On Monday, December 18th I woke up in severe pain. My legs hurt so much they felt almost numb. My back felt as if it was being used as a punching bag. My chest could barely take in air and my arms felt like someone was stabbing me every time I tried to move them.
Terror struck me as the realization of what was happening started to sink in. It was something that I had not experienced in years. I was having what many doctors refer to as a Sudden Acute Sickle Cell Crisis. There are no warning signs and no build up to the pain. On a pain scale your body goes from 0 to 100 within seconds.
I thanked God that I remembered to keep my cell phone in bed next to my pillow. I used what strength I had to call my friend Becky. I asked her to come over and take me to Madigan Hospital. Somehow, and to this day I still don't know how, but I managed to get myself downstairs. But once I got on the couch I just could not be moved. The pain blurred much of my thinking and I fought to keep some control of what was going on around me. Becky called 911 and the paramedics came in what seemed like less then 30 seconds.
I was soon lifted up onto a stretcher and taken to Navy hospital which was closer. On the way there the paramedics gave me some Demeral but forgot to give me something for nausea. I threw up everywhere. At Naval Hospital I was admitted to the Labor and Delivery where they cleaned me up and got me stable enough to make the journey in another ambulance to Madigan. Becky followed the ambulance in her car.
At Madigan I was taken straight into a private room and my blood was drawn. More medication was given followed by more hurling before someone realized I needed anti-nausea medication. My blood test, along with a urine sample taken showed extremely high protein levels in my kidneys and abnormal function of my liver. One of the doctors was sure I had preeclampsia and told me that I will need to deliver this baby in the next day or sooner.
"Hell no! My husband flies home on Saturday night. You can wait until then."
"Well, we'll just see about that".
"No, there is no, 'we'll see'. You are not going to deliver this baby until my husband gets here."
Now I'm usually not rude to doctors, but I knew what my body was going through and it had nothing to do with preeclampsia.
"They are not going to take this baby out of me". I kept telling Becky. "I refuse to let them".
Throughout the night the nurses did their best to help ease my pain, but all the while my anger grew as the doctors around me talked about me and made decisions for me as if I was deaf and mute.
Becky stayed the night with me.
The next day I was told again that I would most likely be induced very soon and that they had already planned on keeping me in the hospital until after Christmas. I got angry and I cried. Who were they to tell me I had to stay in this hospital until after Christmas. They have no idea when my crisis would be over. They can't even know that I am no longer in pain until I tell them. And how dare they say they will induce me when they truly don't know what is wrong with me? Besides, they can't induce me while I'm still in the middle of a Sickle Cell Crisis.
I was moved to a smaller room. Becky tried to cheer me up, but I was already reaching a boiling point. Every time I tried to question the doctors they looked at me as if I was offending them.
During the next two days I went through emotional hell dealing with the doctors not listening to my concerns and my needs.
My other friend, Elsa, came to keep me company. She got to see me get two blood transfusions. Becky saw me get my first ever automatic drug pump that allowed me to push a button and self-medicate myself.
My lab work was sent to a kidney specialist. He personally came to see me.
"Michelle, there is just no way you have preeclampsia. Your high protein levels can simply be a result of your current crisis or from your body just dealing with having a disease and being pregnant. But truly, we may never know. There are just so many other things that it could be."
Finally, a voice of reason. I started to feel that there may be some kindness in this hospital.
The doctor from the first night visited my room later that day with an obvious look of disappointment on his face.
"Well, the kidney specialist doesn't believe you have preeclampsia."
Well, duh!!!!! I thought to myself.
"However, I'm still concerned about your high levels of proteins, so we may be keeping you for another 72 hours to collect your urine."
"Uhm, no you're not. I can pee at home. I've seen people do it. They pee in one of thoses pastic containers and just bring it back into the hospital."
"Well, I'll check and see what the specialist says about it. By the way, someone will be by from the NICU to discuss your birth plan."
Someone from NICU will be by? For what reason? Even though I asked theses questions, no one would give me an answer. I was to wait until someone from NICU came and explain it to me.
The upside to all this drama was the fact that I was getting fed well. The food was really good. I had bacon, hashbrowns and hot tea for breakfast. For lunch I would have chicken Cesar salad and fruit punch. Dinner would be steak and mashed potatoes with soda and ice cream and cookies for dessert. I tried everything on the menu like it was a buffet at a casino. The doctors may think me and this baby were a lot of things, but hungry we were not!
The nurse came in to inform me that my blood work all came back looking good and that I would be going home today. And yes, I could do the pee test at home. By this point I had not had any medication in me since the night before. Two IV's dangled from my arms with no real use anymore. However, I still couldn't leave until I spoke to the NICU person. I didn't have to wait long for him to come by.
"Hi Michelle. I'm from the NICU. I was asked to talk to you about some complications your daughter may experience after birth."
"What complications?"
"Well, your daughter is being admitted to NICU after she is born because you have been taking Percoset. With such a medication, your daughter may experience a drug withdrawal after she is born. We will need to monitor her and if she shows any signs of withdrawal we will need to help slowly wean her off the drug."
"Wait a minute. I asked the doctors long ago if that drug would have any affect on the baby and they said no. You mean to tell me that I've been drugging my own child? Well then the best solution is to stop taking that drug."
"Oh no Michelle. You have Sickle Cell. We want you to keep taking the drug."
"What!!!!! Are you insane?! Why would I keep taking a medication to drug my daughter and send her to the NICU when I can just stop taking it now and avoid the NICU altogether?"
"Well, it really doesn't matter. She still has to go to the NICU?"
"Why? And for how long?"
"We will need to keep her for at least a week just to monitor her."
"But if I'm not taking the drug and she shows no signs why does she have to stay a week?"
"She just does. We want to make sure she is well taken care of. "
"But there is nothing wrong with her!"
"Don't worry Mrs. Mattingly. You and your husband are free to come and see her in the NICU. You can even hold her and decorate the crib if you like. We just need to watch her. So come by any time day or night and you'll see she will be in good hands. Besides, we'll only have her for a week, but then you get to have her for the rest of your life."
Yes, the thought of punching this guy in the face did occur to me at this moment. But then I realized that he just wasn't worth spending Christmas in jail for.
"But you are asking my husband and I to drive two hours one way every day to see our baby when there is no reason to keep her. What about breastfeeding? How am I suppose to breastfeed her?"
"Mmm. We'll just have to see about breastfeeding. I'm not sure. You'll need to discuss...."
"No! There is no discussing. I'm breastfeeding my child. And when I get home I'm throwing away every Percoset I have in the house!"
"Mrs. Mattingly don't do that. You need those pills to help manage your pain."
"I know what it's like to be in pain with no medication. Don't worry, I'll manage!"
Tears were flowing down my eyes again. I was so mad I could barely talk anymore. The nurse came in just as the NICU doctor left. She removed my IV's and explained how I was to do my pee collection. To add insult to injury they wanted me to perform my pee collection on Christmas day.
"You know Michelle, if I was you", the nurse said, "I would do the collection on Saturday. As long as you keep it chilled, they won't know the difference."
My nurse sat down beside my bed to go over my discharge papers.
"Don't I just need to sign the paper and I can go?"
"Well, there are some things they want me to go over with you. They want you back on January 2nd."
"Oh, for an OB appointment?"
"No. They want to do another amnio on you."
"WHY!"
"They want to check and see if the baby's lungs are mature. If they are, then they want to go ahead and induce you and deliver the baby that day."
My whole body went numb. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. These arrogant pricks had decided, without my permission, that they were going to stab me in the stomach with a needle again and then take my baby out of me.
I signed the papers. The nurse left. As I was getting ready to leave the doctors came in.
"Well, Mrs. Mattingly, you are looking better."
