Delivery Day!

The day had come to meet our son.  I was very excited!  And I was just as nervous, anxious, and scared.  This child was going to be under my care.  I had to keep him alive.  It's hard enough taking care of one's own self.

I'm sure I had all of the normal fears: 1) Fear that he wouldn't eat properly as I was attempting breastfeeding.  2) Fear that he would get sick and we as new parents not knowing what to do.  (He did get sick, and we didn't know what to do.  My advice is to have your parents on speed-dial as they not only are experienced, but they will be more logical in thinking during this scary time whereas you will have a foggy brain from being tired due to lack of sleep and overwhelmed from the ceaseless crying your child is doing.)  3)  Then there was the fear of not having enough financially to care for all of his needs.  We didn't (and we still don't).  But God does.  We were blessed in ways we never could have imagined.  Formula (I ended up not continuing with breastfeeding), diapers that they soil right after you change them, clothing that they outgrow overnight, and childcare cost money.  And the Lord has provided people with generous hearts and a desire to help in all of these areas.

My anxiety and fears were also wrapped up in the delivery process.  The doctor wanted to induce me one day after my due date if my son didn't decide to come before then.  The reason was to attempt to avoid me having a C-section.  The baby would continue to grow while he was inside of me which would increase my chances of not being able to deliver him myself.  Th doctor didn't want to have to cut me open since that would create more scar tissue as I'd already had surgery years before for my ileostomy.  He didn't come by his due date, so I was induced.

We didn't have to be at the hospital until later that evening.  My husband went to work for the day, which kept his mind busy.  And I just tried to carry on with my daily activities as much as possible.  I took care of a few last odds and ends and made sure our bags were packed well for the hospital stay.  And I even walked on my treadmill.  Exercise is something that was important to me before my pregnancy and continued to be so while pregnant.

As far as the delivery itself: our female ancestors were some of the strongest people on earth!  Anyone who has delivered a baby without medication, you deserve all of the accolades this world can offer.  And just think...our ancestors did that over and over!!

The medication to induce labor was started, and as the contractions were showing up on the screen, the nurse would ask if I was feeling them.  I would say no.  After a few hours had passed, I thought I'd try and go to sleep, and I needed to go to the restroom.  I saw blood while in there and had a moment of near panic.  I wasn't expecting that.  And as I was coming back to bed, that's when the pain came!  It was like going from 0 to 60 in a second.  I was thinking I had to really be dilated by now to be hurting that much.  But when they checked me, I was only at 1.5.  The contractions were also close together as if one would stop only to have another close behind.  The nurse told me to breathe through them.  I tried, but it didn't seem to help me.  And it was too soon for an epidural.  They were able to give me something to help me relax some, enough that the pain didn't seem as intense.  But I didn't rest well even with that.

Once they were able to give me my epidural, my body seemed to relax to the point that my husband and parents went to get breakfast and I was dilated very little still, and when they came back,  I was dilated at an 8.  The nurses started making preparations.

I needed to prep to as far as my ileostomy.  The most I had eaten through this process was several grape-flavored ice popsicles.  But my ostomy bag still needed to be emptied, and they helped me take care of that at the bedside since my legs weren't carrying me to the bathroom after that epidural.

Then, it was go time!  I was at a 10.  With my husband, sister and mom by my side, I started pushing.  My husband got lightheaded (the nurses saw it coming and got him in a safe place that he could still be present but not hurt himself if he passed out).  And it didn't seem but a few minutes of pushing had passed, and my son was born.  He was not at all happy to have been pushed out of his resting place, but he calmed down soon enough.  The only issue he had was low body temperature, so they had to take him on to the nursery before his father got to hold him.  Otherwise, he was perfectly healthy.

All went well with my ileostomy physically.  No blockages occurred throughout the pregnancy.  There was no leakage from the ostomy wafer during delivery.  It just got dirty from the delivery as the process is far from mess free.  And there was no reoccurrence of Crohn's Disease.

If anyone is reading this has IBD, if anyone has an ileostomy or maybe a colostomy, the journey of childbirth may not go as smoothly as mine did.  If I were to have more children, I may not have the same experience.  But don't let the fear of what-ifs hold you back from being a parent.

