Entry tags:
Aftereffects.
Just talked to my midwife's assistant. I was a little confused about my discharge instructions from the hospital, which said to follow up with my midwife in two weeks. Originally she had told me that I'd be following up with a perinatologist (an OB who specializes in high-risk pregnancies) to monitor my hormones, because if this is trophoblastic disease it will be vitally important to know whether my pregnancy-hormone level goes all the way down to zero and stays there. (If it doesn't, it means that tumor cells implanted somewhere else and are continuing to grow.)
At the hospital, apparently, someone told Michael that my hormone levels were lower than they'd expect to see with trophoblastic disease, and that they were leaning more towards thinking it was a "blighted ovum" - a fertilized egg so chromosomally damaged that it was able to produce a placenta (and therefore pregnancy hormones and symptoms) but not an actual embryo. But that's not something they can actually diagnose until the path report comes back - which won't be for two full weeks, because (among other things, apparently) they have to do a chromosomal analysis.
So it turns out that we're going to be following a middle path. I don't need to go straight to a perinatologist, but I also can't just coast until my two-week follow-up at the midwife's. Instead my midwife will be ordering weekly hormone-level tests until we figure out what the hell this was all about. That seems reasonable to me. It's somewhat of a relief that they're not just slapping me onto the full trophoblastic protocol, and yet I also really really want to know what my hormone levels are doing.
I am in a lot more pain today, although it's nothing 800mg of ibuprofen can't handle. I now admit that yesterday I was being a macho, irrational, self-denying idiot. So today I didn't just stay home in the morning - I stayed home, resisted the urge to do "just a little" packing or cleaning, and laid on the couch for two and a half hours watching West Wing reruns. And I asked Michael to arrange his schedule so that he could drive me to and from work.
Emotionally I am coming along. I am sad but not completely prostrate with grief. However, I notice that I am banking a lot on being able to get pregnant again almost immediately, and I suspect that if that doesn't, or can't, happen then I will probably fall apart in a big way. And that might well be a problem.
If this is trophoblastic, standard medical advice is that we not even try to get pregnant for a year. Which would realistically mean that we'd wind up with kids who are five years apart or more, which... feels like a family with a big hole in the middle of it, where another kid should've been. Honestly, even a four-year gap seems like too much to me, except that that ship has clearly already sailed.
It's also the case that I'm almost 35. Even if we can start trying again right away - if it's a blighted ovum, for example - there's no guarantee that it wouldn't take a year or more for me to get pregnant. And I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't handle that well.
I think I will be able to cope with a baby deferred. I don't think I'll be able to cope with maybe-not-another-baby. Or a family with a big aching hole in the middle, instead of kids close enough to play together.
I also notice that I am channeling a lot more emotionally energy than I normally would to planning and organizing things for Alex. This seems reasonably healthy as long as I keep things under control practically and financially. But boy, have I ever been doing a lot of shopping for the perfect big-girl bed with the perfect accessories. And the best presents for her birthday, two months away. It's nice to be able to divert my energy towards the kid I actually have. It's nice to have a kid to divert my energy to.
At the hospital, apparently, someone told Michael that my hormone levels were lower than they'd expect to see with trophoblastic disease, and that they were leaning more towards thinking it was a "blighted ovum" - a fertilized egg so chromosomally damaged that it was able to produce a placenta (and therefore pregnancy hormones and symptoms) but not an actual embryo. But that's not something they can actually diagnose until the path report comes back - which won't be for two full weeks, because (among other things, apparently) they have to do a chromosomal analysis.
So it turns out that we're going to be following a middle path. I don't need to go straight to a perinatologist, but I also can't just coast until my two-week follow-up at the midwife's. Instead my midwife will be ordering weekly hormone-level tests until we figure out what the hell this was all about. That seems reasonable to me. It's somewhat of a relief that they're not just slapping me onto the full trophoblastic protocol, and yet I also really really want to know what my hormone levels are doing.
I am in a lot more pain today, although it's nothing 800mg of ibuprofen can't handle. I now admit that yesterday I was being a macho, irrational, self-denying idiot. So today I didn't just stay home in the morning - I stayed home, resisted the urge to do "just a little" packing or cleaning, and laid on the couch for two and a half hours watching West Wing reruns. And I asked Michael to arrange his schedule so that he could drive me to and from work.
Emotionally I am coming along. I am sad but not completely prostrate with grief. However, I notice that I am banking a lot on being able to get pregnant again almost immediately, and I suspect that if that doesn't, or can't, happen then I will probably fall apart in a big way. And that might well be a problem.
If this is trophoblastic, standard medical advice is that we not even try to get pregnant for a year. Which would realistically mean that we'd wind up with kids who are five years apart or more, which... feels like a family with a big hole in the middle of it, where another kid should've been. Honestly, even a four-year gap seems like too much to me, except that that ship has clearly already sailed.
