In my last post, I mentioned I was at the hospital the other day to see if the hospital would be open to an idea I have. My idea stemmed from this blog. And this blog was created because of a graduate course that I took this summer. In that course, I was supported and cheered on by my classmates to share my story. I was hesitant to share because I felt my story wasn't any different than anyone else's - all birthing stories are unique and special. Plus, I wasn't sure how I felt putting it out there for the world to see. But over the course, I felt like I was helping in some small way and maybe, just maybe, this could be turned into something.
For my graduate course work, my final course will be a Capstone course. A course where we come up with an original idea, put together everything we have learned, and put the idea into action.
I don't have all the details to my idea, but I know I have a starting point. Once I have more, I will share, but until then, I will keep you waiting and ask you questions. I think this blog may turn into a place where I continue to share my experience, but also talk through my ideas for my Capstone project.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Going Back
Yesterday I went back to the hospital.
And a flood of emotions came over me. I wasn't expecting that.
In hindsight, I feel like I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. Even though I had instigated the meeting with some hospital folks, my mind never once thought of what it would be like to go back. I had thought about going back to see the nurses who had taken care of Carson, but I never did it. Maybe deep down I knew why, but today, all those emotions from when I was there the last time came rushing back.
As I drove up to the hospital and turned left towards the parking garage, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I despise that parking garage. It's not a regular parking garage to me. To me it represents the feelings of panic as I raced through it the day my water broke. It is the garage that my mom and husband drove in and out of for one month to take care of my baby and me. It is the garage that I drove day in and day out (sometimes by myself) to go see my baby. I hate that garage. It represents exhaustion, helplessness and a little bit of sadness. And all those emotions came back as I entered it to grab my parking ticket.
And it didn't stop there. As soon as I walked down the stairs towards the hospital doors, I remembered vividly how I had done that for 14 days. I remember how it felt. It was hot. It was sad to see all the other patients leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs. And it was bittersweet to see families bringing home their babies. I remember thinking, "When will this be done?" "When do I not have to do this anymore?" Each day was long and tiring.
I remember the routine of getting my identification badge made and walking towards the elevator to go up, wash my hands and start the routine in the NICU. The same security guy was still there at the elevator. I wondered if he recognized me, probably not.
Once I got in the room for the meeting, I thought I was fine, but once I started sharing my story to the directors of the neonatal services, I lost it. Here I was more than one year later and I still got emotional about my experience. Because it was so much more than having a baby. It was an experience of not bringing home my baby when I went home. It was trusting complete stangers who became life savers and confidants taking care of my family. It was each day going to the hospital hoping to hear the good news that my daughter would come home, but not hearing those words. It meant another day of leaving the hospital and having to be a mother from afar.
Those were the emotions that surfaced yesterday. Those are the emotions that I know some mother is going through right now. And that is why I want to help. And that is why I was there at the hospital yesterday.
And a flood of emotions came over me. I wasn't expecting that.
In hindsight, I feel like I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. Even though I had instigated the meeting with some hospital folks, my mind never once thought of what it would be like to go back. I had thought about going back to see the nurses who had taken care of Carson, but I never did it. Maybe deep down I knew why, but today, all those emotions from when I was there the last time came rushing back.
As I drove up to the hospital and turned left towards the parking garage, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I despise that parking garage. It's not a regular parking garage to me. To me it represents the feelings of panic as I raced through it the day my water broke. It is the garage that my mom and husband drove in and out of for one month to take care of my baby and me. It is the garage that I drove day in and day out (sometimes by myself) to go see my baby. I hate that garage. It represents exhaustion, helplessness and a little bit of sadness. And all those emotions came back as I entered it to grab my parking ticket.
And it didn't stop there. As soon as I walked down the stairs towards the hospital doors, I remembered vividly how I had done that for 14 days. I remember how it felt. It was hot. It was sad to see all the other patients leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs. And it was bittersweet to see families bringing home their babies. I remember thinking, "When will this be done?" "When do I not have to do this anymore?" Each day was long and tiring.
I remember the routine of getting my identification badge made and walking towards the elevator to go up, wash my hands and start the routine in the NICU. The same security guy was still there at the elevator. I wondered if he recognized me, probably not.
Once I got in the room for the meeting, I thought I was fine, but once I started sharing my story to the directors of the neonatal services, I lost it. Here I was more than one year later and I still got emotional about my experience. Because it was so much more than having a baby. It was an experience of not bringing home my baby when I went home. It was trusting complete stangers who became life savers and confidants taking care of my family. It was each day going to the hospital hoping to hear the good news that my daughter would come home, but not hearing those words. It meant another day of leaving the hospital and having to be a mother from afar.
Those were the emotions that surfaced yesterday. Those are the emotions that I know some mother is going through right now. And that is why I want to help. And that is why I was there at the hospital yesterday.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Disclaimer
I want to apologize for any spelling and grammar errors in yesterday's post from my husband. I did not know how to copy and paste his Word document, so I typed it up quickly, spell-checked and posted. I should have been more thorough. So I have reposted his post, since I now know how to copy and paste into blogspot. (I just want the world to know he is very smart!)
Happy reading!
Happy reading!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Why?
