It has taken me a few years to get the inspiration to write again. Maybe this time writing will "stick" again for me. Writing used to be like breathing for me. Tonight after I decided that it would be the night for me to begin a blog to chronicle my journey through "experienced" (Hah!) motherhood, it took me quite a few hours to stop procrastinating and just go for it.
I mean, what would I write about? There is so much going on with us, how do I single on any one thing? So I lay on the bed next to my husband playing Angry Birds Star Wars edition, as I shop aimlessly on Zulily.com liking EVERYTHING I see (as usual) but not being able to afford anything. Despite the financial challenge, I find shopping online to be relaxing. I peruse through Zulily almost daily oohing and ahhhing at all of the cute baby items, flashy female clothing and accessories and ghastly overpriced furniture and other home goods to buy nothing. It has become ritual, especially now that I am on maternity leave.
So, I'm on Zulily and it finally sinks in "I am a mother of two." When you leave a baby in NICU (as I have for the past 2 weeks (exactly, as of tonight) basic facts like that get lost in the shuffle. I am a MOTHER of TWO.... at 28, when just three short years ago I was convinced that I'd never find a man who was husband-worthy, and if I did, all of my eggs would be long-dried up by the time we got married. Here I am with the husband AND the TWO children.... not 1.5, but 2. And I figured, that is what I'd write about.
I have a daughter named Nia (purpose, bright or clear), whom we affectionately call "Fluff." She is two (or 27 months if you want to be technical). Her existence was a TOTAL shock to my carefree (careless) single psyche. Yielding to the fact that she was on her way led me down a road filled with great strife, family struggle and provision, through an amazing support system of friends that God surrounded me with. She has been one of God's greatest gifts in my life, and I love her more each day. Being her mom has taught me and changed me a lot, for the better. According to my husband, Fluff made me into someone that he could marry. I used to think that my struggle with Fluff was the hardest thing I'd been through...
Nia's brother, Ian (God is gracious), was born at 8:38 p.m. on Monday, October 29 (almost exactly two weeks ago). It was a troubled pregnancy from the very first ultrasound at 9 weeks. The ultrasound technician discovered a cystic hygroma (CH), which is a pocket of fluid in the lymphatic system of a developing fetus. Sometimes they resolve. Often times they symbolize major chromosomal abnormalities and other health issues with the baby. They can even take over the baby's body entirely, terminating its life. After a follow up appointment for a level two ultrasound to get a closer look, the CH was confirmed and my husband and I were ushered into an office to speak to a perinatologist and then a genetic counselor. The doctor's tone was grim. He was clearly quite disturbed by the findings. I am not going to go through the long list of things they thought Ian had at 11 weeks gestation. It was suggested that we undergo genetic testing, at which point we spoke to the genetic counselor.
Husband and I had already decided that we were not terminating the pregnancy under any circumstances, so we declined the chorionic villi sampling and amniocentesis in favor of a new-ish blood test called Maternit21 Plus test. This test would take a blood sample from me and test my blood for traces of fetal DNA that would indicate the following three chromosomal abnormalities: trisomy 13, 18, or 21 (Down Syndrome). After nearly a week, the test came back negative for any of the trisomies it tested for. This was encouraging, but we were still in for an uphill battle.
We visited EVMS for an level 2 ultrasound/echocardiogram every three weeks from that point on, which took an average of at least 1.5 to 2 hours each visit. Eventually they were viewing Ian on 2 different machines each visit (They got a brand new--apparently awesome--ultrasound machine for the purpose of looking at hearts). It was quickly determined that Ian's heart was enlarged and fixed in the center of his chest, instead of to the left. His heart had to work harder than that of most babies in utero because his umbilical artery bypassed his liver. In addition to his heart issues, they observed elevated fluid in his brain, low ears, a small (or absent) nasal bone. As for me, I had polyhydramnios (extra fluid), which meant that I had to visit the hospital weekly for nonstress tests to make sure that Ian was ok, and I was on watch for preterm labor... not to mention my stomach was growing at a rate quicker than that of one holding twins.
In the midst of all of this surveillance, I was torn away from the natural, unmedicated childbirth I was planning to have with my midwife in the hospital that Fluff was born in. I was now a high risk pregnancy. The first OBGYN I had a prenatal appointment with at EVMS was fail...did not like her at ALL. However, the next OB I saw, Dr. Dattel, was absolutely PERFECT, heaven sent. She entertained my moleskine pages full of questions patiently upon first meeting. It was immediately deemed by husband and I that she MUST deliver Ian no matter what.
So I schlepped along, working harder at work than I ever have, my pregnancy taking a major physical toll on my body more so than it did with Fluff. At one point I was having medical appointments 3 times a week. Thankfully, during this ordeal, I switched from classified staff to administrative faculty which afforded me more overall leave time and more workday/hour flexibility. Being the conservationist I am when it comes to having more time off with the baby, I had done the math and determined that, if Ian were to hang on until sometime after November 2nd (the Friday of Homecoming at work), I would just work until that day... even though work was honestly stressing me out and killing me slowly by this point. I was in so much pain just walking around, and all of the driving to see medical professionals had become too much.
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