A Worried Pregnant Woman

I didn't know how to contain the excitement of finding out I was expecting our first child.  And I couldn't wait to tell someone.  Obviously, with the pregnancy being in its young stage, you don't really want to tell very many people, because if something goes wrong, the last thing you want to do is share that news over and over.  And a person doesn't really want to hear condolences at that time.  I know how much it hurt to struggle to get pregnant, and hearing the well-meaning words from others that I didn't care to hear at that moment.

But I still needed to tell someone.  I knew the excitement would build to the point that I felt I was going to burst.  My twin sister was the first to find out after my husband, as in the very next day after I took the test.  I was the first one she told when she found out she was expecting her first child.  She, along with the rest of our families, knew of our journey.  And we told them as well as soon as we could get everyone gathered together.

The next step was to get the official/medical confirmation of the pregnancy.  I got to have another one of those lovely, invasive ultrasounds. But this time, as well as the ones that would follow, I didn't mind at all.  I was going to see my child for the first time!  The image they said was the baby was so tiny.  From my perspective, the screen just showed a jumble of black and white except for a tiny flicker that was moving extremely fast.  That was the heartbeat.  That was life.  The little one who had the quick beating heart, had no formed arms or legs, fingers or toes.  The child's eyes had yet to develop, and basically, the image we saw looked nothing like a baby as one would think of a baby.  But there was a heartbeat, and that made my child real for me.  and the sound of that rapid beating, it's truly amazing to think, even now, that there was life growing inside of me and at how small and vulnerable the little one was, yet so strong and determined to grow and develop.  And at how important my role was in that development from day one.

My gastroenterologist was aware of our visits to the infertility clinic and wanted me to be sure and let him know when I got pregnant so he could see me in his office more often and to keep closer tabs on me as the physical changes of pregnancy can cause flare-ups of Crohn's in patients.  And before we got too deep into the process with the fertility clinic, he suggested I have an ileoscopy done as that procedure would be due for me, and it couldn't be done safely while I was pregnant.

I was considered a high-risk pregnancy with my health history, but I think more so due to our infertility struggle.  That was a scary aspect.  It had a tendency to weigh on me that something could go terribly wrong at any moment.

I had tried to keep myself informed on what I could do to have a safe and healthy pregnancy.  I wanted to know what foods to eat and which to avoid.  I realized that I didn't really need to alter that too much.  I wanted to know what activities I could do and what I shouldn't.  That was just a matter of common sense.  I continued to work and exercise all the way up until the day I was induced.  In fact, the afternoon before I went into the hospital that evening to give birth, I was walking on my treadmill.  I couldn't just sit and relax knowing my life was soon to change, so I just tried to do what I normally do in a day (although in hindsight, trying to get in a nap would have been a good move because it was a significant amount of time before I slept well again).

Another stressor for me was intestinal blockages that might occur as the baby grew to cause potential hospital stays and a tube down my nose and throat.  Also as the baby grew, my stoma size could increase from pressure put on the area. I would need to make adjustments to my ileostomy supplies so they would fit properly if that happened.  I just didn't know if these things would happen and when.  And I like to be prepared, so these unknowns made me anxious.  The good news is that I was fortunate to have neither of these things to happen.  My body cooperated.

I also thought the baby would come earlier than expected.  There wasn't really any reason for this.  It was just a thought I had.  However, I was induced.

A plus to the high-risk pregnancy is how many ultrasounds I got to have.  I don't recall how many exactly now, but I know it was more than is typical.  And again, it didn't matter that a good number of them were invasive.  It was okay with me.  I wasn't sure how the lubricant used for the usual abdominal ultrasounds would cooperate with my ileostomy appliance.  (For the record, the gel didn't cause my ostomy any problems.)

Some of my concerns were valid and some probably were just from my tendency to overthink things and find something to worry about.  I was fortunate to have a good pregnancy without complications. 

Giving it to Him

It took us a few months to get our minds and our hearts to accept the idea of trying the IUI procedure again.  However, our decision to try again wasn't completely accepted on my part.  My heart was so set on having a child through my own physical body, and I had expected that first IUI to work.  When it didn't, I didn't think I could handle going through all of that again and possibly having it fail as well.

