Infusion update

I only have three left!
Three!
When I first started in November, it was daunting to think that I had 20 of them in front of me, and now I can't believe I'm almost done.
The infusions appear to be doing their job, since I've got neutrophils again, and a normal white blood cell count.  That means the IVIG is giving my autoantibody something else to attack instead of my neutrophils.  Hopefully it will do the same thing for the baby's platelets.  Only time will tell, but I'm thinking positive thoughts in that manner.  And Lucy turned out fine after all, so I'm just trying to keep that in mind.
Nothing has really changed since November except for I've learned a lot more about veins and what makes them easy and not so easy to access.
I'm the biggest wuss bag when it comes to anything needles, and I don't know if you guys recall but I had a major panic attack in the parking lot on my very first day.  
So I was super relieved to see that the IV's used in the infusion center are not much bigger than the butterfly needle they usually draw blood from me with.

 It was easy poking for the first six weeks or so.  My usual nurse would be able to find a vein on my arm with no problem, with minimal looking and one easy jab.
Around mid-December, though, even he was having trouble finding a good vein in my arm and was having to resort to using the hand.  Which sucks.
I was so confused, because I drink a ton of water and I haven't gained too much weight this pregnancy, so I didn't understand why all of a sudden it was taking so much effort just to start an IV.  
I started to feel bad for some of the other nurses, too.  My regular guy, Martin, seemed to be the only one that could start an IV on me, which made me nervous because he was transferring to another facility mid-January.
One nurse would attempt to start an IV on me, and after going through two needles during failed attempts, they would call Martin over and he would get my line started with minimal effort.
Finally, one day around Christmas I asked him if there was anything I could do to make it easier to access my veins, since I was getting sick of being stuck in the hand and I REALLY didn't want a picc line.

Things got kind of festive around the holidays ; )

He said to drink a lot of water the day before, to not drink coffee the morning of and to make sure I'm warm when I get there.
Well, I was one for three.  I always have my one cup of coffee of the day in the morning, and since I'm pregnant, I'm hot all. the. time. so I'd been blasting my AC on the way to Kaiser.
He also said not to drink ice water on the way in, which I was also guilty of.
I kind of went a little overboard with trying to make myself warm on the way to the clinic after dropping Lucy off.  
I was wearing Lucy's leg warmers on my arms, a long sleeve t-shirt over that and my maternity sweatshirt over that.  I also started turning my car's heater on full blast.  It was a serious sweat lodge in my car.
I'd say bundling up like an eskimo helped a little bit.  Even with making sure I was warm and hydrated, it still takes a seasoned nurse to get a good arm vein. 
This is how it's gone for the past month or so.  I'll show up, the nurse who is assigned to me will barely look at my arms, look at my hands, apply the tourniquet, completely miss a hand vein and end up calling another nurse over, usually one of the guys who has been at the infusion clinic since it opened in 2008.
At first I felt really bad about this.  I'd even clench my fists and show him/her where Martin would usually find a vein, while feeling crappy about being THAT patient who had a preferred nurse.
I just remembered how it felt to have customers ask for a certain barista to make their coffee, and not me, and didn't want to make anyone feel like that.
But after having someone stick in the needle, dig around for a bit IN MY ARM/HAND and unsuccessfully find the vein they thought they had found, I have no problem if they give up and get someone else.
I'm stepping on my soapbox for a moment.
I'm not a nurse, nor am I in the medical profession, but it was actually starting to drive me crazy when the lady who has been assigned to me a lot doesn't even try to find something in a place other than my hand, like the others.  And a lot of the time she would miss the vein and call someone else over.  A few weeks ago, she tried the hand, and couldn't hit the vein.  I looked at my hand after I'd gone home, and based on where the needle stick was, she completely missed the vein that even I could see, because the hole was to the left of my vein.
My thing is, if you are working in an infusion clinic, you should be pro at starting IV's and at least make an effort to try and find a good vein before giving up.  Because you work in an infusion clinic.  Your job is to start IV's all day.  But I digress.
After it being hit or miss that the nurses could find a vein in my arm, and resorting to my hand, I stopped wearing leg warmers on my arms and only half-blast my heater.
I was talking to one of the older nurses a few weeks ago about how frustrating it was to have crappy veins, and he explained that that's not necessarily it.  He said it has to do with the swelling that my body is undergoing due to being pregnant, which pushes my veins down deeper.

