wishin' and prayin' and hopin'

It's been a crazy month. I know I've been hugely slack on blogging, but now that I've left the first trimester behind and I'm hoping entering better weeks ahead, I'm hoping to get back onto my feet. I've been in a daze of doctors visits, speech therapy with G, toddler-raising, teaching, and taking classes.

I'm about to finish my seventh week of Lovenox shots to counteract my three clotting factors. To put it mildly, the experience has given me a whole lot of respect for people with diabetes. I don't know how they go through that may shots a day with no end in sight. At least I know my shots won't last forever. But it's amazing what you'll go through when you have no choice, when you have to do it, and especially when you have to do it for the health and life of your child.

So every time I stick the needle in, I think about the baby and how I'm one shot closer to holding him or her in my arms.

There are some things I've learned about taking Lovenox that I wish I'd known ahead of time.

1. Put the needle in slowly. You don't want to jab that half-inch thing in there. It seems terribly in theory to do it this way but trust me, you'll feel like you have more control. And don't worry about that weird bendy thing your skin will do before the needle finally breaks through your skin - no, it won't be difficult to puncture your skin.
2. Ice liberally before and after. Like at least ten minutes before and after. If you don't want it to sting like a mofo afterward, you'd better ice.
3. Oh yeah, the medicine will sting. It stings much worse than the needle going in (most of the time). The stinging will take your breath away, but don't forget to keep breathing and stay calm. When it hurts too much, stop putting the medicine in and wait a moment. It doesn't hurt to keep the needle in, so take your time when pressing the plunger. The first time, it stung for over 30 minutes. After that, I injected much more slowly and the stinging time has decreased.
4. You'll bleed so be prepared. Keep tissues handy and tiny bandaids if you get a bleeder.
5. Do the shots yourself. The hubs did mine for the first two weeks because I was a big chicken, but I swear, it's less traumatic to do it yourself. My hands were shaking so badly when I did my first one, but I feel like a pro by now.
6. It hurts, but it doesn't hurt forever. The stinging eventually fades and you'll get a reprieve until you have to do it again the next day.

Also, the experience of giving yourself a Lovenox shot changes each time.

Sometimes it's a bleeder. When you take the needle out, a big bubble of blood follows. Don't put too much pressure on it as the bleeding will eventually stop on its own and you don't want to cause too much bruising.

Sometimes it's a bruiser. Luckily, I haven't gotten many of these, and only one has given me a huge bruise.

Sometimes it stings so badly you think you can't stand it. Along with the stinger can come the oh-my-god-this-needle-is-huge moment when that baby burns all the way in.

And then, every once in a while, you'll get the easy. The injection that you barely feeling going in, that hardly burns at all, and the only way you can identify the injection sight is by the tiny red dot.

But I'll take stingers and bruises every time if it means a healthy baby at the end of the journey. I know these shots will be like labor, and the memories of pain will fade with time. I can't feel the baby yet, but I know it's in there, bouncing around on my uterus and wiggling those skinny limbs like a crazy monkey.

So I let out a long breath as I slide the needle in. And I make a wish.

playground drama, take two

This afternoon, G and I headed out for a quick jaunt to our closest playground, the one at the library. It was the scene of G's first encounter with a bully. There were several other kids there, mostly older toddlers or pre-schoolers. One set was a mom with a baby in a carrier and her three year old son. Another set involved a grandfather with a 4-5 year old boy and a 3 year old girl.

I started talking with the mom after our boys collided accidentally. No one was hurt, and they both went back to playing pretty quickly. While G was playing, I noticed every once in a while the grandfather would try to instruct one of the two kids he was with. He would say things like, "Don't climb up the slide because that kid wants to come down" or "stop running into the road." For the most part, his two grandchildren ignored him. Most of the time, they laughed at his meager attempts at discipline and ran off.

At one point, I noticed the grandfather's little girl try to pick a fight with the mom's little boy. She shoved him, and the mom separated them. She shoved him again, and he went to shove back, so the mom separated them and herded the boy off to another area to get away from her.

G decided he wanted to go down the curly cue slide. He sat down and got himself all prepped to push off when the little girl came up behind him. She sat down behind G and started pushing, yelling at him to move out of the way. After a moment of that, he started getting upset and just wanted to abort the attempt to slide, but she kept on pushing and yelling. I was standing below them, on the ground, and she was watching me. I told her to stop pushing him. She looked at me, raised her hands, and pushed some more. I told her again, and she lifted her feet, and while watching me, kicked him hard in the back. I rushed to the nearest stairs and climbed up, but by the time I got there, G had run off, upset.