This post is coming to you from Jennifer's husband. Jennifer asked me to write this to illustrate my point of view to her readers. I want to start out by saying that sharing personal experiences with strangers is not my strong suit (one of many differences between Jennifer and I), but I will do what I can to get my point across.
When our saga started, I met Jennifer at the hospital and my head was spinning. I didn't know what to say or do, so I said very little (running my mouth when I am overwhelmed is not my strong suit either). The first day I provided hand holding, back rubbing, phone calls to mom, etc. I pretty much let the doctors to their thing and tried to stay calm and out of the way. A hysterical husband is the last thing that Jennifer or the doctors needed. The doctors actually did a pretty good job of staying calm themselves and making sure that we we knew exactly what they were doing and why there were doing it. My opinion of the doctor that laid it all out there for us is a little different than Jennifer's. This lady was matter-of-fact, straight to the point, and did not waste any words (my kind of woman). I did not know anything about having a premature child (or any child for that matter) and she gave me a 10 minute crash course on the risks and what we should expect. I appreciated the fact that she did not sugar coat anything, and left very little to the imagination. When people start dancing around details, I naturally imagine that these details will affect me in a negative way. I was able to wrap my mind around some of the scary things she was telling us and strangely enough it made me feel better.
Even though the first day was hard, it went quickly. The next four weeks were more of a marathon (distance running is not my strong suit either). It was a slow grind and I spent most of my time at work or the hospital. I was staying every other night in the hospital, taking turns with my mother-in-law (eternally grateful for her). Consequently, I was only sleeping every other night. I'm a light sleeper to begin with and a constant stream of nurses in and out and the un-rhythmic noises of monitoring equipment ensured that I would never sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. My point here is that I spent the next month being TIRED and worried. At the same time, Jennifer was forced to sit in bed all day and do nothing but worry (100 times worse than my situation). The question that she asked me several times per day every day was: Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong? Why am I spending my maternity leave sitting in this hospital without my baby? Of course I didn't know the answers to these specific questions. All I knew is that "I don't know" was not an acceptable answer. I also knew that my girl needs constant reassurance (one of the many nuances of Jennifer), so that is what I did. My answer to the question was always the same: "Because this is the way it was meant to be and once all is said and done everything will be just fine. Everything happens for a reason and someday we will know that reason." I must have said this a thousand times, and it usually made her feel better for about an hour and then the cycle would repeat. She tried to wear me down, but I think I held it together well enough. Answering this question was probably the most important thing I did for Jennifer and Carson over those four weeks. Other than this, I felt pretty helpless.
To wrap this up, if I were able to turn back the clock one year and I could give myself some idea of what to expect here is what it would be:
When our saga started, I met Jennifer at the hospital and my head was spinning. I didn't know what to say or do, so I said very little (running my mouth when I am overwhelmed is not my strong suit either). The first day I provided hand holding, back rubbing, phone calls to mom, etc. I pretty much let the doctors to their thing and tried to stay calm and out of the way. A hysterical husband is the last thing that Jennifer or the doctors needed. The doctors actually did a pretty good job of staying calm themselves and making sure that we we knew exactly what they were doing and why there were doing it. My opinion of the doctor that laid it all out there for us is a little different than Jennifer's. This lady was matter-of-fact, straight to the point, and did not waste any words (my kind of woman). I did not know anything about having a premature child (or any child for that matter) and she gave me a 10 minute crash course on the risks and what we should expect. I appreciated the fact that she did not sugar coat anything, and left very little to the imagination. When people start dancing around details, I naturally imagine that these details will affect me in a negative way. I was able to wrap my mind around some of the scary things she was telling us and strangely enough it made me feel better.
Even though the first day was hard, it went quickly. The next four weeks were more of a marathon (distance running is not my strong suit either). It was a slow grind and I spent most of my time at work or the hospital. I was staying every other night in the hospital, taking turns with my mother-in-law (eternally grateful for her). Consequently, I was only sleeping every other night. I'm a light sleeper to begin with and a constant stream of nurses in and out and the un-rhythmic noises of monitoring equipment ensured that I would never sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. My point here is that I spent the next month being TIRED and worried. At the same time, Jennifer was forced to sit in bed all day and do nothing but worry (100 times worse than my situation). The question that she asked me several times per day every day was: Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong? Why am I spending my maternity leave sitting in this hospital without my baby? Of course I didn't know the answers to these specific questions. All I knew is that "I don't know" was not an acceptable answer. I also knew that my girl needs constant reassurance (one of the many nuances of Jennifer), so that is what I did. My answer to the question was always the same: "Because this is the way it was meant to be and once all is said and done everything will be just fine. Everything happens for a reason and someday we will know that reason." I must have said this a thousand times, and it usually made her feel better for about an hour and then the cycle would repeat. She tried to wear me down, but I think I held it together well enough. Answering this question was probably the most important thing I did for Jennifer and Carson over those four weeks. Other than this, I felt pretty helpless.
To wrap this up, if I were able to turn back the clock one year and I could give myself some idea of what to expect here is what it would be:
- Prepare to be tired
- Prepare to feel helpless
- Figure out what you can do and do it
Thursday, June 23, 2011
A Major Meltdown
Have you ever tried to put on a brave face just to have a complete meltdown later on? Or tried to hold your emotions in, but sooner or later they have gotten the better of you and you just have to let it out?