Two weeks ago.  Apparently the swelling isn't just in mah belly.

Luckily if he or one of the other seasoned nurses is the one sticking me that day, they are pretty good about feeling around my arms, finding a vein, and stabbing straight into my arm to find that vein.  The past three weeks have actually been a lot better for starting IV's.  Hopefully it continues to be that way.
Even one of the guys in the blood draw lab noticed how deep my veins have gone.  It's always fun to have them point out to you that the two inch needle is all of the way in your arm and sticking straight out of said arm.
I think the weekly infusions have been really good for Lucy and I, too.
I've been getting four hours of down time in the chair to do what I please, while being forced to sit down and take it easy.  I'll usually pack my laptop with some DVD's, my Nintendo DS and some magazines.  I'll try to take a nap because Lucy usually naps while she's being babysat.
I say it's good for her, too, because she's getting time with someone other than me, and most of the time she's with friends who have kids her age, so she gets to have a playdate.
There are still tears when I leave her, but usually she stops crying about a minute after I leave.  And she's always happy to see me when I get back.

My nursing journey (and hopes for the new guy)

This post is about breastfeeding, so if you're squeamish about that sort of thing, this post isn't for you.

After reading a few posts by some of my favorite mom bloggers about nursing their babes, I feel compelled to share ours and also what I'm aiming for with our son when he's born next month.
When the baby books and baby websites say that breastfeeding is not easy in the beginning, they really are not kidding, although we had some setbacks that aren't really considered normal.

  What we hoped for and what happened after she was born are two totally different things.  I was hoping for skin-to-skin time with Lucy while I was still on the operating table being sewn up, and then to nurse her while I was in recovery.  We also wanted no visitors until the following day so Andy and I could get to know her and so that I could nurse on demand and have lots of skin-to-skin time.  
I got to do two out of three of those things.  We got skin-to-skin time in the OR and I was able to briefly nurse her in recovery, but while I was nursing her (with a perfect latch I might add) her platelet condition was discovered and she was whisked off to the NICU.  
Instead of spending that first night in the hospital cuddling my baby girl, I formed a relationship with a hospital-grade pump.  Instead of waking up by alarm every two to three hours to nurse my baby that first night, I woke to an alarm to pump (and essentially feel like a dairy cow).
I also didn't sleep very well that first night, because I kept having mini panic attacks whenever I would fall asleep because I was worried about how Lucy was doing downstairs.  Andy got two or three hours of sleep before he went downstairs to check on our baby.
I think it was around 6 a.m. that a nurse came in and helped me stand up and walk to the bathroom, just to get me moving.  My mid-morning I was able to go downstairs and see how Lucy was doing.  The NICU nurses encouraged me try and breastfeed and to pump in the NICU when I came down every time Lucy was hungry, about every three or four hours.
The first day after she was born was a very overwhelming day for both Andy and I, and I really think it contributed to my inability to exclusively breastfeed Lucy in the end.
Instead of resting, pumping and visiting Lucy every few hours, it was nonstop visitors in my room and Andy taking them downstairs to see Lucy, one at a time since she could only have Andy and one other adult visit at a time.  
(I'm going to step on my soap box for a second, so bear with me.  I understand the excitement about wanting to meet a new baby and everything, but what I don't get is how it seems easy for people [especially women who have had children] to want to, or feel like they have the right, to come to the hospital or be waiting outside of the delivery room and rush into the room minutes or an hour after a baby has been born.  That poor mom has just gone through the biggest physical challenge of her life, naturally or by c-section, and deserves, no, has the right, to bond with her her new baby, get cleaned up, eat something, maybe take a nap and relax for a bit before handing her precious new squish over to other people to be held and to have to be somewhat social with visitors.  Maybe I'm different, I know there are people who don't mind having a bunch of visitors right away, but I'm certainly not one of them.)
Anywho.
The first six days of her life were pump every two to three hours and go down to the NICU every three to four hours with the exception of between midnight and when Andy would get back to the hospital, usually around 7 or 8 a.m.  I could have gone down there in the middle of the night on my own, but I decided to rest up in the night hours.  I'd either have a nurse take my milk down to the NICU or keep it on ice until morning.
Because of medication she was on those first few days, she had to eat enough to keep her blood sugar level.  A baby's tummy starts out the size of a marble, and over the course of the first few days expands to the size of a ping pong ball as mom's milk comes in. 
The amount I was pumping wasn't enough to keep her blood sugar where it needed to be, so in addition my milk she was also getting formula.  
Instead of her stomach expanding naturally as we nursed, it got bigger faster than I could produce, which meant we needed to supplement in the hospital and when we got home.  This created a vicious cycle.
It's much easier to get milk out of a bottle than mom, which made it very hard for me to get her to nurse.
In the NICU the lactation consultant had us try a shield, which is pretty much like a little plastic sombrero you put on your boob to make you seem like a bottle nipple.  That seemed to work pretty well, but that's also another double edged sword because it's hard to produce as much milk with the shield.

