My Journey with Cholestasis of Pregnancy

*I promised I would update you all on baby B's birth and how it all came about but while I was trying to figure out how to get it all out of my head and into writing, I realized I couldn't share that story without sharing this one first. It is the basis of why he came early and I couldn't just leave that out. Plus, its something that I know people are curious about. Its rare but it can have potentially devastating effects and I feel like its important for others to hear about. 

When I hit about 30 weeks in my pregnancy, I started to itch. Having had a PUPPP rash for the last 3 pregnancies, I was used to my belly itching uncontrollably, but this was a totally different beast. It started as a mild itch that really only affected me at night. It was like a weird tickly sensation all over my body. The odd thing about this itch is that it never showed any signs on my skin. No rash, no redness, no hives of any kind and it was all encompassing. Every part of my body itched. At first, I figured it was dry skin and slathered myself with a thick lotion every night before I went to bed with hopes it would help. When it didn't, I tried benedryl. When that didn't help, I mostly just whined to Michael who I'm fairly sure thought I was just losing my mind.

At 34 weeks when nothing else was helping and my family got tired of scratching the various parts of me I couldn't reach (you try scratching your feet when you can't even reach them to put shoes on!), I finally sent an email to my midwife telling her what was going on and asking if there was anything she could recommend to make the insanity stop. Within an hour, one of the nurses called me back and started asking questions.

Was it worse at night? Was it on my palms and soles of my feet? Was I jaundiced at all? 

I answered all her crazy sounding questions and then she explained her reasoning. There was something called Cholestasis of Pregnancy that met most of my symptoms and it could be really bad for the baby. The only thing was, I had no gallbladder so she didn't think that could be it. She suggested a warm oatmeal bath and more lotion. 

I hung up and consulted Dr. Google about the Cholestasis and she was right, it met all of my symptoms to a T. Right down to the depression and exhaustion I had been struggling with but attributed elsewhere. The scary part was when it started getting into how it was harmless to the mother outside the insane itch but had a high instance of still birth if the pregnancy continued too long. Basically, because of the pregnancy hormone changes, my liver was leaking bile acid into my blood stream. It just made me itchy but it could slowly poison my unborn son. 

About the time I started to get really worried, the nurse called me back. She said that she had consulted with the OB in the office and it turned out she was wrong, the gallbladder being gone had no bearing on the possibility of Cholestasis. She made and appointment with me to meet with them in the office on Monday because it was almost closing time but told me if I was too worried to wait to go to the labor and delivery triage and have them test me. 

After I got off the phone with her, I went to see Michael at work and tell him what they had said. I tried to gently explain the risks but all he heard was that B might die. He was rightly as freaked out as I was and we decided to go on into the L&D triage to get checked out.

Once we got there, they hooked me up to the monitors and ordered blood work for a liver function test to check my liver enzymes and a test to check my bile acid levels. The nurses didn't have much knowledge to share with me on the Cholestasis thing. In fact, they had never heard of it and had to look up what it was to even really know why I was so worried about it. 

After about an hour, my midwife came in and told me that the liver test came back normal but it would take probably a week to get the bile acid tests back to confirm the Cholestasis. She went ahead and prescribed the meds for Cholestasis and told me to go home and try to rest. She also told me she wanted to start me on twice weekly monitoring and biophysical profiles until we got the results. I was already seeing a perinatologist and she said she would call them first thing Monday and get us scheduled with them too. We were so glad that they were being proactive and treating this like it was as serious as we knew by now it could be. 

Long story short, it took about 10 (long, tense) days to get the bile acid results in and they were only slightly elevated but still not normal. The perinatologist made the executive decision that because of the symptoms and the fact the meds were helping the itch a little, to go ahead and schedule the induction to be moved up to 37 weeks instead of 39 to reduce the possibility of still birth. It was a relief but still nerve wracking because having a baby that early can come with its own set of challenges.

They continued monitoring me closely for the rest of my pregnancy which I'll admit became a little bit of a chore. Going back and forth to both the perinatologist and midwife's office twice a week was stressful but I knew it was for the best and I held my breath every time they fired up the ultrasound machine hoping to see that little heart beating away first thing. Every appointment, he seemed to be dealing with it well. He had one episode of high heart rate and a couple episodes of weird decels but nothing the doctors were overly alarmed about. Until I hit 36 weeks and change.

I noticed over the weekend that he seemed to have slowed down in his movements. He was still in there and still wiggling but no where near what he had been doing. I drank extra water and told myself he was just running out of room. We were almost there. 

On Tuesday (36 weeks and 4 days), I went in to the perinatologist for my BPP and they asked all the normal questions about his movements and how I was faring. I told them about the decreased movement and the tech took it more seriously than I expected which immediately set me on edge even though I had already seen his heartbeat. She went on with the BPP and told me my water was borderline low and she could tell he wasn't as wiggly during the ultrasound as he usually was. Then she left to get the Doctor. 

I sent Michael a text message really quick and he asked what that meant and I told him I had no clue but she seemed worried. After a few minutes, the Doctor came in and we went over everything the tech had said and what I told her. He checked my fluid levels again and just kind of watched him for a few minutes. That is when he said, "We are gonna need to go ahead and move up your induction. To today.".

He's Here!

And he's absolutely perfect. Baby B came on August 12th, 2015 at 4:14pm. He was by far my smallest baby at 6lbs 12oz and 18 inches long but considering he was technically a preemie, he was still a good size! He was born pink and screaming blue murder with Apgar scores of 9 and 10, which was a blessed relief.