"Why do you want to do another amnio?"
"You are having a Sickle Cell crisis once a month and we just don't want to take that risk of you having another one. Don't worry. An amnio is very safe at this stage. If you go into labor during the amnio we can easily and quickly remove the baby."
"You mean doing a c-section. But why? I don't understand. All this time you have been worried about her being born early and now you want to rip her out of me?"
"Our concern is for the health of the baby. You should understand that."
"I do. But you're making me feel like I have no choice in the matter."
"Well, you don't have a choice. We need to do what has to be done to deliver this baby safely and healthy. I don't understand why you are stressing over all of this. Dopn't you want your baby to be born healthy? Besides, you won't care about any of this once you get that baby home. In the end it never matters how the baby is delivered. All that matters is that it is healthy. Just be happy you get to go home for Christmas."
"If my husband was here he would kill you." I whispered under my breath.
Becky helped me pack my things and took me home.
I didn't talk to anyone about what happened. I wanted to talk to Ray first. The following night I would get my chance.
Ray called me late in the evening from Hawaii. I told him everything that happened. I knew Ray would be upset, but I was even shocked at how angry he was on the phone.
"Those doctors are not coming near you! They can't make you have that baby. Elektra will be born on her schedule, not theirs! You will not be going in on January 2nd. And our girl will not be staying in NICU. When is our next OB appointment?"
"December 26th."
"Just wait until I get back there. They just messed with the wrong couple. Don't worry, I'll handle everything when I get there. They don't know what they just got themselves into. I'm going to give that doctor a mouth-full at our next appointment. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow honey. Love you. Bye."
To be continued......
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Blackout
On December 15 sometime around 2 am the power went out in Jackson Park. In fact, due to a horrible wind storm that swept through the state, half of Washington was now out of power.
Almost everyone in our neighborhood was late getting to work. Around 9 am when the sun finally came up you could see husbands frantically trying to open their garage doors by hand and hurrying to work. Lucky for us Ray usually sets his cell phone alarm, so he was able to make it to work on time.
I found candles and matches and started preparing for a long day without power. When Ray came home from work we used the gas stove to keep the house heated.
Ray's sub left for Hawaii that weekend and I was left alone with no electricity. Growing up, my mother, brother and I survived two Chicago winters without any electricity, so I didn't feel the least bit scared about going a few days without power in Washington.
After about the second day of no power many families moved out of their homes and stayed at hotels or the homes of friends and family. Many people were doing this across the state. In a short time there was not a single hotel with room available. Even though many people had no choice but to leave their homes to find warmer places to stay the unfortunately this left many homes completely open to thief.
Returning from work one afternoon I was approached by one of the maintenance people. He informed me that several homes in the area had experienced flooding due to the pipes freezing and bursting. He asked me to keep at least one faucet running at all times until the power came back on. With very few people at home the maintenance team was working around the clock turning on water hoses in front of the houses that were empty. For those that were home they were coming in and changing the back-up batteries in all the smoke detectors.
The cats and I stayed warm in the bedroom watching Harry Potter on Ray's portable DVD player and drinking hot chocolate. Yes, I had places I could stay if things got too cold. But really, I wasn't bothered by it. Thanks to a gas powered water heater I could take all the hot bathes and showers that I wanted. I did eat out a lot in order to preserve the food in the fridge.
Our area was lucky. By the following Tuesday night power was back on. But many families in Washington would not have any power until after Christmas. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be home to see the power come on. But that's another story.
Almost everyone in our neighborhood was late getting to work. Around 9 am when the sun finally came up you could see husbands frantically trying to open their garage doors by hand and hurrying to work. Lucky for us Ray usually sets his cell phone alarm, so he was able to make it to work on time.
I found candles and matches and started preparing for a long day without power. When Ray came home from work we used the gas stove to keep the house heated.
Ray's sub left for Hawaii that weekend and I was left alone with no electricity. Growing up, my mother, brother and I survived two Chicago winters without any electricity, so I didn't feel the least bit scared about going a few days without power in Washington.
After about the second day of no power many families moved out of their homes and stayed at hotels or the homes of friends and family. Many people were doing this across the state. In a short time there was not a single hotel with room available. Even though many people had no choice but to leave their homes to find warmer places to stay the unfortunately this left many homes completely open to thief.
Returning from work one afternoon I was approached by one of the maintenance people. He informed me that several homes in the area had experienced flooding due to the pipes freezing and bursting. He asked me to keep at least one faucet running at all times until the power came back on. With very few people at home the maintenance team was working around the clock turning on water hoses in front of the houses that were empty. For those that were home they were coming in and changing the back-up batteries in all the smoke detectors.
The cats and I stayed warm in the bedroom watching Harry Potter on Ray's portable DVD player and drinking hot chocolate. Yes, I had places I could stay if things got too cold. But really, I wasn't bothered by it. Thanks to a gas powered water heater I could take all the hot bathes and showers that I wanted. I did eat out a lot in order to preserve the food in the fridge.
Our area was lucky. By the following Tuesday night power was back on. But many families in Washington would not have any power until after Christmas. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be home to see the power come on. But that's another story.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Madigan Visit
On Tuesday morning, November 14th I started having chest pain bad enough to feel the need to make a 45 minute trip to madigan Army Medical Center.
Ray drove us to the hospital and I got checked in at the ER. We waited no more then 10 minutes before I was brought back to a room to be examed. (Anyone who has ever spent time in a regular hospital ER understands that waiting less then 5 hours to be seen by a doctor is nothing short of a miracle).
Ray helped me put on one of those always fashionable hospital gowns and assisted me on to the hospital bed. Just as I was getting comfortable, Doctor #1 came in to talk to me. After giving him my life story he left the room. Nurse # 1 came in to make sure I was warm enough. I also gave her my life story and a urine sample. Nurse #2 came in shortly after, again asking for my life story.
Now, let me take a minute to stop and clarify for you. When I say they wanted my life story what I mean is that they want to hear everything about my Sickle Cell Disease from the time I found out I had it. They also want to know every detail about how Sickle Cell usually affects me when I'm pregnant, which to me is the most medically dumb question you can ask someone who has never been pregnant before!
Okay, by this time I've told my life story to about three people, not including the nurse that checked me into the ER and the one that took my vitals. By the way, at this point I still don't have any medication in me, so I am doing my best to answer all these questions while still in pain.
Next to visit my ER cubby is Doctor #2, followed in my Nurse # 3, Nurse #1 and Nurse # 2. While Nurse #3 started working on finding a vein to insert my IV, Doctor #2 started asking more questions. At the same time Nurse #1 and Nurse#2 began checking my belly and fighting over who was going to listen to the baby's heart. At some point Doctor# 1 came back into the room and I found myself being asked questions from all directions.
This wouldn't seem like such a bad thing except for the fact that one of these people that were talking to me just happen to have an IV needle headed straight for my arm.
"Uhm, excuse me, but my wife is getting an IV in her arm right now".
Everyone in the room seemed to pause in mid-sentence as I did my usual scream for pain as the IV was inserted into my arms. The other nurses and Doctor#2 seemed to remember they had better things to do and promptly left the room.
As my IV was being secured Doctor#1 started talking to me about pain relief options.
"Well, we are going to put you on some fluids in a moment and then get you started on some morphine."
"No!!!!", Ray and I both shouted. "Michelle is allergic to morphine."
"Oh. Well, yes, I see now on her arm band. Okay, so no morphine. So, what can you take?"
After listing my drug history which would make any diehard drug addict envious, the doctor and the nurse left my room with the promise to return with some good drugs.
