Reflections of a CPA turned stay-at-home mom as I "journey toward heaven"

Bedrest Moments I’d Just as Soon Forget. . .

Although I’m a long-time MckMama and Stellan follower, I’ve never before participated in “Not Me! Monday.” But now that I’ve been on bedrest for a month and a half, there are some blog posts in which the only way to save any remaining dignity is to participate in this meme.

It seems almost impossible for me (as a mom of a 3yo and 19 month-old) to coordinate (from my “manager’s office” in bed) everything that needs to be happening for this young family. And we are blessed with the best of help.

But life happens. So for now, stuff continually falls through the cracks. I’m desperately trying to be okay with that, for my own sanity, and so my family can stand to live with me.

Which is why I need to be okay with my son wearing his shoes on the wrong feet or wearing a shirt too small, with sleeves that barely reach his elbows, or pants too long that continually drop to the floor. . .

And why I have to be okay with snowy footprints people have tracked in on the hardwoods (I can’t mop) and crumbs all over the dining room floor after lunch (I can’t sweep) and toys everywhere (I’m not supposed to squat or bend down)!

But, despite the fact that in the moment this stuff seems so overwhelming, when I stop to really think, it’s actually rather mundane–not incredibly blog-worthy–just part of bedrest life.

So while I want to say ‘not me,’ I really just need to “Deal!” as my three-year-old tells me.

Last week though, I experienced a genuine “Not Me!” moment. The kids’ baths have been falling through the cracks. This is one I have trouble dealing with. It’s basic toddler hygiene, you know. And one of those things they just can’t do for themselves yet.

One morning, from my bedrest post on the couch, I caught a whiff of my three-year-old daughter and called to my husband (from the living room to the kitchen). “Daniel! Mara stinks—like poop! It’s been six days since the kids have had baths now!” I’m sure my voice was a bit edgy, since I was already annoyed about the whole bath thing. As soon as I said it, I knew I had made a big mistake.

My poor poor child looked completely dejected and deflated, as she spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t ‘stink–like poop’.”

Then Mara picked up her phone to call her imaginary friend (Tosta) who apparently sleeps on the twin bed in her room, when there are no guests staying with us.

“Hi, Tosta,” she said. “My mom and dad say I ‘stink like poop.’–I don’t ’stink like poop’! . . . I need your help, Tosta. . .  Please help me. Bye.”

She pressed the button to end the imaginary phone call, glancing at me with hurt in her eyes.

I did not know what to do or say. It was true! I wished I hadn’t said it, but now I couldn’t take it back. So I just hugged her and told her she would have a bath today, and she would smell nice after her bath.

Then I walked into the kitchen and collapsed (crying) in my husband’s arms. . . .

Surely I’m not the mom whose kids went six days without baths.

Surely I’m not the mom who yelled through the house in front of her daughter that she stunk like poop!

Surely my daughter isn’t the one who has to call her imaginary friend for support when Mom insults her . . .

A definite “not me” moment.

Bedrest: With Toddlers

My three-year-old, adding a whole new dimension to Mom’s “bedrest”

My 19-month-old son, making a call to Dad

(who–lucky for Mom–is working from home today).

Son needs to explain his missing pants and missing shoe

. . . and how all those Pampers escaped from their box.

For More Wordless Wednesday, hop over to Five Minutes for Mom. And if you’d like some tips for having fun with toddlers while on bedrest, check out my previous post “Doing Fun Things With Mommy on Bedrest.”

“When Winter Winds Blow. . .”

Despite the title of my post, there is actually good news:

Monday’s appointment with the nurse practitioner showed no changes since my hospital visit and the terbutaline shot.

The NP suggested I might come off all meds and bedrest at week 36, but said it would be up to the Ob who was consulting with me at the time. (Last week’s Ob said I could come off meds and bedrest at week 37.)

And I now have weekly appointments scheduled every Monday morning through the end of February (they decided not to schedule one for the week of my due date just yet), and I can’t help wondering how many of those appointments I’ll be keeping. I never imagined I would make it this far. . .

The NP seemed very optimistic that our baby will be full-term. In fact, she started a discussion of going ahead and scheduling a repeat c-section “in case you go overdue.”

