Just thought I would take a moment from all the sadness of the Wyatt story to introduce something useful and fun.
Starting August 20th, I will be doing at home preschool lessons with Bug and Pup. Best part? I'm going to share them with YOU!
Yes... next week I will post the plans for week one. Feel free to follow along at the same pace we are going, blog about it, and link up on Fridays. Take tons of photos and have tons of fun with your little ones... we definitely will! :) Also, feel free to share these ideas with friends! :)
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Wyatt's Story - Part 3
I tried to make small talk with the attendant as I was wheeled on a gurney to the operating room. After all the day had included, I was still (somehow) managing to joke and smile. Between the Women's Center Labor & Delivery Room, there was a giant maze of hallways and tunnels that I was wheeled through. One of the most memorable moments of this time was what the hospital had done to soothe patients headed to surgery -- children had painted the ceiling tiles in a variety of different murals. All ages and all artistry types. Strangely enough, it gave me great peace.
Surgery was quick and uneventful. However, I will say it was one of the best twelve minute naps of my life thanks to the anesthesia.
It was after midnight when I was taken to my recovery room. The night nurses had been wonderful enough to find me something to eat, as I had been on ice chips for over 24 hours. Chocolate cake and pasta at midnight never tasted better. I told the nurse (who has a daughter close to the same ages as Bug and Pup): "Hey! Chocolate cake! And I don't have to share with toddlers!"
I slept fitfully that night between the constant barrage of nurses and techs in my room and the horrible nightmares caused by coming off the anesthesia.
The next morning, the nurses presented me with a box. Inside, they had taken photos of Wyatt. They had his hospital bracelets (too small to use) and his hand/foot prints. There was also a tear drop pendant for me and a card from the darling nurses. I cried when I saw it.
The doctor who had been present the night before came in to brief me on leaving the hospital. He said that after examining Wyatt, there was nothing wrong. He basically just stopped growing at 15 weeks, lived for another two weeks, and then passed on. He assured me I did nothing wrong. He also let me know that A & C had stayed with Wyatt until almost 1 AM... they didn't want him to be alone. (Remember, they had been on shift since 6 AM the previous morning.)
By the time Mr. Wonderful arrived at my hospital room, I was ready to check out. We headed home with sorrow and to begin planning a funeral.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
Surgery was quick and uneventful. However, I will say it was one of the best twelve minute naps of my life thanks to the anesthesia.
It was after midnight when I was taken to my recovery room. The night nurses had been wonderful enough to find me something to eat, as I had been on ice chips for over 24 hours. Chocolate cake and pasta at midnight never tasted better. I told the nurse (who has a daughter close to the same ages as Bug and Pup): "Hey! Chocolate cake! And I don't have to share with toddlers!"
I slept fitfully that night between the constant barrage of nurses and techs in my room and the horrible nightmares caused by coming off the anesthesia.
The next morning, the nurses presented me with a box. Inside, they had taken photos of Wyatt. They had his hospital bracelets (too small to use) and his hand/foot prints. There was also a tear drop pendant for me and a card from the darling nurses. I cried when I saw it.
The doctor who had been present the night before came in to brief me on leaving the hospital. He said that after examining Wyatt, there was nothing wrong. He basically just stopped growing at 15 weeks, lived for another two weeks, and then passed on. He assured me I did nothing wrong. He also let me know that A & C had stayed with Wyatt until almost 1 AM... they didn't want him to be alone. (Remember, they had been on shift since 6 AM the previous morning.)
By the time Mr. Wonderful arrived at my hospital room, I was ready to check out. We headed home with sorrow and to begin planning a funeral.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Wyatt's Story - Part 2
As I got ready to be admitted to the hospital, Mr. Wonderful was allowed to join me in the doctor's exam room.
"This is a game changer, you know?" I told him while streamed down my cheeks. He agreed. And it really was. In my head, I had justified that the D&C would be the best way. I would be knocked out, did not have to feel or see anything. And I would be home by that afternoon.
It took a little while to get checked in. There was another couple in the tiny waiting room with us. They were all set for a full term delivery... pillows, blankets, baby clothes, and excited chatter. I couldn't take it. I told the woman at the desk that I would be outside and to send my husband to come get me when a room was ready.
Once we got in the room, emotions still ran high. The first thing noticeable when we walked in was the incubator-like contraption in which babies are placed right after birth. My husband, dealing with his own grief, left and asked two nurses to remove it from the room. They came in with sadness in their eyes and apologized profusely for the fact that it had not been taken out before I came in.