I reached that point about a week and a half into Carson's stay in the NICU/Progressive NICU.
Looking back, I'm surprised it took that long to have my first major meltdown. It probably should have happened the day I left the hospital. But it didn't and I think I know why.
Brent and I were both trying to put on our brave faces for each other. Or at least I was. I cannot speak for him, but this is what I did.
I tried to put on my brave face because if I melted down, I thought, it would be too hard to get back to being positive again. That if I just lost it, then that meant I was feeling sorry for myself, when other babies were in a tougher situation than our daughter. I felt like I needed to stay positive for Carson. Even though I wasn't with her 24/7, I felt that she could feel my energy. I didn't want any negative energy around her. Only positive thoughts. I wanted her to feel 100% love, support, and confidence that everything was going to be okay.
But it did not feel that way all the time. And that's when I couldn't keep it in anymore.
We were driving home from the hospital. Carson had a setback. She had a Brady-apnea, so that meant at least another seven days in the hospital. As we were driving home, Brent asked me, "What was I thinking?" (Because I'm always thinking about something.) I told him, "I just feel like crying." He said three simple words, "Let it out."
And oh, did I.
I mean, huge, big tears. Tears that make you have to grasp for breath. I think I cried all the way home. And I screamed. Because not only was I sad. But I was pissed. Pissed that my healthy pregnancy turned out this way. I was mad that my maternity leave was spent two weeks in the hospital before Carson was born and how many days in the hospital afterwards. I was mad that I may not get the time I wanted or needed with my daughter before I had to go back to work (thankfully, my employer at the time was AMAZING!)
So I had the full range of emotions of being sad, mad and just downright angry. I felt like I had gotten robbed. Robbed of valuable time with my daughter. And I didn't like it. I wanted it fixed.
But what I learned from that moment is that I needed a good cry. I needed to get those feelings out because I wouldn't have been able to keep them in. I think I needed to show my husband what I was feeling, so he could understand - even though I think he did understand. And once I let it all out, I felt so much better. When it was over, I felt this huge stress lifted from my shoulders. I felt so much better and I could believe again that everything would be okay.
I reached that point about a week and a half into Carson's stay in the NICU/Progressive NICU.
Looking back, I'm surprised it took that long to have my first major meltdown. It probably should have happened the day I left the hospital. But it didn't and I think I know why.
Brent and I were both trying to put on our brave faces for each other. Or at least I was. I cannot speak for him, but this is what I did.
I tried to put on my brave face because if I melted down, I thought, it would be too hard to get back to being positive again. That if I just lost it, then that meant I was feeling sorry for myself, when other babies were in a tougher situation than our daughter. I felt like I needed to stay positive for Carson. Even though I wasn't with her 24/7, I felt that she could feel my energy. I didn't want any negative energy around her. Only positive thoughts. I wanted her to feel 100% love, support, and confidence that everything was going to be okay.
But it did not feel that way all the time. And that's when I couldn't keep it in anymore.
We were driving home from the hospital. Carson had a setback. She had a Brady-apnea, so that meant at least another seven days in the hospital. As we were driving home, Brent asked me, "What was I thinking?" (Because I'm always thinking about something.) I told him, "I just feel like crying." He said three simple words, "Let it out."
And oh, did I.
I mean, huge, big tears. Tears that make you have to grasp for breath. I think I cried all the way home. And I screamed. Because not only was I sad. But I was pissed. Pissed that my healthy pregnancy turned out this way. I was mad that my maternity leave was spent two weeks in the hospital before Carson was born and how many days in the hospital afterwards. I was mad that I may not get the time I wanted or needed with my daughter before I had to go back to work (thankfully, my employer at the time was AMAZING!)
So I had the full range of emotions of being sad, mad and just downright angry. I felt like I had gotten robbed. Robbed of valuable time with my daughter. And I didn't like it. I wanted it fixed.
But what I learned from that moment is that I needed a good cry. I needed to get those feelings out because I wouldn't have been able to keep them in. I think I needed to show my husband what I was feeling, so he could understand - even though I think he did understand. And once I let it all out, I felt so much better. When it was over, I felt this huge stress lifted from my shoulders. I felt so much better and I could believe again that everything would be okay.
Friday, June 17, 2011
The Next Five Days
The next five days were the same routine.
My mom and I would get to the hospital by 9am for the previous mentioned routine for the day. And depending upon the day, we would either stay until 12pm or go run some errands and be back by 3pm. I at least wanted to see Carson twice a day, if not more. One thing we could not plan for was that if we did get there, sometimes, the NICU would be closed because they were operating or needed to discuss sensitive information to parents. So my vote was usually to stay as long as we could, since you didn't know if you would miss out later on in the day.
Please remember, my mom still hadn't held Carson, since we wanted to keep Carson "germ-free". Well, we were nearing five days in the NICU and the nurses were telling us that it looked really good that she would be moved to the Progressive NICU. I thought, "Wow, so soon!! This is wonderful!!"
Since Carson was doing so well, and my mom had been with me, I really wanted my mom to experience that Grandmother (but she goes by Gia) - Granddaughter bond. My mom held Carson on the fourth day in NICU.