He came home with us a few days after he was born and we are all absolutely smitten with the little guy. I will share more about his birth and the situation surrounding his early arrival soon but for now, here is some baby squish cuteness to hold you over.

Update on Baby #4

Its been awhile, I know. Life has that way of getting busy and getting in the way of the things we do for ourselves, doesn't it? I know its a poor excuse but sometimes, you just can't find the words to explain.

Anyway, last you heard, I announced we are expecting another son this Fall. September 3rd is his actual due date but he will be arriving earlier than that (more on that later). I am still nervously excited about adding to our family again. This pregnancy has been easier in some ways and harder in
a lot of others than the previous 3. Baby B has been easier on his mama hormonally in a lot of ways than the other boys were in that I am not spontaneously bursting into tears every time a sappy commercial comes on and I'm not trying to chew every one elses head off the rest of the time. I'd say the people that love me are quite happy about that.

The weather has also mostly cooperated this year. Knock on wood. We have had our share of nasty hotness but nothing that has really been do or die. Of course it is really just now time for the heat to start ramping up to that point so I hope I didn't jinx myself. I guess I tend to blame the fact that this is my 3rd September baby too. Maybe I am just jaded to the constant sweating and hiding indoors part of it all. We tend to spend a lot of time in the water too though. We have season passes to the local water park and frequent the local rec pool to stay cool.

In a lot of ways this pregnancy has also been my hardest too. Physically, I am more exhausted this go around. You can blame me being older or him being the 4th or whatever you like, I blame not ever sleeping. For serious, I never sleep. I have given up on the laying in the bed making myself miserable by tossing and turning, opting instead to use those overnight hours to catch up on TV or laundry. The worst part is getting lonely overnight. Michael works most nights, so I do spend as much time talking with him over the phone as I can but he stays pretty busy.

28 Weeks

Besides the not sleeping, I have had more "issues" this go around too. It started with a kidney infection early this year, which has now turned into kidney stones. My placenta is lying quite low too. Not quite enough for them to officially classify it as previa yet but they are watching it closely an I am praying it moves up and up.

The exciting part is the measurements though. Baby B has measured big since the very first appointment. He was one week big at 8 weeks and then 2 weeks big at 20 weeks and then 3 weeks big by 28 weeks (See picture). Then, last week when my midwife measured my uterus, it was a whopping 38 weeks and I was only 31. So, 7 weeks ahead. Not cool dude. They went ahead and scheduled an in-depth ultrasound at my next appointment to check the fluid and his size again and all that. The thing is, ultrasound measurements can be off by so much, so I'm not really sure what to expect. Will he be big? Probably. Will he be normal sized and my belly is just extra big because there was only 9 months between him and his brother? Possibly. The not knowing is the worst.

Emotionally, this pregnancy has been difficult as well. For both me and Michael. After losing Gage so suddenly and so dramatically after a perfect pregnancy, its so hard to connect this time. Even though I feel him tumbling around in there and we see him on the ultrasound doing normal baby type things, there is this void. A horrible disconnect. Like its not real. Doing things to get ready for him has been hard. I get panicky every once in awhile at all we have to do before his arrival, especially considering his size and the possibility he could come even earlier than expected, but we just can't.

I can't go through the clothes we bought for Gage and not think of the baby that never got to wear them but replacing every thing we have isn't exactly cost effective either. I can't set up a space for him without wondering if its all in vain. Seeing other blushing, excited pregnant women is like torture. I want to scream at them that sometimes it doesn't matter which brand diapers you pick. Sometimes the unfathomable happens anyway. Of course, being big in the belly department, I get constant questions and congrats from people. I try to take it with grace and style. I try to humor their questions and comments. Thing is, I can't tell people I'm excited to be expecting again when I'm terrified. So often I end up bawling in the car or bathrooms at peoples comments but I can't exactly be mad at them, can I?

The boys are excited though. Well, K is. D is much more cautious this time. I don't know if its because he is feeding off our emotions or if he remembers too well. He mostly just rubs my belly and says he hopes he gets to hold him this time. K is much more involved. I think he is just now really old enough to really grasp the fact there is a baby in there. He enjoys talking to him and playing poke back with him through my skin. He tells him he loves him and tells people all about how hes gonna have a baby brother this time if he doesn't die. All about the brutal honesty, that one.

Really, all we can do is hope and pray for our littlest man. I have to believe that everything is going to work out this time or I'll go insane. We have been working with the midwives and perinatologist to create a plan for his birth and are trying to get as many stop gaps in place to prevent the events of last time from happening again. In case you missed the story, his birth was fast and furious. He didn't get the fluid squeezed from his lungs resulting in pulmonary hypertension. Because of that, they didn't get him the antibiotics for group b like they were supposed to and it took him. Quickly.

This time, I will be induced, probably around 39 weeks, so that we can have more control. We can work on slowing down his trip out and get the antibiotics out of the way before anything is started. It means I will have that classic, heavily monitored, laying on in the bed birth that so many women go to so many lengths to avoid, but I am more than okay with that. At this point, I'd even consider a c section if I knew it meant I'd get to bring him home safely. All I want is a son for Michael to hold and a brother for my boys. Priorities.

