The 'miscarriage' and the miracle...

At around 2 am Monday morning I was tossing and turning with the uncomfortable feeling that I had wet my pants or something... A persistent nagging voice to 'get up' entered my dreams but I could not rouse myself until about the 4th time I turned over and I thought my entire bladder emptied in just a seconds' time. I immediately sat upright with my feet on the floor and felt a gush of 'something' running down my legs. As I bolted for the bathroom I could feel more and more fluid run down my legs. I fumbled for the light switch and even without my glasses I could tell instantly that this was not good - all I could see was a red stain rapidly spreading across my nightgown.

"NOOOOOOO!!!! Oh please no!"

I screamed for Dean. I screamed for it to stop. I screamed for my glasses because I couldn't see. I couldn't see what was happening other than there was blood. And lots of it. I felt a sudden gush, as if my insides had suddenly left my body and I slipped and slid into the shower stall. Whatever it was, it was now in my underwear. I was shaking with fright - I did not want to look. Dean was with me now as I put on my glasses and looked...

"No....no....no...no...."

Up until this point I had experienced good fortune with my pregnancies. No major mishaps. Only minor bleeding with Rylan in the 13th week. Nothing like this. I don't know what happens during a miscarriage. I don't know what you see or don't see. My heart aches for every woman I have met that has shared their personal grief over an experience of miscarriage in their life. But I never pressed for details... I don't know exactly what they experienced. I can only imagine - and again I share my sorrow with them for their loss. But what I was looking at just horrified me. A mass the size of my hand. That can't be good. Nothing that large, in the thirteenth week of pregnancy can be a positive sign that everything is A-OK.

We hugged. We cried. We grieved. We were both of the same mind that the pregnancy had just come a horrible and definitive end. We gathered up what we could to show the ER personnel because I remembered reading somewhere that you should do that. I showered while Dean so kindly cleaned the floor and took care of the carpets and the nightgown.

Thankfully the kids remained asleep and mom arrived to lend a hand (and her shoulder). We drove off into the night. Numb. Stunned. In total disbelief. There had been no warning. No sign of impending doom. No pain, no more discomfort than what I felt on any other normal day of pregnancy. This came out of virtually nowhere. In fact, later that morning we were due to have our first ultrasound. We both relayed feelings of relief that we had not seen the baby yet or heard it's heartbeat. That would have made it all the more unbearable now.

We arrived at the ER, and the doctor examined me, and looked at what was in the bag.

"Hmmm. We'll know more when we see what the ultrasound shows".

??

We didn't want to see. We didn't want to see an empty black space of nothing (or worse...) I laid there imagining all sorts of awful things that I couldn't seem to get out of my head.

In the meantime, Dean went white as a sheet. He slumped over and warned the nurse that he was about to go down. Too much adrenaline... They moved him to another bed and gave him juice and a cold wash cloth. In the meantime I got an IV. I was feeling woozy myself. In the passing minutes Dean came around and they wheeled me to the ultrasound room.

We couldn't bear to watch. I began to hurt and feel even more nauseous myself. The tech kept up the small talk and didn't seem phased at all by what she was seeing. Again - surreal.

They wheeled me back into the ER and we waited. Just a few moments really - and then the nurse came back. She seemed a little too happy. She even grinned.

"Have you heard the results?"

uhhhh...

"The baby is just fine. Normal heart rate. Everything looks okay."

Say what? What baby? There can't possibly still be a baby. Not after what we saw as we sat on the shower floor. That is just not.... well... not what we expected to hear.

Then the tears of relief came. And then abject terror. Well if didn't happen, then it's STILL HAPPENING....right? This was only a sign that the process was just beginning. Everywhere I've read - once a miscarriage begins, there is nothing that can stop it. But the nurse was HAPPY. That counts for something right?

The doctor came in and said that I had passed a rather large (duh!?!) blood clot and that indeed, the baby was just fine. No idea where the bleeding was coming from, but the placenta was intact and just fine. Good news... except for the no idea where all the blood was coming from part.

We went home. Again in disbelief. We shared the good news with mom and went to bed. I didn't sleep very much. We got up, got the kids ready and went to our 9 am ultrasound appt. We were wanting answers. She brought up the image and here is what we saw...

