Finn Is Here!

This morning while lazing about in bed, P stood up and belly flopped onto my bump.  I started cramping and having low back pain that didn't go away with fluids or lying on my side.  I called the OB who I hadn't even met yet, and ended up in L&D.

When I arrived I was contracting, though not painfully, and cervix was closed.  We checked my placenta because of the chance of abruption, but all was well, thank goodness.  

Unfortunately, I kept contracting, and it didn't slow down.  I also started dilating.  We did procardia and turbutaline, but contractions were still going strong.  We did morphine and phenergen to force me to relax and hopefully calm my ute.  Fail.  We did a magnesium sulfate bolus followed by maintenance dose.  Fail.

Because I hadn't met and actually consulted with OB yet, I was told no option for VBAC (and also due to Medicaid, no option for tubal ligation during c-section) so it was time for a c-section.  

This c-section was painful.  I just didn't get nearly as numb, and the "pressure" was more than that.  I was yelling at them.  Hubby actually watched this time, though.  As soon as I heard his cry I cried.  And then within minutes knocked out for about 15 minutes.  

He is in the NICU, but doing very well.  5lb 13oz, 18" long.  Perfect.  He is breathing on his own.  They have him on monitors, IV fluids, and a tube to siphon fluid out of his tummy.  I hate that he is in there.  But I got to hold him at last.  

I will start pumping tomorrow morning, and with any luck will be able to nurse him by Monday.  Chances are he will stay here when I go home, hopefully not for very long.  This is devastating to me.  It's killing me that I can't have him brought to feed, that he has to be all alone in there.  

I can't believe my toddler put me in labor.  

I can't believe he is here.

Finnegan Shae

First touch

Got to hold him for a bit

Grief

My dad passed just over 3 months ago.  I haven't really written about it because at the time I didn't have a space where blogging really was possible.  (Notice more writing now that I have that space???)  And I have a lot of guilt.  I cried.  I did all the usual things.  I totally lost it in the bathroom at the funeral home.  And then I've sort of tucked away the grief.

My dad and I were estranged for 7 months or so leading up to his death.  There were arguments, nasty emails from him.  It was even worse for Sister.  Littlest took his side and it became this horrid family feud. Birthdays were ignored.  Holidays were super awkward.  We didn't call each other for the big stuff.  He made one attempt to reach out, but it was random and short notice and made me even angrier.  The last year of his life we spent fighting.  And then he was just gone.

Therapy 3x/week and I didn't really talk about it.  Just breezed over it.  Lalala.  He's gone.  It sucks.  Moving on.

But it's not that easy.  He rarely saw P.   Or Niece, but that's not my story.  P didn't know him that well.  He didn't make much of an effort to see him.  But neither did we.  The phone works both ways.  I found out when going through things that he knew I was in the hospital.  I didn't tell him.  He'd been on my case for months but didn't EVER ask how I was or why things were the way they were.  He didn't really seem to care that I was sick, that my life was a disaster, too.  There was so much anger.

We saw him the week before Christmas.  So awkward.  No hugs.  Barely spoke.  And a little over a month later he was gone.  And now I'm left with this guilt.  When we went to the hospital that morning Sister and I didn't go in to say goodbye.  Because it wasn't him.  I feel very strongly about that.  He wasn't there.  Just his shell.  And a shell I didn't recognize because they'd shaved his face in prep for surgery the next day.  Except for photos of him when he was young, I'd never seen his face.  Not really. Full beard my whole life.  And he was intubated.  Why couldn't they take out the damn tube?  It doesn't matter.  It wasn't him.

And now his 2nd grandson is weeks away from being born.  And all of a sudden, a song or a book I ended up with that was his, inscribed to him, will just send me over the edge.  He pops up suddenly.  My grandparents do the same, my MamaLea and DaddyLea, and sometimes Opa.  They don't make me cry - it's more of a conversation.  They lived long, fulfilling lives.  I remember them with joy, with a deep love and respect for all they showed me, taught me.

Dad...he wasn't happy.  He was always searching, fighting.  I think it's his wanderlust I have.  At his service his best friend talked about how he always talked about us, even through the hell, with pride and joy.  About his grandchildren.  But he just was always fighting.  Talking to him became a chore in the last years.  He was always unhappy, and those conversations were draining.  He had a very difficult time seeing us as adults, maybe because he had limited contact with us after he and my mom divorced.  We were always his little girls. He didn't handle change very well.

