High-Risk Pregnancy
Lilmissprine
member
A Journal And A Pair Of [somewhat hideous] Sparkly Pink Shoes
Lilmissprine
member
My name is Bridget.
When I was a little girl I wanted to be a mom. You know how most kids want to grow up and do great things like be an astronaut or write a best selling novel or change the world? I didn't. I wanted to grow up and get married and have a couple kids. There's nothing wrong with that, either! It just happened to be my dream. Sometimes I went through phases of 'well my mom did this wrong so I won't do that to my kids' and sometimes I went through phases of 'wow this is the most important thing my mother ever did I'll be sure to do it too'.
My husband and I had kinda been trying to have a baby for over a year when I finally found out I was pregnant. I was so concerned when I realized I was going to have a baby. I took the test a few days after doing jello shots! Everything changed. I researched what I should and shouldn't eat or do. I watched my intake of too much sugar or salt even! I love those things! It was worth it.
The most important thing I did was start a journal of how I felt and what happened as the pregnancy progressed. I didn't think it would be that important at the time. I did it because a website told me I would appreciate it later. If you're a pregnant mom, high risk or not, start a journal. You'll appreciate it later.
I got to hear my baby's heartbeat at 10 weeks, and it really hit home for me. My first baby, and he or she was going to be perfect. I had been so scared that I wouldn't hear that heartbeat, that when I did I couldn't stop myself from being happy. My mother had been pressuring me to make her a grandmother for years, so this was a happy occasion for everyone.
My first ultrasound was scheduled for 14 weeks. I don't know what it was, but I just felt bad about it. I felt like something was wrong. Instinct made me think something was wrong. I was terrified that I wouldn't hear the heartbeat again, and my family, friends, and husband told me I was just being a worry wart.
Thankfully when I laid down on the table and they began the scan, the heartbeat was there. I was so relieved. How could I have been so worried? It wasn't until the scan was over that the doctor came in and told us something was wrong with the baby. I didn't know what to look for before, this was my first baby. All I really saw on the screen was a blur of grey and black. The doctor, however, saw fluid.
My baby had, and still has, fluid behind her neck and in her abdomen. A lot of fluid. I was sent to a high risk clinic the following week, and both doctors told me to expect the worst in the coming days. My baby was very likely going to die.
It tore me to pieces. I knew something was wrong! I'd known the whole time, I just had no idea it would be something beyond the heartbeat. I cried for days. Called in to work, didn't go anywhere. I didn't even want to eat, but I had to! My baby was still alive, after all. It took a while to come to terms with it. By the time I saw the high risk doctor, I was hopeful that maybe it was all a mistake.
It wasn't, unfortunately. I wondered if there was anything I could do. Had it been my fault? It wasn't my fault though. It was a chromosome issue. Nothing I ate, or drank. I didn't strain anything. My baby's chromosomes just didn't fit together perfectly. I wanted to know what was wrong with the baby, but the cost of an Amniocentesis to someone without insurance is close to $2,000. I didn't have that money, and still don't, and so have not had the test done.
My doctor said there was a very, very small chance that my baby would be okay. So small she didn't even want to address it, but it was the most important thing she said to me all day. It gave me something to cling to.
That was about a month ago. I've seen the doctor every week now. Every week I have another ultrasound to see that my baby still has a heartbeat, and to see what the fluid is doing. I'm 19 weeks now, and my next appointment is in a few days.
I found out my baby is a girl. Her name is Cadence. For those of you who don't know what a Cadence is, it is a musical number, a song, that introduces something or someone new. A Cadence is the beginning of something amazing. She's also a pretty awesome princess on My Little Pony, but honestly that was just a coincidence.
When I have my appointment I expect her to still be alive and well. I've stopped thinking that she could be dead all the time. She's lived a whole month longer than she was expected to! And now that you've read through all of this, I am FINALLY going to get to the point of this message.
A message to high risk pregnancy mothers:
Your baby is not dead yet. If you're still pregnant, he or she is alive. My baby is not dead, and I love her. I love her little fingers and the way she moves on the screen. I love the curve of her nose. I even love her tummy, which is a little too big because of the fluid inside of it. I love my baby. Don't think of her as someone who is destined to pass away, because she's not. She's destined to live, and if she doesn't live long then it won't be her fault, or mine.