The first month or so home were really hard, and very frustrating.  I nursed her during the day and then topped her off with formula, and tried to pump after every feeding.  But let's face it.  When you end up with a "won't be put down for a second" baby, and have the added challenge of not being able have anyone come in the house to hold the baby because of their compromised immune system, it's really hard to keep that up.  I was still waking up every two to three hours at night to pump, and eventually just started nursing her then instead.
Eventually I was able to nurse her around the clock, and without a shield, but I never quite produced enough so we always had to supplement after each feeding with formula.
And that went on for nine months, until my supply took a nose dive and I threw in the towel.  By then she was eating solid food and so we just did formula until she turned one and switched to whole milk.

Would I have done anything differently?
Yup.
Once we got home from the hospital, and she had a clean bill of health, I would have worked harder to not use formula.
I really feel like if I had not been so overwhelmed and had tried a lot harder to just nurse her, because looking back at it, I think we could have done it.  I think if I hadn't supplemented so much, my supply would have grown with her and we could have made it to a year.
Although if I hadn't stopped when I did, in May, I don't think I would have gotten pregnant in June like I did, and I wouldn't take that back for a second.
With this next baby, I'm really hoping that the infusions are doing everything they are supposed to and he doesn't end up in the NICU.  I really think we'll have a fighting chance of using no formula if we are able to nurse exclusively from the beginning.  That means I'm going to kind of be a hard ass about the length of time we have visitors in the first few weeks.  If baby needs to eat, everyone with the exception of Andy, Lucy and nurses are leaving the hospital room until he's done with his meal.  At home, I really need to be able to be comfortable nursing, and that usually meant the couch with Lucy, so I'll probably ask people to leave the room when he starts to eat until I get covered up.  This is something I'm very passionate about, nursing, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure we're successful this time around because it's so beneficial for the baby.
But if he does end up in the NICU, at least this time I feel better equipped to make it successful.  I know what to do and what not to do, and what my pitfalls were last time.  
 