In a way... this became a blessing. After removing the unit, it was discovered that no nurses had been assigned to my care yet. So, A and C -- the two that had come into the room at Mr. Wonderful's request -- became my 'angels' that day.
Literally... I cannot brag enough about these two women. Not only did they make sure I was as comfortable as I could be, they went above and beyond the call of duty. A made sure my glasses were clean (as I had been crying) and offered up a hand massage while my IV was being placed in. They checked on me all day long... joking that this really was just a special sort of 'spa day'. (For example, while having my epidural put in, A joked that this was the yoga portion of today's events.)
Around 5 PM, I was nowhere near delivering our son. Mr. Wonderful had to leave to take care of Bug and Pup. I was literally all alone.
This is where A and C really stepped things up. Instead of leaving at 6 PM like they were supposed to -- after a 12 hour shift, mind you -- they both decided to stay with me. A even pulled out the fold out couch, grabbed a pillow, and insisted we were just going to have a slumber party right there in my hospital room. I am eternally grateful for their kindness and support.
At 9:30 PM, Mr. Wonderful called. A left to give us some privacy and grab a bite to eat. He was about to put the toddlers on speakerphone when I suddenly hung up. I had felt something odd and didn't want the kids to hear.
I hit the call button and alerted the desk I needed a nurse. Nobody was available -- there had been an emergency with another woman delivering. Thank goodness A and C walked back in the room a minute later. My suspicions had been confirmed... I had delivered our tiny baby boy.
A and C made me shut my eyes while they cleaned him up. After twelve hours of labor induction, I was tired and emotional. They wrapped him in a washcloth for me to hold. He was small enough that he fit in the palm of my hand.
A, C, and I cried while I said my hellos and goodbyes to Wyatt. It was highly emotional as the doctor did an examination of me. The placenta did not look as though it was going to deliver, so I was told I needed to be taken to the operating room for a D&C anyway.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
"This is a game changer, you know?" I told him while streamed down my cheeks. He agreed. And it really was. In my head, I had justified that the D&C would be the best way. I would be knocked out, did not have to feel or see anything. And I would be home by that afternoon.
It took a little while to get checked in. There was another couple in the tiny waiting room with us. They were all set for a full term delivery... pillows, blankets, baby clothes, and excited chatter. I couldn't take it. I told the woman at the desk that I would be outside and to send my husband to come get me when a room was ready.
Once we got in the room, emotions still ran high. The first thing noticeable when we walked in was the incubator-like contraption in which babies are placed right after birth. My husband, dealing with his own grief, left and asked two nurses to remove it from the room. They came in with sadness in their eyes and apologized profusely for the fact that it had not been taken out before I came in.
In a way... this became a blessing. After removing the unit, it was discovered that no nurses had been assigned to my care yet. So, A and C -- the two that had come into the room at Mr. Wonderful's request -- became my 'angels' that day.
Literally... I cannot brag enough about these two women. Not only did they make sure I was as comfortable as I could be, they went above and beyond the call of duty. A made sure my glasses were clean (as I had been crying) and offered up a hand massage while my IV was being placed in. They checked on me all day long... joking that this really was just a special sort of 'spa day'. (For example, while having my epidural put in, A joked that this was the yoga portion of today's events.)
Around 5 PM, I was nowhere near delivering our son. Mr. Wonderful had to leave to take care of Bug and Pup. I was literally all alone.
This is where A and C really stepped things up. Instead of leaving at 6 PM like they were supposed to -- after a 12 hour shift, mind you -- they both decided to stay with me. A even pulled out the fold out couch, grabbed a pillow, and insisted we were just going to have a slumber party right there in my hospital room. I am eternally grateful for their kindness and support.
At 9:30 PM, Mr. Wonderful called. A left to give us some privacy and grab a bite to eat. He was about to put the toddlers on speakerphone when I suddenly hung up. I had felt something odd and didn't want the kids to hear.
I hit the call button and alerted the desk I needed a nurse. Nobody was available -- there had been an emergency with another woman delivering. Thank goodness A and C walked back in the room a minute later. My suspicions had been confirmed... I had delivered our tiny baby boy.
A and C made me shut my eyes while they cleaned him up. After twelve hours of labor induction, I was tired and emotional. They wrapped him in a washcloth for me to hold. He was small enough that he fit in the palm of my hand.