And it was magical.
Through the night, I would get up and pump.
(And people would say, "Oh, you must be getting sleep, since Carson is not home yet. First, wrong thing to say to me. Second, no, I am not getting sleep because I have to get up every two to three hours to make sure my child has food. Third, I much rather have my child home.)
(And people would say, "Oh, you must be getting sleep, since Carson is not home yet. First, wrong thing to say to me. Second, no, I am not getting sleep because I have to get up every two to three hours to make sure my child has food. Third, I much rather have my child home.)
My mom and I would get to the hospital by 9am for the previous mentioned routine for the day. And depending upon the day, we would either stay until 12pm or go run some errands and be back by 3pm. I at least wanted to see Carson twice a day, if not more. One thing we could not plan for was that if we did get there, sometimes, the NICU would be closed because they were operating or needed to discuss sensitive information to parents. So my vote was usually to stay as long as we could, since you didn't know if you would miss out later on in the day.
Please remember, my mom still hadn't held Carson, since we wanted to keep Carson "germ-free". Well, we were nearing five days in the NICU and the nurses were telling us that it looked really good that she would be moved to the Progressive NICU. I thought, "Wow, so soon!! This is wonderful!!"
Since Carson was doing so well, and my mom had been with me, I really wanted my mom to experience that Grandmother (but she goes by Gia) - Granddaughter bond. My mom held Carson on the fourth day in NICU.
And it was magical.
Have you had a moment like that with a daughter, son, niece, nephew, cousin, or best friend's child?
Gia holding her special grandbaby.
Gia and Carson
My mom wears her mother's wedding ring, so I felt like my Grandma was there. Carson's middle name is my Grandma's first name, Marie.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Day 1 in the NICU
The night Carson was born, Brent was able to take our parents to the NICU to visit Carson. Unfortunately, the grandparents weren't able to hold her because we wanted to limit germ exposure, but they were able to see her. Brent learned the ins-and-outs, so by the next morning, when I was ready to see my little baby, I knew the routine.
For our NICU experience, every time we went to see Carson, we had to wash our hands for two minutes and wear a medical gown. (Those things get hot and my hands were so dry by the end of June, but it was all worth it.)
When we went to visit the NICU while I was on bed rest, it was really sad to see the tiny babies in there and picture our baby in there too. It's not a place where you want your child to be, but if they are, they are in EXTREMELY good hands. They have a dedicated nurse watching over them and checking on them constantly. The nurses are empathetic to the parents and of course, professional. You can tell they love what they do and they are passionate for taking care of the tiny ones of the world!!
Our routine started by 9am every day, since that is when her first feeding of the day started and the neo-natal doctors made their rounds. I always wanted to be there when the doctors were there to hear what they had to say. Her routine was like this: Change her diaper, take her temperature and then try to nurse or feed her a bottle. Then get as much snuggle time as we wanted.
The emotions that I remember from those first few days were happiness, anxiousness and sadness. I know hormones played a role, but it was this emotional roller coaster of being happy that Carson was doing well and was healthy. But I was sad that she was tied up to machines, IVs in her little head and that we couldn't take her home yet. I was anxious because the doctors and nurses never give you a timeline of when she will come home. Only that she must meet certain criteria, so then you are just hoping that she continues on the path of maintaining her own temperature and gaining weight. So that's what we did. We nurtured her when we could get to the NICU and let the wonderful nurses and doctors do the rest.
Pictures in the NICU
Carson all snuggled after a feeding with Daddy.
I heart my bottles - 1 oz to begin with!
For our NICU experience, every time we went to see Carson, we had to wash our hands for two minutes and wear a medical gown. (Those things get hot and my hands were so dry by the end of June, but it was all worth it.)
When we went to visit the NICU while I was on bed rest, it was really sad to see the tiny babies in there and picture our baby in there too. It's not a place where you want your child to be, but if they are, they are in EXTREMELY good hands. They have a dedicated nurse watching over them and checking on them constantly. The nurses are empathetic to the parents and of course, professional. You can tell they love what they do and they are passionate for taking care of the tiny ones of the world!!
Our routine started by 9am every day, since that is when her first feeding of the day started and the neo-natal doctors made their rounds. I always wanted to be there when the doctors were there to hear what they had to say. Her routine was like this: Change her diaper, take her temperature and then try to nurse or feed her a bottle. Then get as much snuggle time as we wanted.
The emotions that I remember from those first few days were happiness, anxiousness and sadness. I know hormones played a role, but it was this emotional roller coaster of being happy that Carson was doing well and was healthy. But I was sad that she was tied up to machines, IVs in her little head and that we couldn't take her home yet. I was anxious because the doctors and nurses never give you a timeline of when she will come home. Only that she must meet certain criteria, so then you are just hoping that she continues on the path of maintaining her own temperature and gaining weight. So that's what we did. We nurtured her when we could get to the NICU and let the wonderful nurses and doctors do the rest.
Pictures in the NICU
Carson all snuggled after a feeding with Daddy.
I heart my bottles - 1 oz to begin with!
Carson and Mommy.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Mission: Pampers
When I checked my e-mail, there was this huge advertisement that greeted me:
I usually ignore these because they don't relate to me, but this one had me at their headline, "Every baby is a little miracle."