Random thoughts from the mall

• The mall playground is my best (and sometimes worst) friend these days.  I'm trying to soak up the last few weeks Lucy and I will have as just the two of us during the day, and I love getting her out to play, but it's getting a little difficult for me to chase her up and down playground structures at the park.  Since she's still so little (and deceivingly mobile) she could totally fall over the side of a lot of the structures, even though she gets to the top no problem. One day she'll learn to be careful, but right now it's not there!
• It's also awesome for people watching and seeing what other mommies are up to.  If I ever get a tattoo, I think I'd get what this one chick had.  She had two Starbucks drinks tattooed on her forearm, with the date that she and her husband met below it.  How cool is that?  My tattoo would be an Iced Venti Two Sugar in the Raw Black Tea, and Andy's would be an Iced Tall Americano with April 2003 under it.
• I'll bet you didn't know it took me a good half an hour to approach said mommy and ask her about the tattoo.  I'll also bet you didn't know that I can be painfully shy so my former profession as a reporter put me way out of my comfort zone a lot.  I always complain to myself about how I wish I had more mom friends to hang out with during the day, but I'm never going to make them if I don't put myself out there!  I am ridiculously bad at making new friends, and I'm pretty sure it's because I'm super afraid of rejection and putting myself out there.  It's pretty much why all of my friends are either ones I met working at Starbucks or ones I met through Andy.  I guess I can't really complain about not having more friends since I'm such a scaredy cat.
• Mean girls start early!  I love getting Lucy together with other kids, be it play dates or at the mall playground, because it gives her a chance to interact with other kids.  I know all kids aren't always going to treat my little flower nicely, but I was very surprised when Lucy pretty much got punched in the face by another little girl!  She couldn't have been much older than Lucy.  I've noticed when little kids greet each other, they do this awkward ritual where they walk right up to the other and stare at them.  I can only imagine if that's what we continued to do as adults.  Anyway, the little girl walks right up to Lucy, does the awkward close-range stare, and then bops Lucy in the face!  Her dad pulled her away from Lucy, and Lucy sat there stunned for a second.  And then the saddest thing I have ever seen happened.  Her face crumpled up and she started crying, and ran over to me, like she'd been completely violated.  I felt so sad for her, because I know that will be the first of many times in her life where someone will hurt her feelings like that.  It was especially heartbreaking, though, because she doesn't understand what happened.  I comforted her and decided it was time to go.  The little girl's parents didn't say sorry or anything, which I realized later was kind of messed up.  I know my kid is going to get punched or kicked by other little kids, it's just kind of what they do, but an acknowledgment of what their kid did would have been a little nice.

Baby #2 Update

I had a 32-week ultrasound just to check up on the little guy and make sure that he's doing okay.  What the doctor was looking for was to see if there was any bleeding anywhere, specifically in the brain. 
That's because my autoantibody goes after platelets in our babies, and there is the potential for bleeding since we don't know if it has attacked his platelets yet. 
Luckily there was none and everything was looking good, as per the doctor.  The ultrasound tech estimated that he already weighs a little over four pounds, so if he gains 1/2 a pound a week we could end up with an eight pound baby!  That's a lot of baby.
So either my infusions are working or we're just getting lucky again like we did with Lucy.  She didn't show signs of platelet issues until after she was born.
Unlike Lucy, this one appears to be head down, so I'm having a list of different discomforts than last time.
I certainly don't remember peeing as often, this early. 
Also, instead of a constantly dull ache underneath my right ribcage, I'm getting sharp pains in my ribs every once in awhile which I can only guess to be feet jamming up in them.
I'm having way more Braxton Hicks contractions than I did last time, too, so I'm a little worried about going into labor on my own (and way early) and not making it to my scheduled c-section date.
I'm actually kind of sad about him being head down, because if we didn't have these complications with the platelets, I could have possibly labored and delivered naturally instead of having a c-section.
When I was pregnant with Lucy, we attended childbirth classes and learned how to go through labor without pain medication and were really looking forward to the process.
When I found out she was breech and would have to have a c-section, I felt like a lot was taken away from me.  Of course, when we discovered the platelet issues and that Lucy probably would not have survived childbirth, I felt better about the situation.
But a little part of me will always be bummed that I'll never give birth the conventional way, and I'd definitely rather not be cut open on a table, but what can you do?
As long as our kids are safe, that's all that matters.