We had our next appointment set up and again met with the doctor to regroup where we had been and where we were going next.  He wanted to try the IUI procedure again, and then brought up IVF (Invirto fertilization) as the suggested next step if the IUI were to not work.  I tried to ignore this part of the conversation.  I didn't want to do IVF personally.  It is more in depth in nature.  And it's more expensive.  I felt that we had already been on a treacherous journey.  I didn't think I could deal with more that what we had been through.  Plus, there's the increased chance of having more than one child in one pregnancy.  Now, I thought it'd be neat to have twins because I am one.  But my fear was more rooted in carrying two babies.  With my health history with Crohn's and with my current health with having an ileostomy, I was scared of carrying just one baby and getting blockages that would send me to the hospital.

But we went back through the process of starting the pre-IUI stuff.  I took the medications needed to make me have a cycle and to make me ovulate.  After the medication did its job, we went back to the ofice for our second attempt at the IUI.  I did my best to put up a wall around my heart this time.  I din't want to get my hopes up again, just to be hurt in the end.  Part of me wanted to be excited.  But more of me wanted to be guarded from any possible let downs.



There are at least two times that I can remember praying, the reason for praying, and recollecting what I said to some degree and then the feeling after I poured it all out to God.  It's not that all of the times I pray don't matter enough to be remembered.  But there are times in life that you feel like you're at the bottom of the barrel looking for that last bit of something to just hold you over until you might could be fully nourished.  The first time was when I got saved.  The second time was in this era of my life, waiting to see if this second IUI had worked.  I remember driving to work (which is probably my best time to talk to God).  My heart was so broken, I didn't think it could ever be healed again.  Tears were streaming down my face, and I believe the only way I managed to keep driving my vehicle through this was because God had control of the wheel.  I don't remember all the words I had prayed, but I did tell God how much I wanted a child, how muckh I wanted to be a mom.  And I told Him that even though I wanted this so much, it was okay if I never got to do that.  I would be hurt, but I'd be okay because He would help me through it.  I didn't pray this out of manipulation.  You can't manipulate the One who knows what we're going to do before we do it.  But I had prayed that with full belief, with complete surrender.  I had to let go and let Him do what He thought was best regardless of what I wanted.  Now, I can't say that an angel came down and spoke to me saying, "Behold, in time you shall have the child you so desire."  I can't say that the world suddenly looked brighter.  But the tears stopped, and the burden I was carrying was much lighter.  (And I made it to work without incident.)

The procedure had been done, and we have to wait a couple of weeks to see if it worked.  My husband and I had the opportunity to take a vacation and during this time I was to either start my cycle or take a pregnancy test if I didnt start by a certain date.  I did not want to take that test.  See that's another thing with infertility.  There are only so many pregnacy tests a person can take and see negative results on them.  And I had taken several of those negative tests.  It wears on one's emotions as well.  I didnt want to see another one like it.  I had in my mind that I would very likely never see a positive test.  Then, one day I saw pink when I went to the bathroom, and I thought, "Well, here we go again.  But God, it's okay.  It will be okay."

The pink never progressed to red though.  In fact, after that incident, I don't think I saw any more pink.  The date to take the pregnacy test had approached, and they suggest to take a test with the first urination of the day.  Well, I woke up at a probably 3 o'clock in the morning, and I had to go.  I reluctantly took the test.  I even tried to not look at it afterward.  And when I did decide I probably should look at it, I tried to look at it out of the corner of my eye as if that would make a negative result less painful.  But it wasn't negative.  It was positive!  I was in awe.  The angels were singing somewhere, I just know it.  My heart filled up really quick with something I'd never felt before.  Now, my husband was excited with the news.  It just didn't show up when I told him.  Like I said, it was early in the morning when I took the test.  I woke him up from a dead sleep.  I couldn't go back to sleep and not tell him.  This was big!  He stumbles into the bathroom, blinks a million times trying to focus on the test stick in front of him, and somehow managed to see that it was positive.  He kissed me and hugged me for a few minutes, and then went back to bed without a problem.  I'm standing there thinking "Really?  That's the reaction I get after all this time?"  It would have hurt me quite a bit more if it hadn't been so terribly early in the morning, and I know how he sleeps.  And he did come around to the excited side after he became more coherent.

I even managed to go back to sleep myself.  It took a while though.  My heart was so full.  I took another test the next morning that was also positive.  And then we had to get official confirmation from the feritility clinic.  But as I've said before, I already loved a child that didn't exist, so there was no way to deny a love for one that, to my knowledge, was in complete existence however tiny they were.  For whatever reason, God found this to be our time to receive one of His greatest blessings.