It's also the case that I'm almost 35. Even if we can start trying again right away - if it's a blighted ovum, for example - there's no guarantee that it wouldn't take a year or more for me to get pregnant. And I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't handle that well.
I think I will be able to cope with a baby deferred. I don't think I'll be able to cope with maybe-not-another-baby. Or a family with a big aching hole in the middle, instead of kids close enough to play together.
I also notice that I am channeling a lot more emotionally energy than I normally would to planning and organizing things for Alex. This seems reasonably healthy as long as I keep things under control practically and financially. But boy, have I ever been doing a lot of shopping for the perfect big-girl bed with the perfect accessories. And the best presents for her birthday, two months away. It's nice to be able to divert my energy towards the kid I actually have. It's nice to have a kid to divert my energy to.
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Oh good.
Ouch. Yes, it could. I hope it doesn't come to that.
Very, yes.
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I really, really, really understand this. My periods feel like they've never been further apart or less welcome. But I have a ton of confidence in your resiliency and humor to get you through this.
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The as-yet-to-be-determined part is the bedding. Alex's favorite color is yellow, and they don't seem to be doing too much with yellow as a decorating color right now. I am torn between this bedding pattern (http://www.amazon.com/Olive-Kids-Flowerland-Twin-Comforter/dp/B000MF85RS) because it's yellow, and this bedding pattern (http://www.target.com/Olive-Kids-Mermaids-Bedding-Collection/dp/B000NWX8P4/qid=1202152940/ref=br_1_8/602-7383912-4530211?ie=UTF8&node=337183011&frombrowse=1&rh=&page=1) because she's had an enduring interest in mermaids. I think the mermaids are cuter, but is it wrong to deny her bedding that comes in her favorite color?
...You see why this critical issue is consuming so much of my attention. It's so much better than so many of the other things I could be thinking about.
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I plan to paint my rooms in Edmonton pale yellow and you know that I'm going to show my parents the room when they visit and be all, "HA! It took me until I was 35 but WITH NO HELP FROM YOU I FINALLY have a YELLOW ROOM! And you can't stay in it! You're sleeping in the basement on a really uncomfortable bed in a room where nothing matches! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!"
I'm just saying.
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Hmmm. So many decisions.
(Why did your bedroom have to match a bathroom that was across the hall and wasn't even yours?! And why couldn't they paint the bathroom yellow?!)
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Yes. Also, you should be aware that the resentment could take on other forms. She could, for example, turn to a life of cheering for the Yankees. Cheering for the "wrong" sports team was a major resentment outlet for my sister and she never went back to the "right" team. How good are those mermaids looking to you now ;-)
(Why did your bedroom have to match a bathroom that was across the hall and wasn't even yours?!
Because a guest walking down the hallway to the bathroom would be able to see into my room and therefore it was important that it complement the colours in the bathroom.
And why couldn't they paint the bathroom yellow?!)
Because the brown accents in the bathroom wouldn't go with the yellow I wanted. And the brown accents in the bathroom were there to match the brown carpet in the hall which matched the brown carpet in the living room and the living room carpet was brown because the furniture was brown and cream because my mother wanted to have a living room decorated in brown, cream, and pink.
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*is dizzy*
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I'm soooooo happy you have Alex in this time. She must be such a comfort for you :)
N.
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I'm guessing she's going to need more than one set of sheets. Y'know?
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Glad to hear you stayed home today.
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FWIW, I’ve been so far impressed with your seemingly infinite ability to cope. I desperately hope that you don’t need to anymore, but I have faith that you can.
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Yellow was my favorite color when I was little, too. My parents let me have lemon-yellow carpet when they put new carpeting in the bedrooms, and I was so thrilled.
Clearly further research is needed. :)
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I'm not discounting your feelings of wanting them closer; I completely understand. But if you do have a five year gap, it's not necessarily going to mean they're not close.
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My brother and I are three years apart, but because he had a late birthday and I skipped a grade he was just one grade ahead of me. I think we felt pretty close in age - we played together a lot - but if I imagine us as, say, a sixth-grader and a third-grader (instead of a sixth-grader and a fifth-grader) it seems like we'd be a lot further apart. The grade system makes a big difference.
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FWIW, my brother and I are 18 months apart and we were never all that close, especially growing up. Looking back, I see that my (single) mom didn't do very well in fostering a non-competitive and loving relationship between us. I think parenting and coaching the sibling relationship is far more important to good relationships than closeness in age.
And as I said before, my mom and her sister who is 11 years older than she is are extremely close. My aunt was pretty much out of the house by the time my mom was in school, but they remained very close and do to this day.
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What I'm saying is: this is not a good time to tell me what I ought to feel, or to remind me that other people have it worse off than I do. You may be the rightest person who has ever been right, but that doesn't mean it's helpful to tell me that I'm wrong to feel the way I do.
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also, that's totally the cutest bed ever. i have a twin bed in the basement storage room, but it's in the famed french provincial ugly style. ew.