Your baby is your child. Even if they pass away. Cadence may not make it to term. She may pass away long before I get to dress her up in frilly pink onsies and get up at 3 AM to feed her. That doesn't matter. Every day for the past 5 months I have been taking care of this baby. Every meal I eat, every time I wash my hands, every vitamin I take, I've thought of her. Cadence is my daughter, and I am her mother, and it doesn't matter if she's 8 pounds or 8 ounces when she's born, she's still mine.
Cherish your baby. It's really hard, to focus on that now. Sometimes I see other pregnant women, or mothers with their kids, and wonder if they knew what it was like to worry about your baby every second of every day. The answer is yes. They were pregnant once, they have kids. They worry too. But there they are, out in public and smiling like the rest of us. You should smile too. Every day you have with your baby is a day that you are someone's whole world. There is a chance Cadence will be born alive, but not healthy. There's a chance she could pass away at only a few days or weeks of age, but if she does I wouldn't trade it for anything. Every day she's alive is a day that I can see my daughter's face. Love every second of being pregnant, even when it's hard, because it will do you a world of good.
Buy a pair of sparkly shoes. My mother bought Cadence a pair of pink, glitter covered shoes. She said they're great because the glitter is on the bottom too, so when she kicks her little feet it'll still sparkle. I didn't want her to get them. I was terrified that she would pass away and I would never get the chance to give them to her. I didn't see how unhealthy that was until my mom forced those shoes into my life. I thought the shoes would be a symbol of a baby that would never have a chance to wear them but I was so wrong. Those shoes are hers. Someday she's going to wear them, I just know it. If she doesn't? Well then I have a pink, sparkly pair of shoes to keep with my journal to remember her by.
And, on that note, start a journal. When I started mine, I had one entry that I recently reread. It was from my 6th week of pregnancy, and it said "Today I read a post about an autistic boy who was treated differently by others. I cried, reading about how he is only ten, but is afraid of people treating him this way forever. I wish I could meet him. It reminded me that, destpite my hopes that you will be born perfectly happy and healthy... you may not be. That may be my fault or it may be the way life goes. I want you to know that no matter what you look like, or how you are, I will love you the same. I will always love you, because you are mine--so beautifully mine--and if I have to care for you constantly for every day fo my life, I will. It is so important. You should know you can be tall, short, 'dumb', smart, fat, skinny, short tempered, patient, gay, straight, or anything inbetween. I honestly and truly will always love you. Why wouldn't I? After all, I am your mom."
I didn't know at the time I wrote it that these challenges would arise in my life. Back then I was convinced that those problems happened few and far between. It wouldn't happen to me. Now I'm glad I wrote it. I looked at it and smiled, because it's true. I still love my baby and I don't care if she comes out with a mental or physical disability, as long as I can have a chance to love her.
Please start a journal. Even if it's late in your pregnancy. Write how you feel. Write what you think. Write down the episode of Doctor Who that made you cry. I'm not a doctor and I can't give you medical advice, and I won't. I can't say that the journal will make you feel better about yourself down the line. I can only tell you that when I reread my journal, and read all the words of hope and complaints about morning sickness, I smile. It's so worth it. I would do it again and again, if it meant Cadence was okay.
Maybe your baby won't make it.
Maybe he or she will.
When you write a journal you are making your baby tangible. You can hold it. Touch it. Your baby existed, and this journal is proof. If Cadence passes away before she gets to lead an amazing life of her own, then I will be upset. A journal won't fix that. But someday, years from now, I'll probably move out of this silly apartment. When I do I'll find a cardboard box labeled "Cadence". In that box will be a few silly onsies, my proof of pregnancy documentation, all her ultrasound pictures, that journal, and a pair of stupid, pink sparkly shoes that have glitter on the bottom. And even though it might hurt to hold those pictures, I'll be happy I have them.
But I don't like to think like that. I like to think she's going to make it. She is, after all, my miracle baby so far. So to all you mothers out there, here is a summary of what I hope you do:
-Keep a journal, please.
-Don't let your fears keep you from enjoying your pregnancy.
-Try not to live in the mindset that your baby's life could be ending. Instead, cling to that sliver of hope that it is only just beginning.
-Buy a really tacky pair of baby shoes that sparkle more than your prom dress did. Or, if you're having a boy, maybe a pair of snazzy baby converse, and just picture his or her perfect little baby feet in those shoes.
Pregnancy is hard, and pregnancy is scary. All of you are scared, high risk or not, and you can't tell me you aren't. It's okay. Take a deep breath. Think about the good things. What is your baby's name? What color do you think his or her eyes are? Think of the first time you'll ever see him or her smile.
Cadence is my daughter. She is my beginning, and like all great cadences, she is the beginning of something beautiful.