Random Monday thoughts

I'm pretty sure she picked up her cold germs here.

• Cold season has officially kicked off.  The little one's nose started running yesterday and she ended up sleeping in our bed last night so I could keep her on pillows with her head elevated.  My hats off to moms who co-sleep because she is all over the place when she sleeps, which kept waking me up.
• I managed to pull off four stories for the month of January!!  I started freelancing for my old newspaper chain last January after I quit my full-time job to stay with Lucy, and back then the thought of two stories per month overwhelmed me.  It's kind of ironic that we've reached the point where she can entertain herself while I do phone interviews and photos, but in two months we'll be back to square one with a baby in the house.  I'm going to take a few months off from writing while I get my sea legs and we'll see how much I can accomplish after that!!
• It sort of makes me sad to know that Lucy and I have reached the point where she can play by herself, which has been great for blogging, reading, and doing housework, but we will be initially starting over again.  I hope this little boy likes the Moby wrap as much as she did.
• I have an ultrasound on Thursday to make sure everything is going well with him (no bleeding anywhere because of my immune condition).  Happy thoughts our way are welcome!
• I'm hoping we'll be be able to re-confirm that this one is a boy so I can donate/consign some of Lucy's old clothes  so I can make room for boy clothes.
• Oh, and coffee just isn't the same with Splenda.

I don't tolerate glucose

Man, you get one bad score on a three-hour glucose test and suddenly counting carbs becomes an obsession.
I passed my first test in November, but was required to retake the test a month later just to be safe which I'm cool with because the potential results of not having blood sugar in check can lead to a really big baby and/or a really shaky baby having sugar withdrawals.
Luckily since I only had one bad score, I was deemed "glucose intolerant" and not diabetic.
I'm thankful for that because it means I don't have to prick my finger daily to test my blood sugar.
Buuuuut...I have to eat like I'm a diabetic, which is kind of a pain in the butt.
Initially I thought this meant I needed to stay away from sugary foods, but after a phone call with a dietician, I realized there's way more to it than that.
I'm the first to make fun of people who do low-carb diets.  You need carbs to live, and you can't live on steak and cheese alone.  Figures I'm now the one who has to count carbs.
Not only do I have to have three meals and three snacks a day, I have to eat a set amount of carbs at each meal.  Breakfast and snacks are 30 or less, and lunch and dinner are 45.
But it gets better.
I can't have fruit before noon, because it spikes blood sugar, or milk, or cereal.
So there goes cereal with banana, I can't put apples in my oatmeal, and I can't have cantaloupe with my eggs.
I can have oatmeal or eggs with toast or a tortilla.  Some vegetables are okay with eggs, like bell peppers, or spinach or avocado.
The other rule that I'm having a hard time getting on board with is having an evening snack.  I'm not supposed to let more than 10 hours go between my evening snack and breakfast. 
Since I never know what time Lucy will get up, be it 4 a.m. or 6 a.m., I've been having my snack around 8:30 p.m.  I know some people that like sleeping after a meal, but when I do it I just wake up and feel gross.
Figuring out low carb snacks hasn't been too much of a problem though, it's been more of a struggle to remember to eat them and to pair a protein with them.
By far the biggest challenge has been planning dinners.  I had meal planning down to science, using a Pinterest board my favorite crock pot site to pick meals from.
On Sunday, when I usually meal plan, it took me about an hour longer than usual just to figure out some meals that fit my carb requirements.
What I'm planning to do this week is go through my favorite go-to recipes, and use this website to calculate the calories and carbs. 
The plus side of this is I've been using Fat Secret to track my carbs, not calories, but by staying at or below my required carbs I've actually managed to eat the correct amount of calories to sustain my current weight.
Which is great, because I've already gained more at this point than I did in my entire pregnancy with Lucy, which is not healthy given the fact that I'm only supposed to gain 10 to 15 due to my starting weight.
Only eight more weeks of this, though, so I think I can handle it.