I wish to pause for a moment here to give some much needed praise to my husband. You know that part in the wedding vows that says, '...for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health...'? Most couples go through these vows with the hope that they never have to experience the poorer or sickness part. Of course we all know that at any moment any one of us can be faced with the possibility of seeing someone we love in pain because of a sudden illness. But for someone to go into a relationship and enter a bond of marriage fully knowing that a sudden illness in their spouse is not only a possibility but a regular occurrence takes a level of love and strength that I never knew was humanly possible until I met Ray. And for that reason alone, Ray will always be my hero.
So, where was I? Ah yes, the drugs came and soon I found myself in "La La Land", blabbering away about random pointless things and not remembering much of what went on or what I said. By the time my crisis was under control it was about 7 pm. We had spent the entire day in the ER. I was given the okay to go home and on our way home we stopped at the Olive Garden for dinner. After eating my soup and then loosing my soup in the bathroom, Ray thought it was best to get our dinner to go.
At home we settled in on the couch spending the evening eating pasta and watching Food Network. Despite the doctor trying to kill me with Morphine the day turned out to be just another average day in the life of the Mattingly clan.
Ray drove us to the hospital and I got checked in at the ER. We waited no more then 10 minutes before I was brought back to a room to be examed. (Anyone who has ever spent time in a regular hospital ER understands that waiting less then 5 hours to be seen by a doctor is nothing short of a miracle).
Ray helped me put on one of those always fashionable hospital gowns and assisted me on to the hospital bed. Just as I was getting comfortable, Doctor #1 came in to talk to me. After giving him my life story he left the room. Nurse # 1 came in to make sure I was warm enough. I also gave her my life story and a urine sample. Nurse #2 came in shortly after, again asking for my life story.
Now, let me take a minute to stop and clarify for you. When I say they wanted my life story what I mean is that they want to hear everything about my Sickle Cell Disease from the time I found out I had it. They also want to know every detail about how Sickle Cell usually affects me when I'm pregnant, which to me is the most medically dumb question you can ask someone who has never been pregnant before!
Okay, by this time I've told my life story to about three people, not including the nurse that checked me into the ER and the one that took my vitals. By the way, at this point I still don't have any medication in me, so I am doing my best to answer all these questions while still in pain.
Next to visit my ER cubby is Doctor #2, followed in my Nurse # 3, Nurse #1 and Nurse # 2. While Nurse #3 started working on finding a vein to insert my IV, Doctor #2 started asking more questions. At the same time Nurse #1 and Nurse#2 began checking my belly and fighting over who was going to listen to the baby's heart. At some point Doctor# 1 came back into the room and I found myself being asked questions from all directions.
This wouldn't seem like such a bad thing except for the fact that one of these people that were talking to me just happen to have an IV needle headed straight for my arm.
"Uhm, excuse me, but my wife is getting an IV in her arm right now".
Everyone in the room seemed to pause in mid-sentence as I did my usual scream for pain as the IV was inserted into my arms. The other nurses and Doctor#2 seemed to remember they had better things to do and promptly left the room.
As my IV was being secured Doctor#1 started talking to me about pain relief options.
"Well, we are going to put you on some fluids in a moment and then get you started on some morphine."
"No!!!!", Ray and I both shouted. "Michelle is allergic to morphine."
"Oh. Well, yes, I see now on her arm band. Okay, so no morphine. So, what can you take?"
After listing my drug history which would make any diehard drug addict envious, the doctor and the nurse left my room with the promise to return with some good drugs.
I wish to pause for a moment here to give some much needed praise to my husband. You know that part in the wedding vows that says, '...for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health...'? Most couples go through these vows with the hope that they never have to experience the poorer or sickness part. Of course we all know that at any moment any one of us can be faced with the possibility of seeing someone we love in pain because of a sudden illness. But for someone to go into a relationship and enter a bond of marriage fully knowing that a sudden illness in their spouse is not only a possibility but a regular occurrence takes a level of love and strength that I never knew was humanly possible until I met Ray. And for that reason alone, Ray will always be my hero.
So, where was I? Ah yes, the drugs came and soon I found myself in "La La Land", blabbering away about random pointless things and not remembering much of what went on or what I said. By the time my crisis was under control it was about 7 pm. We had spent the entire day in the ER. I was given the okay to go home and on our way home we stopped at the Olive Garden for dinner. After eating my soup and then loosing my soup in the bathroom, Ray thought it was best to get our dinner to go.
At home we settled in on the couch spending the evening eating pasta and watching Food Network. Despite the doctor trying to kill me with Morphine the day turned out to be just another average day in the life of the Mattingly clan.
Friday, November 03, 2006
October 31st
This Halloween Ray and I, for the first time did not trick-or-treat. Yes, you read it right. We didn't dress like fools and beg for candy. It was indeed a dark day in the history of the Mattingly and Wright family.
But do not fear, we did managed to dress up for the occasion. Ray was on duty for Halloween, so he was dressed as a sailor roving the pier protecting his sub from terrorist attacks. I stayed at home dressed as a black pregnant woman passing out candy to little kids.
I spent the day having a Harry Potter marathon and doing some scrapbooking. Around 5:30 pm the kids started arriving at the door and by 7:45 pm I was all out of candy.
Ray and I just love Halloween and as strong supporters of this wonderful holiday we firmly believe that the art of begging for candy must be taught early in life. So next year will be much different. Yes, we will be the parents that dresses our daughter in some overly cute costume that she will be embarrassed by years later. We will pack her into her stroller and beg for candy at every house until we are tired, regardless of the fact she already fell asleep three hours ago. The legacy of our family will live on in the mounds of Tootsie Rolls, Snickers and Nerds collected each year. For this is how family traditions are made and passed on!
But do not fear, we did managed to dress up for the occasion. Ray was on duty for Halloween, so he was dressed as a sailor roving the pier protecting his sub from terrorist attacks. I stayed at home dressed as a black pregnant woman passing out candy to little kids.
I spent the day having a Harry Potter marathon and doing some scrapbooking. Around 5:30 pm the kids started arriving at the door and by 7:45 pm I was all out of candy.
Ray and I just love Halloween and as strong supporters of this wonderful holiday we firmly believe that the art of begging for candy must be taught early in life. So next year will be much different. Yes, we will be the parents that dresses our daughter in some overly cute costume that she will be embarrassed by years later. We will pack her into her stroller and beg for candy at every house until we are tired, regardless of the fact she already fell asleep three hours ago. The legacy of our family will live on in the mounds of Tootsie Rolls, Snickers and Nerds collected each year. For this is how family traditions are made and passed on!
Filling You In On Current Affairs
Okay, I know, it has been awhile since I last posted anything. I am sorry. October was a slow month for me. I got sick a couple of times and spent most of my free time resting in bed when I could. Don't worry, it was anything major, just enough to knock me off my feet for a few days.
Currently our little girl is very healthy and active. She is constantly moving and exploring my belly. The late morning and late evening seem to be her most active times so far. She loves it when Ray puts his hand on my belly. She always goes toward his hand and rest her body against his palm.
I have not experienced any Braxton Hicks contractions. Not that I'm looking forward to having one. Believe me it would be just fine if I didn't experience any contractions until the big day.
So now, one by one the wives and families of the USS Columbus are moving to Hawaii. This will make me one of the last remaining wives here is Washington come January. Yes, it will feel very lonely here, but I know I'll be able to manage.
The holidays are coming up and we have family coming to visit. This Thanksgiving we are opening our home to the single sailors of Columbus. Also, come December, I plan on taking advantage of all the holiday activities going on in Seattle this year.
The big question I've been asked is, "Will Ray be here for the birth of the baby?"
Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for that question. I want him to be here and he really wants to be here too. But it is out of our hands. We have asked, begged and pleaded, but the decision is up to the command and right now it seems unlikely they will allow Ray to be at the birth.
