First of all, my name is Haley. I'm currently 24 years old, with a beautiful 21 month old son, and a nine year old rescue dog named Lady.
You will have to forgive me, I may jump around a little bit to begin with. But I promise there is a method to all of my madness. Okay, maybe no method; but definitely madness.
Let's start from the beginning. The really beginning.
My husband and I met through mutual friends while I was going through a difficult time in my life. I wasn't seeing anyone at the time, and I craved attention. He and I ended up hanging out every day, and sooner than later he informed me that he would be leaving for basic training for the Army in a matter of days. I was baffled. My ex that had dumped me, claiming to have met someone else (though he called later and said he lied to make it easier on himself, but that's a different story), was also in the military, and I didn't know if I wanted to go through that again.
T and I decided that we weren't going to commit to anything, and that we weren't a couple. I got in a rollover car crash right after he had informed me of this (this was all in a matter of ten days). Everything in my car was tossed around, and I had no idea where my phone had went. If you know me, you know that I may as well live in my car because it looks like a damn dorm room in there. That being said, I was looking ferociously around my car to find my phone, because I was in the bottom of a ten-foot ditch where no one could even see my headlights. Suddenly I saw the light from my phone and I managed to dig it out from under my seat right before the light shut off. This had to be a sign. I ended up fine, but T and I spent every day after that together.
Twenty-one long weeks, mounds of letters, and too few phone calls that never lasted long enough, Tyler and I were reunited. The first night he was home, he didn't even sleep in bed with me out of respect. I knew I had to be with this man.
A few weeks later we moved into an apartment, and decided that we were ready to take the next step (okay I already know our steps are a little out of order). I got on birth control (NuvaRing to be exact) and we fell in so much love. We got food poisoning together. Do you know what that does to a couple? It is the ultimate blackmail if we were to ever part. It's a silent vow to never part because we never want to have to share that embarrassing experience with anyone else ever again (thanks, KFC).
I had a love-hate relationship with my NuvaRing. I loved it one month, then I hated it the next month. The following month, I ended up pregnant. My and T's relationship was hanging by a thread. We were not ready. Those two pink lines were so unforgiving. There was no doubt that test was positive. I had no idea what to feel. T and I immediately decided to try to work things out. We were so young, but determined.
When I was two months pregnant, I lost my job. I was kicked out of the salon I was trying to build my business at. I was at a total loss. Until two weeks later, when T also lost his job. My parents had already taken us in, but I spent my entire savings on bills in the following weeks.
We both ended up with the jobs that we're still currently at. I couldn't believe that someone would hire me, knowing I was pregnant, and I was so grateful. I am so grateful.
At 13 weeks and four days pregnant, I got what they call a Triple Screen blood test and scan, to rule out major birth defects. I didn't know why I was doing it, I just knew that I needed to. They called me back with initial results - nothing abnormal.
Alright, that's cool. Totally what I expected.
And then I went in for my second blood draw.
I got a phone call, stating that my second draw came back abnormal and that I needed to come in right away for the anatomy scan.
They had found alpha-feta protein in my blood, indicating an open neural-tube defect. Again, I had no idea what this was. They gave me the "fruit salad". My son had Spina Bifida. "Would you like to proceed with the amnioscentesis?" I didn't even hesitate. I was at that dreaded clinic for six hours. They sent me home with a CD of pictures that I still haven't looked at. I was given a week off of work. My manager admitted to me that even she went home and cried. What do you even do with that kind of information? How are you supposed to move forward?
My care was immediately transferred over to a high-risk OB/GYN, which I was totally uncomfortable about; especially considering my regular OB/GYN was a female, and this new one was a male. My delivery hospital was also changed because all of the specialists were across the river. They didn't have the equipment to handle my son's case. I was completely intimidated. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Fetal surgery? Abortion? C-section? Shunt? NICU?
Needless to say, I am a need-to-know-now person, and I did all the research I could on my son's condition. They told me it was fairly mild for what it was, but didn't encourage me either way. I wanted answers, but I had none. All I could do was make a decision, that was it. There were no answers. I decided to keep him, and we would ride it out. I was told because my son's lesion was so low on the spine that I likely wouldn't qualify for fetal surgery, so I didn't even go down for a consult (the closest hospital that did the operation was in San Francisco; I'm in Vancouver, WA, USA).
