Battle Scars

Life has definitely thrown challenges my way the last 18 months. I've struggled. I have struggled a lot. I'm extremely hard on myself, and fault myself for the silliest things that are not in my control. I try so hard to be this, "perfect" mom. I've set plans, made goals that are virtually unachievable within the timeframes I set. Depression is real. PTSD comes in many different forms. And... sometimes, you don't realize the hold they can keep on you.

When I was hospitalized due to severe Preeclampsia and severe HELLP syndrome at 31 weeks pregnant, I didn't know what to expect. "They only cure is delivery", said every doctor. I wanted to get to at least 34 weeks. Every week in pregnancy means so much for that unborn perfect baby. I wasn't in control. I'm a control freak, I admit it. I made it to 32 weeks when my body, literally, started shutting down. My kidneys were stressed, my liver wasn't functioning 100%, I was having chest pain and palpitations, my blood pressure couldn't be controlled and I couldn't breathe easy. I was that moment when my oxygen levels dropped, and the alarms for my monitors started going crazy, that I knew I couldn't control this situation and if I waited any longer HELLP would kill me.. but not just me, likely my son too. The surgeon wouldn't allow me to wait any longer.

I can't remember much of anything from my cesarean. I remember struggling to breathe and feeling like I was going to pass out. I remember the feeling the pinching feeling as my stomach was being cut open. I remember the OR nurse constantly touching my shoulder and telling me I needed to stay awake. I remember being so scared my son wasn't going to come out breathing. Lastly, I remember his cries. He was breathing. I saw him for just seconds before he was taken to NICU to be put on oxygen. I was no longer pregnant, but My baby was ripped away without me being able to touch him. I couldn't touch my baby boy.

Two days. I didn't get to see my son for 2 days. I didn't get to hold him for another day after that. I stared at him through an incubator, I held his tiny little hand with one hand, and held my belly with the other because I was so swollen due to still battling HELLP and surgery that my stitches were pulling. I cried every single time I had to walk away from him, every time I had to wait to see him, every time there was a set back and I cried when I was discharged. I cried myself to sleep for 5 weeks. My body failed him. I felt like I had failed him. Everything I envisioned for myself as a mother.. everything I had planned was ripped from me.

Five weeks, it's longer than some NICU stays, and shorter than others. But, a day in NICU can do so much to a mother. I don't do well in hospitals anymore. The beeps of monitors, the smells, babies crying in hospital rooms.. It gives me really bad anxiety. I get heart palpitations. I still have nightmares. I still panic and check on my son in the middle of the night. I'm terrified he's going to stop breathing. I constantly worry something terrible is going to happen to him. It feels like I let my guard down some and something happens.. this kid has been through so much in his short 18 months.

From a minor heart defect that healed itself by a year (Thank God!), to a uterine anomaly and surgery, rehospitalization, random wheezing, seizures, etc.. This boy is so strong.. So much stronger than his mother who isn't dealing very well with the constant curve balls being thrown.

Fresh out of NICU, he wasn't even home for a week, and we had to dial 911. My 6 week old, not even adjusted, 5lb baby was having what appeared to be a seizure. If I hadn't of taken a, "my journey home" class before we left NICU, I might not even had known what to do. I cried. I cried during the entire ambulance ride to the Children's hospital. I cried and begged him to eat when he wouldn't at 12 hours since he last ate. I cried when they said they were admitting him. I cried as I held him. I couldn't sleep. I sat by his crib and stared at him, and stared at his monitors until I passed out from exhaustion for 2 nights. Ruled as reflux, I just felt like it wasn't a correct diagnosis. I didn't fight it.. and I should have. I didn't know I could. He didn't have any more episodes like he did that night, but he would still, "Shiver" and have weird episodes. I assumed it was reflux. I failed him, again. 

