Breaking Back

I'm 16weeks now .... and right on schedule my horrifically debilitating back pain has arrived! With every pregnancy I've been plagued with this, the can't-move-without-crying kind of pain in my mid to lower back. Some days when I'm super lucky it radiates through the booty and shoots down both legs, causing me to walk with a gimp that James can't resist making fun of.

To compensate for his giggles, James treated me to a massage at BodyWorx Spa last week. The massage was fabulous, but somehow it actually made the problem worse. I have tightened up so badly that I literally can not take a deep breath without pain shooting down my back and tears filling my eyes.

And since I'm on the topic of pregnancy discomfort, can I just say that I've also (ahem...) observed, that I am covered in black bruises, I can't sleep, I have to pee every ten minutes, I have unidentified fluids pouring out of my nether-regions, I'm eating Tums and Colace by the handful, I'm so tired that I can hardly walk straight, and I have medicine coming out my eyeballs.

But again, I'm not complaining. I am blessed to be with child.

Adding to my super-fun experience this week are Braxton-Hicks contractions. They have started already. Dr. Garcia says not to worry at this point (doesn't he know by now that "Worry" is my middle name?) ..... I'm just praying that my cervix holds up. I'm trying to stay off my feet as much as possible, which is hard with Thanksgiving approaching. And drinking 60+ ounces of water each day is not helping my frequent-pee problem, but I digress ....

My second set of injections is scheduled to start next week. They are giving me 17-alpha-hydroxy-progesterone, 250mg injections, once per week. This treatment is fairly new ... it's given to women with previous preemies, and is thought to reduce your risk of preterm birth by up to 30%. These are intermuscular injections (unlike my lovenox which is just subcutaneous), so I am unable to do them myself. So they are sending a high-risk obstetrical nurse to my house each week to administer the injections and monitor me for pre-term labor. Once again, thank GOD for insurance.

Matria, the home healthcare company, sent all the injections to me this week via FedEx overnight express. I made the mistake of opening the package and inspecting everything. With much trepidation and horror I report to you that I *observed* .... those needles are freaking gigantic. Probably 4-5 times the size of my Lovenox needles. Apparently the medication is compounded in castor-oil, so it is very thick (almost looks like vegetable oil!) .... and giant needles are necessary to push it through. The home nurse called this week to arrange everything, her name is Sharon. She seemed nice on the phone, but even still I keep picturing her chasing me through my living room with a 40-foot needle. I'm terrified of her already.

I am blessed to be with child. I am blessed to be with child. I AM BLESSED TO BE WITH CHILD .......

Team BLUE!

Holy crap we're having a BOY!!! We found out yesterday during my first trimester screening. I was shocked that we were able to see "it" so clearly, I was only 13w0d!

But alas, there on the screen we saw the unmistakable "toilet shot", and the ultrasound tech announced quite confidently that we are indeed having another son.

I'm feeling a little shocked, and if I'm being honest - a wee bit sad. I've been hoping for another girl, mostly because I have such a close relationship with my own sister and I wanted that experience for Gracie. And also for selfish reasons - I feel like emotionally this will be much harder for me to handle since it's a boy. I worry that I will forever be comparing him to Isaac ... the way he looks, the way he talks, the way he runs, the way he laughs ... wondering if that's the way Isaac would have been. I was hoping it would be a girl in part so I wouldn't have to deal with some of those emotional complexities.

BUT .... once again God's plan is His own and I am getting on board. It will be an adventure shopping for blue for a change! I've already started peeking at cute little blue nursery decor online - though I don't have the guts to actually purchase a single thing!

With the gender discovery, of course, has come the inevitable battle over the perfect name. And once again, James and I can't agree on a single thing! We always have the hardest time with this! James is set on the name Cash, in honor of his pseudo-hero Johnny Cash. I think the name is cute ...... FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S KID. But not for mine. Can't explain it really other than to say it's just kinda weird. Gracie loves the name because it makes her giggle, so last night the two of them were double-teaming me, begging "puleeeeeeze let us name the baby Cash!". I told James no, I don't like it, the name is weird, and not to mention -- what in the world could we possibly use for a middle name since it's so strange, I mean what goes with Cash? Gracie came rushing in from the other room shouting, "REGISTER!!!!". So apparently at this point my child's name will be Cash Register Wren. Fantastic.