He/she was even doing some flashy arm movements! Heart rate fine, measurements fine... everything just fine. Great! So, um, why all the bleeding? Well, from what the technician was able to tell, there is a large blood clot sitting just adjacent to the cervix. The placenta is sitting over the cervix as well. The cervix is securely closed, so the blood clot will remain. The placenta will move as the uterus grows, but to what degree remains to be seen. A placenta over or near the cervix is called Placenta Previa. It is not a good thing. We experienced the same thing with Rylan at 13 weeks and by the 20th week ultrasound, things had resolved themselves. I think this time around it is a little more serious. A placenta over the cervix when delivery time comes is actually a very dangerous thing. We'll know more in the coming weeks.

Well, as this week has progressed I am feeling better. I still feel like I've taken about 50 direct hits with a soccer ball to the gut. I don't know why that would be. Weird. I feel tired and I'm hobbling around like I feel 36 weeks pregnant. But each day it gets better. I've been blessed with very helpful family and friends this week. A nice dinner of bbq beef sandwiches one night, lasagna the next, cinnamon rolls for breakfast - and even help with the dishes!! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Tomorrow is my 38th birthday and the picture above is the best present I could have ever asked for.

Mommy's dissin' Santa Claus

Okay - this missive has been brewin' for awhile, and I don't care who I piss off by getting this off my chest. The last straw was added to the pile today, and my steam vents need to let off some pressure....

Jordan is my 9 year old stepson. He lives here, with us, but visits his mother three times a year - 6 weeks in summer, alternating Thanksgiving and Christmas, and 1 week for Spring Break. We are currently in the middle of his annual summer visit with mom. Mom lives in another state and we have differing ideas about what it means to be a responsible parent.

In the weeks leading up to each and every visit, she compiles a list of his favorite foods so that she can shop before he arrives. As sweet and endearing as this ritual is, this list is composed primarily of every kind of junk food there is and is her way to pull her child close to her by giving him all that he wants.

We have, over the years, gained the impression that Jordan does not have much to do when he visits his mom. There are a few visits here and there with other family members, but the vast majority of his time is spent watching TV or playing video games. He comes home in a very addicted state. It takes weeks to get him back to the point where he is not asking every 10 minutes - "Can I watch a movie? Can I play the Wii?"

Every visit (Summer is the worst), we go through a process of getting him back on track - sort of like cleaning up after a messy party. Well, this summer has gone unexpectedly south in a very short amount of time. About a week ago, during his daily phonecall, Jordan revealed (privately so that his mom wouldn't hear) that his mom had told him that Santa did not exist. Just came right out and told him - out of the blue. It is the middle of summer (!!) and for no apparent reason she brought it up. She effectively ended not only his belief in Santa, but also the Easter Bunny, the toothfairy and anything else that held a shred of childhood magic. Yes, Jordan is 9 - but a young nine. No, he was not without a little doubt, but he still believed, none the less. And we were happy to let him continue - knowing full well that pretty soon, in the next year or so, he would inadvertantly figure it out on his own. We did not expect his mom to come out of left field and just end it. And to make matters worse, she told him that he had better not tell his dad that it was she who told him 'the truth'. How unfair is that? Now that puts Jordan in a tough spot - if she finds out we know, she'll know he told us despite her warning and that will become a trust issue between them. Again - how unfair to put him in that position. How unfair to put us in that position! We should be able to express our disappointment and defend Jordan's right to a naturally progressing childhood - one that reveals the mysterious world of 'adulthood' at a more appropriate age. I am so upset that still - after a weeks time - I could spit. How unfair! She not only ruined it for him (for only personal gain, no less - it's our guess that she just doesn't want to have to keep up the charade anymore) but it ruins it for our kids as well. Jordan cannot keep a secret to save his life - I predict our kids will know years before they should.