Thats the long story of it right now. If you were looking for the condensed version, you are probably disappointed. Sorry. Now you know more than you probably wanted to. Its cathartic to get it all out there though and I know there are so many people who won't ask.

A New Addition

Yes, its official! We are expecting a new addition! We are excited but terrified after everything that happened with Gage but can't wait to meet our little "rainbow baby"! We meet with the high risk doctor soon to come up a labor game plan. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers!

One Year: Gage Jason

My baby bear,

Every year I write a letter to my older boys on their birthday, telling them about the things that happened in their year and how much I love them and am proud of them. I guess this letter will be the only one for you and you're not even here. You'll never reat this. How could I not though? You're my son and I love you.

I only held you once while you lived. I held you close and I whispered to you. I told you I loved you and you were gonna be okay. You stopped squeaking and struggling like you were listening intently to what I said. I told you Mama and Daddy would be right there no matter what you needed. I kissed you square on the nose like I have all my boys and breathed in your smell. You smelled like heaven. It was so hard to let you go with the nurses but I thought they'd take care of you. I thought they'd make you better. I didn't know the next time I'd hold you close you'd have stopped breathing or I'd never have let you go.

I'm always thinking of you. What would you be like? Would you be a fireball like your daddy? Would you be quiet like me? What would you be doing? Saying? Would you still look like your Daddy?

Your big brothers talk about you a lot too. K is the matter of fact kid. He tells everyone he had a baby that died. He asks the pointed questions about what happened and why. He wants to know the facts about hospitals and funerals.

D is more soft. He wants to know what happens in Heaven. He wants to know why he didn't get to hold you and kiss you too. Hr wanted you so bad baby. He wants to know we'll get to keep "the next baby". It breaks my heart. I'll never forget him asking if Jesus took your car seat with him when he took you to Heaven.

D occasionally asks to go talk to your Jesus. There is a statue of Jesus standing a few feet from your new place. He asks it questions and asks him to take care of you. Not exactly prayer, he does that too, but more a physical representation of an idea I guess. Like some how he associates that statue with you more than your grave.

I do the best I can to explain everything as they ask. Sometimes its an easy answer. Sometimes I have to hold back the tears. For the most part the understand. Its a lesso. No kid should ever have to learn. They were so excited to meet you. So excited to hold you and teach you how to be a rambunctious little boy like them. The maturity and grace they have shown in the last year is astounding to me. They are amazing little men and I know you would have been too. We are lucky to have them.

I visit you every chance I get at your new place. It was once a week for about 8 months and then it got too cold. I got too busy. It made me sad but I still go see you often. Its peaceful to just sit and listen to the wind in the trees. Watch for the deer that wander through to eat the grass and flowers left by others missing their loved one. Its where I go when I need to center.

It's hard for your Daddy too. He doesn't wear his heart on the outside as much but he loved you and he needed you. He's been my rock. The last year has shown me what an amazing man he is. Even when his heart was shattered, he loved me and your brothers with his whole self.

Its been a long year for all of us but I won't say its been an all bad one either. Your brothers are growing up big and strong. Your Daddy and I were engaged and will be married soon. We had some fun vacations and experiences. They were just missing someone.

I miss you baby. I wish things were so different. I know they aren't and never will be the same. I know you are better off than us. I know you loved us and I'm pretty sure you knew we love you. Its hard though. I wouldn't say its gotten easier but its more like its gotten easier to hide. People don't ask how we are and we don't offer. I still cry a lot and I will never understand but then I am thankful to have known you. To be able to carry you in my heart.

I love you baby. Mama always will. Happy Birthday and Angel Day all in one.

ICYMI: Gage's Birth Story and Gage's Life Story.

Gage Jason: His Life (Part Two)

Part two of my little Gage's life. His life. If you are just tuning in, start here.

I waited in the quiet delivery room for a bit before a nurse came in and told me that they never got me registered and she had to get me put into the computers. She was very sweet and comforting to me saying they had a great NICU and she was sure that he woud be just fine.

They finally asked if they could bring me something to eat and for the first time, I realized I was starving. They went and grabbed me some breakfast and I was still picking at it when Michaels mom came in. I filled her in on everything I knew and told her Michael had gone with him and was supposed to report back to me as soon as he knew something.

About an hour later Michael came back and said he didnt look good. They were hooking him up to some machines, getting some iv lines in, etc, and they were supposed to call when they got him stable enough for us to come back.

The next hour was torture. They moved me into a recovery room and the nurses cames and went, bringing snacks and drinks and explaining paperwork. The lactation consultant came in and brought me a pump. Michael's father came in, my father came in. Each time, we had to tell them we still didnt know anything. I was trying so hard. So hard not to panic but every time we called the NICU number they were still woorking on him.

Finally we got a call that Michael and I could come see him. They needed to talk to us about his condition. The nurse brought us a wheelchair for me and we went to the NICU, scrubbed in, and went to Gage's side. I could tell from the first look things werent good. He was hooked up to a myriad of machines and there were 8 medical staff members standing around working or watching. I held his little foot in my hand while they explained what all of the machines were. The oscillator to help him breathe, chest tubes on both sides to try to drain the fluid out of his lungs, an iv and pic line in his belly button and a bunch of monitors to keep tabs on his stats. They were also doing an echocardiogram on him to check his heart. Whatever the cardiologist was looking for, she was having a hard time finding.

