. Really, is groat that uncommon? So I was feeling pleased until I humbled myself with the knowledge that it is just a computer, made by a human - and probably not one that has a liberal arts degree. And then I remembered my sister, Bets, and my neighbor, Carrie, have way larger vocabularies than I do.

Never the less, I have had some enjoyment exercising my mind as well as my body now that I am off bedrest. Here are some of my favorites. Some are new (to me) and some are old. Some are fun to roll off your tongue, some are great for game playing, and some just have a funny definition:

swivet: a state of extreme agitation

callipygian: having a shapely buttocks

defenestrate: to throw a person or a thing out a window

qiviut: the undercoat of wool of a musk ox

jonquil: a plant similar to the amaryllis

ginkgo: an ornamental tree with fan shaped leaves

persnickety: fussy about small details

fjord: an inlet of sea between two cliffs or steep slopes

wuther: to blow with a dull roaring sound

hoary: gray or white with or as if with age

et: the past participle of eat

And even though I am glad that I can score over 1200 points on word drop on the first level (kind of pathetic, I know), I am interested in expanding my vocabulary. I don't want a larger vocabulary for word games, but just because I think words are interesting. So I am wondering, what are your favorite words?

More on Asherman's Syndrome

This post is a response to http://www.ashermans.org and its online support group. This post is abnormally private, but I see a need for addressing the emotional side of Asherman's Syndrome, and I only can contribute my own experience. I hope that some people find this helpful - especially since I have found my website has been read almost 4000 times in 3 months. (Please refer to my previous post on Asherman's at http://beyondbedrest.blogspot.com/2011/01/ashermans-syndrome.html). The issue of fertility and pregnancy has been fraught with emotion, thoughts of morality, and the need to wisely, gently and tactfully deal with outsiders' perspectives that sometimes cut to the quick.

After ten years of marriage, I believe the boundaries between two people really do become blurred. I don't understand it, but my experience has taught me a healthy marriage is magical. Where John and I used to stand alone, we now are part of something bigger than ourselves. At the risk of being cliché, I believe marriage really does cause two to become one. And in such a state, I lived blissfully until I developed Asherman's Syndrome.

After I developed Asherman's, I conceived and lost a little girl during the second trimester. My perspective of a magical marriage became tainted - not because of anything that John or I had done - but because our physical relationship was now jaded with death. The joy, freedom and innocence of being intimate was ripped away by fear, a feeling of guilt, and incredible loss for both of us. It wasn't just our hearts that were broken. I had an incredible sense that my body was irreparably broken.

I began to ponder the morality of my sexual relationship with my husband. There is a loss, so great, that it sometimes seems insurmountable. Perhaps the strongest question I was asked was "would John leave you over your inability to have more children?" At the time I was deeply offended, but then I realized that person saw the depth of how great our loss was, not just because our child died, but because our intimacy took such devastation. The loss of that pregnancy was great. While there may not be a dread of not conceiving every month that some woman experience with infertility, there is now the dread of touch and what physical and emotional pain that touch may create. My body had become a carrier for death. Where touch used to be beautiful, it became a creator of something hideous. The wound that pregnancy loss created in my relationship with my husband was worth mourning. It is also dreadfully difficult to recover from.

I believe mankind (male and female) was created in the image of God. Some beliefs are so innate that they can't be shaken from our psyche, and this is one of mine. With that belief comes moral obligation to take care of, uphold and honor one's body. After Asherman's, I began to wonder, is it wrong for me to get pregnant when I know my body may not be able to sustain it? Does knowing you have Asherman's make it wrong to concieve, just as it is wrong to do drugs, or a myriad of other harmful bodily activities? On the other hand, is it okay, since there is scientific data proving that pregnancy heals the uterus in ways that modern medicine cannot?

Do I have a moral responsibility as a parent? Can I willing and (more importantly) innocently conceive knowing I may be putting my child's life at risk? Do I have a moral obligation to not get pregnant? At the risk of being harsh, if I get pregnant and my child does not survive, am I now guilty of unintentional man slaughter? It may sound silly, or out there, but these are really questions John and I had to ask ourselves. When you are in the situation, the answer is not so clear, as evidenced by real comments I received like: "don't you know how babies are made?" or "I am sure you aren't going to be that sad [about losing Josie], since you knew you couldn't do it," or "the world does not revolve around your uterus", or point blank "you can't do that [get pregnant] again", or "your other children need you."

And so with these two questions (am I morally obligated to protect my body/future children?) comes a loss of my integrity in the eyes of some. And because my pregnancy with Josie went so far, the opinions of the public cannot be kept at bay, nor can they be ignored. Further, some times people with Asherman's lose integrity in the eyes of other's because of naivety and lack of education on woman's health. I was once told "It must be so hard to deal with an STD." (FYI, Asherman's is not an STD.) While I'd like to shrug off the opinions, perceptions, ignorance and callousness of others, I don't know anyone who can withstand this bombardment and loss of respect unscathed. Some people toss you a sense of your actions being irresponsible. This loss of integrity is also worth mourning, even if it is unjustified.