Soon after that, the little girl ran after the mom's son who she had shoved earlier. She pushed him hard, and the mom immediately stepped over, saying that was unacceptable. The girl continued, chasing the boy around the playground and pushing him repeatedly. The boy was crying and yelling, "No, stop!" over and over, but the girl ignored him. The mom called over to the grandfather to do something, saying the girl would not leave her son alone. He verbally reprimanded the girl without even going over to her.

I went onto the platforms to follow G around, and when he ran down one area, the little girl followed. I hurried after him, but I was too late. The girl shoved him hard in the chest and down he went. He sat up, looking at her like she was crazy, and started crying. At that point, I was pissed. I yelled at the girl, who was still putting hands on my son, to go away and leave him alone.

I picked G up as the grandfather walked over, and I just lost it. I said, "She is going around pushing other kids and being very mean. You need to do something other than just standing around. Our kids can't even play!" He didn't even reply. He just stood there looking bewildered.

It took a while to calm G down, and by then, his nerves were shot. He just wanted to go home. He signed for water and pointed at the car, so we headed out. In the parking lot, I met up with the other mom who had also been chased off by the crazy child. Neither of us could understand why the grandfather would just stand there and allow these children to terrorize others. It's not like he wasn't paying attention; he was constantly following them around, verbally trying to instruct them to get of the road and leave other children alone. At one point, he even said they were leaving, but of course he did nothing to make that happen.

I understand that, being a grandparent, this man really might not have known what to do with these kids. Maybe he doesn't watch them often. Maybe they're so out of control that he just doesn't have a clue what to do. But when your child is hurting other children on the playground, you need to physically step in and remove that child. He had two moms complain that the little girl was shoving others, but he just stood there and did nothing.

Frankly, it was just lazy parenting. He didn't want to have to go in and stop them from doing anything. And he was too lazy and ignorant about the whole situation to pack up the kids and leave. What will that three year old be like if you allow her to hurt other people now? It's really not that hard to follow up on your threats, people.

All I know is, as we pulled out of the parking lot, they were still playing there without a care in the world.

yard sale-ing

How cute is this pic of G with his two grandmas? Totally cute. My mom on the left and Dave's mom on the right.

My mom came into town Friday night to watch G while we had our yard sale Saturday. We had been collecting other people's stuff for weeks, ever since we discovered that our insurance will not cover any of our maternal/fetal specialist's doctor visits, ultrasounds, or lab work. We plan on fighting our insurance in whatever way we can, but even if they do cave in and cover these items, we're still looking at bare minimum of $10,000 for our next baby. Assuming we can carry to term, anyway.

We were so lucky to get tons of donations for our yard sale. While we didn't have as big of a turn-out as we were hoping, we actually sold a ton of stuff! In fact, we sold $600 worth! We donated our leftovers to Goodwill while keeping what we think we can sell on eBay or Craigslist.

I'm so grateful that our yard sale was such a success. We spent a lot of time sorting through items, placing prices, and of course, hauling everything outside and setting up. G got to spend some much-wanted time with my mom who he doesn't get to see very often. And we got to cover a month's worth of doctor's bills! Woo!

(As a side note, if anyone knows if blood clotting disorders are covered under the "pregnancy complications" of insurance, do let me know. We're gearing up to fight our insurance since it's not listed either way on our explanation of benefits. We don't have a maternity rider as our insurance company doesn't offer one. Also, when I spoke to someone from my insurance company, all she would say is that they couldn't theorize on covered benefits until it actually happened because it depended upon the physician who reviewed my claims. Uh-huh.)

playground bully (or, mama bear wanted to punch a face)

To enjoy the break in the slight drizzle outside, G and I headed to one of our favorite playgrounds at our local library. We go here probably at least once a week because it's so close and easy to pop in and out. Plus, G loves this playground. It has wide, open walkways where he can run in a large circle, many slides, and several different sets of stairs. Really, if the place had some swings, it would be perfect.

When we arrived, a father and son were playing with some toy (a slingshot, maybe?) in the empty parking lot. G proceeded to do his thing, screaming happily and running in circles. I tried to engage him in a game of tic-tac-toe, but he became distracted by the boy walking into the playground area. His dad stayed in the parking lot, playing on his phone. The boy seemed to be about four years old, about a head taller than G. He said "hi" to G, and I asked G to say "hi" back - of course, G only waved. He's starting to notice other kids more and more, so he watched the other boy for a bit.

At one point, the boy jabbed a finger into G's chest. Now that I think about it, it was probably to move G away from the top of a small set of stairs that G was standing nearby. G looked at me and back at the kid and back at me, like what was his problem, mom? G didn't seem hurt, so I told him it was okay, to go ahead and keep playing.