A, C, and I cried while I said my hellos and goodbyes to Wyatt. It was highly emotional as the doctor did an examination of me. The placenta did not look as though it was going to deliver, so I was told I needed to be taken to the operating room for a D&C anyway.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Grace Through Grief
I did not realize how hard it would be to sit down and write the second part of Wyatt's story. Frankly, I've been ignoring my laptop for the last couple days to avoid it. Fact of the matter is... even though I'm 'good' most of the day, it has only been two weeks since we found out he had no heartbeat. That is such a short period of time -- although it feels like forever.
This is me right now:
Literally. I spent yesterday going through every nook and cranny in our garage. Armed with a shop vac, pesticide, and cleaning rags. Today is the grand convert-the-guest-bedroom-into-a-playroom task. I've filled up two carloads to take to our local consignment shop. Frankly, I'm terrified when the moment comes that I will run out of baseboards to clean, closets to organize, and crap to purge.
I've always known that my grace through grief was to keep moving. Literally... work until my body tells me that I can't do anymore. I've gotten to that point daily since coming home from the hospital. At night, when the kids are asleep and I'm too tired to move... that's when the water works show up. Uncontrollable sobbing. For someone who understands the situation and that maybe having another baby right now when Bug and Pup are so little would have been past overwhelming, it is tough.
Mr. Wonderful has lived up to his moniker lately, as well. I've tried keeping his thoughts on the situation and our communication lines open. As tough as this has all been, it has been good for our marriage.
So... what does all this mean to you, reader? Well, first... thanks for letting me spew verbal vomit out to the world. Sometimes getting things off your heart helps. Second, if you have or are going through the same situation, I'm hoping that reading this blog sometime in the future (days, weeks, months, or years it is up on the internet) helps you.
Photo courtesy of Hyperbole and a Half.
This is me right now:
Literally. I spent yesterday going through every nook and cranny in our garage. Armed with a shop vac, pesticide, and cleaning rags. Today is the grand convert-the-guest-bedroom-into-a-playroom task. I've filled up two carloads to take to our local consignment shop. Frankly, I'm terrified when the moment comes that I will run out of baseboards to clean, closets to organize, and crap to purge.
I've always known that my grace through grief was to keep moving. Literally... work until my body tells me that I can't do anymore. I've gotten to that point daily since coming home from the hospital. At night, when the kids are asleep and I'm too tired to move... that's when the water works show up. Uncontrollable sobbing. For someone who understands the situation and that maybe having another baby right now when Bug and Pup are so little would have been past overwhelming, it is tough.
Mr. Wonderful has lived up to his moniker lately, as well. I've tried keeping his thoughts on the situation and our communication lines open. As tough as this has all been, it has been good for our marriage.
So... what does all this mean to you, reader? Well, first... thanks for letting me spew verbal vomit out to the world. Sometimes getting things off your heart helps. Second, if you have or are going through the same situation, I'm hoping that reading this blog sometime in the future (days, weeks, months, or years it is up on the internet) helps you.
Photo courtesy of Hyperbole and a Half.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Wyatt's Story - Part 1
You know that old saying that life is what happens when you are busy making plans?
Little did I know that a mere hour after I made a post about rebooting my blog, my life would change forever. At almost eighteen weeks pregnant, I began bleeding. Heavily. After calling my doctor, I was informed that I needed to immediately head to the nearest urgent care or emergency room to be checked out.
Up to this point, I had a picture perfect pregnancy. Low to moderate morning sickness. All growth ultrasounds had been exactly on target. In fact, I had a follow up appointment with my OB the next day. Our anatomy scan was even planned for July 30th.
After dropping Pup and Bug off with my sister in-law, I drove across town to urgent care. Almost an hour after I got there, I was informed they could not help me as they did not have the equipment to do ultrasounds. After another call to my OB office (which is located in the Women's Center of our local hospital), I was informed that it was so late in the day they would be unable to help me. However, I was also told I should go ahead and make it into the labor and delivery emergency room.
I met my husband there and we waited anxiously as they did an ultrasound. The technician kept the screen faced away from me, which I could tell from the beginning was not a good sign. In fact, when I kept asking about movement of the baby she did not have much to say. Mr. Wonderful was busy asking a ton of questions, all of which she nervously answered in as few words as possible. Eventually, she stated that she had a question for the doctor and left the room.
My heart began to sink. I knew where this was headed, but held out hope that things would be okay. A few minutes later, my OB -- who happened to be the on-staff doctor for the evening hours -- came into the room. With a sad look, she announced what we had feared: there was no heartbeat.
I immediately burst into tears. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Frankly, part of me was relieved as having three under the age of three in diapers was quite daunting. At the same time, my heart was breaking. Our doctor gave us two options: let nature run course over the weekend at home OR schedule a D&C for the next morning. She had an opening in her office promptly at eight in the morning and we were to provide her with an answer then.
