Showing all posts in Partial Molar Pregnancy

// This post was written February 15, 2019 //

> continued from the post on February 2nd:

Jan 30: Someone woke me up, I’m assuming it was my main nurse. What I thought was a second later, Jim kissed me on my forehead. I asked him later if he was there when they woke me up and apparently he wasn’t, so I must have had a few minutes to myself there. Anyway. Jim walked down to the end of my bed and started to massage my feet. I kept asking him questions and apparently I had asked every single question like 3-4 times each. Hahaha, it must be so much fun to see someone wake up from anesthesia. A nurse came in and asked how I was feeling. I felt pretty good but I told her I was really hungry. She asked me if I wanted some toast and something to drink. I could basically choose whatever kind of beverage I wanted, but I thought that maybe my blood sugar level should go up a bit now after no food and being put to sleep, so I asked for regular ginger ale. A little bit later she came back in with a tray. She helped me sit up and to adjust the heating tube or whatever it was that was wrapped around my belly (I wouldn’t mind sleeping with that all the time it felt amazing) and took the needle out of my arm. I put some butter and jam on the toast and took a bite. I swear that this was the best meal I’ve ever had. That plain boring toast tasted like the most exclusive meal ever existed. Absolutely delicious.

I finished my amazing meal and my main nurse came in and asked me to stand up for her. She helped me out of bed and then had me prove to her that I could stand on my own. I felt great. I then noticed blood in bed and that I was wearing the most sexiest cotton underwear of all time. They made me feel 90 years old on my death bed. I can only imagine how women feel after actually giving birth. The nurse took the rest of the IV stuff off my arm and told Jim to go get our car and drive it up to the main entrance and that someone will come and pick me up in a wheelchair and meet him outside. She left and I told Jim to stay with me til I had got dressed. I walked into the bathroom to wash my hands and face. Then I took my gown off and noticed that I had over bled my pad and sexy underwear. I didn’t see any other pads in the room and the one I had actually brought myself (just in case) was left in the car for some reason. I didn’t feel like calling the nurse back so I just put my own underwear on top of everything and then put my sweatpants on. I grabbed some paper tissues from the bathroom and put in a pocket.
Jim left and I sat on the bed forever fully dressed until some young guy came. We said hi and then didn’t speak to each other. He rolled me down the long hallway and once more I felt like I was a really sick patient. When we rolled out to the waiting area, that was now completely full of people, I felt very awkward. I realized that it said “University of dance” on my sweatpants and it just felt strange. Dancers don’t get sick, right. Why was I there? Why couldn’t I walk on my own and dance around in the hallways? We took the elevator down, I called Jim and asked where he was, I was rolled out to the car. The guy and I now said goodbye and then I got into the car. I put all the tissues under my butt so that there wouldn’t be any chance of a bloody leather seat when we came home.
Back at home I just stayed on the couch all day. I had so much energy, I felt absolutely amazing so I wanted to be up and running and get a bunch of shit done in the apartment, but, I forced myself to relax on the couch. So boring! I watched all the new released Kimmy Schmidt episodes and solved lots of sudokus. I got up a few times to just walk around in the apartment, cause it said in my papers that I should. 

It was strange to look at my pregnant belly that I knew had no baby in it anymore

All day after the surgery, I was in a pretty good mood. I felt fine. I knew my baby was gone but it was ok. Saying goodbye to Wiggly before maybe made it easier to deal with, I don’t know. The next morning I opened instagram on my phone. The first post was my friend announcing her pregnancy with an ultrasound picture of their 12 week old baby. Second post was of another woman halfway through her pregnancy and third post was an ad for some baby thing. I closed the app and for some reason went to facebook which I rarely do. First post was a friend posting the news of their newborn baby. Second post was a picture of a friends children. Third post was a sponsored ad for baby stuff. I deleted the app. A few days later I uninstalled instagram as well. I just felt “it should have been me posting baby news”. Of course I was happy for everyone else and their happy stories, but I could not handle it then. I decided that I needed to take a break from social media and internet over all.