It is true that I have no problems getting pregnant. After all, this is my fifth pregnancy in five years. But don't underestimate the depth of pain, hurt or frustration that can accompany issues of fertility even in people who are able to conceive. It is not simply a done deal. It is not simply a matter of saying "yeah, but in the end, you have a child - or at least other children." While there may not be that monthly frustration of a negative pregnancy test, or the feeling of "getting down to business," I have a genuine dread of a pink plus on a white stick. For me there is genuine fear of what that will cost. It is not just a personal cost. It is a cost for my husband, children and friends who faithfully have stood by me.

Just like all woman with fertility issues, my real sadness is over the loss of a dream. I have answered many of the questions above for myself. Though I don't believe this is true for everyone with Asherman's, I do believe I should not get pregnant again. Just as some one who desperately wants children and is not able to conceive, I mourn the loss of fertility. I mourn the loss of my dream for a big family. I mourn the loss of two pregnancies. I mourn the loss of my own confidence in my body. I mourn the loss of unguarded intimacy. I experience fear of dealing with chronic pain. I experience angst over my own health. I have to make decisions that may mean life or death.

Here I am today, just shy of 38 wks pregnant with Darren. Most people think my battle is almost over. On the contrary, I believe my battle is mostly mental, and is just beginning. I am not upset to have Darren. On the contrary, I am overjoyed. He is a miracle I did not expect. But the joy is shaded by the anticipation of my recovery. I am guessing my physical recovery with be taxing, especially since I have never escaped surgery following any of my other pregnancies. I am afraid of my having another full blown case of Asherman's syndrome.

Ultimately, I am glad I have a belief in a god - a good god - who mourns with me. I am glad I do not have an eastern religious perspective that Asherman's and it's fall out is karma, fate, the stars, or the like. I am glad I do not rely on religious relics, charms, or even feng shui to help me through. Though some people cling to these ideas and gain comfort, for me they are too happenstance, too random. I am grateful for a faith in a god who loves me personally - a god who walks with me and in me. I think that helps me to get through. And I am glad for the Easter season, when I can remember that I have a god who also has experienced the loss of a dream. His dream was tainted by the actions of others. He also experienced the loss of children. He suffered more greatly than I can imagine. And he suffered out of love. I don't know why I can't shake this belief. When I have been at my lowest, I have tried to toss my faith. But ultimately, I am glad I cannot do it.

Gaining Strength

It is funny, maybe even a bit frustrating, that I am doing so well now that I am off bed rest. I think being on bed rest made me believe that I would have Darren as soon as I was free of my bed fetters. Emotionally, I am so ready to be done with this pregnancy. Today marks 36 wks 3 days of pregnancy, and now that I have been on my feet a bit more, my contractions have actually slowed down. My body is adjusting from a feeling of an eminently close and dangerous labor, to a rather normal 8 month pregnant feeling. Yes, I am a bit uncomfortable, but isn't every woman uncomfortable in their last month? Yes I am tired, but isn't everyone? Yes, I am sore, but again, discomfort is normal for an 8 month pregnant woman. And so, I stick with my prediction that Darren will not be born until April.

Most importantly, I am gaining strength. Really, I am astonished at how quickly I am starting to feel "normal". The first day I came home from the hospital I stood half way up the stairs and cried in John's arms. My muscles were so flaccid and infirm that I struggled to make it upstairs in one shot. That moment was the most humbling of all for me - admitting to my husband how his normally active wife was not able to ascend a single flight of stairs without worrying about falling from fatigue. But as always, he was patient.

It is now 2.5 wks later. In comparison, when I am fatigued now, I don't have to lay down. Usually I am better after sitting upright for a bit. No, I still don't have complete strength. But the point is that strength is returning. This may have to do with eating much better food. (Last night I had some wonderful lamb stew.) Or it may be due to the TLC that John has doted upon me. Believe me, the TLC has been plentiful. Or maybe my children's hugs and laughter and smiles have drummed a little more joy and determination into my muscles. Regardless of what it is, I am (slightly) stronger now. Yesterday I visited a friend, did laundry, vacuumed the stairs and cooked dinner! I was even able to attend the board meeting for my kids' school - allowing the quorum to be met! This was by far my most productive day in months!

So watch out world. At this rapid rate, I will be svelte and firm and a bundle of energy in no time! I might start to have muscle bulges in my arms and legs and abs. I might even start to grow a mustache and lift 175 kg weights in competition! But I think I'll settle for being able to hike, run a couple miles and rock climb again. Or go sledding with my kids. Or walk with them the 1/4 mi to school. Or at least make it through the day with the ability to enjoy my bed for 10 minutes before starting to snore.