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I just wanted to chime in on the spacing issue... my sister and I are six years apart, which is kind of an interesting dynamic - growing up it was a little difficult to have such divergent interests (especially as I was entering teenagerhood and she still wanted to play with Barbies) but there were positives too - I'm a much better advice giver because I've had the benefit of lots of hindsight by the time she needs my advice. :) But mostly I wanted to say that I never, ever felt like we were missing a sibling between us. And we're very close now that we're a bit older.
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It makes total sense that you'd be banking on getting pregnant ASAP. I really hope that you can start trying soon and that things go well for you and you make Alex a big sister before too much time elapses.
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It is really hard to come face to face with how little control we have sometimes over reproducing or building a family. I'm 37 and when I was growing up the pill was well established, and the message definitely was that babies come when you CHOOSE to have them. It's really hard that sometimes it doesn't work that way, and it is totally okay to grieve that.
But I am hoping that the results come back blighted ovum and you can get on the horse as soon as you like.
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P.
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At the very least you're going to need to have a few months of normal periods in between to get your body running smoothly for starting again. I think they say at least three months after a miscarriage.
The bed is adorable, and such a good idea. She'll love it. Incidentally, we still have the duvet cover we bought for Z's big boy's bed when he was three, and we sometimes use it, and we even sometimes use it for visitors. So don't get anything you'd be too embarrassed by in fifteen years time -- if we're not at all embarrassed by Noah's Ark, then I'm sure you won't be embarrassed by mermaids...
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We've been talking up the big-girl bed for a while now, because I wanted the issue to be totally separate from a new sibling in her mind. She's pretty excited.
The layout of the new house is just perfect for moving her to a bed. She'll be across the hall from us, rather than up a steep and inadequately-safe flight of stairs. And she'll have a bathroom just off her room, so she can take herself to the bathroom independently. The idea of taking her out of the crib in our current house was really, really scary.
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Whatever gap you end up with will be just fine. Sometimes a bigger gap leads to smoother sibling relations, even.
At 34, you're as old as I was when I had my FIRST child! You've got some time to sort this out.
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Closeness in age doesn't mean the kids will play well together or even get along at all. Jackie (17) and Shannon (14) have a lot of ups and downs in their relationship. They squabble a lot, but when it comes down to it, they stick up for and protect each other from the rest of the world. Colin (2 weeks younger than Alex) thinks Shannon is the best thing EVER and she's pretty fond of him, too. My siblings (20 months younger and 4.5 years younger than me) and I are far from close as adults and we used to fight constantly as children. My parents set up my siblings and I to fight and not get along. I'm working to make sure that I don't do the same thing with my own kids. Each of my kids think one of the other ones is the favorite, so I think I'm pretty close. :)
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I would not worry about a hole in the family. I can't say much for your other worries (except wish you all the best and hope with you that they come to nothing), but this one, you can put to rest.
(And hey, focusing on Alex sounds just like the best avoidance strategy I've heard of yet!)
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FWIW, my brother and I are 3 yrs apart, we fought until I left for college, then we were friends, now we're friendly. My best friend and her sister are 5 yrs apart, they didn't fight much, and now they're very close.
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I read the blog of a couple who had trophoblastic disease a couple years ago (and have since gone on to have a successful pregnancy), and their research led them to decide to start trying again after only three months of negative HCG tests. It's at http://additionproblems.blogspot.com. Most of the trophoblastic stuff is in the first couple months of the archives (March and April 2005), or I'm sure they would be willing to share what they know if you e-mail them.
Hang in there. It's not often you find yourself hoping for a blighted ovum, but my fingers are crossed for you.
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I'm not a parent, but from what I've seen, there are a lot of good spacings between siblings. I think my mother is closer to her younger sister (five years) than her older (20 months difference).
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My brother and I are 17 months apart and we've never been really close. We have very different personalities and as adults, well, I'm going to hell, you know.
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I'm thinking of you and hoping that the big aching hole will get a little smaller and less achy. I don't think it's supposed to go away completely, but I don't think it will be this bad forever.
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In terms of sibling distance, as I look at those I know and at my own siblings, I think personality really has more to do with it that age difference. There's only a bit over 2 years between my brother and sister, but they weren't close until high school. Now, they're drifting apart as my sister becomes my mother but yet pickier.
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gaps
(Anonymous) 2008-02-08 10:21 am (UTC)(link)My first three were 2 years and 3 months apart (twins after the first). I'm here to tell you that's too close. My next two came after a 10 year gap, with the youngest born when I was 42. My oldest is 15 years older than the youngest. I didn't plan it that way, but it's turned out beautifully. Older brothers and sisters give little ones different kinds of things and vice versa, and you can't predict which is better. In these days of small and short families, we forget that for much of recorded history, people had many brothers and sisters of all ages. If they all love each other that's enough. And from what I read, you and Michael model that very well. Choosing beds is good too
Emma