Week 8: 1 Trip to Korea, 2 Trips to the ER

As the end of week 8 comes to a close, I can honestly say it’s been the most interesting, and the most trying, of my pregnancy thus far…

Alan and I travelled to Korea this past Sunday, Father’s Day.  He had a conference to attend and I tagged along.  The work function he was a part of provided tours out into Korea for us to see Seoul, different temples and the DMZ (demilitarized zone), which is a border between North and South Korea.  I wish I could report back that all of these tours were a lot of fun and very informative, but I wouldn’t know since I didn’t get to do any of them.  Instead, I had a little medical emergency.

On Tuesday morning I awoke and made the first of my usually many trips to the bathroom in order to pee.  My body obviously had other plans though, because try and try as I did….I could not get that pee out of me.  ’Hmmmm,’ I first thought, ‘maybe it just feels like I have to pee, but I really don’t have to go that badly.’  So, I made the first of a few bad decisions and decided to wait it out. Although my bladder already felt full to me,  I thought maybe I’d give it some time and wait until I really had to go and then try again.  While waiting, I made my second bad decision and decided to actually drink more fluids…I thought chugging some water might just speed things along down in my bladder.  Unfortunately, my bladder was still clamped tightly closed but was also very, very full…and the only process that got sped up was my trip to the emergency room.

I had decided the situation was getting pretty serious…I needed to pee and I needed to pee NOW!! So, I checked the base map to find the hospital which was within walking distance, gathered my stuff and realized…Alan had my military ID card with him.  For those of you unfamiliar with the military, spouses have ID cards that are their lifelines to basically everything…grocery stores, entry onto a base and most important to me in my current dillema…access to medical care.  Upon realizing that I was missing my ID card, I began to panic….I couldn’t get a hold of Alan, he didn’t have a phone on him and I HAD TO PEE!!!!!!!

So, I walked the two blocks to the ER praying the entire way that my bladder would not burst and that they would help me without my ID card. In hushed tones, I explained to the front desk airman my problem….my inability to pee.  I whispered it so quietly that he actually had to ask me to speak up…embarrassed as I was.  So, a little louder I said, “I really have to pee, but nothing is coming out and I’m 8 weeks pregnant!!!!”  And then…I burst into tears.  Those of you who know me well, know that I cry very, very easily at just about any emotion imaginable.  I cry when I am sad, when I am overly happy, when I am angry, when I feel cornered, when I am confronted by some harsh reality, and as in this particular case…when I am panicking.

My tears, however, did nothing to help my case and the ER airman sent me upstairs to talk to the insurance people because I didn’t have my ID card.  About an hour, yes 60 MORE minutes of holding my bladder, I actually got to see a doctor.  He walked into the examination room to see me…tears still rolling down my face as I stood up, sat down and wiggled to try and ease some pressure on my bladder.  I think he actually thought the situation was comical…and looking back I guess I’ll grudingly admit that I can see the humor in it.  Here was this grown woman, sitting on his table and bawling because she couldn’t pee… I’m telling you though…I was in some serious pain at this point.  He asked me all of his questions, hypothesized about the causes…on and on he went.  Until finally, I apologized for interrupting but asked him if he could PLEASE help me pee and finish his hypothesizing later.

So, in came the nurse, catheter in hand.  I do have to say that the catheter looked a little frightening and I briefly considered that this process was probably going to be a painful one…but I had to pee so badly at this point that I think she could have done just about anything to me and I’d put up with it if I knew it would make me pee.  In the catheter went and out came the pee…a liter and a half of it.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. I felt so much better.  Until she had to take the catheter out which was also, pretty painful.  

The doctor said he had no idea what would cause it…that the baby was too small to be putting pressure on my bladder already, I didn’t show signs of kidney stones or test positive for a urinary tract infection.  So, he sent me on my way and told me to come back if I had more issues with my urine stream.  I peed on my own for the rest of the day!!  I’d never been so happy to hear that tinkling sound and thought that I surely must be cured!