As my belly grew, so did my anxiety, but somehow I kept my cool and composure throughout my entire pregnancy. I knew right away that I wanted a scheduled c-section. I didn't want to leave any room for surprises. Which worked out, since my son stayed breech until he was born.
February 18th, 2013. That was my scheduled c-section day. was. February 18th, T and I wake up at 4:30AM to drive to OHSU in Portland, OR, by 6AM. My surgery was to be held at 8:00AM. It took what seemed like forever for them to get an IV in my hand. I had all the papers signed, the anesthesiologist had already been in to consult with me. They were ready to roll me back into the OR. My best friends and all of my family were anxiously waiting in the visitors room. When all of a sudden a doctor comes in, whispers some things that sound urgent, and pulls some other doctors out. I'm very confused, and later I learn that an emergency c-section came in, pushing mine back.
It got to a point where they finally let me order some food (I had been NPO for 12 hours at this point) and decided they would reschedule my c-section for six hours from whenever I was done eating my food. Not long after that, they told me that they were going to just postpone my section until the next day. Three emergency c-sections came in that day. They told me they had no sections scheduled for the following day, and since I was showing no signs of labor they were comfortable waiting, if I was. Okay, fine. What's one more day?
They transferred me to a Mother-Baby unit with a more comfortable bed for myself and for T. I was awoken again when it was time to roll me back, since I already had all my papers signed.
My beautiful 8lb13oz son was born at 08:42 on February 19, 2013. I barely got to hold his hand for a few minutes before he was taken back to be prepared for his surgery.
The next few days were painful and fuzzy and depressing. So, so bleak.
I resented my son. How could a mother feel like that?
I was in the hospital for six days. I was devastated, but relieved, when I had to go home.
How could I feel relieved? I had no one to validate my feelings, and it turned into a case of more than just the blues. (If anyone is feeling like this, please speak up about it).
When I got home from the hospital, I had zero visitors. Zero visitors. I had my parents, my (at the time) boyfriend, and our dogs.
Fifteen long days later, we were able to bring our son home. Frustration, sleep deprivation, learning how to care for a special needs baby, and not knowing what was going to happen day by day followed. So what's your son's condition like? What's the prognosis?
Let me tell you; everything about my son's prognosis was wrong. I wish so bad that I hadn't been sweet talked. I need things real. Don't get me wrong, I love my son with everything I have, and he is freaking amazing. But his condition, for how low his lesion is on his back, is atypical. He is paralyzed from the waste down, he had a shunt placed at a week old (my OB/GN was so sure that he wouldn't need one) and has had two revisions. I don't hold a grudge, I don't carry this on my shoulders, I only wish I didn't have such a clear picture of what things were going to be like. Because the picture I have now is so different. Good, but different.
So this brings me to my TTC journey, which started October 13, 2014. The day I had my Mirena moved (aka my OB/GYN performed what may as well have been an exorcism). The damn thing was so embedded in my uterus, that it broke in half as my doctor was trying to remove it. Needless to say, that SOB is out of my body, and I will never have one again.
I did my normal thing, jumping on the internet and reading everything possible on TTC. Learning all the acronyms, teaching my husband along the way.
My husband has been wanting to try for a long time.
I've been more reluctant.
I am and will forever be permanently scarred by the trauma I was put through. Not only in the diagnosis, but from my c-section. More than anything, I am terrified of going through another c-section.
As soon as I was able to come to terms that yes - we may have another baby with Spina Bifida (my chances are now 4% compared to a woman how has had healthy children, or no children at all, whose chances are 0.001%). Folic Acid! No, Folate! No, Methylfolate!
As I said, I have come to terms with the fact that I may have another child with Spina Bifida. Nothing anyone says about prevention is going to change my mind. I have been faithfully taking Folic Acid for the last five months, and prenatals for the last month.
T and I got married on 09/27/2014 to make our family almost whole. It was definitely healing, and we've been wanting it for a long time.
I am ready. I am OK. I stocked up on OPKs and strip tests. Cervical Mucous? I never thought I'd be digging in my vagina and writing my findings down like some kind of scientist. I never thought I'd obsess and download three different apps, even though they all tell me the same thing.
I am a woman of determination. I will do this, no matter what it takes. I am strong. I will not let my son's disability define him, let alone myself. I will not let my c-section scare me away from the miracle of childbirth.
And you better believe I am determined to rock a VWBAC.
Thank you for following my blog. Keep watching for posts!
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