I usually ignore these because they don't relate to me, but this one had me at their headline, "Every baby is a little miracle."
I had to click on the link and I encourage you to do the same:
The link takes you to the Pampers' YouTube page which showcases a moving commercial about however your little bundle of joy enters the world, each baby is special and needs tender-loving care.
I've seen this commerical before, and it always brings a little tear to my eye. It does show that every story is unique and that every baby is a little miracle.
Along with buying their product (which I do love Pampers), they also are setting out missions for people to choose to accept. This month's challenge - helping father's bond with their child (in honor of Father's Day). This is a special mission because it is so important for fathers to feel that connection with their newborn. Mothers feel that connection as soon as they find out they're pregnant, but in my opinion, it takes until the birth of the child for a father to "get it".
It is so important for the baby to feel the love from both parents. Being taken care of from both mom and dad and not just mom. Plus, it helps the parents share the new responsibilities.
I will brag on Brent for a minute too. He was awesome. He connected right away to Carson, and I know he was proud of the fact that she looked EXACTLY like him. We called her his mini-me. They really are two peas in a pod. Along with his silliness with her, he is a rock-star dad. From Day 1 in the NICU, he shared in the feedings, changings, and taking her temperature. Once we got her home, he would do the late night feeding, so I could sleep for 6 hours until her 3am feeding. He still shares in the feeding, cleaning, changing and playing. He is an awesome dad to Carson and I know that is so important for her development. So I will choose to accept this mission to make sure he gets some special father-daughter time this Father's Day.
So please take a minute to click on the link and if you have a special dad in your life, tell him what he means to you.
Friday, June 3, 2011
News & NICU
(Looking good for bed rest and rockin the circulation leg thingys - yes, the technical term.)During your stay on the high-risk maternity floor, you see a lot of nurses and doctors. For the most part, I really didn't mind getting interrupted every three hours to get an update on my progress or even care that they saw me without any make-up on or have consecutive bad hair days. (That's another blog post for another day!)
The thing that really bothered me was that they didn't sugar coat the news. And for me, I am a hearts and rainbows kinda of girl. Give me the sugar. I can imagine the bad stuff, but tell me the good stuff. Tell me the stuff that makes me think positive and believe that everything is going to be okay.
Nope, not here. And I understood why. Because they don't know. They don't know what you (or they) are in store for until your little bundle of joy is born, so they give you ALL the scenarios. And honestly, they are all pretty scary. Not fun for a person who is a visual learner and does not want to picture her baby with feeding or breathing tubes.
I think that was one of the most stressful times on bed rest. Hearing all the "what if's" or "this is a possibility."
The nurses even suggested getting a tour of the NICU so we would know what to expect when Carson was there. That was hard. Brent and I put on our brave faces that evening, but when we got back to the room, I was sad. There were at least 10 little babies all under 4 pounds. They were just so tiny. The nurses didn't tell us each of their conditions, but did say that for a baby to get out of the NICU, they must master three things:
1. Be able to breathe on their own.
1. Be able to breathe on their own.
2. Maintain their own body temperature.
3. Eat well.
So there were our goals for Carson once she was born.
And for me, my goal was to stay positive. I firmly believe if you think good thoughts, good things will happen. (Plus, a lot of praying done by me, family and friends.)
Do you know anyone that went thru a similar situation? Tell them to e-mail me at hull.jennifer@yahoo.com. Or what situation did you have that you heard all negative but tried to make it a positive?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A (Grand)Mother's Perspective
Jennifer asked me to be a guest writer for this wonderful blog as I am the grandmother to the sweetest 34 week preemie granddaughter in the whole wide world. It is interesting, though, because when Jennifer went into premature labor, my thoughts were not so much on Carson Marie, but on my Jennifer Leigh!I remember Brent calling me to let me know Jennifer was in the hospital. Brent calling, and not Jennifer, was my first clue that this was serious. I listened to him explain what was happening and then I asked to speak to Jennifer. I just asked her "do you want me to come out to Charlotte to be with you?" and she said, "yes", so that was all it took for the next two weeks, my focus was on Jennifer.
Brent picked me up at the airport and we went straight to the hospital. Jennifer was in relatively good spirits but a little scared. I felt she was relieved to see my face and I was definitely relieved to see hers. We are each other's biggest supporters and support and encouragement was definitely what she needed.
Since I knew the hospital staff was taking care of Jennifer, my goals were to take care of everything Jennifer wasn't able to do preparing for Carson's arrival. So I did all the mundane tasks:
- Washed all the baby clothes and bedding (and even washed Brent's clothes, hey I figured he wouldn't care. After all, we were going be house mates for the next two weeks)
- Organized the baby's closet (Brent and I had different interpretations on what Jennifer wanted, but we got it worked out and probably became closer as a result. We actually went shopping together at the hardware store!)
- Painted the baby's room (...oh, and while I was at it, painted several other rooms in the house!)
- Returned/exchanged duplicate gifts (Buy Buy Baby employees became my new best friends)
- Purchased baby things still needed (who would have thunk preemie clothes would be necessary?!?)