Fast forward to a year old, his little tremors/ "shiver" like activity are becoming more noticeable. Reflux hasn't been an issue in quite some time. I would notice a random little shake. I didn't think much of it because his behavior never changed after. Fast forward to around 18 months, it's becoming even more noticeable. He's having staring spells where he won't respond to his name or being touched. So, we start trying to get video of it so we can show his pediatrician. I thought I was over reacting a little at first. Then, I heard what sounded like a gasp for air over the baby monitor, followed by absolute quiet. I ran to his room and he was staring blankly across the room. He didn't acknowledge that I had walked in. He wouldn't respond to me talking to him, he wouldn't respond to me gently shaking him. I couldn't feel him breathing. At the moment I was starting to panic, he moved and looked up at me confused. He slowly moved, seemed a little dazed and his breathing was shallow. This isn't normal. Something was wrong. He perked up after a couple minutes and was acting completely fine. I called his Pediatrician, and she advised us to take him straight to Children's for observation. No definitive answers, but we're on a path somewhere. I couldn't help him. I felt like I was failing him.

The ER doc said our next step is figuring out what type of seizures he is having. So, we have neurology appointments coming up. I'm hoping for answers. Every second since hearing that gasp over the monitor, my anxiety has been through the roof. I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything but him. I woke him last night just to check on him. I am constantly checking the monitor and listening for him breathing. I almost climbed in the crib with him. I'm so terrified something is going to happen to him. I feel like I'm going to fail him. 

During all of this, I have been failing myself. I have let everything eat and eat at me. I have good days and I have bad days. I feel like I'm starting to get to a good place mentally, and then I have a bad day. PTSD is so commonly known for war, military and first responders. But PTSD entails so much and is very real in the civilian world too, just so often overlooked or ignored. By not having control of this, I'm not only failing myself. I am failing my family; my husband and my son.

I don't talk about it with many people at all. Actually, there's only been a couple people that I've even really went in depth with about it. Every day is a struggle. But, I have to stop ignoring it myself and BE better. These battle scars aren't going to fade, but I have to stop being at war with myself.  I'm not that perfect mom that I keep telling myself I NEED to be. I don't have to act like it all the time. I face real challenges, too.

It's ok to show your battle scars.

It's NOT Your Fault

Preeclampsia sucks. HELLP Syndrome sucks. You know what else sucks? Being told you could have prevented it, or that it is your fault... when a granola mom tells you natural medicines and diets would prevent or help you.. when they place judgment on you without knowing you, your story, your history. What's worse? Them saying everything is your fault when they, themselves, have battled loss and Preeclampsia. They never got out of the self blame stage, and project it onto you/ others.

What causes Preeclampsia? It's not really known. There are theories, but nothing solid pointing to why the placenta doesn't function properly. Some studies attribute it to poor diet/ nutrition, some to high body fat, insufficient blood flow and some genetics. It all seems to be a blanket for reason, and yet it still happens to many women who do not fall into any category, like me for example.

My diet was great. My husband and I already followed a Paleo lifestyle, and continued those ways during pregnancy. Grass fed, free range, organically grown and raised, no grains or gluten and I had cut out almost any salt intake. My caffeine intake was 1 cup of coffee a day, in the morning. Any other time I drank only water, and lots of it ( I carried a cup around with times on it to make sure, at the very minimum, I was getting 64 oz a day). Up until pregnancy, I exercised regularly. I was in the best shape since high school nearly 10 years earlier. With pregnancy and complications with a bicornuate uterus, I was no longer able to keep my exercise routine. My family has no history of Preeclampsia, nor does my husband's family. Blood flow to my placenta was fine, as it was being monitored already due to my issues with my uterus. I do not fall under these blanket theories.

If you get preeclampsia, it's not your fault. You can't prevent it as it's just something that happens. There's no cure other than delivery right now. Most women are able to make it to term or full term and deliver absolutely healthy babies. Those women can often stick to their birth plan, have natural unmediated birth- or medicated natural birth, etc. Because preeclampsia can change in minutes, not everyone can stay with their birth plan. Preeclampsia can advance. You can become eclamptic, you can develop HELLP and it can be very dangerous for mom and for baby.

