This blog post covers most of August and will finally catch us all up to current-day-events/emotions. From here on out there won't be a posting schedule but I'll instead try to update everyone when there is news to share - so if you haven't already, please scroll up to the top of the "Blog" page and enter your email to subscribe so that you get the news when it's hot!
August 1st, 2022
Trimester 3 has arrived.
I've became really weirdly short of breath.
I am absolutely overwhelmed by how much Michael has scheduled. Man cave every Wednesday, Trade School is starting back up and will be every Thursday, he's working overtime all day this upcoming Saturday, he's got DnD next Friday, Pokemon Community Day next Saturday, a Cardinal's game with work people that evening... And this month Michael is officially being added to the on call schedule at work.
I need more breathing room - both literally, like my lungs feel like they can't fully expand, and metaphorically. I need time with Michael. And Theo needs time with Michael even more. I feel like I'm suffocating between being short of breath and looking at how much is on the calendar for August.
August 2nd
I've got the shortness of breath thing again today. And my heart is beating faster than normal.
Between my blood sugar sky rocketing, being short of breath, my pulse, and Abby doing gymnastics inside of me I am feeling some kind of special miserable. Like I just need to lay on the ground and die.
I laid on the couch and ate cashews while Theo watched Winnie the Pooh. I feel really fragile. I couldn't come up with what to eat for lunch today. I had those cashews and a few bites of an apple and some water and I almost threw it all up. I really hate being pregnant.
I wish God would heal Abby. It just feels so wrong that He would let us suffer so much. Let it be so hard to get pregnant. Let me feel so miserable being pregnant. And not let us keep her once it's all over.
August 5th
Michael was in a car accident today. Somebody sideswiped the work van and caused an accident. He didn't get injured thankfully.
And he got home on time today. We picked up DQ on the way to the pool and met up with R&K and KN for an evening at the water park. It took me a little while to thaw out in the sun and begin to smile and enjoy myself. Something about sitting by the poolside when it's not too hot but still sunny and warm enough to swim did really good things for my mental health.
Gradually I started to have fun. We all did. Spending time with friends at the pool really cheered me up. But no one was as happy as Theo. He had a BLAST. He's fully confident in his puddle jumper now and floated all over the place - including the lazy river more than once - proudly proclaiming "I swimmin! I swimmin!"
At the end of the evening Michael and I were sitting on a pool lounge chair watching our friends play with Theo and talking about how incredibly blessed we are to have such amazing friends who don't just love Theo but genuinely enjoy spending time with him and doing things he likes to do. How incredibly rare this is.
This evening was an oasis - a good evening in the midst of my second bad week in a row.
August 8th
S came over to watch Theo for free today while we went to an appointment.
Abigail's heart was beating 141 bpm at her ultrasound today and she gained a little bit of weight. She's now measuring 2 lbs 1 oz. I thought that was really good! I told Michael while we were alone that I don't know if the team will be happy about it, but that I'm pleased anyway. We did not get the clear picture of her face I've been praying for.
Then the ultrasound tech said she wanted to ask the doctor if there's anything else she should check before we leave. I rolled my eyes and looked at Michael and said "Do they really think that trick is ever going to work on us again? Last time they tried this they came back to tell us she has anencephaly."
Half an hour later she returned with a doctor and a resident. The doctor's jacket had the buttons all in the wrong holes like it was thrown on in haste. She softly and slowllllly explained to us that Abby is now measuring below the 1st percentile and they can't even put her on the chart anymore. This further increases the risk of a stillbirth. But I just wrote that in the time it should have taken to say it and she seemed to take FOREVER to spit it out.
Michael chimed in at this point and said, "Is that it?"
She started and said, "Oh, yes. That's all."
He said, "Because I'm sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for more bad news."
That was really it. All we've seemed to hear from these people since Day #1 with them is how Abby isn't going to make it full term, Abby is going to die in utero, Abby is going to be a stillborn baby. So today really just felt insulting. What was the point of that? On the drive home, Michael and I both agreed it just feels like evil throwing a fit because it's losing and knows it.
Before we left the doctor said we're going to have to make a decision about whether we value Abigail's life inside the womb more or less than her life after birth. Because if not, we will need to consider inducing early to increase her chances of a live birth.
We learned today that they've already decided to induce me on October 17th, a week early, without ever talking to us about it. They said it's just their policy because so many of their patients live far away and they don't want to risk us going into labor naturally and having to deliver somewhere else. Michael protested, "But we live 10 minutes away!" No response beyond it's just their policy. As if it's not up for discussion.
M&J bought us Seoul Taco for dinner and played games with us. Once again, just like at the pool, it took me awhile to thaw. But slowly I began to enjoy myself and feel thankful again for my friends. We also watched the first episode from Angel Studio's Dry Bar Comedy show today. We haven't laughed enough recently.
