The Third Trimester

Some may have noticed that I didn’t post about the second trimester. There wasn’t anything note-worthy in the second trimester though. It was a breeze! I wasn’t sick, I didn’t have much exhaustion, and nothing alarming happened- thank goodness! My biggest craving was Chef Boyardee Spaghetti & Meatballs. The funny thing about the spaghetti and meatballs is that I couldn’t stand the meatballs, My husband finally asked me why I don’t just get the spaghetti without the meatballs, but the flavor is SOO different! I don’t know why, but the meatballs add a certain flavor to the spaghetti, but they’re awful themselves.

The third trimester started out very difficult and never has gotten much easier. At the end of the second trimester, I woke up one morning at about 4:30 in excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen. No position helped, a hot shower (I only put the hot water on that one place) didn’t help. Eating or drinking didn’t help. I was absolutely miserable. To make matters worse, I was traveling 5 hours home with my mother-in-law from St. George with my toddler. I felt like an idiot moaning and groaning and moving in my seat uncomfortably for five hours, but I couldn’t help it. The pain was indescribable. We almost stopped at an emergency room a couple of times during the trip. Finally, we got home. My husband was home and we thought about heading to the emergency room, but miraculously, the pain had subsided quite a bit, so we decided we didn’t need to. But then it came back and we rushed to the hospital.

The hospital ran tests for kidney stones and appendicitis, but ultimately sent me home with “round ligament pain”. I usually handle pain pretty well. I consider myself to have a higher-than-normal tolerance level for pain. I asked the nurse, “Is round ligament pain really supposed to be this bad? Is it really supposed to last this long? Do women really come to the emergency room with round ligament pain?” I could not imagine myself, with my high threshold for pain, being a wimp that went to the emergency room because of round ligament pain. I actually went home feeling very embarrassed, for going to the emergency room and at the thought of telling my mother-in-law that I carried on like an idiot over something so ridiculous.

The next few weeks went by basically uneventful. I had days of exhaustion, but overall I felt pretty good. However, at 29 weeks, my feel-good streak was about to come to a crashing halt. I had been vacationing in North Carolina with my family and toddler for a couple of weeks. It was the morning that my toddler and I were supposed to come home. I woke up at about 6:30 in the morning in excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen again. Only this time, it was much, much worse. I eventually threw up from the intense pain and almost passed out a few times as well. Finally, my dad and I decided it was time to go to the emergency room.

Honestly, the hospital didn’t take me very seriously for the first few hours. No red flags showed up on the urine or blood tests. No other tests had been given. They took me less seriously when I claimed my pain was an 8 or 9, but I didn’t want any pain medication. But like I said, I tolerate pain well and I don’t like to take any kind of medicine- especially when I’m pregnant. And I wasn’t about to take a strong narcotic if I was just experiencing “round ligament pain” again. But I knew something was wrong. I was going to be pissed off if they had sent me home with “round ligament pain”. It was something worse and I knew it.

They finally sent me back for an ultrasound and it all seemed very routine. The technician never raised an eyebrow or seemed concerned about anything. I went back to my room and waited, waited, waited. A CT scan was ordered, but I never made it to that test. After reviewing the ultrasound results, it was determined that I had an enlarged cyst that appeared to be on my right ovary. It was 6 cm (almost 2.5 inches) and it was twisting and cutting off circulation. I was told that the intense pain I was feeling was literally my ovary dying. I met about six or seven doctors after that ultrasound. Three different doctors came in to exam me. They all seemed very concerned. They all told me that emergency surgery was required, but they were having a hard time finding a surgeon who was willing to perform the surgery on a pregnant woman. The obstetrician was the main doctor sought after to perform the surgery, but he adamantly refused to perform such a risky surgery on a pregnant woman so far along in her pregnancy. I was too far along to have a laparoscopic surgery, so they would have to actually make an incision and work around my pregnant uterus and other vital organs. When all the other surgeons on staff refused, he finally agreed to do it- only because someone had to and he truly was the most qualified.