For me, I was on hospital bed rest to be continuously monitored. It was scary. I didn't know much about what was going on or could happen. I had heard of Preeclampsia, but I really didn't know what to expect or how it was going to attack me. I was fine for a few days. I was classified with severe preeclampsia, borderline HELLP and borderline Eclampsia. I was on blood pressure medicine, and magnesium to help prevent seizures from starting. I was on cardiac arrest watch, stroke watch and seizure watch. I requested to push my body as much as I safely could to get my son as far as I could in this pregnancy. The doctors respected that request and I had a team of nurses that pretty much stayed with me (someone was in the room every 30 minutes or less). Our goal was 34 weeks. At 34 weeks, they would let me labor. I had my hopes up. I wanted, "natural".

In less than an hour after talking with my OB on Monday, June 29, 2015, I started to crash. My blood pressure jumped to 190/110 (while on the max dose of blood pressure medicine I could be given), and my oxygen levels dropped. I was only 32 weeks (admitted while in the 31st week) along. I had went into severe HELLP syndrome. My liver function was failing, my kidneys were struggling and my chest was tightening. To save my baby, I had to save myself. I was put on oxygen and less than 45 minutes after my oxygen levels started to lower.. I delivered via emergency c-section.

To this day, I'm still battling what Preeclampsia and HELLP did to my body. For nearly 14 months, I have been doing any and everything natural to "heal" my body. So far the only thing I've been able to control with natural remedies, is my blood pressure most days (though, still a struggle some days).

I consider myself pretty "crunchy" when it comes to my lifestyle. Yet, I know there are just some things natural ways just can't do what science can. And I believe God gave scientists and doctors these amazing gifts for a reason.

To those who place judgments and blame. Just stop. The mom is already placing enough blame and what ifs on herself. You blaming a mom for Preeclampsia is like saying a person who gets into a car wreck is to blame just for getting into a vehicle. And if you are that mom, and you had Preeclampsia, It's not your fault. You didn't cause this. If you stop placing blame on others for their preeclampsia, maybe you can see that you're not the reason for it attacking you. Maybe then you can have some closure and take that weight off your shoulders.

If there was a way I could have prevented my son going through this, through all the needles, tests, and nights without me, I would have.

It's not your fault. It's not my fault.

Oh Poop

Let's talk about cloth diapering for a moment. I love it. Aside from the tediousness of stuffing the pocket diapers every laundry day, it has really been a breeze. We haven't had a single blowout in cloth, whereas in disposable, Cash would have 1-2 blowouts a day. So, cloth saved my sanity and his onsies. Today, however, I cursed out loud.

We've started Cash on solids. breastfed baby poops and cloth diapering is quite easy. Take the inserts out and throw it all in the wash. Easypeasy. Add solids into the mix, and our routine has changed ever so slightly. Now, poop is more solid too. So, less about cloth and more about poop.

Cash is still breastfed, but he's eating 3 meals a day now. He took off with solids and baby-led weaning. My son loves his milk and he loves food equally if not more. So, poop has changed and poop now has to be dropped into the toilet before washing. There is maybe 10 steps from Cash's changing table in his room to the bathroom toilet. Usually, it's an easy chore. I say chore because poop stinks. Today, our loving fat cat decided to plop himself at my feet as I was walking those few steps to the bathroom. I lost my balance. Poop happened. I dropped the diaper and our 22 pound cat caught the poop... all over his back.

Go ahead laugh. If it hadn't of happened to me, I would have laughed.

Instead, I had to chase fatty down to clean poop out of his fur and give him a bath, all the while tending to my nearly 7 month old who only wants to be held today.

Was it enough to make me want to switch to disposable? No, but I am considering putting his changing table in the bathroom.. if only it would fit.

To say the least, it was a poopy situation.