But no - this was not the last straw. That came today. Jordan went to see a PG13 movie today, with his grandma. Jordan had requested this particular movie (and most likely knew full well what the rating was...) and asked his grandma to take him to see it. His grandma had the good sense to question the movie's rating, and called to check with his mom before she took him to the movie. His mom ok'ed it. His mom knows that we don't allow him to watch PG13 movies yet. For the very reason - HE IS ONLY NINE!!! Let a kid be a kid, for goodness sake! Why can't kids just be left alone to enjoy what little childhood they get? Why does the media have to push bad language and suggestive adult 'stuff'onto kids? Why can't his mother be more thoughtful and senstive to the nature of him still being a child? She all of a sudden wants him to bypass childhood and be a teenager. I believe that she does these things on purpose because she has issues with which parent has the control. We don't want this to be a control issue - we just try to parent rationally, and she wants to parent emotionally. (If she goes after Jordan's emotional needs by giving him what he wants - more freedom w/o direction - she wins, right?) It would be overstepping our bounds to expect that she and her husband parent as exactly as we do, but one would think that our expectation that Jordan be spared from witnessing things on screen that he doesn't really need to see or hear just yet would be respected.

I believe in the spirit of Santa! I believe that there is a time and a place to leave certain elements of childhood behind - and it must be childled, and in the child's best interest. Children have a way of knowing a parent's motive, even if the parent thinks they have concealed it. Jordan knows that (while with his mom) he is eating, watching, saying, and doing things that he should not. The fact that one parent lets him do it and the other doesn't is also apparent to him. One day he will come to realize this distinct difference. I hope he has the fortitude to ask - "Why didn't you care enough to set some limits?".

It is hard being the step parent. I am very caught in the middle as well. I am not his mother, yet I take up the parenting role every day. I set limits and I enforce them. I make sure that he is fed well, body and mind, and that each day is a new opportunity to take the reins and learn something new. I don't profess to be the very best mom, or step mom there is, but I try hard, each and every day, to let him (and my other children) know that I take parenting very seriously. You don't always get a second chance to learn some hard lessons. Lessons like looking both ways before crossing the street, falling in with the wrong group of friends, and using drugs and alcohol. If you don't set limits for the easy stuff, how can you expect them to listen and take you seriously when it comes to the hard stuff?

Drugs are not the answer

I ran across a story about the dangers of Adderall that ABC's Good Morning America ran earlier this Week. http://abcnews.go.com/Health/MindMoodNews/story?id=7829005&page=1 We gave Jordan Adderall XR every morning for about 18 months. The doseage went up and down, the least was 15 mg and the most was 30. We settled on 20 mg the last 6 mo. he was on it. When Jordan began kindergarten in public school, by October he was taking meds to "control" his ADHD. He began with Concerta (with minimal results) and then switched to Adderall XR. I never saw any significant results or changes in behavior. He did seem calmer at times but would become sad and weepy at the drop of a hat. We felt frustrated that even though Jordan was taking these meds, he would still get into trouble multiple times a day, on a daily basis. Because of his ADHD diagnosis, we were railroaded into agreeing to extended special ed testing to see if Jordan would benefit by moving into a moderate needs classroom during his first grade year. He scored very well on all of his intelligence tests, but it showed he would do better in a small classroom with minimal distraction. It definitely made him more accountable, but he learned very little in the way of academics. He missed out on most of the fun and special things that his class did because his teacher would often send him back to the moderate needs room because of his 'behavior'. By spring I was ready to pull my hair out - Jordan had missed so much but was gaining in other areas. Like all of the neat 'socializing' he was doing with the other kids in the moderate needs classroom. Kids that had some serious issues like oppositional/defiance and emotional/behavioral disorder. To all those naysayers out there that say that kids NEED socializing in public school, I say - REALLY? Does Jordan REALLY need to learn all of those 'neat' words? Does Jordan REALLY need to have classmates give him graphic pencil drawings of death and destruction? Does Jordan REALLY need to witness another student being openly defiant with a grown-up? REALLY? (Where is Seth and Amy when I need them...)

The tide turned for us that summer after the decision was made to leave public school behind. I read a book, Please Don't Label My Child, by Scott M. Shannon, MD. He stressed that there are other methods to working with kids with behavioral issues than using drugs. He stressed addressing vitamin deficiencies and altering their diet. That led me to The Feingold Program, http://www.feingold.org/. We tweaked Jordan's diet a bit and there was some change. For it to really work, you need to go all or none - preferably as a family. I know that Jordan is sensitive to artificial colors and preservatives, and MSG is also a trigger. Which is frustrating because it is in practically everything... Another great read is Fed Up, by Sue Dengate. http://www.fedup.com.au/ She is an Australian mom who has really worked to figure out the dietary connection to kids and their behavior. I found it very informative, albeit a little overwhelming trying to keep all of the different dietary restrictions straight.