August 9th
I am super ridiculously out of breath today and it's scaring me.
I got the aquarium for Theo's new pet fish all prepped and transferred the fish in and he was soooo much happier already. He swam all over and explored. I put Theo down for a nap and then I sat in front of the aquarium and watched Fish for hours until Michael got home from work.
I felt so much better.
August 10th
Here's the soundtrack for the rest of this post:
Michael forgot to take the car key out of his pocket and leave it for me this morning. I was supposed to be hostessing a play date at church. It all worked out in the end - J came and got me and Theo and then went back home for her own kids. And it was a good play date - at least I felt the moms all had stuff we needed to share and got to do so. Every single one of us feels like we're just surviving. I learned one of my mom friends, A, lost her car in the flooding. She's just two streets down from us. I can't believe I bothered complaining about the dumb stuff we lost.
One of the big take-aways was a mutual desire for a place to ask for support, initiate spontaneous hang-outs, and share prayer requests. I don't know if it's going to be the ultimate answer, but I mentioned the Mom's group and that through our church app we can each send messages to the group sharing all those things. So when I got home, I decided to dare everyone else to actually use it by doing it first. Here's most of what I posted:
Thank you for praying for me and Michael so much this year. I have NOT developed polyhydramnios like the doctors thought I would. There's still time but they're saying that my fluid levels are looking good so far. Praise!
Unfortunately Abigail is still measuring small. So small in fact that she's dropped below the first percentile and they can no longer even compare her to other babies and place her on the graph. They said there are a number of interventions they'd do in other circumstances but since it won't change Abigail's life expectancy they don't see a point in trying any interventions. But they did want to remind me that this means she will most likely be stillborn...
But we've begun building hope that she may make it full term and be born alive so we can meet her before she goes to Jesus. So that's my request: please pray that she beats the odds and we can meet her alive and shock all the doctors.
Please pray against Satan/spiritual warfare. It seems we've really pissed him off and he is coming at us hard. With the basement flooding, gestational diabetes, Michael's Grammy fell and broke her arm, and he was side swiped by another car last week. This reminder that she will probably be stillborn felt like evil trying to gloat over us this week and I'm not having it. I refuse to stay down no matter how much I get knocked around. So please pray for strength and for the grace to get through this as a champion - not just a survivor. I want Heaven to be rejoicing as we go through this and I believe your prayers unlock that power and praise in Heaven...
Due date is October 24th. They're already talking about inducing me early and I can't really say how I feel about it. I need some clarity there. There's just a lot of debate about whether it's best to let her live in my womb as long as possible or induce after 37 weeks to increase the odds she dies in our arms instead of in utero...It's just a mess trying to come up with a birth plan and we desperately need to hear from the Great Physician.
Michael was on call for the first time today. He got called out to a job because a customer was being a jerk - it wasn't even an emergency - and by 4:30 I was spiraling. Michael messaged at 5 and said he was estimating 2 more hours.
I was trying so hard. I had the fog music blaring. I was trying to sing it. I was standing at the sink washing dishes, sobbing and that's when I started talking to satan.
Yes. I've hit an all time low. I have not had mental struggles so far in this journey until this month. But this week especially it feels like the intrusive thoughts are bombarding me. Am I a coward for not being willing to consider a c-section? It's my fault Abby isn't getting enough nutrients to grow big enough. I couldn't make her a good enough placenta. It's probably the diabetes. I'm not healthy enough and it caused her anencephaly and now she's going to die before she gets to be born and it's my fault.
I posted on my support group asking about everyone's baby weights and I told KB about my mental struggle over this induction and c-section business and I think that's what opened the floodgates for me. The house has been a wreck and I've been spiraling revisiting Abby's birth plan and the demand of being everything Theo needs right now is beating me into the ground and I felt like I was about to have a panic attack.
And it suddenly occurred to me that I am under attack.
People will think I'm crazy for attributing this to more than just normal mental health struggles with anxiety. But this is spiritual attack. I know it.
So I was standing at the sink covered in soap suds, sobbing, and suddenly I just started saying out loud, "No. You are not going to win this one. I am going to keep fighting. And you can't stop me! Not today!"
So I turned the sink off, I swallowed my pride, and I called R. And I asked for help. I asked her to please come over. I told her I'm not doing well. And I offered her a $30 tip for delivering a decaf coffee (which she of course didn't accept even the idea of a tip and reassured me that she would be right over and K would be right behind her).
Then I turned on "Not Today" by Hillsong United and decided I'm going to make blueberry muffins from scratch damn it!