Judgement Free Zone

When I first found out I was pregnant, I started to think about all the things I wanted to be able to do. Near the top of that list was breast feeding, cloth diapering and baby wearing. That was our plan. I couldn't necessarily tell you why I wanted to be able to breast feed.. it was just knowing that most women's body's are capable of doing it. I wanted to cloth diaper to save money, and baby wear because I want to keep him close to me. I'm a baby wearing, cloth diapering, and breast feeding mom... and you know what? It's ok if you don't do any of the 3. I'm not going to think any less or more of you if you do or do not do any of them.

Cloth diapering isn't for everyone. We didn't get to start with cloth until Cash was almost 3 months because he was so tiny. Now cloth is so easy for us, a disposable might confuse me. We have a routine and it works for us. I am blessed to be able to stay home with my little man. So, cloth diapering works so well for us. Cloth is considered too much work for some, and that's ok! As long as you have a sanitary means for poop catching, more power to you! 

I admit, I'm selfish. I baby-wear more for me than I do for Cash. It's convenient for me. My little boy isn't an independent, play by himself baby. He loves to be held, and loves mom or dad's attention every second he is awake. I don't mind it because I love playing and working with him to learn new things, but I also like clean dishes, a fresh meal, clean clothes and nap time. Because of my husband's work schedule, he's only home and awake for a very short period of time. So, the daily chores and necessities are up to me.  Baby wearing allows me to have a clean kitchen. Cash struggles with nap time. Put him in a Woven wrap and 9 out of 10 times he'll be asleep within 5 minutes of wrapping. Cash with a nap = a happy baby. Cash with no naps = a not so happy baby.  So, baby wearing is really for the both of us. No, it doesn't hinder his milestones (he's actually excelling thank you very much!). No, it isn't spoiling him. Women all over the world have been wearing their babies since the beginning of time. It's nothing new. It works for us. Some babies hate to be worn and some mom's hate to wear... and that is ok! What works for some moms/ babies will not work for others. 

Breast feeding, oh breast feeding. Likely one of the biggest battles of all "Mommy Wars". What's crazy is, I never noticed before I breast fed. Formula vs breast vs pumping and giving a bottle. Enough. Let's face it. Breast isn't always best for everyone. Some moms can't breast feed, some moms do not want to breast feed and some moms supplement. Just because breast milk is what I feel is best for MY son, does not mean that breast milk is best for yours. And you know what, we've supplemented out of necessity while Cash was in NICU and shortly after. I pumped for 3 months, every 2-3 hours to give my son breast milk because it was the easiest on his stomach. His breast milk was fortified with preemie formula to be high calorie to aid in his necessary weight gain. After about 6 weeks of fortifying, formula was not what was best for my child and we began to only do breast milk and continued to pump. I've read opinions from people stating that formula is poison, formula moms are stupid, they don't try, don't care.. etc. None of which are true about me nor about any of the amazing mother's I know who give their child formula. Now, I've heard some stuff about breast feeding too! Some say formula is better, breast feeding is gross, people sexualizing breast feeding and giving dirty looks. I've been asked why I'm still breast feeding at 6 months old, and even told that bottle fed babies don't have the same bond with mom as a nursing baby. There's also something about anything negative that arises seems to be followed with, "It's because you breast feed.". Breast feeding isn't easy, at least not for us. Cash and I have worked incredibly hard for him to be able to nurse. I have the same bond with my son now as I did when he had a bottle. If you know me, you know how Cash and I are together. That bond started when he had a tube down his throat and also only received a bottle. If your baby is fed, happy and healthy.. That is all that truly matters. 

There's so many topics that people mom-shame on. Being a mom isn't the easiest responsibility. Why are we making it harder on others by tearing their choices for their own children down? 

Is your child well taken care of? Yes, Go Mom! 

Is your baby's belly full on breast milk or formula, whichever works best for him/ her? Yes, You're doing great! 

Does your baby have a clean booty? Mine too! 

