2/24/09 For all the things that money can't buy, there is little hope.

I wish I had something optimistic and positive to write about but I don't. Today, this will be my venting outlet.

I saw Dr. Marcotte, the MFMS on Feb 18th and it was a train wreck. The traffic once we got to Cincinnati was ridiculous and it takes a lot for me to say that. There was not a single parking spot open in the entire parking garage at the hospital so we drove around it for 20 minutes. The ultrasound tech found another subchorionic hematoma on the ultrasound. Yes, you read that right.....here we go again. At this point, I was 8 weeks and 6 days pregnant. By 12-13 weeks, the amniotic sac completely fills the uterus and it "seals" at that time. Dr. Marcotte explained that the hematoma really needed to be gone by that point so the sac could seal. If it's not gone, then I have a 50/50 chance of bringing home a baby.

Dr. Marcotte wanted a urine sample and peeing in a cup isn't good enough now days, so they collected it with a catheter. They attempted it twice before they were successful. I had the flu and even the world's best nausea medication can't make that miserable feeling go away. I needed blood work done as well and the phlebotomist used a needle the size of a straw to collect it. We spent over 4 hours there and then had to drive home.

Chad and I barely spoke to each other on the way home because neither of us knew what to say. We did agree that we are both having a hard time being hopeful about this baby. I kept thinking that I just simply could not go through this again. Then I realized that I had no choice. I made the decision that if we lose this baby then we are done. I can't justify bringing babies into this world only to let them die before they ever have a chance to live. I can't even put into the words the thoughts that ran through my mind.

Terra told me about a perintologist that specializes in hematological disorders of pregnancy who is at the OSU Medical Center. I needed a referral to see him. I went in to discuss this w/ my OB-GYN and unfortunately, she sent me home w/ 450 mg of Welbutrin instead of a referral. She told me that there is just nothing that can be done for these hematomas and that they are not uncommon. It doesn't make me feel better and I cried halfway home. I already know that I can be the statistic. I already know that I am the measly 5% of pregnancies. I feel like I'm doing nothing but counting down the days until it all falls apart. She scheduled my next ultrasound for March 17th...I'll be 12 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

My body has 3-4 weeks to heal a bleed the size of a ping pong ball. I'm not optimistic, I'm devastated. I try to make plans and talk about the baby but it just feels surreal. The idea of bringing a baby home is no longer realistic and I have given up. I just can't keep my hopes up when reality is staring me in the face. I have an ultrasound scheduled tomorrow at the private clinic in Columbus, which insurance does not cover and I have no expectation that this hematoma has shrunk. Everyone keeps telling me to be positive and hopeful but I really don't have any optimism left in me. Chad and I rarely talk about the baby and change the subject whenever someone else brings it up.

I scheduled an ultrasound for March 25th at the private clinic to find out the gender at 13 weeks, 6 days. The hematoma with Parker started bleeding out at 13 weeks, 2 days when the sac had grown large enough to force the blood to go somewhere. I decided that if the hematoma is not gone, then we are not going to the ultrasound. It's too hard to continue to get close to a child that will never come home. I'm sure that sounds cruel because this child deserves no less than Parker but I just can't pretend that everything is going to be okay.

Everyone promised this wouldn't happen again....the odds were so slim, my condition so rare and what happened to Parker was just a series of unfortunate events. I seem to be cursed. I know why my doctor gave me the Welbutrin but I don't think it's working. I'm scared, I cry a lot, I hate the world, I'm sad and I'm in limbo. I haven't taken any pictures of my belly, I haven't shown off my ultrasound pictures, I avoid my baby websites, I don't eat right and I barely leave the couch once I'm home from work. I don't feel pregnant. Every trip to the bathroom makes me wonder if today will be the day or if God is going to drag this out longer. How far will I get this time before it comes to an end? Will I ever feel this baby move? Will I know when my water breaks this time or will it be another surprise? I can't pick up the babies' heartbeat w/ my doppler...is that because of the babies' position or because it's not there anymore?

I'm upset for telling Jarod that I was pregnant. The child can't handle another death. Every stuffed animal he owns and the avitars on his video games are named Parker. He must have overheard us telling someone about the hematoma because he told his friend, Austin, that this baby didn't have any water either. Austin asked me about it and I had to explain to Jarod that the baby still has water, this is a different problem, yet the same problem as last time....sort of. He asked if this baby was sick like Parker and I told him "not yet". I quickly corrected myself but he asked if this baby was going to be born alive and I had to tell him "I really hope so but right now we just have to wait and see." My son was a straight A student until the second semester of school. His grades are C's now. I feel like a horrible parent. My first grader should not be handling adult stress. This is not fair to him. Tomorrow, I'm going to find a grief councilor for him. I jut don't think he's coping well w/ all this.

I'm on pelvic rest, I stay off my feet, I don't lift anything, I barely clean my house, my husband will forget what sex is and yet all the baby websites say that it probably won't make a difference anyway. If I spend more than 9 hours a day away from home. I panic that I'm doing too much. I put on this fake happy face for everyone. I go to bed early and I sleep too much. I still have 2 payments to make to the hospital to pay for Parker. Actually, what I'm still paying off is my insurance deductible which covered the 2 trips to the ER when the hematoma began bleeding out and was incorrectly diagnosed as placenta previa. I'm still paying Discover Card for her memorial service. I have a completely furnished nursery behind a door that is closed again. I should be 38 weeks 5 days pregnant and complaining about how I can't see my feet which have swollen to the size of a bowling ball. Instead, I'm back to square 2. Getting pregnant was only 25% of the battle. Getting past the hematoma is 25%. Getting to the baby to the viable point of gestation is 25% and bringing home a baby is the other 25%.

and....I'm still holding my breath.