I immediately felt stupid when Michael called and told me he was on his way home - much earlier than I thought he would be. I thought if I could have held myself together for 20 more minutes I wouldn't have to inconvenience R&K. But they told me that's silly and R said she's proud of me for calling. And I think I needed to do this. It's part of refusing to give up, I think.
I messed up the muffin mix but Michael figured out a solution and they turned out good anyway. Theo was thrilled to see K&R and play with them because he's absolutely in love with them (although, I suspect he has a crush on R and likes her a bit more). And the surprising highlight of my evening was sitting on a stool in the kitchen crying in front of R and sipping on a decaf coffee. I can't explain it, but I feel like I was in a battle tonight and came out on the winning side.
August 12th
MFM called this morning. They say my blood sugars look normal. So unless I am concerned, they are okay with us being done checking blood sugar and moving forward with this pregnancy without further discussion of GDM!!! I do not have gestational diabetes!!!
Michael had his one year review and he is getting a $2 hourly raise!
I got a message today that one of my coworkers from the school where I taught has started making hats for Abigail. She made a green one.
I saw K&R and J before going out this evening. R brought me a box of bath bombs.
My BFF is in town this weekend and she came over tonight. We went to Olive Garden to eat a ton of carbs to celebrate my victory over GDM and I talked her ear off. She gave me some great advice, including encouraging me to not let the MFM team bully me into an induction if that's not what I want and if there isn't a more valid reason. She told me more and more women are going hippie and refusing inductions - she's read or seen birth stories where women were told in an appointment that they've been scheduled for an induction and have told their doctors they won't be showing up. She also paid for my outrageously expensive dinner.
August 14th
I took a bath today and felt like a mermaid using one of R's bath bombs. Michael came in after putting Theo down and I asked him to sit and talk with me for awhile.
I had a huge meltdown. I sobbed telling Michael I wish we lived in a simpler time when induction and c-sections weren't even a thing so that God could make the decision about when she comes. Having to pick a date and knowing it will likely be the day she dies as well as is born has been agony for me. And Michael's been so desperate to meet her alive. I told him I feel like I'm being asked to play God and it's all too much for me.
I know too much - more than I can handle. And yet I don't know nearly enough to make these decisions.
He said that he's been coming at this situation with the primary goal of meeting her alive. But it occurred to him that maybe it's more important to give her as safe and loved and pain free a life as possible. Her life inside the womb IS just as valuable as after birth. "And if that means that she passes in utero and we never get to meet her alive, it will mean that she has the easiest, least traumatic passing she possibly could: surrounded by her mother's love in every way possible."
Peace descended. The rest of my tears leaked out. And now I know what to do. I have heard from the MFM team and my support groups. I've researched and problem solved as much as I can. I only care now what God has to say. Like T&M said when they told us about S in June, we are going to wait to hear from God.
Maybe Abigail won't be able to come naturally and we will have to induce labor. But until I hear from Him, I'm going to fight the MFM team on induction. I'm going to let God decide how and when she is born. He'll show me in His timing and I don't have to be Him.
August 21st, 2022
It's been an okay week and a bad weekend. Michael worked late every single day. I had a scare on Wednesday when he didn't get back from Man Cave and it was so late and I thought he must have been mugged walking home and was lying in the dark bleeding somewhere. Of course it turned out fine. But then the next day was Thursday so we barely heard from him and of course he went to trade school straight from work.
I skipped Theo's bath and tried to keep him up so that he could see Daddy before bed, but it got too late and I had to put him down. After I prayed I asked him if he wanted to say anything to Jesus. He said, "Daddy. Miss Daddy."
I know exactly how he feels.
Nothing we planned to do as a family this weekend ended up happening. It was just like last weekend. When Michael was finally available for quality time, I was too exhausted to enjoy it. Except this weekend I wasn't just exhausted, I was also incredibly let down by all the broken plans.
Theo has been crying so much more the last few days too. And he's suddenly decided to start declaring what he does and does not like. Turns out that most often it's "Theo don't like..." whatever it is. Food. Clothes. Toys. Us. You name it.
This morning, on instinct, I brought my purse with me to church. We were taking the students on an outing and I thought I'd use it. I never carry my purse anymore - not unless I'm getting away for a weekend without Michael or Theo.
Michael was volunteering with the children's ministry for the first time today and we got there late so he missed his meeting and he never even got to eat the breakfast he made. Theo had been crying all morning and wouldn't eat breakfast and didn't want to go potty for us. Then Michael handed off Theo's backpack and his check-in stuff and it suddenly crashed on me: I'm responsible, solely, for Theo again. Typically on a Sunday morning Michael is the one to run downstairs to check on Theo or get him if there's a problem and they flash our number up on the screen.