Brent and I took turns staying with Jennifer at the hospital. The first night I was there Jennifer was doing so well we thought she could handle staying by herself. HUGE MISTAKE! As soon as we left, Jennifer took to the Internet reading about the complications for a preemie. She called in tears. So there was no more staying alone....PERIOD.
So as Brent and I would take turns spending the night, we also exchanged the days so that he could work and I could handle all the things mentioned above. I don't think either of us really slept all that much - especially at the hospital...the pull-out coaches would never be classified as comfortable. But Jennifer and I enjoyed being together. We talked, we watched Rachel Ray (we love her linguine and sausage with cherry tomatoes and arugula recipe!), The View, Oprah, etc. I brought movies for us to watch (I can't remember which one I got stuck in the DVD player - sorry Jenn!) and best of all we laughed....and we laughed a lot!
Don't Google On Bedrest
So in my last post, I ended on the highs and lows. I will discuss one of the lows.
Like I said, the lows really came at the beginning of the bed rest, and this one happened on the second night of my long stay in the hospital. Earlier that day, I had been admitted to the High-Risk pregnancy floor. It was the end of the day, so my husband and mom were both in the room saying good-bye.
I wanted them to both go to our house and get a good night's sleep. I really thought I would be fine. I reassured them that I would be and they left.
That's when an idle mind is a bad thing. In the back of my head, now that I had all of this time, I wanted to do some research to prepare myself of having a baby born early. So I googled. Big mistake. Huge. It was awful.
I googled something like "delivering at 32 weeks." I was not mentally or emotionally prepared for what popped up. Lists and lists from March of Dimes explaining all the health risks associated with a 32 week preemie. I couldn't handle it. I called my mom instantly.
By the time I could get the words out of what I had done, I was sobbing to my mom on the phone. All I heard was "I'm coming back."
My mom spent the night with me that night and every other night until Carson was born. My mom and Brent made a new rule - I wasn't allowed to stay by myself at night. And that was a good thing for me (probably not for them, since their sleeping arrangements weren't as comfy as mine.)
But it helped me get through the emotional roller coaster. I am not a good patient. I need reassurance and they were there for me whenever my emotions were getting the best of me.
I can't thank them enough for taking turns sleeping by me while nurses came in every three hours to give me medicine, take my blood pressure, temperature and to check Carson on the fetal monitors.
Rock stars is all I have to say. (And later today, I will have my mom's perspective on what we called "Carson's Journey.")
Like I said, the lows really came at the beginning of the bed rest, and this one happened on the second night of my long stay in the hospital. Earlier that day, I had been admitted to the High-Risk pregnancy floor. It was the end of the day, so my husband and mom were both in the room saying good-bye.
I wanted them to both go to our house and get a good night's sleep. I really thought I would be fine. I reassured them that I would be and they left.
That's when an idle mind is a bad thing. In the back of my head, now that I had all of this time, I wanted to do some research to prepare myself of having a baby born early. So I googled. Big mistake. Huge. It was awful.
I googled something like "delivering at 32 weeks." I was not mentally or emotionally prepared for what popped up. Lists and lists from March of Dimes explaining all the health risks associated with a 32 week preemie. I couldn't handle it. I called my mom instantly.
By the time I could get the words out of what I had done, I was sobbing to my mom on the phone. All I heard was "I'm coming back."
My mom spent the night with me that night and every other night until Carson was born. My mom and Brent made a new rule - I wasn't allowed to stay by myself at night. And that was a good thing for me (probably not for them, since their sleeping arrangements weren't as comfy as mine.)
But it helped me get through the emotional roller coaster. I am not a good patient. I need reassurance and they were there for me whenever my emotions were getting the best of me.
I can't thank them enough for taking turns sleeping by me while nurses came in every three hours to give me medicine, take my blood pressure, temperature and to check Carson on the fetal monitors.
Rock stars is all I have to say. (And later today, I will have my mom's perspective on what we called "Carson's Journey.")
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Happy Birthday Jelly Bean!
To My Fabulous Daughter,
Happy birthday sweet Carson Marie!
Today, you turn one year old, and I grow more in awe of you every day. We started off on a crazy journey to get you here, and this blog, is now telling that story that I could not one year ago.
Even though I am writing this letter to you in the digital world, I also wrote one to you that you will open up when you turn 18. My plan is to have 18 letters for you by your 18th birthday. I want each letter to be a little piece of our history as mom and daughter and what that means to me.
So here's a hint of what I wrote to you (and for the digital world to see):
Today on your birthday reminds me of what your dad and I went through 365+ days ago to bring you into this world. We were scared as the doctors told us what life would be like with a preemie, but deep down I knew you would be fine - but I will admit, I did need reassurance from your dad, your Gia and Granddaddy at times.
During my stay in the hospital, I wrote out reasons why you decided to come early and one of them was because you wanted to create your own fireworks (since you were due on July 4th). And create your own fireworks you have.
You came into this world full of energy and life - even at 4 pounds and 6.5 ounces. You were curious about the world around you and that hasn't stopped as you have learned to sit up, roll over and crawl. You love exploring and taking it all in.
You are such a sweet baby and I am so proud to be your mother. We had this instant connection and we both light up when we see one another - and that is the coolest feeling in the world.