In other news .... my latest hematology tests have me breathing into a paper bag. Went to the hematologist last week, though for some reason I got stuck with the nurse practitioner rather than the doctor. Won't be making that mistake again -- she was completely clueless. But my Protein S numbers have plummeted dramatically, hence the bag-breathing. Recall that I have an inherited heterozygous Type III Protein S Deficiency. Sometimes it's referred to as Type IIb rather than Type III. In a nutshell, there are three types of Protein S measurements: "total", which measures the actual amount of protein in your blood, "free", which measures only the amount of protein that isn't already bound to other blood components, and "functional", which measures how well the protein is actually working (irrespective of the amount present). My disorder, Type III, is a functional deficiency, which means my free and total #s are both normal but my functional #s are abnormal. For instance, my functional levels have hovered around the upper-40's to low-50's over the last two years (normal is considered 60-120), while my free and total numbers have always stayed in the normal range.

At this office visit, Nurse Know-Nothing reports to me that my functional #s are down to 24. (I have honestly never even *heard* of numbers this low before.) And to top if off, she tells me I now have a free deficiency as well - down from the normal range to just 27. When I asked her if this will cause a major problem, she shrugs and says "I'm not really sure, but as long as you keep taking your lovenox then I think you should be okay". Well that's super reassuring. Convinced I'm going to drop dead from a pulmonary embolism as soon as I get in my car to drive home, I asked her if it's possible that pregnancy would artificially drop my numbers so dramatically, at which point she tells me - again - she's not sure but I could google it if I wanted. Yes, that's right, that was the advice given to me from the licensed Nurse-Practitioner at the hematologist's office, the folks who are supposed to be knowledgeable specialists in blood disorders. I was furious ... I take time off of my day, arrange childcare for Gracie, sit in your waiting room for an hour and a half, pay my $40 copay, and you want me to GOOGLE IT?!?!?

Needless to say, I'm looking for a new hematologist.

Big Sister

Up until now we have been very hesitant to share the baby news with Gracie. Primarily out of fear that something awful will go wrong and then we'll have to explain that to her. Not too long ago she named one of her stuffed animals "Cemetary", at which point I nearly lost it. No 4-year old should have to know so much about death. It bothers me immensely, but looking back on everything I know we handled it the best way we could under the circumstances. But hoping to spare her from any more tragedies, James and I have agreed to keep the pregnancy from her as long as possible.

Well today we ventured to the pumpkin patch with our friends, Sherry and Andy, and their two little ones. Their daughter, Malina, is best pals with Gracie ... they go to school and dance class together.

Poor Sherry is just two weeks shy of delivering her third bundle and looks like she wants to POP! I remain so impressed with her total mobility and her normal good spirits ... I can only pray I will be in such good shape when I'm nearing my own due date! As we arrived and began chatting, Sherry pulled me aside (out of earshot of Malina and Gracie), and tells me that she had been discussing my pregnancy with Malina. She had told Malina that yes Ms. Kristi has a baby in her tummy but you can't tell Gracie because she doesn't know yet. Malina responded that yes Gracie does know already .... earlier in the week Gracie told Malina "my mommy has a baby but don't tell anyone because it's a secret!".

I was stunned! I knew she was a perceptive little thing, but never in a million years thought she would figure it out on her own. Any time we have discussed the pregnancy in her presence we always spelled key words, like B-A-B-Y. Surely she's no spelling genius at age 4, but somehow she managed to figure it out nonethless. Adding to my amusement is her keen awareness that her mommy's pregnancy must be a secret because no one has announced it to her yet!

Once he learned that the cat is already out of the bag, James immediately wanted to tell her all about it. I was still hesitant, but relented. As we tucked her into bed tonight, James asked her "do you know what's inside Mommy's tummy?". Gracie's eyes widened significantly and a little smile curled the edge of her lips in anticipation. She said, "Noooo?". Then he told her, "there's a baby in there!". She immediately began SCREAMING and shouting and running in circles around her room. I had no idea a preschooler could get so excited about a sibling. I wish so badly that James had warned me he was about to spill the beans, so I could have videotaped it. Her reaction was truly priceless. After jumping and squeeling in excitement she immediately began pulling open all her dresser drawers and hurredly shouting instructions that we must go to Target and buy some diapers and baby pajamas. She then begged me to use the phone so she could call everyone and share the great news. We allowed her to call all her grandparents and both sets of Aunts. Each time she was screaming so loudly into the phone that no one could understand a word she said.

So tonight I go to bed with sticky fingers (from the pumpkin-carving of course), and a warm heart knowing that my little girl is going to make a fantastic sister.