So, yes, I'm scared. I am scared to not have Ray here for the birth of our first child. I'm scared that, being a high risk pregnancy, if something goes wrong I won't have Ray here for support.
But, we are strong in both our love and our faith. We know that some how God will see us through this.
I do apologize for this entry is not one of my usual funny entries. However, there is an upside to all of this. No matter what happens in the next three months, this child will be born and the Mattingly & Wright families will have yet another little member of the clan to spoil and love.
Currently our little girl is very healthy and active. She is constantly moving and exploring my belly. The late morning and late evening seem to be her most active times so far. She loves it when Ray puts his hand on my belly. She always goes toward his hand and rest her body against his palm.
I have not experienced any Braxton Hicks contractions. Not that I'm looking forward to having one. Believe me it would be just fine if I didn't experience any contractions until the big day.
So now, one by one the wives and families of the USS Columbus are moving to Hawaii. This will make me one of the last remaining wives here is Washington come January. Yes, it will feel very lonely here, but I know I'll be able to manage.
The holidays are coming up and we have family coming to visit. This Thanksgiving we are opening our home to the single sailors of Columbus. Also, come December, I plan on taking advantage of all the holiday activities going on in Seattle this year.
The big question I've been asked is, "Will Ray be here for the birth of the baby?"
Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for that question. I want him to be here and he really wants to be here too. But it is out of our hands. We have asked, begged and pleaded, but the decision is up to the command and right now it seems unlikely they will allow Ray to be at the birth.
So, yes, I'm scared. I am scared to not have Ray here for the birth of our first child. I'm scared that, being a high risk pregnancy, if something goes wrong I won't have Ray here for support.
But, we are strong in both our love and our faith. We know that some how God will see us through this.
I do apologize for this entry is not one of my usual funny entries. However, there is an upside to all of this. No matter what happens in the next three months, this child will be born and the Mattingly & Wright families will have yet another little member of the clan to spoil and love.
The Bell of the Ball
On October 21, 2006 the Navy celebrated its 231st birthday.
It was a party to remember!
We ate some good prime rib, had some drinks, (okay, to be correct, Ray had some drinks, I just sat there being jealous). We also shared some fun on the dance floor with our friends. Almost everyone there was on the dance floor shaking their groove thing. I, on the other hand just shook my belly. It was a great time shared by all!
As it got late into the evening we decided it was time for us to head home. Tomorrow was our wedding anniversary but Ray would have to stand duty. It was okay. I've grown use to these military disruptions. We would just celebrate our anniversay the day after.
Once we arrived home, Ray asked me to wait in the car for a moment. He rushed into the house and about a minute later came back to escort me inside.
What I saw next was absolutely beautiful!
Ray had turned our living room into our own private table for two. There was candles all around the room illuminating pictures of our wedding day. The coffee table was covered with a table cloth and rose petals. There on the table was a chilled bottle of sparkling apple cider, our toasting flutes, our cake serving set, and a cake that resembled the top tier of our wedding cake.
The lights were dimmed and soft music played in the background. Ray escorted me to the center of the room as our 'first song' started to play. I could not have asked for a better ending to an already wonderful evening.
Two hours before the stroke of midnight, we celebrated- if just a bit early- our one year wedding anniversary.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
2nd Trimester Words of Wisdom
As I now enter into my third trimester, I thought it would be nice to look back on the past weeks and share with you just a few things I have learned so far from my pregnacy:
Morning sickness is like an ex-boyfriend. Just when you think you've gotten rid of it, here it comes popping its ugly head in just long enough to ruine your day.
Little kids are right- two slices of cake and a tall glass of milk does qualify as breakfast.
There is a conspiricy in the fashion world to not make sexy clothes for pregnant women.
Women who relish in telling their labor horror stories to me need to be shot.
When someone takes their finger and pokes me in the belly in their 'cute' atempt to try and wake the baby I now realize I have every right to punch them in the face.
Sleep deprivation doesn't start once the baby is born, it starts now!
Trying to paint my toe nails should qualify as an olympic event.
My butt and my belly are in a race to see which can grow the biggiest.
If at first you don't succed, just wait until your husband gets home and have him bend over and pick it up off the floor.
Climbing a flight of stairs now is the equivlent of one week at boot camp.
There are some things that I have learned to let go of- like my waist size and my ablility to see anything pass my belly without the use of a full length mirror.
Sliding down to the floor, rolling over and pushing yourself up with your hands and knees may not be the most elegant way of getting up off the couch, but it works!
My hands spend so much time resting on top of my belly that I'm unable to recall what I use to do with them before I got pregnant.
When pregnant there is nothing wrong with having leftover steak for breakfast and two bowls of cereal for dinner.
When in doubt, I take a nap. It's good for me, it's good for the baby, and the cats love it when I join them for nap time.
Morning sickness is like an ex-boyfriend. Just when you think you've gotten rid of it, here it comes popping its ugly head in just long enough to ruine your day.
Little kids are right- two slices of cake and a tall glass of milk does qualify as breakfast.
There is a conspiricy in the fashion world to not make sexy clothes for pregnant women.
Women who relish in telling their labor horror stories to me need to be shot.
When someone takes their finger and pokes me in the belly in their 'cute' atempt to try and wake the baby I now realize I have every right to punch them in the face.
Sleep deprivation doesn't start once the baby is born, it starts now!
Trying to paint my toe nails should qualify as an olympic event.
My butt and my belly are in a race to see which can grow the biggiest.
If at first you don't succed, just wait until your husband gets home and have him bend over and pick it up off the floor.
Climbing a flight of stairs now is the equivlent of one week at boot camp.
There are some things that I have learned to let go of- like my waist size and my ablility to see anything pass my belly without the use of a full length mirror.
Sliding down to the floor, rolling over and pushing yourself up with your hands and knees may not be the most elegant way of getting up off the couch, but it works!
My hands spend so much time resting on top of my belly that I'm unable to recall what I use to do with them before I got pregnant.
When pregnant there is nothing wrong with having leftover steak for breakfast and two bowls of cereal for dinner.
When in doubt, I take a nap. It's good for me, it's good for the baby, and the cats love it when I join them for nap time.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Minus One
Because of my status as a high-risk pregnancy my prenatal care has recently been transferred from the Naval Hospital which is right next door to our housing area to Madigan Hospital, which is about a 45 minute drive away. Madigan has some of the best OB specialist in the area and a facility to handle anything type of labor and delivery.
Now, besides the fact that I have Sickle Cell Anemia, the doctors at Madigan have recently discovered a new factor that makes me high-risk.
First, let me give you some background information. Now as everyone knows and baby survives in the womb through the umbilical cord. A normal umbilical cord consist of three blood vessels: one large vein that carries oxygen-rich blood and two small arteries, which transport waste products and oxygen-depleted blood from the fetus back to the mother for recharging.
However, all ultrasounds have shown that I am minus one of these arteries. Sometime during the early stages of my pregnancy one of the arteries appears to have developed a blood clot and died. This is not uncommon, but it has left the one artery struggling to do the work of two.
Our doctor has informed us that as a result of this missing artery there is a good chance that our baby will be born a little on the small side. This in itself is really not a problem. But since having Sickle Cell Anemia increases my chances of a premature baby, the possibility of having a premature low-weight baby is not a good thing.
So from this point on I am to be seen by the OB specialists at Madigan every two weeks. By 34 weeks I may be asked to check in with the doctors twice a week depending on how things are going.