From the Mountain to the Valley

Another holiday season has come and gone in what I am certain has been the blink of an eye.  I remained in good shape digestively except for one day recently when my body seemed to say "enough with the holiday food already!"  That was my cue to get back to my normal way of eating. 

The day after New Years Day, I got the experience of having to deal with an auto accident in which someone pulled out in front of me.  Thankfully no one was hurt.  it just becomes a matter of inconvenience than as the police have to process the accident to form a police report, the auto insurance company has to be contacted repetitively (thankfully my husband took that one on), and with the contact of the two vehicles, my front right wheel was knocked out of alignment to where I felt I was driving on snow and ice and had little control over the vehicle.  We decided we needed to have a tow truck take it to a collision center.  And since the vehicle was out of commission, we had to get a rental car at possibly the busiest time we have ever dealt with when it came to renting a car.  The rest of my evening plans were thus derailed as well as my spirit.  But even with the inconvenience of it all, I'd rather deal with that because the alternative could be much worse. 

And now to continue with the infertility journey:  After all the testing was completed, we met with the doctor to get his thoughts on what was likely happening and to form a game plan for the best approach in my husband and I trying to conceive.  The issue of infertility in our case was that I wasn't ovulating.  I had what I needed to do so, but my hormones seemed to interfere.  I have an abnormally high amount of testosterone for a female.  Although this has never been medically presented or challenged in my case and is pure speculation and wonder from me, it's crossed my mind that my issue with Crohn's Disease, or more specifically the use of prednisone in treatment for my illness, had in some way affected my hormones.  My cycles were fine until I got sick with Crohn's.  And after having surgery and getting an ileostomy, they were only "normal" with the use of birth control.  It just makes me wonder. 

With all of this information from the test, it was decided to first get my body to ovulate.  I had to take medication in order for this to happen of course.  (Forgive me because my mind is lost on how many medications I had to take, but I think there were two.  And I definitely can't remember their names.  This journey, this story I now share is more based and focused on the emotional struggle of it all.)  I remember the medical personnel saying to take a certain medication on certain days of my cycle.  And then on a certain time range of my cycle, they wanted both my husband and myself to come back to the office so that they would be able to do a procedure called an IUI (intrauterine insemination).

An IUI is, in simple terms, artificial insemination.  The goal is to get more sperm to reach the fallopian tubes increasing the chance of conception.  The procedure itself was awkward.  I never anticipated needing outside help in order to conceive a child.  But here we were: my husband and myself going through our own respective necessary procedures, and again, I had to toss modesty to the side.  And even with the awkwardness, there was a sense of excitement that soon we might be parents.  The staff seemed positive as well.  We just had to wait a little while longer after the procedure to find out if it worked. 

We go home and go about our daily lives.  We tried not to think about it too much.  Then one day, it was thrown in our faces.  I had gone to the bathroom and had seen the color pink.  And then the pink turned to red.  Months ago, I probably would have been ecstatic to have this happen as I hadn't had a cycle on my own in a long time.  but when you're waiting to see if you're pregnant, pink and red are not welcome colors.  And that evidence was all it took to break a heart that had just been bandaged u with a hope that I almost lost not long before.  you don't think that you can cry any harder or any longer than you do in that moment.  But the next day proves otherwise.  When I would hear that others were expecting or had given birth, it would rub those wounds that were already so big, so fresh, so painful.  And then, on top of that, I'd feel guilty.  Yes, guilty!  A joyous time for others and here I was, so hurt and heartbroken.

I wanted so badly to be happy for them, but I just couldn't fully invest that much selflessness.  I hadn't had time to even put a band-aid on my own wounds (like that would even help).  I wasn't even able to hide my feelings.  If you were looking at my face in one of these situations, you'd have seen it.  (Just ask my mother.)  I personally would like to add that those with the good news of becoming parents, those that want to share with the world, they shouldn't feel bad for sharing their joy.  Just understand that there may be some in your midst who are unable to share in your joy, and those same people feel bad for not having the ability to share in the joy and elation. 

With the realization that we hadn't achieved what we had hoped for, a child, we decided we needed a break  After only one attempt, maybe we should have jumped right back in.  But emotionally, I was spent.  Another failed attempt that soon after would most likely have done me in for good.  We were also spent financially.  We needed time to save up money again. 

In the meantime, we continued to turn to God, each other, and the family and friends, who knew of our situation provided as much support and comfort as possible.  And for that, we are both grateful!