The next morning, I was back in the ER.  Having learned my lesson, I didn’t hold it quite as long this time and I remembered to grab my ID.  Once again, they catheterized me.  Then, they explained how to do it myself since we were going to be on a plane, or bus, for most of the next day to travel back to Japan.  I did have to catheterize myself twice on the same day after going to the ER…not a pleasant experience, but I was able to do it.  Alan had to help me the first time…I was pretty embarrassed, but very thankful he was there.

I haven’t had to repeat this experience for about 48 hours now.  I never thought I’d be so grateful to pee on my own!  I went to the doctor today to see if the herniated discs in my back were maybe pressing on a nerve and causing the problem but he decided this wasn’t the issue.  He marched me up to the OB clinic and that doctor performed an ultrasound on me.  I didn’t know they were going to do that and was a little disappointed because Alan wasn’t there, but they had to in order to find out what was going on.  So, the OB doc discovered that I have a retroverted uterus, which is the cause of my peeing problems.  Normally a uterus tilts a little forward, toward your belly, or straight up and down…mine is lying towards my back, putting extra pressure on my bladder.  If I keep having to catheterize myself on a regular basis, then they’ll put me under anesthesia and manipulate the uterus to change it’s position.  The doctor said my type of uterus doesn’t  usually start causing problems this early, so it’s probably something we should keep our eye on.  The little weeha is not even here yet, but already causing trouble!!  Maybe not such a good sign…

On a more positive note, I did get to see the baby in a pretty clear picture on the ultrasound machine.  The weeha was wiggling it’s two hands all around and it was really neat to be able to see that it already looks like a human and is alive in there…kind of surreal.  The doctor said that I’m actually 9 weeks and 2 days along, judging from the size of the baby, which puts the delivery date closer to the end of January than the original due date of Feb 1 but they haven’t officially changed the date yet.

Well, that was week 8.  I have to say I’m glad to see the end of it.  Wish me easy-peeing in the weeks to come….

Thanks for reading!

The End of the 7th Week

As this seventh week of our pregnancy comes to a close, the word I’d pick to describe it is…hunger.  Not just the normal, stomach-growling type of hunger…it’s more like the starvation type of hunger.  I woke up one day this week somewhere between 4 and 5am and literally felt like I was actually starving.  Because I was still so sleepy, I tried to chug a bunch of water in an effort to fill up the belly and assuage the hunger pains but this did absolutely nothing to help.  So, I ended up dragging my tired butt out of bed, grabbing a quick granola bar and then climbed right back from whence I had come…under our comfy covers.  I think Alan rolled over and asked something to the effect of….”Are you hungry already??!!”  Yes, neeha….I am ALWAYS hungry.

I’ve been trying to snack on mainly fruit (since I like it so much) and some veggies to chase the hunger pains away and to stay within the recommended weight gain guidelines, but I don’t know…it sure seems like I’m eating ALOT, especially to fuel something that, at present, is no bigger than a blueberry!  I guess it comes with the territory…at least I’ve been able to keep up with my regular exercise which makes me feel better, albeit only a little better.

The other piece of pregnancy phenomena that’s popped up this week has been some pretty lucid dreams.  I enjoy them, though…I’ve always dreamt a lot, but it seems like they are so much more real and that I remember them more now…and they always make for interesting conversations in the morning.  One of my dreams involved a hotel room I was occupying being destroyed by a wrecking ball, the military funding said hotel room and Denise Richards as the agent assigned to rebooking us into an upgraded suite.  Craziness, I tell you.  None of my dreams, however, have actually been about babies, so we’ll see if that stays the same or changes in the coming weeks and months.

I have not, knock on wood, had much morning sickness at all.  I’ve heard horror stories of women not being able to make it to their bathrooms before blowing chunks.  I, thank god, am not in that category.  I do sometimes feel a little queasy either very early in the morning or very late at night, but never to the point that it interrupts my activities or sends me scurrying towards the sink or toilet bowl.

I have been fielding a variety of suggestions from a variety of people on everything extending from weight gain to birth options (that would be Mike who is horrified I might have the baby anywhere other than a medically sanctioned hospital) and even things as simple as what I can and cannot eat.  It is always interesting to listen to other people’s experiences, (except for Mike, who has never actually given birth).  :)  Just kidding Mike, you know I love you.