There is really no way to prevent our girl from being born small, so we are concentrating on preventing a premature birth. With the double amounts of doctor visits we hope to catch anything odd that would be a sign of a pending premature birth and be able to correct it early. This may mean possible bed rest near the end of my pregnancy. Of couse for me, not working and laying in bed all day watching Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings is a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
To date, Elektra is doing fine. I am 23 weeks now and she is weighing in at 1 pound 4 ounces. A very normal size for her age. She is kicking and moving around like crazy. The ultrasounds have shown she has a nice healthy belly and she has no problem drinking away at her amnio fluid. My own belly is slowly getting bigger, making room for this little girl who has just discovered she can use her hands to rub the inside of my belly.
Since the start of my pregnancy I've gained 3 pounds and 7 ounces at the time of this blog. Ray says that maybe my body has been using a lot of my pre-pregnancy fat to help grow the baby, (which would explain why I lost so much weight in the first trimester). Hey, I'm more then happy to share my fat with our little girl. Lord knows I've got too much of it stored in my butt anyway.
So, I'm not too sad over the fact that I won't be pushing out a 9 pound kid. I really didn't want to give birth to a bowling ball anyway. I know that in the end Elektra will come out healthy and beautiful.
Now, besides the fact that I have Sickle Cell Anemia, the doctors at Madigan have recently discovered a new factor that makes me high-risk.
First, let me give you some background information. Now as everyone knows and baby survives in the womb through the umbilical cord. A normal umbilical cord consist of three blood vessels: one large vein that carries oxygen-rich blood and two small arteries, which transport waste products and oxygen-depleted blood from the fetus back to the mother for recharging.
However, all ultrasounds have shown that I am minus one of these arteries. Sometime during the early stages of my pregnancy one of the arteries appears to have developed a blood clot and died. This is not uncommon, but it has left the one artery struggling to do the work of two.
Our doctor has informed us that as a result of this missing artery there is a good chance that our baby will be born a little on the small side. This in itself is really not a problem. But since having Sickle Cell Anemia increases my chances of a premature baby, the possibility of having a premature low-weight baby is not a good thing.
So from this point on I am to be seen by the OB specialists at Madigan every two weeks. By 34 weeks I may be asked to check in with the doctors twice a week depending on how things are going.
There is really no way to prevent our girl from being born small, so we are concentrating on preventing a premature birth. With the double amounts of doctor visits we hope to catch anything odd that would be a sign of a pending premature birth and be able to correct it early. This may mean possible bed rest near the end of my pregnancy. Of couse for me, not working and laying in bed all day watching Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings is a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
To date, Elektra is doing fine. I am 23 weeks now and she is weighing in at 1 pound 4 ounces. A very normal size for her age. She is kicking and moving around like crazy. The ultrasounds have shown she has a nice healthy belly and she has no problem drinking away at her amnio fluid. My own belly is slowly getting bigger, making room for this little girl who has just discovered she can use her hands to rub the inside of my belly.
Since the start of my pregnancy I've gained 3 pounds and 7 ounces at the time of this blog. Ray says that maybe my body has been using a lot of my pre-pregnancy fat to help grow the baby, (which would explain why I lost so much weight in the first trimester). Hey, I'm more then happy to share my fat with our little girl. Lord knows I've got too much of it stored in my butt anyway.
So, I'm not too sad over the fact that I won't be pushing out a 9 pound kid. I really didn't want to give birth to a bowling ball anyway. I know that in the end Elektra will come out healthy and beautiful.
I See You!
This and the other pictures that follow are the most recent pictures of our little girl.Elektra is looking up at the camera. Her face is right in the center of the photo. She is laying on her side. her forhead is on the left and her chin is to the right. She has her hand over her mouth sucking her thumb.
Sitting Pretty
Here you can see Elektra sitting pretty. She has her butt to the camera. You can see her butt on the right side of the picture with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles like a good little girl. She is practicing how to sit for when she starts wearing all those cute little dresses that Mama Linda is secretly buying for her.
Our Girl in Action
Here is Elektra drinking some liquid. Obviously she really liked all those peppermint chocolates I was eating earilier in the waiting room.
What's In a Name
So, as many of you may know, Ray and I have picked out a name for our lovely daughter. Her name will be: Elektra Cali Mattingly
Okay, yes this name is different. And I expected a few questions about the name. But Neither Ray nor I expected the uproar and rude remarks that would come at us regarding our daughter's name.
Recently Ray and I attended one of those time-share seminars. (We only went to get the free gas card at the end of the presentation.) One of the sales people asked the usual questions- 'When are you due? Do you know what you are having?' And then she asked if we had a name picked out.
And Ray proceeded to tell her, "Yes, its going to be Elektra".
"Oh! Well...um...that's a...um interesting name. It's...um...different."
The look Ray gave her was enough to kill.
When Ray was at work one of the guys there asked him what we are naming our daughter.
"Her name is Elektra."
This guy broke out in pure laughter.
"No, really man, what's her name."
"I just told you. It's Elektra."
"Oh, you're serious. Wow. Okay."
Upon hearing the name people have asked why we are naming our child after a movie or why we are naming her after Carmen Electra. Neither of these crossed our mind when we chose our daughter's name.
Then there are the really rude responses:
"Elektra! Well, you must not be expecting much from her, since you're giving her a stripper's name."
"Wow, so I guess you don't mind your daughter dancing around a pole when she grows up."
"Well, that's not exactly a name you give a child if you want them to be a lawyer or doctor when they grow up. You're never going to hear, 'Dr. Elektra please come to the ER'."
"Why would you name your daughter that? That's the kind of name porn stars have."
"Was that really your first choice for a name or did your husband make you choose that one."
Of course, leave it to my husband to come up with a great comeback to these remarks.
"No, our daughter will not be a stripper. She will be Playboy Bunny. She will become Bunny of the Year and will live inside the Playboy mansion where she will get her old dad access to all the cool parties."
We picked the name because it sounds beautiful and it feels right. We hope our daughter will be very proud of her name. It is unique, which is why we love it.
FYI- The meaning behind, Elektra (also spelled, Electra):
Origin- Greek
Meaning- bright, the shining one, amber
1. Daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Her story is dramatized by the three great tragedians Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.
2. Electra is one of the brightest stars in the Pleiades star cluster, more commonly known as the Seven Sisters of Pleiades. The most visible stars in this group are named for the Seven Sisters of Greek mythology: Asterope, Merope, Electra, Maia, Taygete, Celaeno and Alcyone. Electra is the third brightest of the stars in the group. She is approximately 400 light years from the sun.
Okay, yes this name is different. And I expected a few questions about the name. But Neither Ray nor I expected the uproar and rude remarks that would come at us regarding our daughter's name.
Recently Ray and I attended one of those time-share seminars. (We only went to get the free gas card at the end of the presentation.) One of the sales people asked the usual questions- 'When are you due? Do you know what you are having?' And then she asked if we had a name picked out.
And Ray proceeded to tell her, "Yes, its going to be Elektra".
"Oh! Well...um...that's a...um interesting name. It's...um...different."
The look Ray gave her was enough to kill.
When Ray was at work one of the guys there asked him what we are naming our daughter.
"Her name is Elektra."
This guy broke out in pure laughter.
"No, really man, what's her name."
"I just told you. It's Elektra."
"Oh, you're serious. Wow. Okay."
Upon hearing the name people have asked why we are naming our child after a movie or why we are naming her after Carmen Electra. Neither of these crossed our mind when we chose our daughter's name.
Then there are the really rude responses:
"Elektra! Well, you must not be expecting much from her, since you're giving her a stripper's name."
"Wow, so I guess you don't mind your daughter dancing around a pole when she grows up."
"Well, that's not exactly a name you give a child if you want them to be a lawyer or doctor when they grow up. You're never going to hear, 'Dr. Elektra please come to the ER'."
"Why would you name your daughter that? That's the kind of name porn stars have."
"Was that really your first choice for a name or did your husband make you choose that one."
Of course, leave it to my husband to come up with a great comeback to these remarks.