The perinatologist pulled us out in the hall after a while to explain more of the why and what. He had what was called pulmonary hypertension. His lungs were not expanding like they should. She showed us the xray of his lungs and explained how much bigger they should be than they were. She explained that the capilaries in his lungs had been damaged because he had not gotten the fluid squeezed out enough during the birth process.

Overall, She was hopeful. She told us that he would most likely be ttansported to Egelston (the childrens hospital) when he was stable enough and they had a machine that could help clear out and expand the capilaries. She explained that he was considered extremely critical but that it wasnt hopeless. They would do another xray in a bit and we would see if he had improved. She recommended we go see him for a few more minutes and then go back to the room for me to rest. So that we did.

We went back and shared the news with the family waiting. They started asking when they would be able to see him and we told them they were supposed to let us know when he could have more visitors.

So we waited. I posted to Facebook that he seemed to be doing better but to keep praying. I texted my mother and told her to come on to the hospital with D and K.

Then the phone rang. We spent a few minutes talking to the neonatalogist again and she said that his lungs were actually improving. She wanted to know if anyone in the house had been sick in the last few weeks. We told her no one and she said he appeared to have contracted some kind of infection but they were treati NH him with antibiotics to try to get on top of it.

She also said it was okay for the family to come down to see him. At that point there was a mass exodus. Everyone went to see him except me. I stayed and waited for my mother and best friend to come. I sat and waited but ached to be back to my baby. My friend Steph, who works at the hospital, came by to see me and check on me. It was such a relief to see a loving face.

When they came back, only Michael came into the room. The rest stayed outside and my heart immediately sank. The look on Michael's face is one I'll never forget.

"He isnt doing good at all." He said. "He's completely purple from the chest down. He has an infection and all the doctors will tell me is its not good. They are trying to figure out what kind and started him on more antibiotics."

We sat in silence for a few minutes letting it sink in. I wanted to go see him. So Michael wheeled me back to the NICU. My poor baby looked bad. He was still hooked up to all the machines and he was the most scary shade of mottled purple from the nipple line down to his toes.

We stood at his side crying, begging him to fight. Begging him to get better. "We need you Gage. Please."

Crying to God "please dont take our baby. Please heal him.".

We stayed for a long time. People rushing all around us pumping him full of antibiotics. Encouraging him. The neonatalogist came back in and kept saying she didnt understand where he got the infection. Transport to Egelston was no longer an option. It was up to Gage now. His chance of survival had dropped.

I had to go back to my room to be checked. In the hall leaving the NICU, we ran into my best friend, Lisa. I told her he wasnt doing well at all and she comforted me the best she could.

Everyone was back into the room and the boys arrived with my mother. Thats when the dam broke. All I could do was drop to my knees and hold them close while I sobbed. They both wrapped their little arms around me and hugged me back. My boys were my strength right then and somehow they knew it. They didn't say a word. They just stood there, faces buried in my neck and hugged me back.

Michael's sister and aunt came in asking what was happening. I tried to make a coherent answer but all I remember getting out was "I cant bury my baby" and then sobbing into my mothers shoulder.

Eventually I came back to reality. The room silent around me. The boys went and got a hug and kiss from Michael and we turned the tv on. Michael went out in the hall and cried, eventually wandering back in to sit.

When I settled down, I moved back down to the couch next to Michael when the phone rang. It was the neonatalogist. She said that they had done everything they could but his organs had begun shutting down from the infection and they were still waiting on the lab results to come back. I asked if this was something he was going to recover from and she replied that it didnt look good. I asked what his prognosis was now, days, weeks, what. She sobbed quietly and said "more like hours". We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Everyone was staring at me, waiting for an update. I uttered the words that no mother should ever have to say: "He's not going to make it".

Chaos ensued in that little room. Crying, questions, hugging. General disbelief. Someone took the boys to the hall to play and we cried harder. 

A few minutes later, the NICU called back and said we needed to come. He was declining and decisions needed to be made. We all rushed down to the NICU. All of us.

As we all got into his room, Michael and me went straight to him, kissed him and cried. At 7:30 pm, my Gage took his last breath, shuddered and was still.

What seemed like forever but was probably only seconds, a kind faced blond nurse made eye contact and simply said "He's gone. Im so sorry".

And then... I died. I died a horrible, painful mama death. One you cant put words to. I couldnt move. I couldnt breathe. All I could do was continue to stroke his tiny hand in my fingers and say "I love you." Over and over.

The sound that came out of Michael seemed like it came from another room. It wasnt until he folded down onto the warmer I even realized it was him. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

The room was full of our family. They were all struggling to understand what was going on and all we could do is sob. We were asked if the nurses should clear the room and I remember looking up at the faces of our parents and Michael's sister and aunt. There was no way I could send them away. Instead I asked that we could find some chairs and all hold him.

They unhooked my youngest son from the machines that were supposed to save him and swaddled him. They brought him to me and layed his sweet body in my arms. He was so warm and soft. I snuggled him close and kissed his nose again. I prayed and cried and kissed.

Then, Michael held his son for the first time and he did the same. Kissed, hugged, cried. If there is anything I could go back and do from his birth, it would be to let him hold his son before they took him to the NICU. His live son.

Everyone took turns holding him. No words to say we just cried and held each other. At that time we were all one family and I would not change that for the world.

One by one, the family went home. To their babies and homes. My father made the trek home to his fiancée. My mother went to get my boys to bed. My best friend kept at us until we agreed to have her sister, a Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer, come and take pictures of us and our little bear. Michael's mom and dad stayed with us and Gage and I'm so glad they got that time with us.

