When I was pregnant with Emma, I only ever had one dream about her... that she was stillborn. Creepy but true.
I have now had no less than three dreams about our little muffin. The first was about seeing the baby in a hologram and finding out it's a boy. Not too shabby. I could go for that. The last two, however, have been a bit more disturbing. I keep dreaming that we're having twins.
Twins!
To my knowledge, there are no twins in our families, but then, stranger things have been known to happen. I'll know for sure soon enough, but damn... Not sure how I would feel about that one. :) We'll just have to wait and see.
Love and light,
Shannon
PS: I was able to get off my blood pressure meds. I feel 110% better.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Mother's Day, and more pills for Shannon
Mother's Day came and went, and overall, it was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
I was stressing out about it all week; the massive amount of advertizing associated with the event put me in a wicked funk. One the one hand, I felt like I should be celebrating; I am, after all, a mom. On the other hand, I don't exactly have all the same sort of Mom problems that make them super appreciated and deserving of a special day. Irrational, I know, but these are the things that go through your head.
The Saturday before, I had decided I was going to acknowledge it, and spend the day with people I adore. So, we spent the day with our friends/extended family, the Sweeneys. It wound up being an awesome day. Fried chicken, great music, Cards Against Humanity... it was awesome. I did break my news to the Sweeneys who were not in the know, since I wanted to be able to talk about it without having to wait until everyone had clears a room... pretty difficult in a house with seven people. It was a good day. Mike, being the wonderful and sensitive guy that he is, didn't say a word about it until about 4 that afternoon. He looked at me, gave me a kiss and said, 'Happy Mother's Day'. He said he would have said it earlier, but he wasn't sure how it would make me feel. Love that man of mine.
So, fast forward to Tuesday, to my follow up with my endocrinologist. Apparently, my hyperthyroid condition (too much thyroid hormones being produced) has become a hypothyroid condition. So, now, instead of working overtime, my thyroid doesn't work at all. Which, alas, has forced me to take drugs to treat the condition. It's not super serious, for me or baby, since we caught it in a timely fashion, but it still bears watching. And I hate taking pills. They're little enough, but I have to take them in the AM, which, see the previous post, can sometimes be a challenge. But, otherwise, all is well.
Next update after the first trimester screening visit with the genetic counselor, the screening ultrasound, and a chat with the maternal/fetal medicine specialist. I'll keep you posted!
Love and light,
Shannon
I was stressing out about it all week; the massive amount of advertizing associated with the event put me in a wicked funk. One the one hand, I felt like I should be celebrating; I am, after all, a mom. On the other hand, I don't exactly have all the same sort of Mom problems that make them super appreciated and deserving of a special day. Irrational, I know, but these are the things that go through your head.
The Saturday before, I had decided I was going to acknowledge it, and spend the day with people I adore. So, we spent the day with our friends/extended family, the Sweeneys. It wound up being an awesome day. Fried chicken, great music, Cards Against Humanity... it was awesome. I did break my news to the Sweeneys who were not in the know, since I wanted to be able to talk about it without having to wait until everyone had clears a room... pretty difficult in a house with seven people. It was a good day. Mike, being the wonderful and sensitive guy that he is, didn't say a word about it until about 4 that afternoon. He looked at me, gave me a kiss and said, 'Happy Mother's Day'. He said he would have said it earlier, but he wasn't sure how it would make me feel. Love that man of mine.
So, fast forward to Tuesday, to my follow up with my endocrinologist. Apparently, my hyperthyroid condition (too much thyroid hormones being produced) has become a hypothyroid condition. So, now, instead of working overtime, my thyroid doesn't work at all. Which, alas, has forced me to take drugs to treat the condition. It's not super serious, for me or baby, since we caught it in a timely fashion, but it still bears watching. And I hate taking pills. They're little enough, but I have to take them in the AM, which, see the previous post, can sometimes be a challenge. But, otherwise, all is well.
Next update after the first trimester screening visit with the genetic counselor, the screening ultrasound, and a chat with the maternal/fetal medicine specialist. I'll keep you posted!
Love and light,
Shannon
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Morning sickness? Yeah...no.
So, lots of fun already. My favorite thing on the planet, chocolate, gives me instant heartburn, and I have 'morning sickness' pretty much ALL the time... Guess that's a good thing, since I am only supposed to gain 15 pounds. Yeah. 15. I gained forty the first time. Lucky for me, I like vegetables when they don't make me want to yak on my feet. I think tonight was my last plate of pasta for a while. Friday is officially 'not so good for you' dessert day. I am holding off for Saturday though this week, so I can hopefully get a cannoli from Mike's in the North End when we're in Boston this weekend.