"No, our daughter will not be a stripper. She will be Playboy Bunny. She will become Bunny of the Year and will live inside the Playboy mansion where she will get her old dad access to all the cool parties."
We picked the name because it sounds beautiful and it feels right. We hope our daughter will be very proud of her name. It is unique, which is why we love it.
FYI- The meaning behind, Elektra (also spelled, Electra):
Origin- Greek
Meaning- bright, the shining one, amber
1. Daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Her story is dramatized by the three great tragedians Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.
2. Electra is one of the brightest stars in the Pleiades star cluster, more commonly known as the Seven Sisters of Pleiades. The most visible stars in this group are named for the Seven Sisters of Greek mythology: Asterope, Merope, Electra, Maia, Taygete, Celaeno and Alcyone. Electra is the third brightest of the stars in the group. She is approximately 400 light years from the sun.
The Results
Scene 1
Setting: Fall, 2006. Late morning. A small well lighted kitchen in the military housing of Jackson Park. Spread out across the kitchen table are various scrapbooking papers and supplies. There is also a stack of baby and parenting magazines piled on the left side of the table.
As lights come up we see seated at one end of the table is a young black woman cutting pictures from torn out magazine articles. Laying on the table to her right is a modern cell phone.
(Sound of cell phone ringing)
The young girl puts down her work and picks up the cell phone. She looks curiously at the number before deciding to open the phone and answer the call.
Michelle: Hello?
Dr. Gotkins: Yes, hello. May I speak to Michelle Mattingly, please?
Michelle: This is she.
Dr. Gotkins: Hello, Michelle. This is Dr. Gotkins from Madigan Hospital. How are you?
Michelle: I'm doing good doctor. How are you.
Dr. Gotkins: I'm doing fine, thank you. I wanted to let you know that I just got the results back from your amnio. And... everything looks normal. The baby is fine.
Michelle: Oh, thank God. Yeah!
Dr. Gotkins: Yes, very good news! I know you're glad to hear it. Sorry it took so long for the results to come back. So, did you know or want to know what you are having?
Michelle: The ultrasound said we are having a girl.
Dr. Gotkins: Okay, good. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't know if you wanted to find out or if you wanted it to be a surprise. And yes, it is a girl. The test came back with confirmed results its a girl.
Michelle: Cool.
Dr. Gotkins: So, do you have any questions for me? Any concerns?
Michelle: No. None that I can thing of at the moment.
Dr. Gotkins: Okay. Well, congratulations on a healthy baby. And I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon. Have a good day, Michelle.
Michelle: You too. Bye.
Dr. Gotkins: Bye.
Michelle closes the phone. Then reopens it. She scrolls through the menu on the phone until she finds what she is looking for. She presses another button on the phone and then puts the phone back up to her ear.
Ray: Hello. You've reached the USS Columbus. YN2 Mattingly speaking. This is an unsecure line. How can I help you mame or sir?
Michelle: Hi Honey.
Ray: Hey, what's up?
Michelle: I just got off the phone with Dr. Gotkins.
Ray: Okay. And....?
Michelle: And she said everything came back normal. And we are definitely having a girl.
Ray: Cool, cool. Did she say anything else?
Michelle: Well, she just apologized for the results getting back so late. That's all. So, yeah, our girl is healthy.
Ray: I knew she would be.
Michelle: Well, I guess we can spread the word now.
Ray: Yeah, I'll call mom later. She can spread the word for us.
Michelle: Cool beans.
Ray: Well, let me let you go honey. I've got to get back to work.
Michelle: Okay.
Ray: Love you. Bye.
Michelle: Love you too. Bye.
Michelle closes the phone and lays it back down on the kitchen table. She picks up her scissors and paper and resumes cutting. The audience can see a bright smile spreading across her face as she continues to cut.
(Lights fade out)
End of Scene 1
Setting: Fall, 2006. Late morning. A small well lighted kitchen in the military housing of Jackson Park. Spread out across the kitchen table are various scrapbooking papers and supplies. There is also a stack of baby and parenting magazines piled on the left side of the table.
As lights come up we see seated at one end of the table is a young black woman cutting pictures from torn out magazine articles. Laying on the table to her right is a modern cell phone.
(Sound of cell phone ringing)
The young girl puts down her work and picks up the cell phone. She looks curiously at the number before deciding to open the phone and answer the call.
Michelle: Hello?
Dr. Gotkins: Yes, hello. May I speak to Michelle Mattingly, please?
Michelle: This is she.
Dr. Gotkins: Hello, Michelle. This is Dr. Gotkins from Madigan Hospital. How are you?
Michelle: I'm doing good doctor. How are you.
Dr. Gotkins: I'm doing fine, thank you. I wanted to let you know that I just got the results back from your amnio. And... everything looks normal. The baby is fine.
Michelle: Oh, thank God. Yeah!
Dr. Gotkins: Yes, very good news! I know you're glad to hear it. Sorry it took so long for the results to come back. So, did you know or want to know what you are having?
Michelle: The ultrasound said we are having a girl.
Dr. Gotkins: Okay, good. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't know if you wanted to find out or if you wanted it to be a surprise. And yes, it is a girl. The test came back with confirmed results its a girl.
Michelle: Cool.
Dr. Gotkins: So, do you have any questions for me? Any concerns?
Michelle: No. None that I can thing of at the moment.
Dr. Gotkins: Okay. Well, congratulations on a healthy baby. And I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon. Have a good day, Michelle.
Michelle: You too. Bye.
Dr. Gotkins: Bye.
Michelle closes the phone. Then reopens it. She scrolls through the menu on the phone until she finds what she is looking for. She presses another button on the phone and then puts the phone back up to her ear.
Ray: Hello. You've reached the USS Columbus. YN2 Mattingly speaking. This is an unsecure line. How can I help you mame or sir?
Michelle: Hi Honey.
Ray: Hey, what's up?
Michelle: I just got off the phone with Dr. Gotkins.
Ray: Okay. And....?
Michelle: And she said everything came back normal. And we are definitely having a girl.
Ray: Cool, cool. Did she say anything else?
Michelle: Well, she just apologized for the results getting back so late. That's all. So, yeah, our girl is healthy.
Ray: I knew she would be.
Michelle: Well, I guess we can spread the word now.
Ray: Yeah, I'll call mom later. She can spread the word for us.
Michelle: Cool beans.
Ray: Well, let me let you go honey. I've got to get back to work.
Michelle: Okay.
Ray: Love you. Bye.
Michelle: Love you too. Bye.
Michelle closes the phone and lays it back down on the kitchen table. She picks up her scissors and paper and resumes cutting. The audience can see a bright smile spreading across her face as she continues to cut.
(Lights fade out)
End of Scene 1
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
My Belly Revealed!
Yes, on August 28th Ray and I went to Madigan Hospital, (another military hospital in the area), to get detailed ultrasounds of our baby and of my heart. Okay, before you freak out, I have a heart murmur and the doctor just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.
We arrived at Madigan at 7 am, almost two hours before my appointment. We were trying to give ourselves enough time to get through Monday morning traffic. So, with time to kill, Ray and I walked around the park and lake next to the hospital. As it got closer to the time of my appointment we made our way through the maze that is Madigan Medical Center and found our way to the OB/GYN with enough time to spare.
In the waiting room it was interesting to see the looks we got from other couples there. With America always being referred to as the melting pot of the world I forget that to many people a couple like Ray and I are still a rare site and one that unfortunately still gets questioning looks from people.
Despite the stares, Ray and I were very excited to know that in a short matter of time we would find out if this jelly bean growing inside of me was a pink jelly bean or a blue one. Before we knew it my name was called and we headed back to the ultrasound room.