Overdue? This was my first appointment with the nurse practitioner. Had she looked at my chart? Did she know my son was born at 32 weeks and I’ve been contracting for over two months now with this pregnancy? And all the talk has been how to prevent preterm labor?

At first, my thoughts were, “Yeah, that won’t be necessary.” But then I thought of my friend Christina–hospitalized on bedrest from weeks 28 – 32, home on bedrest till week 37, then passing her due date, while dilated 6 cm for two weeks!  And I realized: anything is possible.

Which left me discouraged, just thinking of months of contractions, months of bedrest and medications, culminating in an overdue child delivered by the dreaded repeat c-section, which would rule out future possibility of vaginal deliveries. . .

Daniel had dropped me off, and during my appointment he took the kids to Dunkin Donuts, where Mara asked if it was her birthday since she was getting a frosted pink donut with sprinkles. We drove home in the torrential rains that we’ve had since last night. It was hard to even see out the windshield. When we got home, we went to get lunch for the kids and found the roof over our kitchen leaking in four spots. . .

I want to rejoice in the answers to prayer: Our Little Boo has made it to 34 weeks. Of those 34 weeks, I have been hospitalized on bedrest only four days this time–the rest of the time I have been able to be home with my husband and my kids. At this point, it’s looking very likely that the baby will make it to “full-term” (37-40 weeks) or if not, she will at least be far enough along that any hospital stay should be minimal and chances are good she will not need the apnea/brady monitor like Micah did. I want to be filled with joy and gratitude.

But two strong “bedrest battles” are the those of discontent and discouragement. For the first few weeks since mid-December, it was just surviving each day and then breathing a huge sigh of relief. Making it through the intense contraction hours of 1-3 AM, and waking up in the morning and saying to Daniel, “Well, we made it through another night without a trip to Labor and Delivery triage.”

Then as the tide turned, we began to realize that we were likely going to make it, and the challenge of this pregnancy would be enduring a couple months of bedrest while trying to care for a young family.

In light of all the trials that so many people face, it is truly petty to complain about bedrest. But I’m just being real: it’s a daily struggle to be content and not to be discouraged. Some days more than others.

I’ve been blessed by Sovereign Grace’s music ministry, and recently spent a lot of time listening to  “Come, Weary Saints” on my MP3 player. (Mara calls it “umbrella music” because there is an umbrella on the CD cover.) Today I wanted to share the lyrics to “As Long As You Are Glorified.” Maybe there is someone out there like me, who will be encouraged by this meditation.

Shall I take from Your hand Your blessings,
Yet not welcome any pain?
Shall I thank You for days of sunshine,
Yet grumble in days of rain?
Shall I love You in times of plenty,
Then leave You in days of drought?
Shall I trust when I reap a harvest,
But when winter winds blow, then doubt?

Oh, let Your will be done in me!
In Your love I will abide.
Oh, I long for nothing else as long
As You are glorified.

Are You good only when I prosper,
And true only when I’m filled?
Are You King only when I’m carefree,
And God only when I’m well?
You are good when I’m poor and needy.
You are true when I’m parched and dry.
You still reign in the deepest valley.
You’re still God in the darkest night.

Oh, let Your will be done in me!
In Your love I will abide.
Oh, I long for nothing else as long
As You are glorified.

So quiet my restless heart, quiet my restless heart
Quiet my restless heart in You.

Words and Music by Mark Altrogge.
© 2008 Sovereign Grace Praise (BMI). Sovereign Grace Music, a division of Sovereign Grace Ministries.
From Come Weary Saints. All rights reserved.

The Simplest Way to Clean the Microwave

For Works-for-Me Wednesday, I’m sharing a  tip I learned this Thanksgiving on how to clean your microwave. It’s amazing! No more scrubbing! I will clean my microwave this way for the rest of my life.

I’ve shared this tip several times since then, and like me everyone has responded, “Wow, that’s so simple!”

It’s not original with me. It came to me from my brother’s wife Missy, who learned it from her mom. So thank you, sister-in-law’s Mom!!!!

All you do is grab a glass bowl and fill it up with water. Pop it in the microwave on high for about five minutes. . . or just push “beverage” three times! [When the microwave beeps, ignore your 19-month-old son who echoes the "beeps," urging you to open the door. You want the condensation to build up on the sides of the microwave.]