You get it. I know you do. Let's be supportive because it's not about us. We're not all going to agree on everything but there are much better ways to express our opinions where it isn't so thrown into another mom's face. Telling someone they didn't try hard enough because they switch to formula is wrong. You don't know their struggle.
Telling someone they are spoiling a child because you hold them all they time or wear them isn't true. The ONLY thing that matters is having a baby that is as healthy as possible, well taken care of, and happy baby. Bottom line, What works for you and your family, what's best for you and your family.. may not be what is best for another's family, it may not work for another family. 

So, let's do what we should do and parent our own child(ren) and offer support when and where needed/ asked for without judgement. Don't be that mom.

One Year Ago Today

It's hard to believe that one year ago today, my husband and I found out we were pregnant. I had been having pains, and I knew something just wasn't right. I felt, "off". So, my husband went and bought a pack of tests so I could test first thing the next morning. I was too anxious and tested as soon as I got them. The pains I had been having were the fimilar pains I have had many times before and I was fearing I was pregnant; I was fearing I was miscarrying.

Seeing the word, "Pregnant" displayed on the digital pregnancy test almost gave me a panic attack. I wasn't panicing because I didn't want a baby... I was panicing because I wanted a baby more than anything. I wanted my body to hold a pregnancy for once. I was tortured by our history of miscarriages and was fearing the worst all over again.

Because of the severe cramping and spotting, we rushed to the emergency room. If there was any chance to prevent a miscarriage, if that was what was happening, I wanted to try.

We were at the hospital for about 7-ish hours. Blood tests, ultrasounds, etc.. No answers. Our pregnancy was confirmed, but all they could say is, "We're not sure that you're not miscarrying. If you are, at this point there isn't anything we can do to prevent it. We need you to follow up with an OB tomorrow.". I think I cried all the way home, all night and even the following morning as I kept my arms wrapped around my stomach, along with my husband's arms. I prayed and prayed. I prayed more than I slept that night.

The following morning, I went to work. I didn't want to leave the credit union I worked for short handed that morning. It was the same thought I had when I tried to go to work right after finding out we were miscarrying with our first in 2008. Somehow I get it in my head that if I keep busy, I can get through the day. But that's never the case. Thankfully my superiors were amazing and had me leave. I got my appoinment for bloodwork with my OB and a followup on the following Monday.

My HCG levels were steadily rising. That was GREAT news. We had our first ultrasound. And still.. we were left with the possibility of miscarrying. Our ultrasound showed 2 sacks, but at that time we didn't know the fate of anything. We still had to wait. In January, I had 3 or 4 appointments to monitor how everything was going. Around 9 weeks, one sac had, "vanished" and we just had one baby. It took some time for me to comprehend all of this.

around 11.5 weeks, we finally told our family and friends. We were still high risk, but everything was looking healthy for our baby.

I was a crazy pregnancy, with quite a few scary moments, but oh so work every single second. It was worth 2 appointments every month, having 17 tubes of blood drawn in one sitting, on and off bed rest.. etc.

We expected him to come early around 35 weeks due to my uterine anomaly, but never expected 32 weeks and an emergency c-section. We were definitely challenged, but even more so.. we are beyond blessed.

Here we are now, just days away from Cash William being 6 months old actual, 4 months adjusted. He's healthy and happy. He is the best thing on this earth for me and my husband. We still get comments from time to time about how little he is for 6 months, but when they find out he's a 32 weeker, their tune changes to how "huge" he is. Like yesterday at Best Buy, Cash was chewing on his fingers and hand. A man mentioned it and I said he was teething. The man said, "he's too young for teething!". I mentioned he is about 6 months old and the man commented on how small he is, mentioning how he thought he was only 4 months old (... although some 4 month olds teethe!). I followed with explaining he is a preemie, and should only be 4 months old. The man then mentioned how chunky he is. Big or small, tall or short.. leg rolls and all, Cash William is perfect.

It has been a crazy and blessed year. Last year we were blessed with the news of a pregnancy for Christmas (although terrifying at the time) This year, we are blessed with a growing baby boy with insanely blue eyes, chipmunk cheeks and the gummiest smile.