The boy went down the set of stairs, and G wanted to follow. G headed down a few steps before the boy rushed back, telling G, "You can't go down these stairs. No stairs. No slides. You can't get on the ground." He said this over and over.

I thought, okay, we've dealt with this before. Some kids get possessive over certain parts of the playground. I told G he could go down the stairs if he wanted. But there were other steps to use to get down as well. I pointed him toward another set, but he felt like being a little stubborn and standing his ground. I wasn't about to discourage him; G is notorious to giving up ground to any kid who even walks past him, so the fact that he wasn't running away was a huge step in the right direction.

I told G to just wait his turn and let the boy get off the stairs first. The boy did, but again, as soon as G tried to go down, the boy would rush back and yell at Grayson. At this point, I was encouraging G to just use another set of stairs and he decided to agree. G started to walk off, but the boy followed, still talking about what G could and couldn't do. He was getting right up in G's face, and G was really started to get unnerved by this boy. I told the boy, "You need to leave my kid alone."

The boy started to stomp close to G's feet like he was trying to hurt him. He was grunting, swinging his arms around, trying to intimidate G. I put my hand up, saying, "Do not touch my kid. If you touch my kid, I will not hesitate to push you away." He continued to stomp and make threatening gestures at my son.

I looked for his father who was oblivious and called over to him. "Sir, you need to come talk to your son. He is bothering my kid."

The man started walking over. "What's he doing?"

"He's not letting my son play. He's being a bully." Yeah, I used the b-word. But it was true. It was bully behavior.

The man looked at his son, who had backed off. "If you can't play nice, we're going to leave." His kid started whining and saying he hadn't done anything. When G tried to go down the stairs again, the boy immediately tried to prevent him from going down. His father (I'm assuming here) stopped him, saying, "Okay, we're going home." The kid took off, yelling. The man said, "Come get your shoe." It was on the steps and he was too large to get it; I actually went and got it for him, eager for the kid to go.

This continued for a while, with the father telling his kid to do something, and his son repeatedly whining and saying no. Once, the kid ran off saying "Don't hit me, don't hit me!" and the father replied, "I won't if you leave the other boy alone." The father eventually gave up, though he did hover nearby on the ground, finally keeping an eye on his son.

G relaxed and began to run in circles along the top platforms. The boy began to chase him, following about half a circle behind but slowly catching up. G would notice and start running faster, trying to get away from him. When G would run over to me, the boy would stop and yell at G to keep running. OMG, seriously!

After a few rounds, G got upset, making the noises he makes when he's scared. He didn't cry, but man, he was close. He came over and clung to my leg, staring at the other boy like he was psycho. I told the boy, "Leave him alone. You are scaring him." His father came over to say basically the same thing and demand that they leave. Of course, the kid refused.

At that point, I held G close to me. Either we were going to leave, or they were. The father eventually managed to catch his kid, hoisting him over his shoulder and carrying him back to the car. The kid screamed bloody murder the entire time he was being strapped into his carseat, and I could hear him still screaming as they drove out of the parking lot and onto the main rode.

Why are some kids this horrible? The boy couldn't have been older than 5 at most, and he was probably more like 4. We've met some pushy kids before, including two I've had to physically block from touching G. But this is the first time I've come across an actual bully. It was like he smelled blood in the water, and as a shark, he was compelled to circle. Or maybe something about G just screamed easy victim. Or maybe he was bored and G was the only other kid around. While his father tried to control his kid, he was mostly ineffective. Following through with your threats when you first make them is kinda Parenting 101. I can't help but blame the parent for at least part of the kid's behavior.

I wasn't sure how to get G to handle it. I've always told him, "Do what you want. Take turns, but don't let someone push you off your toy." But he's just passive that way. At the mall that morning, he asked to leave the play area after some more kids arrived because he couldn't be assertive enough to use the slide. Being passive is just part of G - it's a large reason as to why he hasn't started talking much yet. It's part of his kind and gentle nature.

I don't want my kid to be bullied because he can't stand up for himself. I know it's unreasonable to demand a two-year-old to stand up to a bully, but I won't always be there at his side. I want to teach him some skills now, but how do you do that with a child who doesn't talk? I read something about just teaching them to say "No" loudly, and I'm going to work on that with G.

Our first encounter with a bully broke my heart. I'm glad that I managed to keep my emotions in check, but inside, I was burning with mama bear rage. I had to push aside my angry tears to be strong for G, and to not lose my cool with a kid who was still so young.

What would you do if your kid was being bullied on the playground? Any tips for this mama?

where do I even start?

The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of revelations and sadness. If you're tired of hearing about my miscarriages and related troubles, you probably want to move on. I promise the posts for the rest of the month will turn to happier subjects.