I spent a few more days mostly on the couch. I wanted my body to really heal. On Thursday the day after surgery I went for a long walk by myself. This happened to be the coldest day of the year. My phone said -10°c, feels like -23°c. With four layers of clothes I insisted on going out. I walked to the “cute street”. Right in the beginning of that street, I saw so many deers. I could only count 11 but I’m sure there were more. And we were close to each other, I could see specific details in their faces. They were just grazing in peoples front- and backyards. It was so powerful and exactly what I needed that day. It was a very nice walk, but I could feel my hips giving up on my way home. Not sure if it was due to the cold or that the walk was too long. They opened my hips during the surgery so it makes sense that they were sensitive. This made me taking it extra slow and easy for a few more days. It’s stupid to rush things. 

The questions I had asked Jim while I was waking up from anesthesia, I asked them again later when we were home. “Did you talk to the doctor?” He did, and she told him that the baby hadn’t developed like it should. Things weren’t in the right places and stuff. Two days after the surgery I woke up really early thinking about Wiggly. Suddenly I felt more connection to the baby now when it was no longer inside me. Weird. Maybe his soul was there with me? And then I made up a story about Wiggly. I like to think that he wanted to be the next Picasso. He wanted to show us how creative he could be with himself as the piece of art (I say he because I’ve had a feeling that it’s a boy, we’ll find out hopefully on our next appointment if it was a boy or a girl). It is very weird to make up this kind of story, but it helps me understand the whole thing more I think. With no connection to it while I was pregnant I didn’t feel like I took the whole thing serious enough. So by hearing about his (or her) body I could suddenly picture it and be more connected and through that move on. 

Written February 2, 2019, published in the end of this month

Very unflattering angle haha.
I look a lot happier than I was. However, I was in a pretty good mood considering..

> continued from the post on February 1:

Monday: I cried in the car the whole way home. Jim obviously skipped work and stayed home with me. We went to a drive in to get breakfast. My first real coffee in 2.5 months, I’ve only been drinking yucky decaf if any coffee or tea. I ate my tuna bagel, Jim ate his old fashion donut. And then we just sat there on the couch holding each other sipping coffee.

On Tuesday morning we had an appointment with our Dr. First I had a nurse take some blood, weigh me and check my blood pressure. And then the Dr came in and she hugged me for a really long time. We asked a bunch of questions and then the Dr told us a bunch of stuff. We asked for and she also suggested that we do some genetics testing on the baby and then maybe on us. It’s probably not gonna be covered by insurance but we don’t really care, we want to know everything. The Dr told us that we have to be at the Greenwich Hospital sometime around 9-9:30 am the following day and that I was scheduled for surgery at 11 am. She told me that I have to take a prescribed pill up my fiffi before bedtime and that I can not eat or drink anything past midnight. 
Jim drove to work and I took an uber home. All I felt like doing was to go to the gym or the dance studio to work all emotions out but since both my Dr and I were afraid that my body might start the process of getting the baby out by itself, it seemed like a terrible idea to go work out. So, I watched crap on netflix and HBO with Thor next to me all day. We did go for a longer walk right when I came home though. The store next to our apartment didn’t have the pill I needed so I had to go to another store downtown. 

And so came Wednesday. We were at the hospital around 9:20 ish. They took us to a private room, asked me to undress everything and put a huge and soft purple gown with opening to the back on and some cozy socks with non-slippery things both under and on top of the feet (strange), and then I was asked to crawl into bed. They took my blood pressure, asked me a bunch of questions and a nurse put an IV in my arm. After a few visits of nurses we were left alone for little over an hour. I was writing with my sister until my arm started to hurt from the IV. Closer to 11 am, I had my nurse come in and help me go to the bathroom. I could have done it by myself but for some reason I had to ask to go. After that, two nurses came in and put a hot blanket on me and then told Jim that he could either stay in the room and watch tv on the little screen or he could go out in lobby and grab himself a coffee. He walked out and the nurses rolled me in my bed after him. I felt like a really sick person. It’s very weird being rolled around seeing the nurses hanging in the hallway trying not to look at you when you’re all snuggled up in blankets and have a super sexy bathing cap on your head and IV in your arm. They rolled me to a waiting area. It looked like they could fit maybe 3 beds there, but I was the only one, thank god. I was left alone for about 5 minutes. Right in front of me was a glass window to an office room for the nurses and doctors. I could tell they were trying to not look at me and make me uncomfortable, but that almost made it more awkward.