Mommyhood at 5 months

Time is flying by so fast. Every day it seems I learn something new about, "Mommy-hood"... and about my son. New challenges, milestones and a heck of a lot of patience. 

Cash William turned 5 months on November 29th. I know. I know.. It doesn't seem like he should be 5 months old already! It still feels like we brought him home from NICU yesterday. He's come so far and had proven expectations wrong. 

At 5 months, Cash is around 15 pounds. He's still smaller than most Full term 5 month olds, but huge in comparison to most 32 weekers at 5 months. He went from not knowing ow to eat in NICU and wanting to sleep 24/7 to wanting to eat 24/7 and not wanting to sleep! Ha, funny how things change. He does love his sleep, but getting him to sleep is the challenge. Once he's down for the night, he sleeps through the night or wakes once to nurse. Naps are a whole different ballgame. We struggle with naps. This is where baby wearing has been a godsend. It's about the only way I can get him to nap for an extended period of time. We're working on it though! 

He still hates tummy time, but he is getting better with it. We've made it a game, playing with him, rolling him around and encouraging him to roll since he's still on strike! He can do it, but he's lazy with rolling. Making it a game, he's starting to roll again. He's went up on his knees a few times, granted out of frustration, he's doing it. He's also discovering his feet and has been pulling them up to his chest, or up in the air. He does this during diaper changes because I always, "get his toes" when I take off his jammies. He loves it. NICU said he would likely hate having his feet touched, but he loves when I kiss his toes and rub his feet. He loves getting his feet rubbed with coconut oil after his bath. It doesn't appear he'll be super ticklish on his feet like his dad, who will donkey kick someone across the room if they touch his feet. 

We're at the stage where he likes to hear himself talk. I love it. We'll hold full conversations, though I haven't the slightest clue what he's saying. Sometimes it sounds like he's trying to say Hello in the mornings. Every morning when we do the first diaper change, right after he wakes, I say hello and good morning. He's been making sounds in what seems to be an attempt to mimic me. There has been many times it seems like he says Momma, and my husband agrees. Is it too early for him to speak a word? Maybe it's just me getting overly excited. 

We've been working on sign language since around 3 months. Some days there's too much going on and we... er.. I fail to work with him on it. I was feeling terrible that I wasn't working with him on it as much as I wanted, but obviously I'm doing an ok job at it. Cash is starting to sign, "Milk", and "More". I'm going to make it a goal to work with him first thing in the morning. He's more alert and not fighting sleep. It's a little harder on me because all I want is coffee.. but priorities, right?

We're so close to sitting up and holding balance! He can hold himself up for upwards of 30 seconds at a time, unassisted. If he's reclined, he'll try to sit up, often times he'll fall forward or to the side. I can definitely tell he's determined. He tries to grab onto things and pull himself to sit up. He's been doing great with grabbing my fingers and pulling up. I feel like he's doing everything too fast, but we're letting him take the lead with his milestones and learn at his own pace... even if it's too fast for this momma. 

One thing I'm really enjoying is Christmas and all it entails. At least once a day since the day after Thanksgiving, we play and sing Christmas music. He loves it and will grin, giggle and "sing". He is fascinated by the Christmas tree. We'll lay in the floor and he'll wiggle around and stare up at the tree. Nick and I LOVE Christmas and decorating, I'm so excited to share that with Cash... even though he won't remember any of it this year. We also said we wouldn't go overboard with him for Christmas gifts.. and I think we're doing ok with it all. Family has already been spoiling him with Christmas gifts under the tree. I can't wait to put him in his, "My first Christmas" outfit and take pictures by the tree with all his gifts. I know, I take a million pictures of him (more than 7,000 on my phone alone.. crazy, I know), but I want to remember every minute, ever silly expression, his little toes, his toothless grin... and enjoy these moments before he runs from my camera like his father does.