Service started and I was sitting with friends but I couldn't breathe. I've been short of breath all month but I hit a tipping point this morning. I wanted to go out in the lobby and try to catch my breath but I felt the immense pressure to stay somewhere I could see the screens in case Theo's number went up. He still hadn't peed all morning and I was worried he'd have an accident and get embarrassed.
I thought if I could just stand up and sing along, I knew I'd feel better. But the air wouldn't come. I have a breathing app on my phone that I keep in case I ever need it for a student who is having an anxiety attack - it's come in handy dozens of times. I pulled it up to try to catch my breath during the music portion of the service. But I couldn't inhale all the way. And while I was sitting there, I watched my fingernails start to turn blue.
I haven't had an asthma attack in years. I can only think of one time I've even used my inhaler since early college. I don't know for sure that that's what was happening this morning, but it's what I remember it feeling like. So I got up and went out to the car for my purse which I'd accidentally left in the passenger seat. I keep my inhaler in there. It expired in 2018 and I've never replaced it.
I sat in a chair in the lobby, shaken, waiting for the air to come back. Using the app, trusting that even though it's expired, the albuterol would still probably help. Completely terrified at the idea of what would have happened if I hadn't followed that instinct this morning to bring my purse to church. I never carry my purse anymore. I never have my inhaler on me. But today I did. Christian folk don't think of these things as coincidences. We call this the work of the Holy Spirit.
T came out and gave me a hug and got me some water. Then Pastor M came out and gave me a hug and asked me how I was doing. I told him I can't get a deep breath in. He asked to pray for me.
I swear as God is my witness that as he placed his hand on my shoulder and started to pray for me, the air came back. And I started to breathe again, deeply, for the first time all month long.
I went back in to service and R whispered and asked me if I was okay. I told her a brief synopsis and for the second time this month she sat with me while I cried and sipped on coffee and started to feel stable again.
Apologies to Pastor C but I had a hard time sitting through the sermon today - except for the eerie moments when he mentioned "space to breathe" and "breath of God." (The sermon was part of a Refresh series - so the metaphors fit) I was impatiently waiting for the end of the service because I knew I was going to make a beeline to the front for prayer when the response team got there.
I have written on the blog about medicine for grief - first about beauty and then about worship. I've been meaning to also write about laughter. Today the medicine of choice was prayer. And I believe prayer has been the number one support we've needed this entire time. For a couple months I kept asking everyone to pray and telling everyone that truthfully it has felt like we are just crowd-surfing on prayer. If not for everyone praying, I think we would have been bleeding out on the ground months ago.
So yeah, even though Pastor M had already prayed for me and the air had already come back, I had a hard time waiting for the sermon to end so I could go get me some more medicine.
I got up there finally and I told A that I just feel so attacked this month. I literally have struggled to breathe and I don't think it's just normal 3rd trimester shortness of breath. I told him I'm so utterly exhausted and I need prayer because I truly think satan is pissed at me and is attacking. I said "The harder I hold on to Jesus, the harder this seems to be getting."
So A held on to me and prayed and tears freely fell from my face to the ground.
He prayed Psalm 23 over me. He prayed rest and refreshment. He spoke truth - that even though I have been walking through the valley of the shadow of death, God has never left my side. And he encouraged me to stop fighting. To let God take over. He asked God to "prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies" where I can be refreshed even now when the end of this journey is not in sight.
I know that God was with me and spoke to me today. As I walked back to where we were sitting, I thought, "I'm giving up. I've come to the end of me. I will rest and let God fight for me."
For those of you who will understandably be concerned, I've been in to the office and to the hospital (as of just last night) since all of this happened. They've listened to my lungs and checked me over thoroughly. Abigail is still doing well - her heartbeat was 133 bpm last night and she was moving a ton. There was some discussion about my fluid levels since shortness of breath is a warning sign for polyhydramnios but since my levels were good at my last ultrasound, they are content to wait to check again at my September 9th appointment.
I went in to the hospital last night because of some very severe pain that was immobilizing. I called my nurse coordinator (whose cell number we do have and can contact at any time day or night) to describe it to her - thankfully Theo was able to run to go get my phone for me because I couldn't get off the ground. I thought it might be round ligament pain but she said it sounded like it could be preterm labor and told me to go in immediately. So many of you prayed for us, the pain mostly dissipated before we arrived at the hospital, and they couldn't figure out what happened.
They said I am slightly dilated but they're chalking it up to being active. I've been told to take it easy for a few days, take some pain meds, use hot packs, and come back in if it gets worse or doesn't go away. Please pray for our September 9th appointment. The doctors plan to discuss induction with us and the possibility of delivering Abigail breech to increase (maybe?) her chances of surviving birth. And meanwhile I promise to stop scrubbing my floors like a crazy lady and sit down more often. And I'll stop carrying stuff around everywhere too. I'll be good!
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