When I was a little girl I wanted to be a mom. You know how most kids want to grow up and do great things like be an astronaut or write a best selling novel or change the world? I didn't. I wanted to grow up and get married and have a couple kids. There's nothing wrong with that, either! It just happened to be my dream. Sometimes I went through phases of 'well my mom did this wrong so I won't do that to my kids' and sometimes I went through phases of 'wow this is the most important thing my mother ever did I'll be sure to do it too'.
My husband and I had kinda been trying to have a baby for over a year when I finally found out I was pregnant. I was so concerned when I realized I was going to have a baby. I took the test a few days after doing jello shots! Everything changed. I researched what I should and shouldn't eat or do. I watched my intake of too much sugar or salt even! I love those things! It was worth it.
The most important thing I did was start a journal of how I felt and what happened as the pregnancy progressed. I didn't think it would be that important at the time. I did it because a website told me I would appreciate it later. If you're a pregnant mom, high risk or not, start a journal. You'll appreciate it later.
I got to hear my baby's heartbeat at 10 weeks, and it really hit home for me. My first baby, and he or she was going to be perfect. I had been so scared that I wouldn't hear that heartbeat, that when I did I couldn't stop myself from being happy. My mother had been pressuring me to make her a grandmother for years, so this was a happy occasion for everyone.
My first ultrasound was scheduled for 14 weeks. I don't know what it was, but I just felt bad about it. I felt like something was wrong. Instinct made me think something was wrong. I was terrified that I wouldn't hear the heartbeat again, and my family, friends, and husband told me I was just being a worry wart.
Thankfully when I laid down on the table and they began the scan, the heartbeat was there. I was so relieved. How could I have been so worried? It wasn't until the scan was over that the doctor came in and told us something was wrong with the baby. I didn't know what to look for before, this was my first baby. All I really saw on the screen was a blur of grey and black. The doctor, however, saw fluid.
My baby had, and still has, fluid behind her neck and in her abdomen. A lot of fluid. I was sent to a high risk clinic the following week, and both doctors told me to expect the worst in the coming days. My baby was very likely going to die.
It tore me to pieces. I knew something was wrong! I'd known the whole time, I just had no idea it would be something beyond the heartbeat. I cried for days. Called in to work, didn't go anywhere. I didn't even want to eat, but I had to! My baby was still alive, after all. It took a while to come to terms with it. By the time I saw the high risk doctor, I was hopeful that maybe it was all a mistake.
It wasn't, unfortunately. I wondered if there was anything I could do. Had it been my fault? It wasn't my fault though. It was a chromosome issue. Nothing I ate, or drank. I didn't strain anything. My baby's chromosomes just didn't fit together perfectly. I wanted to know what was wrong with the baby, but the cost of an Amniocentesis to someone without insurance is close to $2,000. I didn't have that money, and still don't, and so have not had the test done.
My doctor said there was a very, very small chance that my baby would be okay. So small she didn't even want to address it, but it was the most important thing she said to me all day. It gave me something to cling to.
That was about a month ago. I've seen the doctor every week now. Every week I have another ultrasound to see that my baby still has a heartbeat, and to see what the fluid is doing. I'm 19 weeks now, and my next appointment is in a few days.
I found out my baby is a girl. Her name is Cadence. For those of you who don't know what a Cadence is, it is a musical number, a song, that introduces something or someone new. A Cadence is the beginning of something amazing. She's also a pretty awesome princess on My Little Pony, but honestly that was just a coincidence.
When I have my appointment I expect her to still be alive and well. I've stopped thinking that she could be dead all the time. She's lived a whole month longer than she was expected to! And now that you've read through all of this, I am FINALLY going to get to the point of this message.
A message to high risk pregnancy mothers:
Your baby is not dead yet. If you're still pregnant, he or she is alive. My baby is not dead, and I love her. I love her little fingers and the way she moves on the screen. I love the curve of her nose. I even love her tummy, which is a little too big because of the fluid inside of it. I love my baby. Don't think of her as someone who is destined to pass away, because she's not. She's destined to live, and if she doesn't live long then it won't be her fault, or mine.
Your baby is your child. Even if they pass away. Cadence may not make it to term. She may pass away long before I get to dress her up in frilly pink onsies and get up at 3 AM to feed her. That doesn't matter. Every day for the past 5 months I have been taking care of this baby. Every meal I eat, every time I wash my hands, every vitamin I take, I've thought of her. Cadence is my daughter, and I am her mother, and it doesn't matter if she's 8 pounds or 8 ounces when she's born, she's still mine.