 Now that we've listed all the positives... one thing that sucks? Teething. I LOATHE teething. My happy baby? Well.. he's just not so happy with this teething business. Neither is his momma. This momma is exhausted. Bedtime was easy and at 7-730PM most nights. Tonight's bedtime didn't come until nearly 10PM. Teething is making my little chunk refuse to nurse and he LOVES to nurse. Seriously, this kid never leaves my boob... until this teething business got worse. Which, hey.. my boobs would love a bit of a break. However, getting gummed and an attempt to rip off my nipple by pulling, not so much. The soreness I'm feeling after hours of biting and pulling, I wanted to quit breast feeding. It seriously crossed my mind at least twice today. But, I put in way too much work to be able to breastfeed him to give up now. Twelve months here we come! (I'm so not looking forward to teeth... )

Tomorrow we're making milk-pops, ordering pumpkin oil and going to give his amber & hazel teething necklace another try. He needs some relief and selfishly, I need some relief too.. and coffee. I'm out! Ah!

After Every Storm There is a Rainbow

My husband and I started to think becoming parents would never happen for us. We wanted it so badly and I had always dreamed of being a mommy. Our journey to parenthood was long and painful, but after every storm there is a rainbow.

While my husband and I were dating, he mentioned he wasn't sure he ever wanted kids. We had been dating for about a year and the thought of not growing with him and having children together scared me so badly. I had built a foundation with him and knew he was the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life. It was crazy timing because God had something up his sleeve. I found out I was pregnant right after that conversation. 

When I told him, I was so worried how he would take it. In my head on repeat was him saying he didn't want kids. I hid it from him for 2 weeks before I told him and actually told him during an argument (arguing because I was acting, "off"). He didn't have much to say and was very quiet. I was worried sick to my stomach about our future for a couple weeks when he finally opened up and told me he was excited, he was just scared. We were both scared. 

I found out I was pregnant in June of 2008. We finally told our family in July and I scheduled my first appointment with my doctor. It was just the official, "You're pregnant!" appointment. It was supposed to be an exciting day, but we received unexpected terrible news. My pregnancy test came back negative. I was confused, sick and hurt. I had taken several tests just 3 weeks earlier, all positives. We had blood tests drawn and found I had miscarried, and the doctor thought I had likely started to miscarry before I took the pregnancy tests at home. After going over everything with my doctor, It was estimated that I was about 12 weeks along. I thought I was only about 6-7 weeks tops. I went to this appointment alone because it was just to get confirmation and schedule my next appointment. 

Telling my, now, husband was so hard. I couldn't understand why God would do this to us. I was angry with him, questioned him and questioned my faith more than ever. Looking back, I think this time was used to open my husband's eyes to wanting children, but also saying we were not ready. I would do anything to have our child with us. He or She (although I've always thought boy) would be 6 years old now. 

Sadly, our first angel baby wouldn't be our only one. We miscarried again in 2009, while my husband was in a-school with the Navy, again in 2010 and again in 2011. I started to become numb to it all. I blamed myself, and my husband thought it was something because of him. I felt worthless as a woman and like a failure as a wife. 

In 2012, my husband had just left for the final deployment of the USS Enterprise when I found out I was pregnant again. I told my husband and he was excited and said he had a feeling that I was. He was in port and while Skyping would send me pictures of onsies. I tried to not get my hopes up, but it was inevitable. We wanted the baby so badly. I started to cramp emailed my husband to tell him I was going to the emergency room if it wasn't better by morning. That morning I woke up in more pain and bleeding. I instantly knew, but was hoping for a miracle. I spent 9 hours in the emergency room, alone. I was losing my baby and nothing could be done. Tests were ran and no conclusion as to why I was unable to hold a pregnancy. I had become more depressed than I ever had at this point. I was giving up and was losing myself. 

In 2013, we miscarried again. Something was different this time. I expected it. I never truly got excited for the positive sign, even though I wanted to be excited. I planned my appointment and the results were that my HCG levels were not high enough to consider me pregnant, medically, but not low enough to say I wasn't. I was told it was possible I was having a chemical pregnancy. We later got confirmation of that. I sulked for a few days, but something was different this time. I came to terms that maybe, just maybe there was a different path for us and we just didn't know what that path was just yet. 