As your mom, I want to be the mom that my mom is to me. My mom is always there for me and always believed in me. My mom gave me the confidence to go for anything and to do anything. She taught me that it was important to believe in myself and to like myself.
These are the things I want to teach you. I want you to know that I will always be there for you and support you in whatever you choose to do (as long as it is safe!) I want to teach you the importance of family and being a good friend. I want to teach you to explore the world and see things beyond the city limits of Charlotte. I want you to know in your mind and heart that your parents are your biggest fan and cheerleader and we will be there for you every step of the way. This past year has been amazing with our littlest addition and we can't wait to see what the next year brings us.
I love you so much!
Love,
Mommy
P.S. Followers, do you have any birthday traditions that I can "borrow"?
Happy birthday sweet Carson Marie!
Today, you turn one year old, and I grow more in awe of you every day. We started off on a crazy journey to get you here, and this blog, is now telling that story that I could not one year ago.
Even though I am writing this letter to you in the digital world, I also wrote one to you that you will open up when you turn 18. My plan is to have 18 letters for you by your 18th birthday. I want each letter to be a little piece of our history as mom and daughter and what that means to me.
So here's a hint of what I wrote to you (and for the digital world to see):
Today on your birthday reminds me of what your dad and I went through 365+ days ago to bring you into this world. We were scared as the doctors told us what life would be like with a preemie, but deep down I knew you would be fine - but I will admit, I did need reassurance from your dad, your Gia and Granddaddy at times.
During my stay in the hospital, I wrote out reasons why you decided to come early and one of them was because you wanted to create your own fireworks (since you were due on July 4th). And create your own fireworks you have.
You came into this world full of energy and life - even at 4 pounds and 6.5 ounces. You were curious about the world around you and that hasn't stopped as you have learned to sit up, roll over and crawl. You love exploring and taking it all in.
You are such a sweet baby and I am so proud to be your mother. We had this instant connection and we both light up when we see one another - and that is the coolest feeling in the world.
As your mom, I want to be the mom that my mom is to me. My mom is always there for me and always believed in me. My mom gave me the confidence to go for anything and to do anything. She taught me that it was important to believe in myself and to like myself.
These are the things I want to teach you. I want you to know that I will always be there for you and support you in whatever you choose to do (as long as it is safe!) I want to teach you the importance of family and being a good friend. I want to teach you to explore the world and see things beyond the city limits of Charlotte. I want you to know in your mind and heart that your parents are your biggest fan and cheerleader and we will be there for you every step of the way. This past year has been amazing with our littlest addition and we can't wait to see what the next year brings us.
I love you so much!
Love,
Mommy
P.S. Followers, do you have any birthday traditions that I can "borrow"?
Monday, May 23, 2011
Bedrest
The first 24 hours in the hospital were the most important. The doctors needed to stop my labor and they needed to give me two steroid shots to help Carson's lung development. The lungs are the last to grow, so it was vital to get these two shots. Luckily, the labor stopped and I was able to get the two shots within 24 hours. Once that happened, the next 11 days were spent on the high-risk maternity floor.
You may ask, "Uggh, bedrest, weren't you so bored?"
My answer, "No, this was my first job as mommy. To stay put. Rest. Relax. Plus, the invention of Facebook kept me entertained for hours." (Seriously, it is amazing how many people are on FB during the day. At my previous employer, that was blocked, so I really wasn't on it that much.)
I really did take bed rest as my first job. I thought if I stayed positive and did what the nurses and doctors told me to do, then she would be okay. My goal was to keep her in for 11 days. I wanted her to grow as much as she could, so she would be as big as she needed to get before she made her arrival. And it worked.
But it wasn't an easy 11 days. There were definite highs and definite lows.
You may ask, "Uggh, bedrest, weren't you so bored?"
My answer, "No, this was my first job as mommy. To stay put. Rest. Relax. Plus, the invention of Facebook kept me entertained for hours." (Seriously, it is amazing how many people are on FB during the day. At my previous employer, that was blocked, so I really wasn't on it that much.)
I really did take bed rest as my first job. I thought if I stayed positive and did what the nurses and doctors told me to do, then she would be okay. My goal was to keep her in for 11 days. I wanted her to grow as much as she could, so she would be as big as she needed to get before she made her arrival. And it worked.
But it wasn't an easy 11 days. There were definite highs and definite lows.
Annual Spring Fling
This past weekend, Carson's hospital had their Annual Spring Fling. It is an annual gathering for families, doctors and nurses to be reunited and see one another. Unfortunately, we were not able to attend due to another scheduled event, but I really want to go next year.
During my maternity leave, I thought about going back to the hospital to show Carson off to the NICU and High-Risk Pregnancy nurses, but I never did. I am sure I could have called, but I know their schedules were different each week and I didn't want to disrupt their important jobs. I knew they were focusing on new families. Plus, I didn't want Carson's germs to expose anyone. After being in the hospital for that long, you understand the importance of washing your hands and I didn't want to take time away from the families that now really needed them.
But here is a link to the annual event and I am marking my calendar for next year!!