After a couple minutes, open the door and simply wipe the entire microwave clean! Anything stuck on it comes right off!

Speaking of Humorous Kid Moments. . .

I don’t think I’ve ever posted someone else’s Facebook status on my blog, but a fellow-preemie-mom/Facebook friend posted this today. As a mom of kids who say the craziest things, I had to laugh out loud! Most of you don’t know her–or Jack, who is about the same age as Micah, but I thought it was funny enough to share.

Had the funniest thing happen at the grocery store. Jack pointed at the magazines by the checkout with Tiger Woods on the cover and said “dada” so the cashier replied “well, I guess that wouldn’t be too surprising” ROFL

And, just to clarify, Jack is not his son.

Made It To 34 Weeks!

When Micah was born at 32 weeks, I continued receiving the weekly “your pregnancy” e-mails. But I quit reading then, because first of all, I was far too busy. And second, we no longer wondered how the baby was developing. We were watching him–in the NICU–every day.

Well, Little Boo has officially made it to 34 weeks! And her “pregnancy update” for this week says:

“If you’ve been nervous about preterm labor, you’ll be happy to know that babies born between 34 and 37 weeks who have no other health problems generally do fine. They may need a short stay in the neonatal nursery and may have a few short-term health issues, but in the long run, they usually do as well as full-term babies.”

We’re thrilled to have made it this far. This is the 34-37 week stage! Woo-HOO!!

Bedrest is not fun. But for Little Boo, it is so much better than weeks in the NICU.

So I will lie here for another three weeks . . . that is, unless she decides to make a slightly early appearance. In which case, we are “happy to know” that at this point, she will probably do just fine!

“Working” from Home?

Daniel has been working from home two days a week, since I’m on bedrest.
Today as he was leaving for work, Mara asked, “Is Daddy going to real work today, or pretend work in the basement?”
I’m sure his boss would love to hear that one!

“I Mean, It’s not Crack . .”

That was the nurse practitioner describing the tocolytic I was about to receive.

So, yes, I ended up back in L&D triage this afternoon. After strong contractions four minutes apart through the early (sleepless) morning hours, and then waking up with contractions (not as strong but still four minutes apart), I spent most of my day “contracting.”

Daniel was working from home today, and he decided I really should call the doctor (and we knew the doctor would say to go to triage). So there we were. Again.

We asked our friend Bill, who is working on his dissertation, to come over and sit in the living room during the kids’ naps, which he most graciously did. . .

I know I’m emotional with pregnancy and all, but I really had a hard time putting the kids down for their naps and saying good-by. I was afraid they were going to increase my procardia (like they did with Micah), and it would do nothing for my contractions, but I would have blood pressure issues, and they would have to keep me on the Mom Unit (like they did with Micah).

Once my now-19-month-old Micah was in bed, I sang to him “Great is Thy Faithfulness” (more for me than for him) and then he held up one finger like he does everytime I put him to bed these days, and said, “Muh mo’.” [one more] So I sang one more. He did it again, and I had to say ‘That’s all, buddy. I know you’d have me sing all day long if you could.’

When we got to the hospital, Daniel insisted on pushing me up to Labor and Delivery in a wheelchair, despite the fact that I felt like a total wimp. I said I was pretty sure I could walk, and if I walked, the nurses would have adequate proof that I really was having a lot of contractions. He said we weren’t trying to impress the nurses with how many contractions I was having. I knew he was right–if I had walked, I’m sure my contractions would have just multiplied. He’s a good husband–he’s just what I need.

There were no beds available in triage when I arrived, so we were sent to the waiting room with a huge crowd of people awaiting news on a set of triplets that was to be born that day. Apparently the mom had chosen not to find out whether the babies were boys or girls! (Can you imagine? They had picked out three boys’ names and three girls’ names and were waiting to see what she delivered! Daniel said to me, “With all the logistical challenges in having triplets, why would you add one more by not finding out what they were?” So if we ever have triplets, you know we’ll be finding out whether they are boys or girls or a combination.)

