From the dramatic to the mundane and back again. And again. And once more, just for good measure.
I'm a writer and a mother. I've lost three children, started a new career, bought a new house, endured countless surgeries, survived a fourth pregnancy, gave birth to a baby girl, watched my husband start a new career, lobbied for women's rights, weathered a fifth pregnancy and another baby girl, and, on occasion, picked my nose. And I have the audacity to force every bit of it onto my readers (the stories, not the boogers).
Join me as I attempt to figure out this mothering thing, freak out about receiving what I asked for, alternately complain and wax joyous about life in general and my husband specifically, and occasionally talk about waxing, boobs, and beauty products. Or not, your call.
[Insert record scratch] Drama strikes once again. But I can't talk about it publicly. Yet. If I know you and love you, drop me a line to ask for the link to my password protected blog. I'll fill you in there.
Editorial note: I welcome intelligent debate and welcome everyone's opinion - as long as you're not a judgmental bastard. So keep your comments well-meaning, and we'll all learn from one another. Otherwise, I'll kick your ass.
Specifics, if you're interested:
Our first son, Thomas, was diagnosed with a very severe, lethal form of Arthrogryposis at 22 weeks gestation. After gathering as much knowledge and doing as much soul-searching as we could, we decided to terminate the pregnancy to save Thomas from further physical pain. To learn more about him and my fight for women's rights, check out the "Best Reads" entry or the "Politico in Training" category.
Our second son, John, died during what we now believe was a "run-of-the-mill" miscarriage. His development was always a bit behind, though we did see a heartbeat before he died.
Our third son, Todd Albert, died in utero late in the first trimester. The two working theories about his death are that he either didn't receive enough progesterone, or his development was halted by intrauterine adhesions (Asherman's Syndrome), or both. His chromosomes, like Thomas's, were perfect.
Thomas's birth was "normal" except for the fact that he was no longer living. But following each of my miscarriages, I had to have two D&Cs, for a total of four. Somewhere in there I developed Asherman's Syndrome. In early 2004 I underwent surgery and subsequent hormone therapy to remove the adhesions and "renovate" my uterus.
I became pregnant with my daughter, Hannah, right after healing. My pregnancy with her was challenging, but not too difficult, despite a diagnosis of placenta increta just before her birth. Her planned c-section at 37-weeks in January of 2005 went amazingly well, and my uterus was spared thanks to a team of amazing doctors. But her subsequent NICU stay scared the bejeezus out of us. She recoved without problems, though, and is now the all-consuming joy of my life.
In the spring of 2006 we discovered more uterine scarring, and I underwend another hysteroscopy, a balloon catheter, and more hormone therapy to correct it.
In November of 2006 we became pregnant for the fifth time. There was a big bleeding scare between five and six weeks gestation, which was attributed to a sudden drop in progesterone and corrected with supplements. All anatomy scans and prenatal testing revealed a very active, very healthy baby girl. An MRI at 34 weeks showed placenta accreta and a bi-lobed placenta, so we proceeded with a planned, all-hands-on-deck c-section once again. The end result was a perfectly healthy Baby Sister - also known as Caroline. My uterus was saved and we now get to relax and enjoy our family without thoughts of reproduction... at least for a few more years.