When I remember how sad he was, how depressed...in a way I'm glad it's over for him.  But to end so suddenly, so many things left unsaid...I feel this horrid oppressing guilt.  I was so tired of being the one to forgive, of letting him slide on his behavior when it was inappropriate.  So tired of being the adult in our relationship.  But maybe I didn't try hard enough?  I don't know.  And I don't know how to forgive myself.

How do I let the guilt go?  Knowing that I didn't even get a chance to call him in the hospital when he was admitted.  I'd spent the day he was in at the ER myself with a heart scare.  I was going to call him that morning.  Tell him good luck on the surgery.  Arrange care for P so I could go see him after his surgery.  But instead, I got a call at 6:15 am.  He was in cardiac arrest.  They'd been doing CPR and whatnot for 45 minutes.  They were going for a few more minutes until Littlest got there, but he was gone.  I knew it.  They were just pumping blood.  He was gone.

P looks just like he did as a child.  So did I.  I got my love of music from him.  My wanderlust.  My incredible stubbornness.  My name, a name that ends here in the USA with him.  We sisters are the last of it.  2 of us anyway.  I didn't pass it on.  I doubt that Littlest will.  Soon I will be the only one with the last name in the whole country.  It's just a name, but...I don't know.

Soon Finn will be here.  His 2nd grandson, 4th grandchild.  And he will never know him.  Someday we will have our forever home and I will spread his ashes, along with the grandparents (and eventually my mom, my step-dad) in our garden.  And the boys will know why there is a special place there.

But I don't know how to get past the guilt.  I don't know how to forgive myself for letting his life end that way, so lonely, so much unsettled.  How do I forgive myself?  How?

Progress

This has been a fruitful couple of days.  Medicaid kicked in yesterday for me and the boys.  I got my card, and our food stamp card today.  Just waiting on the rest of the paperwork so I know what is actually covered.  Hubby has been interviewing like mad, and has a 2nd interview tomorrow for what I think is a full time job.  I hope.  We shall see.  Guy said many of the other interviewees have not shown up so I like the odds.

And today an old friend (from college - who I haven't seen in 17 years!!!) came by with her 2 kids (A, 5yo, big helper; and R, 2yo, perfect playmate for P) and she and I busted some serious ass on the unpacking.  Mainly organizing which is where Hubby shuts down.  The 2 boys speak toddler-speak at the same level (only a month apart) and A is good at corralling them.  It was a little nuts with the 3 of them running around, but there were no serious meltdowns and we got so much done.  I am so grateful to her.  And it's kinda fun, all these years and states later, to reunite down here as full-fledged adults with kids n stuff.

I have more work to do, but it's much easier now, and if Finn comes early at least I feel like we are kinda ready.  More than we were this morning.  Now if someone would just make a couch and a stackable washer/dryer appear for free...

I made a lot of calls to OBs in the area.  Many on the Medicaid list were there incorrectly.  Not surprising.  Finally called one further away than I wanted but who I knew for sure takes the Medicaid, and I have an appointment Tuesday, at 35w exactly.  1 day before I had P...eep. I would deliver at Baylor Medical McKinney, which if I'm stuck doing this in a hospital, is completely a nice place to deliver.  Now if only this kid would turn...

I also have no idea at this point if the new OB is VBAC friendly (you know, if Finn (ahem ahem!!!) turns his butt around) but I'm going to push the point.  I did read some reviews and it seems he is well-liked.  Which is  encouraging.  Plus, he was the person Frisco Women's Health was sending people on Medicaid, too, and they are awesome, so I can hope they at least don't send you to some hack.  Right?  I hope.

So...that's where we're at.  The last 2 days, today especially, have cheered me up a bit.  I'm still uber worried about money, but we are going to make it.  We have to.  And OMG, I'm running out of time in this pregnancy...a baby is coming.  GAH!!!

The End...Or Not

I think part of what has me feeling ready to be done being pregnant is that last time, I was nearly done at this point.  I only had 9 days more!  So I feel there.

Which is also where the freak out about not being ready is.  9 days simply isn't enough!