On Tuesday, I got a positive pregnancy test. It was so faint that we really thought we were just seeing things, so we didn't tell anyone and quietly hoped. I did call my OB and got an appointment to come in for bloodwork the next day.

On Wednesday, I got more positive pregnancy tests, this time much more obvious. I had my blood drawn to test my HCG levels, then headed up to my first visit with maternal/fetal medicine. Dr. K was pretty awesome; she actually has the same OB/GYN as me, which was great. We went over everything my test results showed, which was more than I had originally thought.

I knew that I had one genetic marker for Factor V Leiden, a disorder that can cause blood clots. Dr. K was pretty sure this was why G only weighed 6.3 ounces at 38 weeks and why I got pre-eclampsia with him. She was amazed that I didn't get pre-e earlier. :( Another reason I'm so so thankful for my healthy toddler!

However, I discovered that I have two markers for MTHFR. I didn't hear which kind, but she said it was not the "worst type" but the "medium." Since MTHFR blocks the absorption of folic acid, this might have been what caused baby #2's base of the brain problems. We'll never know for sure, but there you go. I also have two markers for PAI 4G/4G, which she said wasn't a big deal except when combined with other factors.

So, awesome, right?

Anyway, we formed a game plan for my next successful pregnancy:

• 4000 mcg extra folic acid
• 40 ml of Lovenox in a daily injection
• 500 mg extra calcium (once I start Lovenox)
• 1 daily baby aspirin during pregnancy (and for the rest of my life)
• Lovenox is started as soon as we get a heartbeat at 6-7 weeks. I would get bloodwork and an ultrasound done every month to check the baby and my red blood cell counts. At 32 weeks, the ultrasounds become bi-weekly.
• Switch to Heparin before delivery so I could have an epidural if wanted or stay awake during a c-section.
• Induction around 38 weeks. I would then switch over to blood thinner in the form of pills for the next 6 weeks.

Whew! A mouthful, right? But it's worth it, if it'll get us another baby... Wednesday was also baby #2's due date. I did break down in Dr K's office because there was a lot of talk about baby #2. Also, the office was the same one where we had our extensive ultrasound to diagnose baby #2's miscarriage. Stepping into that waiting room literally took my breath away (we had no idea), and I'm pretty sure the hubs cursed.

On Thursday, I had another positive pregnancy test, but it was fainter. I called my OB for my test results. The nurse called back to say that my blood HCG test had came back negative. In fact, my HCG was only 3. Of course, I was shocked. I thought maybe my tests were too faint and they weren't getting darker, but I thought maybe the baby was just a late implanter. Not so.

Later that day, I started having horrible backache and spotting.

Today, I'm still spotting. I took one pregnancy test this morning which was negative. I'm guessing I'll get my period eventually... or the miscarriage... or whatever you call it when it's a chemical pregnancy (which, by the way, is a nasty term for a very early miscarriage). Should I call it baby #4? I don't even know. Maybe my body just wasn't ready to be pregnant again two months after my last miscarriage? I don't know that either. All I know is that I'm tired of being on the shit side of life's percentages of chance. I want something to go right for once. I need it to go right.

Anyway, I'm gonna take a break from talking about all of this. We'll start trying again immediately, but of course it'll be about a month before we know if we're successful. All of this waiting definitely doesn't help.

car buying aka headache time

I can has Bumblebee?

The hubs and I have been car shopping.

Oh, it's not by choice, mind you. The day I was supposed to go in for my recurrent pregnancy loss testing, my old 2002 Ford Focus ZX5 hatchback died. Not completely died, but the kinda slow warning lights, jerking, grinding gears attitude that singles that death is imminent. Death by transmission failure.

At ten years old and 113,000 miles, my car wasn't exactly ancient, but I had been expecting it to die at any moment. We'd had problems with the Focus for years. It felt like something was going wrong with it every few months.

So it coughed a dying breath on Monday. By Tuesday afternoon, it was sold. Thank you, Craigslist.

Of course, this left us down to one car. We've been lucky enough to have in-laws close by who are letting us borrow a car while we shop. Otherwise, G and I would be stuck in the house 24/7.

But but car shopping is HARD! Our budget is tight. Saving for another baby, paying for expensive RPL testing, and prepping for one or two semester when I can't teach (and therefore have a payment coming in) - all of this freaks me out when we're looking at car prices. And why are cars so expensive?? It warrants double questions marks.

We're hoping to find something by the end of next week, but the thought of spending that much money on an object just makes me cringe. I know it's an investment, something we'll use for at least ten years, and I know that we can drop more money on it as we save. But jeez. Debt. I hate it going backwards into debt instead of paying things down.

On top of everything else we're dealing with, my car had to die. Why, life? Just... seriously?