A lot of people have been wondering in what state our baby will be born.  If everything goes smoothly, which is sometimes a high aim for a military family, our little weeha (baby) will be born in Florida.  If extenuating circumstances do pop up, then I’ll probably head to my brother’s house in Ohio or to Linda and Mikayla, in Phoenix.  Although I’m really hoping to be able to stay in Tampa as I can’t imagine Alan not being able to both lend me those wide shoulders I love to lean on and to poke fun at me through the birthing process.  I don’t think we’ll actually know where the birth will take place until we are in the states and Alan can check things out at the base we’ll be headed to.

So, that’s about it for the end of the seventh week…the tightness of my jeans and the level of my brother’s anxiety over where the birth will take place seems to be increasing at the same radical rate.  But, all in all, I feel pretty good and Alan and I are both happy and healthy.

A Baer Unravelled

Do you remember that arcade game where the claw would come down and grab, hopefully, the toy of your choice and then drop it in the bucket for you to take home?  I had a dream about that last night that made me think of so many things.  In my dream, I went for the baer (yes, I know I’ve mixed up the a and the e…I do it by choice.)  Anyway, I passed up the brightly colored other animals and picked the stuffed brown baer.  I picked it out of the bin and noticed a little thread hanging by it’s mouth, so I gave it a little tug….and the whole baer unravelled. 

There are some families that are just like that baer in my dream, and my family is one of them.  I have always thought that the unravelling of my own family would be caused by the death of my Grandma Baer.  But, I was wrong.  The one thread that’s always held our family together was my father, and his thread was pulled….and now we unravel and unravel and unravel.  Pretty much the only thing left at this point, are the raw, cotton insides.

Maybe it’s the looming Father’s Day that brought on this dream.  But, along with all the hurt I still feel, that all of us still feel, the unravelled baer also made me think of some important lessons and good memories I have from my dad.  

My dad was the thread that held our family together because he always inspired us to want to come home whenever we could.  I know people that dread going home for holidays or weekends with their parents and siblings…we always really loved it, even our spouses loved it.  We didn’t get along with each other all the time, or maybe even the majority of the time, but it was like ‘base.’  You felt safe there.

My dad taught me that parenting is not about giving your kids their best and brightest future just so your children can turn around and repay you for all the things you’ve done for them.  He taught me that parents give their children their best and brightest future so that those kids can go and do as they choose…it’s not a child’s job to repay their parents. I’ve noticed that if a parent has done a good job, the children will always want to come back around…not feel like they have to.

There are some people that think the most important part of parenting is just showing up…just being there.  I know, from experience, this is not the case.  Just showing up was never good enough for anything…it’s all the time that you put in that counts for something.  And the times when it counts the most, are the times it’s the most uncomfortable or difficult for a parent to be there, doing the right thing by their child.  My dad had to take me to get my first bra, handle the first time I got my period, help me plan my wedding and even help me pick out my wedding dress…none of which, are things that most dads really deal with.  But, mine did.  Mine took me on father-daughter dates, came to all the homecoming courts I was on and all the games I played in.  He taught me that tough love is the only type that makes you grow, although as tough as his love ever was, I know he always loved me unconditionally.  He taught me that actions speak much louder than words and that the best, or worst, things you’ll have to live with are the consequences of those actions.  My dad made sure that my brother, sister and I got to see and experience many thing and many places…all of which have given us a better understanding of the world and bonded my siblings and I so much closer together.  All of these things have been so important to me, but I think the most important lessons he showed me were what a husband should be to his wife and what a parent should be to their child.

Maybe my brother, sister and I can find our final lesson from our dad in his sudden death; maybe he wants us to know that we can stitch our family back together ourselves…that we’ll always carry his piece of the thread in our souls and can rebuild it from there.

I miss my dad so much, but I know he must have a huge section of heaven somewhere for all of the good things he’s done and all of the people he’s touched in his life.  I hope that there are angels watching over who can carry my letters, and all of our thoughts, to him.  He’s probably in Heaven’s equivalent of Hawaii…playing one big cosmic game of golf.  I hope you win dad, I hope you win.