I slowly started to find myself again. My husband and I started working together to be content with the thought of not having biological children. We decided to just go with the flow and see where life took us together. 

In 2014, we moved across country to California. We had stopped talking about trying to get pregnant and started talking fostering children and/ or adoption. We sponsored 10 kids for Christmas that year. While out shopping for gifts, I found myself overly emotional to everything, but the thought of being pregnant never crossed our minds. We had given up on the thought of getting pregnant again. 

I had been feeling strange for a couple weeks and cramping. I knew something was off and we ran out for a test. The cramping I had felt was the same as past miscarriages. I took the test, and the words, "pregnant" popped up. I broke down and cried, and not happy tears. I was terrified. Because of the severe cramping, we went to the emergency room. We were there for several hours and all they could say was, "we're not sure that you're not miscarrying". It had been more than a year since our last miscarriage and everything hit me like a ton of bricks.

The next day, I got an appointment with the base OBGYN for blood-work. We needed to see if my HCG levels continued to rise, which they had. Monday I went for an ultrasound and more blood-work. We got to see our baby that day. Over the years we had 6 miscarriages and not one doctor could pinpoint the cause. Within 5 minutes, Dr Duda and Naval Hospital Lemoore saw an anomaly with my uterus. I have a bicornuate uterus, and the separation is more than likely what has caused all my miscarriages. At this point, it was unclear if my body would miscarry again or not. The egg was in a good spot, but it would depend on the placenta implanting correctly. 

Our first ultrasound showed 2 eggs. Unfortunately, my body only kept one rather than both. It was so surreal the thought of twins. I know twins would have been very hard to carry with my uterus being like it is and would have made it even more likely to lose the both of them. It's really bittersweet. 

The doctors monitored me closely and thankfully, everything was looking good. Our pregnancy was labeled high risk and was expected to go into labor around 35 weeks with possibility of c-section. We had a few hiccups and pain, but it was all so very worth it. At about 16-17 weeks, they discovered a large fibroid, something else to trigger premature labor. So, we took it one day at a time. 

At 29 weeks, nearly 30 weeks, I started to pack on weight. Baby boy was measuring ahead, and healthy. I had to do a 24-hour urine test at about to check for protein. Thankfully it was low. The 2 weeks after that, I gained 30 pounds and started having blood pressure issues. I was sent to labor and delivery for monitoring for risk of placenta separation. 

I was admitted for the night for more testing. I was having contractions and also found to have severe preeclampsia. My protein levels had jumped from 45 to 4500 in just 2 weeks. I was transferred to a hospital nearly an hour away that specializes in high risk, premature deliveries. The goal was to get me to 34 weeks on strict bedrest in the hospital. I was put on medicine to lower my blood pressure and was also on magnesium. They had me on seizure watch, cardiac arrest watch, as well as monitoring my kidney and liver function. I wanted to push my body as far as I could to get my baby to the safest possible gestation my body would allow. My liver and kidney functions had already increased and it was only a matter of time before I was at serious risk of facing damage to them. 

On June 29, 2015 about 8PM, my blood pressure jumped to about 190/110, while on max dosage of blood pressure reducer, and my oxygen levels dropped. The nurses ran in and the doctor followed behind them. I was no longer given the option to push my body any further. The doctor stated they had to take my baby as fast as possible. I had sent my husband home for the night to rest. He walked in as they were wheeling me to the OR. In less than 45 minutes from the doctor saying the baby had to come, Cash William was born via emergency c-section. He was 32 weeks, and weight 3 pounds, 14 ounces.

It was a long journey, a hard one.. but I have never been so appreciative of the gift God has given us. Our journey wasn't easy after Cash's birth. We spent 5 weeks in NICU (a blog post for another day), and had a few other hiccups after NICU. We are beyond blessed with our rainbow baby, and I know his siblings are watching over him. 

After every storm, there is a rainbow.