After the pictures and the snuggles, after midnight, the nurse came in and told us the funeral home would be there to collect him soon. We gave him a kiss and tucked him into his little bassinet and did the hardest thing we had ever done. We walked back to our hospital room with empty arms, knowing we would never hold our little bear, Gage Jason Hendrix, again. 

Gage Jason: His Birth Story

This is a story that is so very hard for me to tell so forgive me. On March 27th of this year, I gave birth to a baby boy at 8:01am. We named him Gage Jason. He was born at 40 weeks and 1 day. My little man lived only 11 hours. This is part one of his story I suppose. His birth story. 

I woke up at about 6:30 in the morning to some pretty intense contractions. Something in the back of my mind said "He's coming." but I was determined to not rush to the labor and delivery department this time and get sent home again. So, I got up and went to the bathroom. The contractions were getting sharper and fast. I got a message from Michael saying he was headed home and all I could muster in response was "good".

As he got home, I unlocked the front door and got into a warm bath. It seemed to help the pain a little but I could tell they were coming together in a more regular pattern. After a few minutes, I decided we needed to get moving to the hospital, got out of the bath and went to wake Michael up. I woke him, not very gently, and told him we needed to go. Now.

From there it was a whirlwind. He got up and got every thing in the car and woke up my mother to tell her we were leaving while I struggled to get dressed. It was kind of like it is in the movies with him running around doing everything while all I could do was try to breathe and moan. He ended up coming and helping me get pants and a t-shirt on and we made our way to the car after kissing D and K.

The ride to the hospital was not easy. It was rush hour so the normally 5 minute ride to the hospital took much longer. By the time we pulled into labor and delivery I wasn't sure how I was going to make it upstairs without having a baby in the elevator. Michael let me out at the door, made me promise to wait for him and parked the car.

We got to the desk at triage and I couldn't speak. I seem to remember someone asking if I was in labor and Michael saying "Does it look like it?" before they strapped an armband on me and sent me to yet another triage desk to wait for a nurse to check me in there.

We waited for a few minutes there before a med student came wandering up and asked some stupid questions like "are you sure this is real labor" before ushering us to a room and instructing me to strip and put on the gown.

I was in constant pain at this point. The contractions were hardly dipping before coming back at full speed. I was moaning and screaming trying to get the clothes back off that I couldn't even get on myself to begin with. I knew I was past transition and he was coming soon. Michael came into the bathroom and helped me get the clothes back off and the gown on before I told him he needed to go get me some help. 

"Go get the nurse and tell her I need help!".

He went out and told the nurse what I told him and she said "I can hear her. Tell her to give me a minute.". I've never wanted to smack someone so bad. Give me a minute indeed lady. I have a baby trying to burst his way out of me.

She did send the med student wandering back to try to get me on the monitors. She was still trying to coax me into the bed by telling me they had to monitor me for half an hour before they could admit me because my water had not broken yet (and that meant it probably wasn't true labor) when the nurse came swaggering in. I say swaggering because she was certainly not in any hurry to come help the screaming, laboring woman and the intimidated med student trying to tell her this might not be real labor. They did finally coax me into the bed and started strapping the monitors to me by telling me that if my contractions weren't stopping, it could mean something was wrong with the placenta. When I told her I was fine but he was coming they needed to get me a room, she finally stopped with freaking monitors and checked me.

10 centimeters and crowning.

Told you so.

She quickly sent the med student to call my midwife and get us a room number. I remember telling her I needed to get in some hot water and she said I wouldn't have time. I also remember thinking some very unkind things about the med student which it turns out I actually said out loud and made her cry. I was informed of that later.

Anyway, we were headed down the hall to room 306 when my water broke. I immediately felt better. Even though only a little water came out, it relieved just enough pressure to make things easier. When we finally got to the room, it was already buzzing with people. Talking and discussing me and my lady parts and progress and get her to the bed. The one that rings the loudest to me now was "call the pediatrician, make sure he knows we have one on the way".

As soon as they got me scooted over to the actual bed, my midwife came in. It was Kim. I was so glad to see her. She was the one we had seen the most and the one we both had fallen in love with. She got her gloves and gear on as quick as she could. She said "I see hair" as she slipped into her gloves and then I pushed. 25 minutes after we arrived at the hospital and 80 minutes after I woke up, Gage was born. According to Michael he came "flying out". All I know is it was a one push deal. That's the way to do it for sure.

They put him up on my chest and I immediately fell in love. He was pink and perfect with just a little brown hair. Noticeably smaller than my other two but it struck me how very much he looked like his daddy. And how he wasn't breathing well.

He was trying to breathe. He was squeaking and breathing a little but his color was not good. He was struggling. I kept repeating "c'mon baby Gage, breathe for me" and rubbing his back. After about a minute, Kim clamped his cord and the nurse tried to take off with him before the cord got cut. There was a rather tense exchange between her and the nurse before she let a very stunned looking Michael cut it and the nurse took him to the baby warmer.

Michael went to be by Gage's side while they worked on him and I just lay there and watched. I birthed the placenta (which was perfect) and made small talk with Kim while she stitched me a little. 

All I could focus on though was the little sounds coming from the warmer. He was so quiet. He was crying here and there but not enough. Not strong enough. The pediatrician came in. They were working hard to get him screaming but there was a rising tension and quiet between the nurses.