Cherish your baby. It's really hard, to focus on that now. Sometimes I see other pregnant women, or mothers with their kids, and wonder if they knew what it was like to worry about your baby every second of every day. The answer is yes. They were pregnant once, they have kids. They worry too. But there they are, out in public and smiling like the rest of us. You should smile too. Every day you have with your baby is a day that you are someone's whole world. There is a chance Cadence will be born alive, but not healthy. There's a chance she could pass away at only a few days or weeks of age, but if she does I wouldn't trade it for anything. Every day she's alive is a day that I can see my daughter's face. Love every second of being pregnant, even when it's hard, because it will do you a world of good.
Buy a pair of sparkly shoes. My mother bought Cadence a pair of pink, glitter covered shoes. She said they're great because the glitter is on the bottom too, so when she kicks her little feet it'll still sparkle. I didn't want her to get them. I was terrified that she would pass away and I would never get the chance to give them to her. I didn't see how unhealthy that was until my mom forced those shoes into my life. I thought the shoes would be a symbol of a baby that would never have a chance to wear them but I was so wrong. Those shoes are hers. Someday she's going to wear them, I just know it. If she doesn't? Well then I have a pink, sparkly pair of shoes to keep with my journal to remember her by.
And, on that note, start a journal. When I started mine, I had one entry that I recently reread. It was from my 6th week of pregnancy, and it said "Today I read a post about an autistic boy who was treated differently by others. I cried, reading about how he is only ten, but is afraid of people treating him this way forever. I wish I could meet him. It reminded me that, destpite my hopes that you will be born perfectly happy and healthy... you may not be. That may be my fault or it may be the way life goes. I want you to know that no matter what you look like, or how you are, I will love you the same. I will always love you, because you are mine--so beautifully mine--and if I have to care for you constantly for every day fo my life, I will. It is so important. You should know you can be tall, short, 'dumb', smart, fat, skinny, short tempered, patient, gay, straight, or anything inbetween. I honestly and truly will always love you. Why wouldn't I? After all, I am your mom."
I didn't know at the time I wrote it that these challenges would arise in my life. Back then I was convinced that those problems happened few and far between. It wouldn't happen to me. Now I'm glad I wrote it. I looked at it and smiled, because it's true. I still love my baby and I don't care if she comes out with a mental or physical disability, as long as I can have a chance to love her.
Please start a journal. Even if it's late in your pregnancy. Write how you feel. Write what you think. Write down the episode of Doctor Who that made you cry. I'm not a doctor and I can't give you medical advice, and I won't. I can't say that the journal will make you feel better about yourself down the line. I can only tell you that when I reread my journal, and read all the words of hope and complaints about morning sickness, I smile. It's so worth it. I would do it again and again, if it meant Cadence was okay.
Maybe your baby won't make it.
Maybe he or she will.
When you write a journal you are making your baby tangible. You can hold it. Touch it. Your baby existed, and this journal is proof. If Cadence passes away before she gets to lead an amazing life of her own, then I will be upset. A journal won't fix that. But someday, years from now, I'll probably move out of this silly apartment. When I do I'll find a cardboard box labeled "Cadence". In that box will be a few silly onsies, my proof of pregnancy documentation, all her ultrasound pictures, that journal, and a pair of stupid, pink sparkly shoes that have glitter on the bottom. And even though it might hurt to hold those pictures, I'll be happy I have them.
But I don't like to think like that. I like to think she's going to make it. She is, after all, my miracle baby so far. So to all you mothers out there, here is a summary of what I hope you do:
-Keep a journal, please.
-Don't let your fears keep you from enjoying your pregnancy.
-Try not to live in the mindset that your baby's life could be ending. Instead, cling to that sliver of hope that it is only just beginning.
-Buy a really tacky pair of baby shoes that sparkle more than your prom dress did. Or, if you're having a boy, maybe a pair of snazzy baby converse, and just picture his or her perfect little baby feet in those shoes.
Pregnancy is hard, and pregnancy is scary. All of you are scared, high risk or not, and you can't tell me you aren't. It's okay. Take a deep breath. Think about the good things. What is your baby's name? What color do you think his or her eyes are? Think of the first time you'll ever see him or her smile.
Cadence is my daughter. She is my beginning, and like all great cadences, she is the beginning of something beautiful.
This discussion has been closed.
Re: A Journal And A Pair Of [somewhat hideous] Sparkly Pink Shoes
Sawyer Lynn
Born 10.11.13