Now that I knew that there was a serious problem and that I wasn’t a pansy, I finally agreed to the lowest dose possible of pain medication to hold me over until they could get me into the operating room. It definitely helped and I was able to relax a little bit for the first time all day.

Before taking me back for the surgery, I was informed verbally and in writing of all the risks of surgery, which included but was not limited to: premature delivery of fetus, termination of pregnancy, injury to surrounding organs such as the bowels, and even death to myself. I mentioned how risky this surgery seemed and if it was really necessary (as if I could have endured the pain much longer). The doctor informed me that the risks of not performing the surgery were worse and even more likely. He told me that if this cyst was left untreated, it likely would not untwist this time and even if it did, it would twist again. It was only a matter of time. He told me I was at great risk of losing my ovary within hours and that a cyst that large and irritated could easily rupture, which would cause me to lose my ovary and possibly my baby. The risk of infection would be high with a rupture, which would also threaten my health and the baby’s life. Lastly, he assured me that I would receive a steroid shot for the baby’s lungs just in case he had to be delivered prematurely. I understood and signed that I acknowledged the risks of the surgery.

When the anesthesiologist placed the mask on my mouth, it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I did not know what I would wake up to. Would I still have my ovary? Would I still be pregnant? Would my baby be born early? Would my baby still be alive? The reluctance of any surgeon to perform the surgery in the first place made me super uneasy. But I exercised all the faith in my soul as I drifted off under the general anesthesia.

I had a hard time coming back from the anesthesia. I could hear everything going on around me. I heard all the conversations taking place. I heard the anesthesiologist talking about how I needed helping coming back, that the anesthesia wasn’t wearing off quickly enough. He told the surgeon that he gave me a drug that had been used in Europe for many years, but had just been introduced to the United States. After that, I started gaining more and more control over my body and I was able to start opening my eyes and responding. The first things I asked were if the baby was okay and if I was still pregnant. Thankfully, the nurse said yes to both questions. I was so relieved. I was also told that the cyst was removed successfully and that they were able to save the fallopian tube and ovary. That was the first I had even heard of the fallopian tube. The next morning, I was visited by one of the doctors who informed me that they thought that the cyst was on my ovary, but it was actually on my fallopian tube. She said the situation was more critical than they realized and that she was glad that they caught it in time. I was, too!

I spent the next few weeks recovering. The first two weeks were the hardest. Healing from surgery on top of being pregnant is horrible. I had no energy at all. I felt dazed and even depressed. It wasn’t the medication either. I only took pain meds for the first 12 hours after the surgery. I can’t remember what the name was, but my pharmacist father told me it was a strong narcotic- the closest thing you can get to heroin. I could have pushed the button to get a dose every 8 minutes if I wanted. But the most I ever pushed it was every two hours. I think I received about 4 doses in 12 hours, and I could have received about 90 in that time if I had wanted or needed it. I told you I have a high tolerance for pain! But mostly, I care deeply for my unborn child. He had already been exposed to enough. I didn’t want to do any more than I had to that might hinder his growth or development. And honestly, people might think I was trying to be superwoman, but they don’t understand the pain I was in BEFORE the surgery. The pain of healing from being cut open and having a cyst cut out of me was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that I was in beforehand. I could handle the pain I was in after the surgery, especially because I knew that it was temporary.

It has now been almost 7 weeks since that surgery and I basically feel like a normal pregnant woman again. I have no lingering pain or soreness from the surgery or cyst. Other than the incision scar, I wouldn’t even know I had ever had surgery. I am still experiencing the normal woes of pregnancy though.