It was deafening.

When they got done with me, they brought in the isolator and I knew immediately what that meant. My little man was going to the NICU. I was trying to keep panic at bay but I've done the NICU thing before and it was all too vivid in my mind. 

They brought him to me all swaddled up to snuggle for a minute and he was still very blue and squeaking a pissed off little squeak. As soon as he heard my voice, he stopped squeaking. He seemed to calm down and relax a little while I talked to him but he still just couldn't breathe. I snuggled him, told him I loved him so very much and I would see him soon. I kissed his warm little nose and forehead. I said a quick prayer for God please make my baby okay.

And then they were gone. The whole room left in a wisp and I was alone.

(PART TWO HERE)

Where I'm At

Absence. They say it makes the heart grow fonder. I'm not sure about that but I do think it brings things into focus and helps you move forward in a clearer, more purposeful direction.

The last several years have been doozies in my little world. Full of drama and heartache but also full of love and growth. Since the failure of my first marriage, I have learned a lot. Some harder than others. The worst has been in the time since the death of my third child (more on that another day). Add that to the struggle of learning a new way as a mother, working again, and a deepening divide within my own family. It's been stressful and heart breaking to say the least.

On the flip side, I have also had the amazing opportunity to watch my boys grow right before my eyes. They are growing hard and fast. D is looking, acting, and thinking like a bona-fide big boy. 1st grade has been a breeze for him. Except for his handwriting  (It stinks). K is getting smarter and dare I say more coordinated as he grows. He has always had a bigger personality than could possibly be contained in that little body but he is my spice. They are mama's boys through and through. The way they look at me melts me and I hope that never changes.

I've also found love. Real, gritty, hard love. Traditionally perfect love? Maybe not, but is that actually a thing? Is it perfect for me love? Absolutely. I am lucky and thankful for what that has brought me. Strength and courage at the least. To be loved and treated like I matter is a powerful thing.

I say all that to say this: I feel like my life is moving in the right direction for the first time in my life. Which generally sucks at 33. Do I mourn the past? Absolutely. Even more so though, I look forward to the future. The past made me who I am. It made me a mother. It made me grey. It made me the kind of person that has no doubt she will endure.

All of this has caused a funk in my journaling here though. I'm working on fixing that. I've got one story in particular to tell about my 3rd son that is... hard. If you've been along with me this far, I hope you'll stick around. I need all the help I can get.

Going Grey

I remember the day I found my first grey hair. It was two days before my 21st birthday. I was shopping to find an outfit to go out with my friends for the big day and the light in the dressing room caught the glimmer of grey shining out in the rest of my dark brown head. I pulled it out and told no one.

Fast forward five years through a wedding, years of unbelievable stress, and the birth of two children and suddenly one morning there were two. They were just there. Taunting me from the very top of my head like beacons of a coming storm. I pulled them and told everyone.

For years after that I colored my hair. It went through a myriad of shades of brown and red. I considered blonde but I always chickened out and couldnt commit to it. With hair as dark as mine it would require lots of bleaching and upkeep that I dont have the time or money for.

The last 3 years my hair has reverted to its natural color. I started with dying it back as close as I could get it to my natural color and let it grow from there. I've cut the ends off and let it grow its self back to the dark, chestnut brown I was born with.

Now, the grey has reached the stage where its no longer "pullable". If I pulled all the grey on my head right now I would look rather odd to put it lightly. It seems like it has gathered mostly around the tops of my ears with scattered loners appearing occasionally on the top of my head. 

So now I am faced with the quandary that most women in their 30s deal with. To dye or not to dye? Do I repeat the process of dying my hair every month only to have to eventually let it revert to its natural state eventually anyway? Or just make peace with the aging process and let it take over? Odds are good natural will win out. At least for the time being. 

Au Revoir 2013

Well, 2013 has come and gone. Even at its worst, its been better than some of the previous years. I won't complain. I've found happiness and joy in 2013. I've lost and I've gained. Admittedly, I have been rather absent in 2013 as well. Call it a mental health year I guess.

Still, there were a lot of memories made. Just like years past, I want to share some of my favorites from the year with you. Even when my heart isn't in it completely, I do still love to share my little corner of the world with all of you.

In January, I spent some time getting my groove back and battling the Thursdays.

February brought our Staycation in the ATL and we welcomed Spring with open arms. 

March was a month of exploring new cities and spending time in a beautiful place. 

April saw the joy of two handsome boys and the shock of a nation.

In May, I bought my shiny and took a little trip with my boys.

June brought us to the Braves game and a little relaxation time at the local beach.

In July, we got a ridiculous amount of rain but we still found time for some fun.

August saw our television debut!

October meant a partial Hootie

September, November, and December were unfortunately quiet around here though. Like I said, mental health... months? That doesn't mean there wasn't fun times to be had, just that there were so many I didn't share. 

As for the 2013 list? It was a big failure this year. I hate it and its really bothered me in the last couple of months but there just didn't seem to be enough time this year. Of course that just means that next year will bring some of the same challenges but I am okay with that. I am more than ready to bring the A game and get it done for the new year. 

What are you looking forward to in the new year?

A Little Gamble

At the end of last week I took a little trip up to the casino in Cherokee, North Carolina. I was kind of reluctant about going because I am generally the unluckiest kind of person. I don't know if its a personality flaw or just plain inexperience though, so I agreed to the trip.