On the other hand, this is going to give me a good excuse to go walking everyday. I hear walking is good for you. I have some new sneakers which are super comfy ( and American made!), so I really don't have an excuse. And Mike has already said he'll go walking with me, and there is a group of ladies at work who go everyday at lunch. No more places to hide. Now for cuddles with Mike while my stomach does hula hoops around my asshole. I hope this quits soon or it's going to be a LOOOOOOONG eight months...
Love and light,
Shannon
PS... Kinda pissed at my practitioner's office. They got my labs back, and proceeded to tell me that my thyroid hormone levels were high, and that my midwife thought I needed to see and endocrinologist. Well, no shit. I've known that for two months now, which is why I am currently under the care of an endocrinologist. That's in my chart, AND I told them that twice during our 45 minute talk yesterday. I made it very clear I was unimpressed.
On the other hand, this is going to give me a good excuse to go walking everyday. I hear walking is good for you. I have some new sneakers which are super comfy ( and American made!), so I really don't have an excuse. And Mike has already said he'll go walking with me, and there is a group of ladies at work who go everyday at lunch. No more places to hide. Now for cuddles with Mike while my stomach does hula hoops around my asshole. I hope this quits soon or it's going to be a LOOOOOOONG eight months...
Love and light,
Shannon
PS... Kinda pissed at my practitioner's office. They got my labs back, and proceeded to tell me that my thyroid hormone levels were high, and that my midwife thought I needed to see and endocrinologist. Well, no shit. I've known that for two months now, which is why I am currently under the care of an endocrinologist. That's in my chart, AND I told them that twice during our 45 minute talk yesterday. I made it very clear I was unimpressed.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Emma Claire: The Backstory
Welcome to our blog. This blog is to document our (mine and my husband Mike's) thoughts and feelings about our second pregnancy. You will see posts from both of us.
For some people, this would be a momentous occasion, filled with joy and hope and elation. For us, this is the beginning of what will most likely be the scariest time in our lives.
Not that the idea of being a parent wasn't scary the first time around. We found out November 2010 that we were going to be parents the following August. Our child was unplanned, and I was a little angry and annoyed and upset at first, but once I got over my selfishness, I was totally in love, and scared to death. We had all the usual "Oh my God, how can I be a parent, I am SO not ready for this" moments, but mostly we happy, excited, and waiting anxiously for our little BOJ (bundle of joy) to arrive. I had an amazing pregnancy; no morning sickness, no swollen ankles, no back ache, no problems. Everything was textbook perfect. I had no worries at all.
Little did we know, things weren't going to turn out the way we'd expected.
I went into labor on my due date, and when we arrived at the hospital, I had already sent a litany of texts and made at least a dozen phone calls, letting people know we were going to have a baby! After we checked in and we got to the exam room, our world crumbled.
We discovered, in that dim little room filled with nurses, doctors, residents and ultrasound techs, not to mention two very shell shocked parents, that Emma had passed away sometime in the 24 hours prior to my going into labor.
There really are no words that can express the horror of that first hour. To have everything you had planned for, had hoped for and dreamed about ripped away, and then having to go through the process of giving birth, which should be joyful and celebrated, with no hope of a positive outcome, was the most horrible thing imaginable, or so I would have thought. Reality was much worse.
We greeted our daughter, Emma Claire, early in the morning on August 10. We said hello. Then we said goodbye.
The next few days, weeks and months were so very hard. People we had known who were also pregnant when we were were most likely going to have healthy babies (and did, thank God) while we were left with empty arms and empty hearts. It was really hard not to be resentful, and angry, and let's face it, jealous. Despite not having our child in a tangible sense, we know she is with us, in our hearts, everyday, and will always be part of our little family. But it's still hard. And I suspect it will always be hard.
But, here we are again, pregnant, for the second time. As I am writing this, I am 8 weeks along, and due on the 22 of December. We scared to death, and hopeful, and joyful. And scared to death.
We had a visit with the midwife today, and it has been decided that we will proceed as if this is a normal pregnancy, but they will be 'extra cautious' due to our previous poor outcome. Basically, lots of testing, ultrasounds, checkups, etc. Just to make sure everything is okay.
I love our midwife, Mary, who was super helpful and supportive last time around, and I am super happy she will be able to continue to be involved in our care. She always listens to our concerns, and helps us to navigate the dark and cloudy spaces. I feel very blessed to have her with us during this journey. Our friends we have told are already pillars of love and support in our lives; we felt is was necessary to let people know early, in case something happened, so we would have support in place. Most people will not be informed of our expanding family for quite some time. Just in case.