I have days when the exhaustion is debilitating. Other days, I have lots of energy and I spend it on nesting and shopping and cooking food to freeze for after the baby. The past week or so, nausea has reared its ugly head again. But it’s not as bad as the first trimester. I just feel a little queasy for a few moments and then it goes away. I have had cramping on and off in the past week or so as well. I definitely feel like the baby went through a growth spurt recently. I was low on energy in addition to the nausea and cramping. But now, I seem to have some energy back and I’m not getting queasy as often. I have gained 34 pounds so far, which is more than I had hoped to gain by this point, but I’m still doing better this time than with my last pregnancy. I gained 52 pounds altogether last time. I am measuring about a week and half ahead according to my fundal measurements. I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week to determine the size of the baby and whether the c-section needs to be performed sooner than the 15^th.

In the third trimester, I have still been craving Chef Boyardee Spaghetti & Meatballs (hold the meatballs). I also crave rotisserie chicken and cake from Walmart, which is weird because I couldn’t hardly stand meat or sweets for the first half of my pregnancy. If I have the baby on the 15^th, that means I only have 29 more days left. I can’t tell you how excited and impatient I am! Sleeping at night is becoming a thing of the past. I toss and turn all night. It takes me forever to fall asleep and then I wake up really early, unable to fall back asleep. I realize that sleep will be hard to come by after the baby comes, but at least what little sleep I do get will be comfortable! Other than that, I feel so much pressure, which also happened at the same time as the cramping and nausea. I don't know if the baby got into position or what, but I constantly feel like he's about to fall out. And it hurts!

We are reconsidering a name for our baby. It all depends on what day he comes. You’ll find out why when the time comes! I have the hospital bags packed, meals and treats frozen, and everything ready for when baby comes home. Whenever he comes, I just hope that he is healthy and happy and that all will go smoothly with the delivery!

Sleep Training... Mission: Accomplished

This is going to seem so silly to parents who began sleep training their children much sooner. But… our child can finally put himself to sleep!

I would not be surprised if many people felt like my husband and I (okay, let’s be honest, it was all me) were too attached parents for too long. But what those people don’t understand is that I genuinely did not believe that I would ever get pregnant again. It took us four years to get pregnant with our son after having a miscarriage at 6 weeks in 2009. I believed that even if I ever did get pregnant again, I would probably miscarry or have an ectopic pregnancy or something like that. Call me dismal, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that I was suddenly cured of my “unexplained infertility” just like that.

So, I considered my son to be my one and only child. I felt lucky, blessed, privileged, honored, grateful that I had him. I cherished him and gave him 110% from the beginning. I breastfed him until he was 17 months and 1 week old. I shared my bed with him until he was just a few weeks shy of 2 years old. And to be honest, if I hadn’t been 31 weeks pregnant, I probably would have kept bed sharing for many more years. I started sleeping in the same room with him, but in a different bed when I was 30 weeks pregnant and then a week or so later, he was doing so well that we moved him into his own room. He has done very well in his own room. And I’ll admit, he even sleeps better in his own bed- and so do I (well, for a 34-week pregnant gal).

Our son had his 2-year check-up this Tuesday and we told him about how we always pat our son’s back or lay with him until he falls asleep for his nap and bedtime. I told him that it takes 10-30 minutes for him to fall asleep for his nap and it takes, on average, an hour for him to fall asleep at bedtime. It didn’t start taking that long until I weaned him. I could nurse him right to sleep in 5-20 minutes any time before that. For a long time after weaning him, we would literally sit or lay there and pat his back for an hour or more. For the past couple of months, we would only pat his back for 5 minutes or so at night and then we would lay with him for a while and sneak out after half an hour or so once he was still awake but too sleepy to notice. The doctor stressed the importance of getting him to fall asleep on his own before the baby comes. This seemed daunting at first, but I knew we had already made a lot of progress in the last few weeks and we could do it. We started two nights ago and I would cave every time because I was too exhausted to keep putting Nicholas back in his bed. But today… he finally put himself to sleep at nap time! It took 2 hours and me putting him back in his bed half a dozen times… but he did it! And now that he has done it once, hopefully it will take less and less time each time and he will become a pro at putting himself to sleep!