Plus there was a chance at spending some time in the Smokies while there and I'm not like to turn that down. Ever.

We got up early and drove through some of the most dense fog I've ever seen for what seemed like a ridiculously long time ,but was really only about 3 hours, before we got to the Indian Reservation that the casino calls home. I'll just say I wasn't really impressed by the outside of the casino. It was kind of run down looking compared to what I was expecting I guess.

The inside though was gorgeous! There was a huge water feature and cool lighting and an electronic poker room. It was a lot bigger on the inside than I expected too.

Of course they don't build pretty (inside) buildings by people coming there and winning either. All in all I think we walked out with a little less than we went in with but it was a lot of fun wasting what little we did. My highest win was a dollar and I got all excited about it until my friend sat down at a machine and won fifty bucks right off. My poor deflated ego. 

Allatoona Fun #WW

Exhaustion Sets In

Its that time of year.  The beginning of the hottest weather and the point at which school has been out long enough that the kids are ready for a break from each other. Which is always a fun mixture, no? Of course that means we have been spending a lot of time either at the pool or one of the splash pads around the area which only compounds the exhaustion but in a good way. Meaning we are all sleeping like logs. My mother always said an exhausted kid is a happy kid.

In the mean time, the school year is sneaking up on us at an alarming rate. Which, for those keeping track, means that its almost time for D start Kindergarten. Ensue parental freak out. I am so not ready for my little man to start big kid school. It was just yesterday he learned how to walk, right?  I may be just a little bitter still that I won't be homeschooling him like I had planned to do since he was born, but at this point I can't do anything but put my trust in him and his future teachers and be his back up team if anyone crosses him. Don't poke the mama bear public schools! 

I know he is ready though. Maybe not ready for the total life change he is about to undergo with the new schedule and having to get up before dawn. I do know that he is ready for the learning and the friends and the adventure. He is ready to spread his little wings and take off into what is going to quickly turn into adulthood. Too quickly I'm afraid. 

Littles will be going to big kid pre-k this fall too and I am oh so nervous about that. He is oh so smart and intelligent but he is also a big time Mama's boy. I hate to see him have to develop a thicker skin but he will have to. Or so I'm afraid. There again, mama bear steps in. I have that overwhelming need to protect them from the world. It will all be ok. Right? Breathe. 

I can't even wrap my head around the fact that 2013 is halfway gone already. It seems to me like this year is going at an alarmingly fast rate. Its not even that it has been a bad year either. So far, its actually been the kind of year that the boys and I so desperately needed. Easy and relaxed with new friends to help us all along the way. Its just crazy that its already time to start thinking about their birthdays and what to do for a party. Especially with the craziness that school is going to bring. Might as well go ahead and get that part settled now so I am not freaking out last second. 

So, here's to summer. All of its craziness and hectic fun has to last a whole year this time. Might as well spend it the best way a kid knows how: Exhausted. 

My Little Boys #WW

These boys. They are my whole world. They have shown me how to love and how to grow. They have shown me how to stay young even when I feel my oldest. To let things go and to forgive, even when it wasn't warranted. They keep me strong and keep me fighting for the right causes. They keep me grounded and keep my hurting heart in check. Sometimes, love just isn't a big enough word for what I feel for them.

She is Shiny (And She is Mine) #WW

#2 of the 2013 list? Complete.

Dirty Girl Fun

I did it! I got my dirty girl on! Let me tell you, I definitely got dirty.

I started out clean.

I did not, however end it clean. 

Yep, there is Georgia red mud on me from head to toe. It was glorious! 

On the Boston Tragedy

I have never been to Boston. In fact, the closest I have ever been is probably Connecticut. Still, I can't help but just feel completely devastated by what happened at the marathon yesterday. At what point did the human race decide that killing other humans was the way to prove anything?

People say it was a form of pure evil but I have a hard time accepting that. I guess evil is a hard word in general. Show me a living person that has never done anything evil and I'll be amazed. People are inherently good but they are also inherently selfish.

I think the best way I have seen of putting my reaction was posted on Facebook yesterday:

I am angry. I am angry at the person who did this and determined that it should not do what it was meant to do. Inflict terror. Terror is a state of mind. Its a knee jerk reaction and something that has become such a stigma in our world. Its something that we need to fix but the way to fix it is to show these people that we won't be pushed around anymore.

Like the bravery shown by the teachers at Sandy Hook, that happened in Boston yesterday.  People ran into the smoke to help victims. Civilians were there with first responders tending the wounded as best they could with tourniquets and kind words. They showed that side of us that needs to be more prevalent. They showed that there is hope for us yet. 

So, while you are praying for the victims and their families, don't forget to send one out for the people that put themselves in danger to help. The good Samaritans, the police officers and EMTs, the nurses and the doctors who were confronted with horrors that no one could ever forget. 

Running Time

Amen.

The training has officially begun. Well, technically it started a few weeks ago but who's counting. The Dirty Girl Mud Run is coming up way faster than I expected it to for sure which means its time to put my money where my mouth is and get down to business.

The goal on the 2013 list was to be able to run 5k. I am not so sure that is going to happen this go around. I am pounding it out and training my booty off but I am also having some unexpected issues with my ankles.

Still, the first step was to get myself into good enough shape to even attempt to run again. I have lost some weight sure but that doesn't mean you just up and run further than the mailbox and back. So, I have been doing some heavy lifting at the gym under the guidance of a trainer and slowly but surely, I am getting those trim muscles back. I guess there really is something to memory muscle after all.

