venting about how unfair life is

This past weekend was another weekend from hell courtesy of the universe.

At work on Friday while doing a presentation with one of our blue and gold macaws for an overnight program (as well as training a volunteer how to clean our bird exhibits and am check for our program animals, this is what light duty had turned into) I felt some fluid leaking. Usually this can just be chalked up to the estrogen suppository. But, erring on the side of caution I went to the bathroom and found blood.

After my initial panic I knew that bleeding after a transfer was common. So, I called my nurse. She asked the color, if there were clots, if I was cramping, how much was there, etc. Dark red in color, no clots, no cramps, and I had no idea how much. She then asked if I wanted to schedule an ultrasound to see if everything was okay. Is she crazy!? Of course I did.

After I got off the phone with my nurse I went to the bathroom again and blood came gushing out, with clots. Now, for anyone who has had a natural miscarriage this is scary as shit.

Trying to remain calm I called my co-workers, told them I was leaving. Then called my husband to tell him to meet me at the clinic in a few hours.

I spent the next two hours crying. I was tired, scared, dehydrated, and exhausted. Not a good combination.

As soon as we entered the building we were seen by the ultrasonographer. She found a heartbeat immediately. Thank god! She showed us baby, then the heartbeat, then the subchorionic hemorrhage that was causing the bleeding. We even got to listen to the heartbeat this time. Whew!

We then met with a PA who told us that although I was at 6w5d, baby was measuring big at 7w3d. As long as baby is within a week either way, she was okay. But, the heart rate was concerning to her. It was measuring low at 91bpm. Something she didn't want to predict either way, something only a second ultrasound about a week later could determine and answer.

You have got to be fucking kidding me! Not again. To say I'm panicking does not even begin to describe how I'm feeling. How is this fair?! This was supposed to be a genetically sound baby, set up for perfect cell division and growth. So not fucking fair.

Instead of being in a state of anger 24/7 I'm trying to remain positive. The ultrasonographer couldn't have been happier with what she saw. The heart doesn't start beating until week 6-7, with a normal range of 90-110bpm says American Pregnancy. This baby is set up to succeed. He has to pull through.

Now, with that being said. Being positive is hard. I wake up every morning with a giant black cloud over my head ready to Google 'large fetal measurement, low heart rate'. But, I know what I'll see. Nothing but heartache over babies who didn't make it. Just like our last couple pregnancies. When disappointment is the only thing you know, it's hard. Really fucking hard.

Again, let's focus on the fact that there is a living baby. :)

 

Picture of baby in utero

picture of baby next to the SCH (on right)

picture of baby's beating heart

Back to why the universe hates us....Lakota. He's had what some might call a rough couple of years. He's approximately 9 years old, abandoned in the mountains and then rescued from the local shelter by my husband. He's got spondylosis, a sensitive digestive system, had bloat 2 years ago, has had his intestines wrap above his tacked stomach into his chest cavity, and about 3 months ago the vet thinks he was shot in the chest with a BB gun. He's had a rough go the past few years. 

For those of you who know anything about Kot, when he doesn't feel well he climbs like he's a cat, wants to walk continuously like a horse, breaks stuff, and tries real hard to get your attention. Unusual behavior for him. Which is why this picture is so cute. 

On Saturday morning, as soon as he woke up he started his usual  behavior for telling us he doesn't feel well; whining, panting, restlessness. In the past this has meant either gas or bloat. One not so bad and easy to fix, the other extremely painful and life-threatening. Ugh. So, Gas-X is always our first line of defense. 4 hours later, no change in behavior. I cancel my movie date with a friend and we head into urgent care. The vets assume it's mushroom poisoning with all the rain, we insist he doesn't eat anything when outside, an x-ray is taken and it's just gas. Thank god! He's prescribed some gas meds and probiotics, and we're on our way back home. 

Sunday he's not any better. So, the manfriend goes to take him on yet another walk and sees that Kot is urinating blood. Come on! Can't this poor dog catch a break?! He's rushed into the ER yet again, and it turns out he's got a bladder infection and his stones are starting to break down (we already knew he had stones). More meds, on top of Saturday's prescription and what he already gets, and new food. This poor beast. He's so lucky he has such an amazing dad. 

Seriously best friends

All babies grow differently.

What I'm holding onto.