When I did get a bed in “LD,” it was the same old routine: urine sample, hospital gown, cervical exam, various swabs/samples, blood drawn, IV fluids, monitoring the baby’s heart rate, my heart rate, and my contractions. My contractions were steady, 2-3 minutes apart, but varied in intensity. I think they felt worse because I hadn’t slept much last night–I felt nauseous and yucky–and I didn’t know if that was just fatigue or the ever-illusive “something different.”

The nurse practitioner checked my cervix and said, “It’s a loose one.” But it’s still a one, which means after all these contractions, I’ve had basically no cervical change! That was just not the case with Micah. But with Micah they had also waited to put me on any tocolytics until I was already 3 cm and 70% effaced. I’m sure it helps that I’ve been on progesterone for 12 weeks now and procardia for about 2-1/2 weeks.

While they monitored me and waited for results of the fetal fibronectin test, Daniel and I discussed baby names. Unfortunately, I can’t discuss what we discussed, but it was really one of the first opportunities we’ve had to sit and go through names together. I was glad I had made a list, glad Daniel brought his laptop (with my list on it). And surprised by the names he liked and didn’t like. There was one name–a beautiful name–from my list that Daniel contemplated for about half an hour. I was beginning to think it would be Little Boo’s name! While Googling the names’ meaning/ trendiness/ etc, Daniel learned something that completely ruled the name out for him. For one reason or another, every name was scratched off my list. And when Daniel began suggesting new names, there were none that really “grabbed” both of us.

In the end, we arrived back at the name we’ve been contemplating–but got hung up on the spelling. (And no, it doesn’t begin with an ‘M.’ But that’s the only hint I’m giving!) It is still not set in stone, because both of us have a pretty strong opinion on how we’ve “always envisioned” spelling it. We may have to scrap the name altogether and start over. ;-)

But I was encouraged that we had the chance to discuss names. Probably we will settle on something soon, and she won’t spend her first three days nameless as Micah did!

My favorite news of the day was that the fetal fibronectin test came back negative again. That means there’s a 99% chance I will not deliver before two weeks from today (almost 35 weeks!). I was so excited that I told Daniel I was going to take myself off bedrest to celebrate! A 35-weeker sounds great to me! At that point, most of the lung development issues are resolved, and many babies can suck well enough at that point that they wouldn’t need tube feeds.

Of course, I was kidding about taking myself off bedrest. But comments like that always scare Daniel. (Sorry dear! Didn’t mean to–I’m just excited!) He started asking me questions like ‘What are the characteristics of the 1% that does deliver within two weeks? Do they have all your symptoms? It seems like you’re in the 1% on everything else–why should this be different?’

The question remained: What to do with all these contractions? Supposedly I’m on–not one, but two–drugs that should be keeping me from contracting.

Marianne, the nurse practitioner, asked about my progesterone and procardia dosage, then went to consult with Dr. C. We overheard the entire conversation.

“She’s contracting like crazy,” we heard her say. “But she’s still only a one.” Marianne recommended terbutaline, which I had read is the tocolytic most commonly given to stop preterm labor. I remembered one of my favorite preemie-mom-bloggers, Heather Spohr from The Spohrs Are Multiplying, being given terbutaline for preterm contractions.

I always wondered why I was given the procardia (nifedipine) instead during both pregnancies. Dr. C approved the terbutaline, so Marianne came to tell me more. It’s a drug that is commonly given orally to treat asthma, by dilating air passages in the lungs. In pregnant patients, terbutaline is injected into the arm and apparently reduces contractions by relaxing the muscles in the uterus. She told us side effects include: tremors, nausea, nervousness, dizziness, headache, drowsiness, heartburn, heart palpitations, fast heart rate, and elevated blood pressure. [Oooo, elevated blood pressure! So between procardia lowering my blood pressure and terbutaline elevating it, my blood pressure should be completely normal, right?] She said the primary feelings patients describe are heart palpitations, shakiness/the “jitters,” and headaches.

Honestly, as she described it to me, I was skeptical. I’m on bedrest. Progesterone. And procardia. They’re not working. Sure, add some terbutaline. It can’t hurt, right?

I think she could read me.

She insisted that it works really fast–within 20 minutes–and added, “It’s really good stuff! . . . I mean, it’s not crack. . .”