Of course, with a new pregnancy comes a whole new set of concerns, and further, a whole new level of paranoia for us. I am currently trying to break away from eating artificial sweeteners, caffeinated beverages, hot dogs, runny eggs and unheated cold cuts (all of which I ate in my first pregnancy), and come to grips with the fact that my midwife doesn't want me to gain more than 15 pounds. Ugh. Looking forward to an entire diet overhaul, and daily walks with Mike or my coworkers.
The hardest thing so far, for me anyway, is trying to be happy. I want to be elated, but it's very difficult to be joyful with doubt and fear hanging over you head. I keep thinking 'what if something goes wrong?' and 'what if this is the only part I get to enjoy?'. I need to keep in mind that what happened before was a rare occurrence, and the odds of a favorable outcome are very good. I have love and support, and great care. There's nothing to be afraid of. But it's always there, in the back of my mind.
So here's to the future. Here's to hope, love and the beginning of another amazing journey, this second time around.
Love and light,
Shannon (and Mike)
For some people, this would be a momentous occasion, filled with joy and hope and elation. For us, this is the beginning of what will most likely be the scariest time in our lives.
Not that the idea of being a parent wasn't scary the first time around. We found out November 2010 that we were going to be parents the following August. Our child was unplanned, and I was a little angry and annoyed and upset at first, but once I got over my selfishness, I was totally in love, and scared to death. We had all the usual "Oh my God, how can I be a parent, I am SO not ready for this" moments, but mostly we happy, excited, and waiting anxiously for our little BOJ (bundle of joy) to arrive. I had an amazing pregnancy; no morning sickness, no swollen ankles, no back ache, no problems. Everything was textbook perfect. I had no worries at all.
Little did we know, things weren't going to turn out the way we'd expected.
I went into labor on my due date, and when we arrived at the hospital, I had already sent a litany of texts and made at least a dozen phone calls, letting people know we were going to have a baby! After we checked in and we got to the exam room, our world crumbled.
We discovered, in that dim little room filled with nurses, doctors, residents and ultrasound techs, not to mention two very shell shocked parents, that Emma had passed away sometime in the 24 hours prior to my going into labor.
There really are no words that can express the horror of that first hour. To have everything you had planned for, had hoped for and dreamed about ripped away, and then having to go through the process of giving birth, which should be joyful and celebrated, with no hope of a positive outcome, was the most horrible thing imaginable, or so I would have thought. Reality was much worse.
We greeted our daughter, Emma Claire, early in the morning on August 10. We said hello. Then we said goodbye.
The next few days, weeks and months were so very hard. People we had known who were also pregnant when we were were most likely going to have healthy babies (and did, thank God) while we were left with empty arms and empty hearts. It was really hard not to be resentful, and angry, and let's face it, jealous. Despite not having our child in a tangible sense, we know she is with us, in our hearts, everyday, and will always be part of our little family. But it's still hard. And I suspect it will always be hard.
But, here we are again, pregnant, for the second time. As I am writing this, I am 8 weeks along, and due on the 22 of December. We scared to death, and hopeful, and joyful. And scared to death.
We had a visit with the midwife today, and it has been decided that we will proceed as if this is a normal pregnancy, but they will be 'extra cautious' due to our previous poor outcome. Basically, lots of testing, ultrasounds, checkups, etc. Just to make sure everything is okay.
I love our midwife, Mary, who was super helpful and supportive last time around, and I am super happy she will be able to continue to be involved in our care. She always listens to our concerns, and helps us to navigate the dark and cloudy spaces. I feel very blessed to have her with us during this journey. Our friends we have told are already pillars of love and support in our lives; we felt is was necessary to let people know early, in case something happened, so we would have support in place. Most people will not be informed of our expanding family for quite some time. Just in case.
Of course, with a new pregnancy comes a whole new set of concerns, and further, a whole new level of paranoia for us. I am currently trying to break away from eating artificial sweeteners, caffeinated beverages, hot dogs, runny eggs and unheated cold cuts (all of which I ate in my first pregnancy), and come to grips with the fact that my midwife doesn't want me to gain more than 15 pounds. Ugh. Looking forward to an entire diet overhaul, and daily walks with Mike or my coworkers.
The hardest thing so far, for me anyway, is trying to be happy. I want to be elated, but it's very difficult to be joyful with doubt and fear hanging over you head. I keep thinking 'what if something goes wrong?' and 'what if this is the only part I get to enjoy?'. I need to keep in mind that what happened before was a rare occurrence, and the odds of a favorable outcome are very good. I have love and support, and great care. There's nothing to be afraid of. But it's always there, in the back of my mind.
So here's to the future. Here's to hope, love and the beginning of another amazing journey, this second time around.
Love and light,
Shannon (and Mike)
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