7w0d

The lovenox shots started 5 days ago. I have made a vow not to complain, since we are blessed to be with child. So let me just say that I've *observed* these things hurt like MAD!

(See, not a complaint, just an observation)

Here, you can observe my bruises.

I'm thinking the bruises are simply a result of the fact that this stuff is made of gold or something. At least that's my assumption, since it cost almost $1200 for 30 injections. Thank God for our health insurance!!!

Currently I'm seeing Dr. Garcia every week, sometimes twice a week. I have my first appointment with Dr. Munjal (hemotologist) this week, and I'll see Dr. Mann (perinatologist) next week.

I'm still quite nervous about this whole thing, but trying very hard to remain hopeful. I've been at Dr. Garcia's office every few days to check my HcG and progesterone levels, so far they are really high! In fact we did a second ultrasound just to make sure it wasn't twins! That one really sent my brain for a loop during the few days we thought that could be a possibility, phew.

People keep asking me about my morning sickness, energy, blah blah blah ... the normal pregnancy stuff. Yes I feel like barf almost all the time. No I have no energy. But my mind is on such bigger issues that honestly all of that seems so trivial to me.

I would gladly barf every single day for 40 weeks if that's what was required for a healthy outcome.

Of course, if that's the case, then don't expect me to keep my vow about the complaining!

It's official

Safe to say my brain has been going a million miles an hour since Saturday.

And of course, being Labor Day weekend (which I have grown to despise since two years ago) ... today was the earliest chance to get into the doctor.

Four full days of obsessive Kristi-brain is not pleasant. That's all I will say about that.

But alas, Tuesday is here and we are officially pregnant. The joy and the fear is all so overwhelming, honestly I have not turned my brain off since I woke up Saturday morning. I have worried my way around every possibility and what type of mountain we could be facing. And my thoughts are so jumbled that I couldn't possibly put it all on paper if my life depended on it.

My emotions are an insane mess. No it's not the hormones. Well, maybe a tiny bit. But mostly its that today is Isaac's 2nd birthday. Quite a day to be all alone at the doctor (James was stuck at work), worrying and wondering about the fate of this new little one. The irony of it all will just slap ya in the face really.

So tonight we will go to the cemetery, and grieve for the child we lost, while we simultaneously rejoice that we now have another.

The whole thing is so mixed up I seriously can not wrap my brain around it.

SHOCK AND AWE.

So, my period was due three days ago. I haven't even let myself get excited about the fact that it was late, because I knew it was coming. All the signs were there: oily skin, crampy abdomen, sore breasts. It was like mother nature was trying to torture me by dragging it all out somehow.


This morning I wake up thinking, "good STARS just hurry up and start already! How long is this gonna take?"


Then, my brain kicks in. Oh yes, that annoying, obsessive Kristi-style worrying. I haven't peed on a single stick all month. So really I have no clue what is going on with my cycle. I don't even know if I actually ovulated this month! Obviously something is wrong. If I'm not having a period, then I'm definitely not ovulating, and if I'm not ovulating then I'll *never* get pregnant.


So, I wander into the bathroom, annoyed at the thought that today is Saturday so it will be two more days before Dr. Garcia's office opens and I can call and tell him: SEE I told you something was wrong, now I'm not even having a period!


Thinking that, of course I'll need "proof" of my statement when I call, I dig out my gigantic trusty bag of sticks and pull out a pregnancy test. Only the 7,452nd test I've peed on over the last eleven months. Or at least it feels like that many.


I've become so adept at the whole pee-on-a-stick-process (which is a true artform, by the way), that I can literally do it without even looking. And would you believe, that when I finally got done washing my hands and grumbling about my misery, I glanced down and saw a second line?


A SECOND LINE!


I blinked several times thinking surely my eyes are playing a cruel trick on me. But the longer it sat, the the more clearly I saw it. In complete disbelief I walked to the top of the stairs, and called down to James "ummm, could you come up here please? Like RIGHT NOW!"

Before he's even in the room I'm waiving that stupid stick in his face. We are stunned. Overjoyed. Terrified. All at the same time.


Thank you Jesus.

The wretched week of sadness

Oh yes, all the ladies know just what I'm referring to. Men, if you're hyper-sensitive to girly-stuff then please avert your eyes:

I started my *&$%@! period again.