It didn't take long for the technician to see our GIRL spread-eagle showing off her stuff. She was not camera shy at all. She did flips and waved at us. She sucked her thumb and showed off her cute little feet and butt to us. The technician had a hard time trying to get good pictures and measurements of my uterus and the umbilical cord with our little girl wiggling her way into all the photos. I started to cry when the technician was able to re-confirm that our baby was indeed a girl.
When the technician was satisfied with the images Ray helped me clean off my belly of all that ultrasound gel. The technician then advised us to hide our photos before leaving the room because some of the other patients in the hospital may start to get mad if they see the number of pictures we got. I wasn't sure what she meant, and then I saw her pick up an almost three foot scroll of photos from off the floor. She admitted to being a little photo happy and to our surprise we were leaving the ultrasound room with 23 pictures of our baby girl!
While back in the waiting room waiting to see my doctor, Ray and I would turn to look at each other and give an evil grin every time we saw a couple come in with there two or five ultrasound photos.
My doctor was really cool. Her name is Dr. Gotkins. She let us know everything that was going on and explained in detail anything we had questions about. Only a week earlier I had a Quad test that is a blood test to sceen for birth defects. Gotkins told me the results came back with a high count for Down Syndrome. Now the doctor explained to us that this doesn't mean our little girl has DS. The test results just establishes a risk figure on which Ray and I can decided if we want to investigate further.
Ray and I had already decided days before that if my numbers came back high that I would undergo an amniocentesis. Dr. Gotkins felt that based on the ultrasounds there seemed to be no problem with the baby, but to put all our minds at ease it would be a good idea to have the amnio. The doctor just happen to be free in an hour, so we scheduled to come back to have the test done.
We found our way down to the blood lab where Ray went to get some blood drawn. The doctor wanted to make sure that Ray did not carry the Sickle Cell Anemia trait or any other sickle cell trait. After the blood test we waddled our way back to the waiting room. (There was me actually waddling and Ray making fun of me waddling.)
Soon I found myself once again in an ultrasound room. Now if you don't know what an amnio is, pay close attention because I'm about to give you a very detailed account of what one is.
I laid almost flat on the table, my shirt lifted up and a towel tucked under my waistband. There was Ray, the doctor and an assistant present in the room. As a joke the doctor gave me the instructions fo rthe amnio to read. I had everyone in the room laughing as I started to read aloud the steps that should be followed and in what order.
The doctor did a quick ultrasound to find the best spot in which she would insert the needle. Yes, I said needle. An amnio involves taking about a six inch needle and inserting it into your uterus. I am not laying, this is an actual medical procedure and not some sick sceen from a horror movie.
After the doctor found a good spot, she wiped the gel off my stomach while her assitant started covering my surrounding stomach area with sterile cloths. My stomach was rubbed with iodine and a sterile operating gel was applyed to my stomach. Dr. Gotkins again found the spot that she looked at earlier and with the ultrasound wand as her guide she inserted the needle. I thank God Ray was there. Not only did he stand near me, blocking my view of the needle, he was also able to grab my hands and hold me down as my body reacted to a pain it had never felt before.
Whoever said that an amnio sounds worse then it really is must have been on an extremely high dosage of morphine when they said it. An amnio is exactly as bad as it sounds. Your stomach was not designed to have anything stab it, and with your body constantly working to protect your baby from the outside world you can just imagin how my body felt when this six inch needle came in and proceeded to suck amniotic fluid from my uterus. FYI- amniotic fluid looks just like baby pee, in case you were curious.
Ray was a wonderful partner, helping me breath through the pain and saying encouraging words. The whole ordeal lasted less then five minutes which was still too long for me. It felt like I had been stabbed in the stomach, which Ray remineded me, was exactly what just happened.
Dr. Gotkins explained that the samples would be sent to a lab that would take the liquid and seperate the baby's dead skin cells that are floating around in it. They would then take these cells and grow them into cultures. When they had enough cultures they will be able to test it for all sorts of birth defects. The time it takes to grow such cultures meant that we wouldn't find out the results of the test for almost two weeks.
There is only a 1 in 200 chance of something going wrong after having an amnio. Dr. Gotkins let us know all the risk both before and after the test. I was advised that after my heart ultrasound to just go home and relax for the rest of the day. If there was any bleeding or if my water broke I was to get to the emergency room asap.
I think Ray and I both prayed as we made our way to my next appointment on the other side of the hospital. We prayed the results of the test would come back all normal and that I wouldn't be on the left side of that 1 in 200 chance of something going wrong. There was nothing we could do now. On the elevator I put my arms around Ray. He squeezed me tight and simply said, "It's in God's hands now."
My heart ultrasound was pretty much a blur. I had enough on my mind. My stomach was sore and starting to cramp, which the doctor had already told me was to be expected. All I wanted was to get back home and lay down. In another hour I got my wish.
As I laid on our couch slowing drifting into much needed sleep I put my hands on my stomach and prayed that God deliver unto us a beautiful and healthy baby girl. And the little jelly bean inside turned her body toward my hand in response.
We arrived at Madigan at 7 am, almost two hours before my appointment. We were trying to give ourselves enough time to get through Monday morning traffic. So, with time to kill, Ray and I walked around the park and lake next to the hospital. As it got closer to the time of my appointment we made our way through the maze that is Madigan Medical Center and found our way to the OB/GYN with enough time to spare.
In the waiting room it was interesting to see the looks we got from other couples there. With America always being referred to as the melting pot of the world I forget that to many people a couple like Ray and I are still a rare site and one that unfortunately still gets questioning looks from people.
Despite the stares, Ray and I were very excited to know that in a short matter of time we would find out if this jelly bean growing inside of me was a pink jelly bean or a blue one. Before we knew it my name was called and we headed back to the ultrasound room.
It didn't take long for the technician to see our GIRL spread-eagle showing off her stuff. She was not camera shy at all. She did flips and waved at us. She sucked her thumb and showed off her cute little feet and butt to us. The technician had a hard time trying to get good pictures and measurements of my uterus and the umbilical cord with our little girl wiggling her way into all the photos. I started to cry when the technician was able to re-confirm that our baby was indeed a girl.
When the technician was satisfied with the images Ray helped me clean off my belly of all that ultrasound gel. The technician then advised us to hide our photos before leaving the room because some of the other patients in the hospital may start to get mad if they see the number of pictures we got. I wasn't sure what she meant, and then I saw her pick up an almost three foot scroll of photos from off the floor. She admitted to being a little photo happy and to our surprise we were leaving the ultrasound room with 23 pictures of our baby girl!
While back in the waiting room waiting to see my doctor, Ray and I would turn to look at each other and give an evil grin every time we saw a couple come in with there two or five ultrasound photos.
My doctor was really cool. Her name is Dr. Gotkins. She let us know everything that was going on and explained in detail anything we had questions about. Only a week earlier I had a Quad test that is a blood test to sceen for birth defects. Gotkins told me the results came back with a high count for Down Syndrome. Now the doctor explained to us that this doesn't mean our little girl has DS. The test results just establishes a risk figure on which Ray and I can decided if we want to investigate further.
Ray and I had already decided days before that if my numbers came back high that I would undergo an amniocentesis. Dr. Gotkins felt that based on the ultrasounds there seemed to be no problem with the baby, but to put all our minds at ease it would be a good idea to have the amnio. The doctor just happen to be free in an hour, so we scheduled to come back to have the test done.
We found our way down to the blood lab where Ray went to get some blood drawn. The doctor wanted to make sure that Ray did not carry the Sickle Cell Anemia trait or any other sickle cell trait. After the blood test we waddled our way back to the waiting room. (There was me actually waddling and Ray making fun of me waddling.)