When I got home, Mr. Wonderful and I discussed our options. Frankly, I knew that the "natural" way would be tough on the whole family. I didn't want to do that to the kids, my husband, or even (selfishly) myself. We decided on the surgery. The next morning, with my toddlers safely back in the care of family, I bawled the entire way to the doctor's office.
After a quick examination, I was informed that the baby was too big to do the D&C surgery. (I.e. scraping of all tissue inside the uterus.) With tears in her eyes, my doctor said that she was afraid for my health first. Secondly, she knew she would have to dismember the baby and didn't think that either she nor I could handle the emotional ramification of it.
This left us with one choice... induce labor.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
Little did I know that a mere hour after I made a post about rebooting my blog, my life would change forever. At almost eighteen weeks pregnant, I began bleeding. Heavily. After calling my doctor, I was informed that I needed to immediately head to the nearest urgent care or emergency room to be checked out.
Up to this point, I had a picture perfect pregnancy. Low to moderate morning sickness. All growth ultrasounds had been exactly on target. In fact, I had a follow up appointment with my OB the next day. Our anatomy scan was even planned for July 30th.
After dropping Pup and Bug off with my sister in-law, I drove across town to urgent care. Almost an hour after I got there, I was informed they could not help me as they did not have the equipment to do ultrasounds. After another call to my OB office (which is located in the Women's Center of our local hospital), I was informed that it was so late in the day they would be unable to help me. However, I was also told I should go ahead and make it into the labor and delivery emergency room.
I met my husband there and we waited anxiously as they did an ultrasound. The technician kept the screen faced away from me, which I could tell from the beginning was not a good sign. In fact, when I kept asking about movement of the baby she did not have much to say. Mr. Wonderful was busy asking a ton of questions, all of which she nervously answered in as few words as possible. Eventually, she stated that she had a question for the doctor and left the room.
My heart began to sink. I knew where this was headed, but held out hope that things would be okay. A few minutes later, my OB -- who happened to be the on-staff doctor for the evening hours -- came into the room. With a sad look, she announced what we had feared: there was no heartbeat.
I immediately burst into tears. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Frankly, part of me was relieved as having three under the age of three in diapers was quite daunting. At the same time, my heart was breaking. Our doctor gave us two options: let nature run course over the weekend at home OR schedule a D&C for the next morning. She had an opening in her office promptly at eight in the morning and we were to provide her with an answer then.
When I got home, Mr. Wonderful and I discussed our options. Frankly, I knew that the "natural" way would be tough on the whole family. I didn't want to do that to the kids, my husband, or even (selfishly) myself. We decided on the surgery. The next morning, with my toddlers safely back in the care of family, I bawled the entire way to the doctor's office.
After a quick examination, I was informed that the baby was too big to do the D&C surgery. (I.e. scraping of all tissue inside the uterus.) With tears in her eyes, my doctor said that she was afraid for my health first. Secondly, she knew she would have to dismember the baby and didn't think that either she nor I could handle the emotional ramification of it.
This left us with one choice... induce labor.
More on Wyatt's Story tomorrow....
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Blog Reboot
A funny thing happened the other day. I realized I missed having a blog to share my trials/tribulations/triumphs with the world.
After reading through quite a few posts from the past, I realized just how much life had changed since my first blog post. Two kids (expecting a third), saying goodbye to the military lifestyle and several cross country moves later? I've decided Mama Elle Says needed a reboot.
There were so many posts that no longer reflected my ideals and goals as a wife/mom/woman. Thus, I've decided Mama Elle Says needed a reboot.
Think of it as Mama Elle... 2.0.
What should you expect out of this blog?
Hilarious stories of raising two toddlers less than a year apart. Tips and suggestions for those of us who are bundling our babies with three under three. Household ideas to help keep you sane -- and me, too!
Ready to get going? Grab an iced beverage and let's get started!
After reading through quite a few posts from the past, I realized just how much life had changed since my first blog post. Two kids (expecting a third), saying goodbye to the military lifestyle and several cross country moves later? I've decided Mama Elle Says needed a reboot.
There were so many posts that no longer reflected my ideals and goals as a wife/mom/woman. Thus, I've decided Mama Elle Says needed a reboot.
Think of it as Mama Elle... 2.0.
What should you expect out of this blog?
Hilarious stories of raising two toddlers less than a year apart. Tips and suggestions for those of us who are bundling our babies with three under three. Household ideas to help keep you sane -- and me, too!
Ready to get going? Grab an iced beverage and let's get started!
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