I can't even begin to describe the heartbreak. I'm so over it. Every single day, I wake up and pee of some type of freaking stick. On cycle days 6-14 it's an ovulation stick. On cycle days 20-27 it's a lab-grade home pregnancy test. Some time between days 25 and 27 I usually collapse in anger and disappointment, throw the stupid thing across the bathroom, and bury my face in bed.

I have been doing this for TEN solid months now. And I'm done.

I have been begging James since May -- please, I need a break. The emotional toll is too high. Every month I get my hopes up ... the anticipation, the excitement, the hopefulness, and then inevitably .... the crushing disappointment. Months ago when I decided to name this blog Riding the Rollercoaster, I had no clue just how accurate that would be. I feel like I am on a never-ending rollercoaster of ups and downs. After a while, it becomes more than a normal person can handle. I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE.

I need some time to relax. I need to throw away the calendar. To ditch the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests. I need my sanity back.

Hence, my repeated requests over the last several months for a "break". Just for six months? Three months? Something? I need to stop obsessing and get my focus back on life again. But my husband .... my dear sweet husband so desperate, so longing for a baby .... keeps begging me to give it one more month.

Well not anymore. I officially give up.

6 months and counting....

We are officially loosing our minds. Months of precise charting, ovulation kits, and calendar obsessing have come and gone. Still no baby. I am starting to think we are broken.

We knew this process would be a rollercoaster. That was a given from day 1. But I never expected the anxiety and overwhelming worry to be focused on the simple process of conception. Though, if there's anything I've learned over the past six months, it is that conceiving is anything but "simple".

We began fertility testing this month. Dr. Garcia has been running a series of blood work on certain days of my cycle to check hormone levels. So far everything is coming back within the normal range, so Monday he recommended that we have a semen analysis done on James. Fabulous, 'cause the poor guy isn't stressed out enough as is. Once that is complete he will begin more invasive testing on me.

So today I sit, on Mother's Day no less, crying and wondering why I'm again surprised that my plan and God's plan are two very different things. He has been so patient with me, teaching me this lesson repeatedly over the last two years. Of course, being the stubborn one, I've insisted on learning it the hard way. I know that He is in complete control of this, and I know that He has a plan. I guess I'm just grieving over the fact that it doesn't seem to be the same as mine. Once again. It's a bitter realization.

Adding to the sting is the fact that no less than SIX friends of mine have become pregnant since we began trying to conceive. No, it's not a contest. Yes, I am genuinely happy for them. It's not so much jealousy as it is a frustration that most people seem to take this for granted. They have no clue how lucky they are. Most are still in that blissful bubble of ignorance, having no clue what it feels like to struggle with infertility, or to hold your dead baby in your arms. I lived in that bubble once upon a time .... there are days when I wish more than anything that I could just go back there. To believing that bad things only happened to bad people and that pregnancy and childbirth were "natural" things that the body easily accomplished according to its design. I long to be one of those people .... like the friend who rolled her eyes and complained to me recently that any time her husband so much as WALKED passed her, she gets pregnant! Oh, pity, what a problem to have. Or the young woman I counseled at the PRC last week who's seeking her third abortion, and laments to me that its not her fault she's so darn fertile, what else is she to do? I find myself in these situations, listening to these complaints, and I have to really guard my heart against bitterness. I may smile and nod in empathy, but inside I'm wanting to scream.

And then there's the well-meaning inquiries that come from folks living in the bubble. Like the check-out girl at Publix yesterday who found herself in deep conversation with Gracie. She turns and asks me, "how old is she?". I respond, "she's four". Now, at this point, I could think of seven hundred ways for this lady to respond .... something about four is a fun age .... or oh wow I bet she really keeps you busy ..... anything. But instead, this total stranger feels the need to say,

"Oh, she's FOUR? Well it's about time you have another one, don't you think?"

So there I stood in the middle of Publix, trying to figure out how to respond. Am I supposed to say, "yeah, well, we DID have another one, and he died, and now despite months and months of trying we can't seem to get pregnant again. But thanks for asking!!" ..... SERIOUSLY HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER THIS??? My mind scrambled for a moment but could only come up with - eyes down, head nod, "mmmhmmm", grab receipt, dash to the car before bursting out in tears.

Obviously this poor lady meant absolutely no harm with her comment. She's just in the bubble and she truly has no clue. She's certainly not the only one -- I am pelted with similar "hints" from people all over the place, well-meaning acquaintances and curious family, and now total strangers. When I take the time to think about it, I know I'm probably guilty of doing to same to someone else back when I lived in the bubble. But never again. Now I know better. I will never assume that someone has "only" one child by choice, or no children by choice. We have no idea what type of obstacles someone else may be facing.