I decided to take those minutes to close my eyes, hold my hands on my belly and say goodbye to Wiggly. 

A nurse came and asked the same questions I had already answered someone else. In the end she asked me to tell her in my own words what I was there for. “eehh…I’m…” I didn’t know what to answer. I could tell her the medical words but I wasn’t sure I should and I didn’t know what other words to say. Eventually I just said “I’m getting my dead baby out”. She smiled in pity and then rolled my bed into the operation room. There were maybe 5 people in there with me. One nurse behind me told me right away that she is putting the anesthesia in, the other nurse told me I can’t fall asleep yet because I need to sit up and then scoot over to the operation bed. She tried to fix my over sized gown and then told me to lay down. A third nurse told me they were going to strap my arms…

…and then I woke up back in my private room. 

// Shit, I need a break now. I’ll continue to write later //

When is this hot outfit ending up on the runway during fashion week?

Written February 1, 2019, published in the end of this month

It’s been a tough week. I don’t even know how to begin to write this.
We came to the Dr office on Monday. The ultrasound lady acted weird and didn’t even recognize us. She told me that since it’s my first ultrasound I have to do it vaginally so I should get undressed from hips down, and then she left the room. We were both very confused. When she came back I told her that we had our first ultrasound weeks ago and we were there to do the big tests and stuff. “Oh no, that’s not here, that’s done by specialists at the Greenwich Hospital, they booked you for the wrong thing. That test is time sensitive, you have to get it done this week. I will go talk to the Dr”, and she ran away again. 
She came back and said they will help us get an appointment and since we were there we could get an ultrasound anyway and pictures of our baby for free. So I pulled my sweater up and she put the gel on and she pressed the ultrasound thing on my belly. And there it was, a much bigger baby. It was facing sideways down so we wanted it to turn around. The lady shook my belly trying to annoy the baby so it would move around. Nothing happened. 
After awhile we decided to do it vaginally too since I already had my pants off. The lady sat there shaking the stick inside me, looked very concerned starring at the screen, hit buttons on the keyboard and said nothing. Noone said anything. 
Eventually she got up and said she needed to go get the Dr. “Is everything ok?” Jim asked but the lady just left. We were now both terrified. 
Doctor came in, a women we hadn’t had the pleasure to meet with yet. They put the stick in again. Dr had her hand on my knee, the lady looked sad. They both just starred at the screen. 

“You probably figured out that if I had to come in, then there must be something going on. I am very sorry to tell you this, but there’s no heartbeat”. 

I wasn’t shocked. I just said “ok”. She told us that it seems like the baby had just died, like that weekend or something, that it looked like I was 12-13 weeks along. She told us that we have to meet with our Dr the next day and they will schedule me for D&C on Wednesday. She and the lady left and I got up to get dressed. I wiped all the sticky stuff off my belly and between my legs and started to cry. Damn it. My worries and strange feelings that I’ve had for a few weeks were true. There were something wrong with our baby. 

// This is hard for me to write about. I need a little break. I’ll write more tomorrow. // 

Update Feb 13, 2019: The baby was probably dead already when I wrote this. My feelings of that something might be wrong was so strong and I really hoped that I was just being silly. But I guess I somehow knew.

Written January 27, 2019, published in February

I woke up very nervous today. Our big ultrasound test is tomorrow morning (I forgot what it’s called). I have a strange feeling and I hope I’m wrong. Every mother-to-be is worried about everything and nothing and I hope this is just nerves. 
I also woke up very angry, super stressed and really sad today. What can that be? Part of the pregnancy I assume:) Poor Jim though, he’s the one I end up being angry at and I have absolute no reason for that. I feel like I need to cry as well but since I don’t have anything to cry about, then why should I? Hahah, strange day today for sure. 
The appointment is at 9 am tomorrow. I hope we see a healthy little baby on the screen ♥