I think that by removing Jordan from school, controlling the amount of chaos in his life by keeping his days loosely scheduled and predictable, taking stock of his dietary needs and addressing them, we have come a long way in helping him cope with his behavioral issues. Drugs are not the only answer out there and the inherit dangers of mixing kids with psychostimulants makes it an easy decision to try other methods.

Life without TV

We recently (and very reluctantly) disconnected our digital cable box/DVR and returned it to Comcast. It was just taking too much from our budget to continue to pay for it. We miss it very much - especially the DVR. I got so used to programming the DVR to record every episode of Reading Rainbow, Mythbusters, Dirty Jobs, How it's Made, America's Test Kitchen, and a whole host of others. It was nice to have a wide selection to choose from, depending on your mood. There was a lot of good stuff out there, after you sorted through the riff-raff on network TV.

Now we are stuck with network TV and PBS. I am thankful for PBS because Rylan can still watch her favorite show: Super Why - as long as she is up at 7:30, which has been hit or miss in the last week or so. Reading Rainbow comes on at the ultra popular time of 2:30 am, so we never get to see it anymore. I wonder what programming genious thought that one up. Because you see, Dragontails is just so superior.... (I hate that show, I hate that show...)

We are of course getting a lot more done around here, just as I thought we would. I didn't have TV either, before I met Dean. I had cut the cord with cable company in the months before, and 'enjoyed' getting a lot of stuff accomplished. Like grading papers and making lesson plans. Ya' know, fun stuff like that... We listen to NPR all evening. Rylan and Owen like the music on the World Music Cafe. I am glad that I get to listen to that again - I've missed it.

Jordan will be in for a little shock to the system when he gets home in a month's time. We had turned in the DVR before he left, but they hadn't sent a guy out to turn off the cable yet. Right now he is in TV heaven, because that is about all he does while he is there. Sad. But that will help in the transition back because we can immerse ourselves in all that we do every day anyway. There won't be time for TV!

Whatever...

Last night, as soon as her daddy came home from work, Rylan wanted to go outside and throw a small red disc. We both told her she couldn't because some dark clouds were rolling in and it was beginning to thunder. She insisted that it wasn't, and I opened the front door to prove it to her. She turned away, said a few sentences under her breath, and then tossed over her shoulder this little gem:

"Whatever..."

Storm damage

Wouldn't you know? Just when you finish off a garden project, a storm has to swoop in and mess everything up. Rylan and I sat and watched as the clouds started to swirl and darken, and hail looked imminent, so she and I scrambled to cover the tomato bed with a tarp. I put a bowl over the rhubarb to protect it as well. Then we stepped inside just as the rain started to pick up. Then I saw the clouds continue to swirl, and I thought it would be best if we went to the basement. The news channel was brodcasting that a tornado had been sighted nearby. We listened to about 15 solid minutes of hail and hard rain. I noticed a small stream of water leaking in around one of the window frames as well. We're going to have to do something about that too. Add it to the list!

When we stepped outside, this is what we saw...

Garden Week 3

The previous weeks were all construction shots, so these photos are now documenting actual plant progress. On Saturday we filled in the remaining beds with enriched soil and tamped it down. On Sunday, Dean finished the top of the frame on the shortest bed. So we now have 3 completed beds. Bed #1 is the shortest bed, Bed #2 is of medium height and Bed #3 is the tallest. Beds 1 & 2 have rabbit fencing around them to keep out the dog and the kids. :)

Rabbit fencing doesn't always deter a determined toddler

While daddy was working on the top of the frame for Bed #1, Rylan, Owen and I planted the bed. Rylan helped make holes and dropped the bigger-sized seeds in. Owen busied himself by removing all of the plant markers I put in place. (Sigh). We planted 1 zucchini, 1 squash, 2 rows of peas, 4 rows of carrots, 4 rows of beets and 1 row of chives.

In bed #2, we planted 1 rhubarb (from a nursery), 1 zucchini, 3 rows of peas, 1 row of jalapeno, 1 row of anaheim, and 8 cucumber.

In bed #3, (which was planted about 2 weeks ago) I put in 10 tomatoes, and multiple bush beans.

Bush bean seedling, approx. 12 days after planting