See, the Lord is teaching me all kinds of things through this less-than-lovely experience. Maybe if I hurry up and learn everything quickly He'll let me off the hook with this one?

Sinking in

Well, so we're not pregnant. Yet. I must admit I was a bit surprised, I really thought we'd knocked it out of the park this month. lol. I'm okay with the negative result, maybe even a bit relieved to tell you the truth ... just worried that the more time that passes means more time for my head to really kick it into overdrive. I'm already thinking to myself that I don't want to get pregnant in January, b/c that would most likely mean delivering in early September around Isaac's birthday. I know that's silly, but that time is sacred to us in a way. And it's really difficult to imagine trying to mix celebrating one child's birthday and another child's death day all in the same week. The emotional complications exhaust me just thinking about it.

Our Christmas was wonderful, though the annual marathon of running from one place to the next was still stressful and tiring. But we enjoyed it nonetheless. We were really hoping to have some "big news" to share with our families that day, but since this month is a no-go, James and I instead secretly traded grins and giggles at the thought of having a little bundle in our arms this time next Christmas. Lord willing.

The last few days have been spent recovering from the busy-ness of the Holiday, and doing some work around the house. Friday night we finally moved Gracie out of her crib (though it was converted to a toddler bed), and into a "big girl" bed. I have to say it was a little sad for Mommy to realize her baby is officially not a baby anymore! And it was also hard moving the crib into the empty room in our house affectionately known as "the box room". It's basically full of boxes and junk. I had cleaned it out and began getting it ready for a nursery while I was pregnant with Isaac. But after he died I was too disgusted to look at that room. We began throwing junk in there and keeping the door closed. Many times since then I've had intentions of cleaning it out again simply because it's become an eyesore in its current state, but never could bring myself to do it. But this weekend I couldn't put it off any longer. We got the new big bed in Gracie's room, and poor James had to *completely* disassemble the crib to get it through the doorway, down the hall, and into the spare room. But seeing it set up in there now, all stripped down to the bare mattress in an empty room, floods me with sadness. Mostly because there is supposed to be a little guy sleeping in that crib already. And also because my heart yearns for another baby to sleep curled up in that crib. That must sound confusing. It is confusing, even to me. The way I feel looking at that empty crib really epitimizes my mix of emotions right now. On the one hand, James and I really want to add to our family again. But no baby will ever "replace" our Isaac. He is our first born son. Another baby will not change how much we love him or miss him. A hundred more children will never change that. When we are 90 years old with dozens of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, we will still miss our son. We will never stop missing him. And yet, the irony is, that if he had lived, there would probably not be a third baby for us.

Clearly my emotions are all over the place right now. Please disregard. Can I just blame it on the PMS this month?

The calm before the storm ...

Today my mind is racing, in true typical Kristi-style. That familiar anxious feeling - the heavy ache in my chest - is creeping over me. I've had lots of practice over the last year and a half dealing with this feeling. We've been through so many ups and downs (well, okay, maybe more than our fair share of downs!) over the last eighteen months .... that the anxiety almost seems like the norm these days. I've learned lots of little tricks to help me deal with these feelings when they start to overwhelm me: deep breathing, praying, shopping(!!), reading, etc, etc, etc. One of the things that has helped me the most during my emotional meltdowns is talking. Not the chit-chatty stuff ... I mean REALLY talking. About everything I'm feeling: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Getting it all out on the table has been so therapeudic for me in the past. And many times since our ordeal began I've had a near-obsessive NEED to TALK ABOUT IT.

This method of coping has served to cause some major issues from time to time among those people close to me, who are the unfortunate recipients of my constant emotional babble. I understand that must be hard for my loved ones! Some have tried to be supportive, and others not-so-much. But very early into my grieving period I began to feel like a major burden on some of my loved ones. So I began seeking out alternative ways of fulfilling my need to talk through my emotions. I joined an online support group, full of other fabulous women who had endured the same pain that I had ... women who had that same obsessive need to VENT. Turns out we are really good for eachother!! I thank God for finding this small circle of women who I now call my *friends*, they have been my lifeline on many days. Another way I have learned to satisfy my need to cope is through writing. Never considered myself much of a "writer" before ... but I've learned that doing so can really soothe a tattered soul without burdening those you love with your emotional junk. And SO..... here I am: writing. The need just overcame me today so strongly that I suddenly created a blog profile and began typing. But why, why, WHY, you may be wondering, would I be feeling so anxious at this moment?? It's because of the big secret that I've only shared with one person (outside of my "BabyAngels" group, that is).....