This past week I have done my first stints on the treadmill doing some interval running. Think couch to 5k on a much different scale. I was never a distance runner. I was a sprinter. So, I can do the quick parts quickly but then I am worn out. Instead I am trying to build up the longer stretches of endurance in my lungs and my legs that will be required for distance running. Not as easy as it sounds. Turns out that while muscle memory can be good, it can also be a real pain in the butt. Its like starting from scratch with legs that want to GO and then STOP and then be DONE.

Still, progress is progress and its being made, albeit slowly. I am kind of hoping that since the Dirty Girl is an obstacle race it will be a little easier on my "style". Run a little, climb a little, run a little, crawl in the mud a little.

Have I mentioned how excited I am about this race?

I Am Officially a Dirty Girl

Its official. I have registered for my first 5K run for the year. Not just any 5K though, the Dirty Girl Mud Run 5k. So, this year, when the wildly popular Dirty Girl Mud run comes to Lake Lanier just North of Atlanta, I won't be just running, I'll be crawling, climbing, running, and sloshing my way through 5k mud puddles and awesome obstacle courses.

Dirty Girl is a 5k Mud run/obstacle course that celebrates and empowers women of all ages (14+) and fitness levels with a day of fun, discovery and laughter. With obstacle names like "H2 OMG" "Utopian Tubes," and "PMS (Pretty Muddy Stuff)," Dirty Girl is a female-centric event combining the fun of an obstacle run with unique touches for all participants in this one-of-a-kind, women-only event. Of course, if there isn't an obstacle you don't feel up to, you can always take the detour around it.

The two day event, April 20th and 21st, will offer women of all athletic and fitness abilities a chance to get out of their comfort zones and into their giggle zones. It will be perfect for me, just getting to the point of putting myself out there on a larger scale but also great for the old pros who do a million of these runs a year. A true something for everyone event!

Plus, Dirty Girl is truly a unique way for women to share a day of fun-filled laughter and bonding. A group of local Atlanta bloggers have joined in to form a team and it will be great to get out with some friends and keep each other motivated! 

The best part is that a portion of all proceeds from Dirty Girl registration fees are donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. In 2012, Dirty Girl provided the National Breast Cancer Foundation with over $250,000 in monetary and in-kind support. In 2013, our goal is to deliver over $500,000 in support to NBCF. In addition, Dirty Girl will continue providing cancer survivors free registration at each event.

Are you ready to get registered and get a little dirty under your nails? I have some good news for you! If you use the code: DGATLBLOGGUEST you will receive 20% off your registration fee*! So get registered and get ready for some good, unclean fun!!

*Good for the Atlanta location only!

Bring on Spring!

Its finally almost March! We have been doing a lot to get ready for Spring in our house. Lots of cleaning and planning and organizing. The big spring purge so to speak. Trying to get everything in order before the nice weather hits full steam and we are almost never home.

The first step was getting the boys set up for Spring sports. I gave D the option of what he wanted to do this year between soccer, t-ball, or trying something new like martial arts or basketball. He declare that he is too short for basketball but he wanted to try being a martian. Sigh. Once I finally convinced him that martial arts does not, in fact, turn you into an alien that can fly spaceships, he settled for T-ball again. I think that is probably the best compromise  He loved it in the fall and I thing its something he will enjoy again. Soccer was so not his thing.

K on the other hand, picked soccer. Of course that was kind of the only choice I gave him but he was happy with it. Until we got the roster. He was going to be the youngest on his team by almost a full year and I just didn't think that would ever work. One, because he is already short for his age and that could lead to maximum trample-ability. Two, he is also still kind of.. sensitive? I guess that's the nicest way to put it. He doesn't share well and so a team sport like that might not be best after all. So, I pulled him out of soccer and signed him up for T-ball with his brother. He was much more excited about that prospect than soccer so I guess that's a good thing.

The other thing I have been working on has been clearing out some of the clutter. Paper-wise mostly. I still have paperwork from cars I don't even own anymore. Things from appliances that have long been rusting in some dump. Heck, even papers from dogs that died years ago. I guess I am some what of a paper pack-rat. I am one of those that usually holds on to papers was longer than I should. I have copies of my very first tax return. 14 years ago. Its bad, you guys. A purge has been long over due. Now I just have to figure out how to organize the stuff I have left.

I am also working more on myself than I have in a long time. I started therapy to deal with my life's drama and it is teaching me ways to deal with my grief and anxiety so that I can be a better me. Its like a burden has been lifted. To have an objective opinion on all the things I have gone through in the last 8 years and why I feel the need to hold onto the toxic people in my life. Something that I am learning to reverse.

I am also losing weight again. You may remember I lost 30lbs about this time last year but that was where it stopped. While I didn't gain any of that back, I never lost any more either. Life just got in the way. This time though, I have a goal. My half marathon goal. I have to lose the weight and get in shape. Its for serious time and having a goal has made me that much more determined. You can see over there in my side bar that so far, I have lost 22lbs since January. Not bad. Slow and steady. I am officially the weight I was right after D was born. Next milestone: the weight I was before I got pregnant with D.

So, like I said I am getting ready for Spring to hit us full force. I actually have a few exciting things coming up for me personally and for RMM this year starting this Spring so that is something to look forward to as well. The problem is, Spring just doesn't seem to want to spring quite yet.