Oh, good.

I wish I had taken a picture of the contraction monitor! The graph displayed a constant stream of “hills” and “valleys” with each contraction 2-3 minutes apart. Then suddenly I was given my shot of terbutaline, and the graph literally flat-lined.

I was in awe. I did not know that a drug like this existed! (Although I have to say, my heart racing and jitters felt a lot like the side effects of an epi pen administration. And I came home with a headache–but very few contractions.)

Marianne told us it isn’t a “permanent” fix, but at least, we were able to stop my contractions one more time and buy our Little Boo a few more days, or maybe even weeks. She said we did the right thing coming in and she promised Dr. C that I was “very reliable, and she was sure I would come right back if there was anything unusual.”

I nodded heartily in agreement, while Daniel made some comment about having to twist my arm to get me up here. (Shhh! I want to go home tonight and see our kids!!)

So the combination of the negative result on my fetal fibronectin test and my very positive response to the terbutaline, was enough for Dr. C, who said I could go home.

Personally I think they needed my bed there in triage. There were more pregnant women in the waiting room.

And I was most willing to give it up!

When we got home, Mara greeted me with the most enthusiastic tears of joy imaginable from a three-year-old. Daniel’s mom said she had a hard time when she woke up, dealing with the fact that I was in the hospital again. I guess Micah handled it much better. While Mara hugged me (and wouldn’t let go), Micah hugged Daddy’s legs saying “Dadda!” I guess he knew he should be hugging somebody at that moment.

I’m still pinching myself. I really expected them to try increasing my procardia, and then (when that didn’t work) to keep me, at least overnight. I really didn’t expect a single shot to knock out my contractions. And I really expected to go to bed without my dear family tonight.

“It’s not crack,” but it’s pretty amazing, that terbutaline!

So last night was kind of rough . . .

The whole preterm labor thing can be very frustrating. Trying to figure out whether these contractions are intense enough or frequent enough to call the doc. Because every time I have called, they have sent me to L&D triage (“It’s better to be on the safe side.”)

Almost every night in December I had this struggle between 1 – 3 AM, not my sharpest hours of the day, and a time when I always drifted back to sleep between intense contractions and struggled with how many I’d really had that hour and whether or not they were “like clockwork,” since they would be 6 minutes apart for an hour, except for the 15 minutes when I drifted off, when they were . . . who knows how many minutes apart?

Well, since my hospital stay at the end of December, my contractions have been weaker at night and many nights I’ve even slept through them. I’m sure the procardia has helped and I’m sure bedrest doesn’t hurt either.

But last night from 12:30 -3:30 AM my contractions were rather intense and four minutes apart. I was back to all the mental wrestling: How intense are they really? And are they “like clockwork,” if that time they were only three minutes apart? And: if I go up to the hospital, are they just going to give me IVs, monitor me, say I’m still 1 cm and send me back home? Or (maybe worse) keep me in the hospital for a few days, say I’m still 1 cm and send me back home?

I never know what to do.

This morning I woke up with contractions, still rather strong (not quite as strong as the ones in the middle of the night) but strong enough and close enough, that we decided  we should call the doctor.

So you know the drill . . . “we want you to go on in to Labor and Delivery triage to get checked out and stay on the monitors for a little bit. . . We’ll tell them you’re coming. . .”

[sigh] Here we go again.

At least she’s still inside, I keep reminding myself. She’s not in the NICU. This is a good thing.

Today is THE DAY

No, dear, if you’re reading this, I’m not in labor. . . Just reminiscing up here in my bed!

Today is the day gestationally (in my last pregnancy) that Micah was born.

I told Daniel this last night, and he found it disturbing: “Really?! YIKES!”

I thought it was encouraging–a positive thing! I mean, I’m hardly even dilated this time (every woman who has had  a baby before is currently 1 cm, right?). And while I am contracting, on progesterone, procardia and bedrest, at least I’m not in the hospital like I was before Micah was born.

I’m not thinking our little girl will make it to her due date (March 6th), but every day from this point on is an “extra” day that she’s growing and developing in the womb, where she belongs right now, instead of in the NICU.

So I have to say, today was a big milestone for Little Boo and me!

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