James and I are trying to have a baby.

Phew, there it is. One sentence, so exciting, and yet scary as all @*%* at the same time! We haven't been "trying" long ... this month was our first attempt in fact (TMI, I know, sorry!) ... but apparently it's been long enough for my annoying personality traits to step in, and so begins my worry process. James is gone today picking up a goat (ask me again after Christmas and I'll explain why!) ... and so as Gracie and I sit here watching "Woody Woodpecker" (her new favorite), I'm suddenly compelled to write. Again. Since I have a feeling I'll been doing a lot of writing over the next 9 months (God willing), I decided a blog would be a good idea. I have no idea if anyone besides me will ever read it, or if I'll ever even INVITE anyone to read it for that matter. But right now I'm needing a personal place to unload all of my emotions - the excitement, the worry, the paralyzing fear .... especially knowing that in the months to come (God willing) there will be many more emotions which surface.

At this point it's too early for James and I to know if our "efforts" (*wink, wink*) this month were successful in producing a baby. We are hoping to know for sure in the next day or so. We are both so giddy with excitement and anticipation that we can hardly see straight! But the practical part of me is stepping in today and taking stock of just how hard this is going to be, whenever it happens. James and I are not naive - we've been through the preconception consultations with all the specialists, we've read the statistics, we've analyzed all the potential outcomes, and we know without a doubt that with another pregnancy we will face a MOUNTAIN of emotional, physical, and spiritual difficulties. For a very long time we were too consumed with fear to even consider trying again. But as time has passed we've slowly found ourselves at the point where the desire for another child now outweighs our fear of what we'll endure in order to get there. James, in fact, is so giddy with excitement, he's been on cloud nine since we made our decision to try again. I think he's going with the "let's not think about it" approach. That works well for him.

But me .... well, I was once a biology major. Despite my sometimes emotional and sensitive nature, I'm actually quite analytical and fact-based in my line of thinking. I need scientific studies, I need statistics, I need raw data. I need to read an article by some obstetrical genius proving that a woman with my medical history can have a perfectly normal healthy pregnancy. No, I haven't begun reading cover to cover The New England Journal of Medicine in my spare time yet, but I'm close. For months I have scoured hundreds of articles detailing all the risks and possibilities, I've made lists and asked so many questions that my dear doctors have begun joking that I'm 3/4 of the way done with my medical degree at this point. My former obstitrician even told me she'd give me a job working at her practice as an OB-educator. I think she was only half kidding. I've even dubbed myself an "info-maniac". It's that OCD part of my personality which I try to control, but in situations like this I actually find comfort in having ALL the information. It's the unknown I can't handle.

So, there's risks. Every pregnancy has risks. How bad can they be, you ask? Well, some background: I have a history of pre-term labor (PTL), marginal placenta previa, grade 3 placental abruption, and last year was diagnosed with heterozygous type III Protein S Deficiency. With a subsequent pregnancy, these are the risks according to all my doctors. With the first two, they've attempted to quantify my risks, with all the rest they will only tell me "increased risk" or "high risk":
1. PTL and/or another pre-term birth: 25%
2. Another abruption: 17%-20%
3. Placental previa
4. IUGR (Intra-uterine growth restriction)
5. Pre-eclampsia, common for women w/ blood clotting issues
6. HELLP Syndrome, a very severe form of pre-e
7. Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation (DIC)
8. Stillbirth
9. DVT (Deep vein thrombosis)
10. PE (Pulmonary Embolism)

There are additional risks associated with the medications I will be injecting during the pregnancy ... but they are much less serious than those above.

Typing that list scares me. Anytime a condition can (rarely) lead to your death, and/or the death your baby, it's scary. But I do believe that God is the ultimate Healer, and my doctors assure us that with careful medical treatment a healthy outcome is attainable. Right now I'm holding on to those things for reassurance. We're either really confident, or really crazy. I'm not sure which. Regardless, I know we're in for quite a roller-coaster ride! But it's like they say: With great risk, comes great reward. If there's a healthy baby at the end of that rollercoaster, then the risks, the fears, the pains and sacrifices ... won't mean a darn thing at that point. It will all be so worth it.