It's a weird place to be in.

My friend Heather voiced concerns about my weaning off meds.  I started it simply because I wasn't sure when I would be able to get a doctor to prescribe more - and on its own it is a $700/month medication.  And cold turkey is BAD.  I'm not worried about being on it while breastfeeding - I looked into that months ago.  I had an ICLBC friend look it up for me.  It's actually considered safer breastfeeding than in pregnancy it looks like, so I let that worry go.

I really am trying to balance everything here.  I am.

Who knows when Finn will arrive, how he will arrive.  I need to stop focusing on that and start making sure I'm ready.  You know, in the next 9 days.  Just in case.

Not Ready

I am a crazy hormonal mess.  I am weaning off meds.  So far a week of half my normal dose.  It's not helping with the hormonal crazy.  I'm not sure sometimes if it's the meds or the hormones.  I have no energy.  We are  unpacking like mad people and I hit a wall.  I can't stand to do anymore.  Today one of the dogs pooped and peed on the living room floor, P's diaper leaked all over the bed and a couple throw pillows and then the toilet overflowed.  Luckily we had a plunger.  Not helping the crazy.

The crib is not side-car'd yet.  The cradle is not ready.  Nothing is washed.  I AM making progress on weeding through the baby clothes and I should have benefits next week.

I am NOT READY.  I feel a hot mess.  And I'm NOT READY to have another baby to handle.  All I keep thinking is that P was here a little more than a week more into pregnancy than where I am now.  10 days.  No, just no.

I know he'll come when he is ready, but I'M NOT READY.

I am actually terrified.  Terrified I won't figure out how to handle my demanding toddler and a newborn.  Terrified I'll go off the deep end again when the postpartum hormones hit.  Terrified I won't produce enough milk again and feel terrible about that body fail again.  Terrified I will make milk but P will flip at the lack of attention.  Terrified that P will flip about the lack of attention anyway.

I'm ready to be done being pregnant.  I'm not used to being active this far into pregnancy.  I'm woefully out of shape.  It makes me exhausted.  And since Finn is stubbornly breech, I'm rather uncomfortable.  So that part - I'm ready to be done.  But I'm just not ready for what comes after.

I know a lot of this is normal fears.  But with my all too recent history...ugh.

Tell me I can do this.  Moms do it all the time.  I'm so scared...

A Plea To My Unborn Child

Dear Finn,

I know that realistically you don't need to be head down for a couple more weeks yet, but I beg of you...please turn around.

Your head in my ribs did damage, which thankfully has abated a bit recently.  However, it's still incredibly uncomfortable.  And your knees are seemingly bent (ha ha, get it? bent?) on injuring my stomach.  It's already pretty smooshed.  When you knee me there, well, it makes me very unhappy.  Seriously.

I am trying the inversion technique, and will be upping that in regularity.  I'm desperate, you see.

You came to us as a surprise.  No treatments.  Just an OMG WE'RE PREGNANT HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN WE FEEL LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE thing.  I would like you to come out naturally, too. I really do.  No c-section.  Mama no likey.  Mama has your older brother to chase around, too, and that would really make things difficult.

So really, could you turn around?  Please?  Plant that hard-ass head of yours in my pelvis where it belongs?  I would be so appreciative.  So would all those who put up with me on a daily basis.  I'm very cranky.  I don't want to be cranky.  So PLEASE...

TURN AROUND.

Thanks.

Join The Movement: Putting It Out There

For so many, the journey through Infertility is a long, painful, SILENT one.  Infertility is often a "silent disease" for a number of reasons.  You can't SEE it.  People don't like to talk about it because it involves highly personal issues and decisions, and those things also make others uncomfortable.  Which just perpetuates the silence.

I was never quiet about it.  But we all know I have TMI issues.  But what I learned by being open about it was that it made others comfortable enough to talk about their struggles.  I became a "go-to" person.
 Which made me feel great!  We could help each other out!

No one should have to be alone in their struggles.  I'm not saying go out and advocate publicly.  It's a personal decision.  But even in a small capacity - a private blog, a private Twitter account (love me some Twitter!!!) - you can find support and BE support.  

You are not alone.  I promise.  You aren't.

Put it out there.

The Basics of Infertility
National Infertility Awareness Week 2013