During my maternity leave, I thought about going back to the hospital to show Carson off to the NICU and High-Risk Pregnancy nurses, but I never did. I am sure I could have called, but I know their schedules were different each week and I didn't want to disrupt their important jobs. I knew they were focusing on new families. Plus, I didn't want Carson's germs to expose anyone. After being in the hospital for that long, you understand the importance of washing your hands and I didn't want to take time away from the families that now really needed them.
But here is a link to the annual event and I am marking my calendar for next year!!
Friday, May 20, 2011
When We Can't Communicate Ourselves
When I first got admitted into the hospital, I didn't want to tell anyone on Facebook or e-mail. I remember making a conscious decision not to go online. The only people I told right away, well, my husband made the phone calls, I was not in a state to do that, were my boss (since I wasn't going to be at work anymore) and my mom. I knew people would want to know, but I just wasn't ready to start explaining everything. I hadn't even begun comprehending it myself. How was I suppose to answer everyone's questions when I had so many of my own? I wanted the answers. I knew I wouldn't be able to answer their questions, and I knew they would have just as many as I did. Plus, it just didn't feel right to put in my status update "Uh-oh, looks like Baby H is going to come earlier than expected" or "Emergency run to the hospital." I think of consequences, so I could only imagine what was going to happen. I didn't want to go there. But I knew I needed to communicate to friends and family.
Luckily, one of my good friends in Charlotte called me. Little did she know where I was. The conversation started off totally normal. Voice calm. Like it was any other day at the office. Then my friend asked about our plans for that evening. "Well, about that...." is how I responded. My husband jokes that this particular friend's nickname is Paul Revere. She really isn't that big of a gossip, but I knew I was in good hands if "Paul Revere" could share my story for me. And that day she did and it was a huge favor to Brent and me.
I really didn't want to be on the phone at all nor did I want to be on my computer. She did all of the hard work for us by calling our closest friends - she even beat me to calling my girlfriends in Texas! Afterwards, she rallied our friends with items for me to keep me entertained in the hospital and even coordinated a dinner schedule once we got Carson home.
I really cannot thank her enough. "Paul Revere" has been such a great friend and has helped so much over the past year. I am truly blessed with fabulous friends and family who stood by my side and prayed for our family and kept us in their thoughts while we were beginning this difficult time.
If you have a similar experience, what did your friends or family do for you? Give them a little shout-out here. If you haven't gone through this particular situation, what has someone done for you that makes you go, "man, I am so lucky that they want to be my friend?" Friends and family are awesome; let's show them a little love here.
Luckily, one of my good friends in Charlotte called me. Little did she know where I was. The conversation started off totally normal. Voice calm. Like it was any other day at the office. Then my friend asked about our plans for that evening. "Well, about that...." is how I responded. My husband jokes that this particular friend's nickname is Paul Revere. She really isn't that big of a gossip, but I knew I was in good hands if "Paul Revere" could share my story for me. And that day she did and it was a huge favor to Brent and me.
I really didn't want to be on the phone at all nor did I want to be on my computer. She did all of the hard work for us by calling our closest friends - she even beat me to calling my girlfriends in Texas! Afterwards, she rallied our friends with items for me to keep me entertained in the hospital and even coordinated a dinner schedule once we got Carson home.
I really cannot thank her enough. "Paul Revere" has been such a great friend and has helped so much over the past year. I am truly blessed with fabulous friends and family who stood by my side and prayed for our family and kept us in their thoughts while we were beginning this difficult time.
If you have a similar experience, what did your friends or family do for you? Give them a little shout-out here. If you haven't gone through this particular situation, what has someone done for you that makes you go, "man, I am so lucky that they want to be my friend?" Friends and family are awesome; let's show them a little love here.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Introduction
What is my passion?
This little babycake.
My daughter, Carson, was born six weeks early, and this blog is dedicated to her and all the other little preemies out there and their families whose world is knocked upside down when their healthly pregnancy is shaken up when the doctor tells them three little words. You're in labor.
That's what I heard May 12, 2010. And that is not what I was supposed to hear that day.
At that point in time, I was 32 weeks along and minding my own business. I was due July 4th. I had just finished another semester of graduate school and had two more months of work. I still had the nursery to finish, baby classes to take and pampering to be done before the big day.
I knew my world was going to change, but I wasn't expecting it that soon. So this blog is going to talk about that journey from learning what it would be like to have a premature baby, the roller coaster of a ride it was those 12 days on bedrest in the hospital and then the 16 days that followed with Carson in the NICU.
I hope it also can become a resource and community for others.
This little babycake.
My daughter, Carson, was born six weeks early, and this blog is dedicated to her and all the other little preemies out there and their families whose world is knocked upside down when their healthly pregnancy is shaken up when the doctor tells them three little words. You're in labor.
That's what I heard May 12, 2010. And that is not what I was supposed to hear that day.
At that point in time, I was 32 weeks along and minding my own business. I was due July 4th. I had just finished another semester of graduate school and had two more months of work. I still had the nursery to finish, baby classes to take and pampering to be done before the big day.
I knew my world was going to change, but I wasn't expecting it that soon. So this blog is going to talk about that journey from learning what it would be like to have a premature baby, the roller coaster of a ride it was those 12 days on bedrest in the hospital and then the 16 days that followed with Carson in the NICU.
I hope it also can become a resource and community for others.
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