Soon I found myself once again in an ultrasound room. Now if you don't know what an amnio is, pay close attention because I'm about to give you a very detailed account of what one is.
I laid almost flat on the table, my shirt lifted up and a towel tucked under my waistband. There was Ray, the doctor and an assistant present in the room. As a joke the doctor gave me the instructions fo rthe amnio to read. I had everyone in the room laughing as I started to read aloud the steps that should be followed and in what order.
The doctor did a quick ultrasound to find the best spot in which she would insert the needle. Yes, I said needle. An amnio involves taking about a six inch needle and inserting it into your uterus. I am not laying, this is an actual medical procedure and not some sick sceen from a horror movie.
After the doctor found a good spot, she wiped the gel off my stomach while her assitant started covering my surrounding stomach area with sterile cloths. My stomach was rubbed with iodine and a sterile operating gel was applyed to my stomach. Dr. Gotkins again found the spot that she looked at earlier and with the ultrasound wand as her guide she inserted the needle. I thank God Ray was there. Not only did he stand near me, blocking my view of the needle, he was also able to grab my hands and hold me down as my body reacted to a pain it had never felt before.
Whoever said that an amnio sounds worse then it really is must have been on an extremely high dosage of morphine when they said it. An amnio is exactly as bad as it sounds. Your stomach was not designed to have anything stab it, and with your body constantly working to protect your baby from the outside world you can just imagin how my body felt when this six inch needle came in and proceeded to suck amniotic fluid from my uterus. FYI- amniotic fluid looks just like baby pee, in case you were curious.
Ray was a wonderful partner, helping me breath through the pain and saying encouraging words. The whole ordeal lasted less then five minutes which was still too long for me. It felt like I had been stabbed in the stomach, which Ray remineded me, was exactly what just happened.
Dr. Gotkins explained that the samples would be sent to a lab that would take the liquid and seperate the baby's dead skin cells that are floating around in it. They would then take these cells and grow them into cultures. When they had enough cultures they will be able to test it for all sorts of birth defects. The time it takes to grow such cultures meant that we wouldn't find out the results of the test for almost two weeks.
There is only a 1 in 200 chance of something going wrong after having an amnio. Dr. Gotkins let us know all the risk both before and after the test. I was advised that after my heart ultrasound to just go home and relax for the rest of the day. If there was any bleeding or if my water broke I was to get to the emergency room asap.
I think Ray and I both prayed as we made our way to my next appointment on the other side of the hospital. We prayed the results of the test would come back all normal and that I wouldn't be on the left side of that 1 in 200 chance of something going wrong. There was nothing we could do now. On the elevator I put my arms around Ray. He squeezed me tight and simply said, "It's in God's hands now."
My heart ultrasound was pretty much a blur. I had enough on my mind. My stomach was sore and starting to cramp, which the doctor had already told me was to be expected. All I wanted was to get back home and lay down. In another hour I got my wish.
As I laid on our couch slowing drifting into much needed sleep I put my hands on my stomach and prayed that God deliver unto us a beautiful and healthy baby girl. And the little jelly bean inside turned her body toward my hand in response.
The Baby Shower
On August 5th , Linda and David hosted our baby shower in Phoenix. It was a wonderful event. Ray and I were surprised at the amount of people who attended. We had a wonderful evening playing baby shower games and catching up on everyone’s lives. Both our moms kicked ass with the food they busted out with. I’m sure David managed to finish all the leftovers in a couple of days.
Now that all the packages have been open, the baby clothes are all cleaned and the baby room is currently taking shape, I can now start to breath a little and take stock of what our new baby has.
I can safely say that the baby now has enough burp clothes to last until college.
I know that baby manual John and Maggie gave us was a huge hit at the shower. Everyone at the shower got to read it except us! I was surprised that we were even able to smuggle it out of Phoenix.
The real show stopper was the vibrating teething ring that made many of our guest think of very ‘adult’ things to do with it. I’ve made sure to disinfect that teething ring- twice!
Both grandma Ginny and my Girl Scout troop leader/ dear friend Ruth both gave the baby beautiful handmade items.
Ray and I are not ashamed to admit that we are already jealous of the baby. It’s bathtub is way cooler then ours and the ducky shower set is just too cute.
It is hard to believe that the baby’s clothes have taken up half the closet already and its not even born yet!
Currently I am working on the thank you notes which I hope to get out to everyone before Christmas. (Sorry, but I’m now running on military time.)
Now that all the packages have been open, the baby clothes are all cleaned and the baby room is currently taking shape, I can now start to breath a little and take stock of what our new baby has.
I can safely say that the baby now has enough burp clothes to last until college.
I know that baby manual John and Maggie gave us was a huge hit at the shower. Everyone at the shower got to read it except us! I was surprised that we were even able to smuggle it out of Phoenix.
The real show stopper was the vibrating teething ring that made many of our guest think of very ‘adult’ things to do with it. I’ve made sure to disinfect that teething ring- twice!
Both grandma Ginny and my Girl Scout troop leader/ dear friend Ruth both gave the baby beautiful handmade items.
Ray and I are not ashamed to admit that we are already jealous of the baby. It’s bathtub is way cooler then ours and the ducky shower set is just too cute.
It is hard to believe that the baby’s clothes have taken up half the closet already and its not even born yet!
Currently I am working on the thank you notes which I hope to get out to everyone before Christmas. (Sorry, but I’m now running on military time.)
To Hawaii or Bust!
Okay, here is the story.
As many of you may well know I was planning on leaving to Hawaii the first week of September. All the plans had been made and everything seemed to be going along like clockwork. The movers came on August 17th and started packing our house. I lounged around the house reading up on all my baby magazines and checking in on the movers from time to time. We already past our pre-inspection just a couple of days before and I was feeling pretty good about my first major military move.
The next day the movers came to finish packing and to start loading our boxes onto their truck. About an hour after the movers had arrived I received a call from Ray who sounded very upset. There was a possibility that he would have to do West Pac with the sub at the end of next year. This didn’t make any sense to me since Ray is scheduled to leave his sub before then. About a couple of hours after I got off the phone with Ray the doorbell rang. It was Ray on the other side of the door. Now I realized that something was wrong .
It turns out that the military only allows one family move every 12 months. But those 12 months are counted starting on the first day that Ray arrives in Hawaii, not me. So if Ray’s sub doesn’t get to Hawaii until December we wouldn’t be able to move again until next December. Ray would have no choice but to extend his time on the sub until next December and be forced to go on West Pac. (For those of you who don't know, a West Pac is a sub spending six months under water somewhere in the middle of the ocean with little to zero contact with family.)
Well, this is not what we had planned. Even though the movers were ready to load everything that day, I knew that we were given three days for the move, so after several calls to the moving company I had the movers drop everything they were doing and asked them to come back tomorrow. Ray and I needed time to figure out what we should do.
After several long talks with the both the moving inspectors and Ray a new plan was made. I would stay here in Washington until after our baby is born. By that time Ray’s sub might actually be in Hawaii, (but no one is holding their breath on that). Once I get the okay from the doctor I’ll have all our stuff here in Washington put into temporary storage and the baby and I will fly out to Hawaii. We will rent a small furnished apartment and make the best of everything for the short time that we are in Hawaii.
So, the next day we had the movers come back and unpack everything. It was a mess getting everything back in order. There are still half-empty boxes and packing tape scattered around the house. We are still working on getting our house back to looking and feeling like a home.
On a good note, all this packing and unpacking has totally confused all our neighbors. Now they don’t know what to think of us. The other good thing is that Ray and I will be together to go trick or treating this Halloween. (It is never too early to teach your kids the art of begging for candy.)
Now, before you get all bummed out, I want to tell you that yes, you will still be able to have an excuse to go to Hawaii. I suggest saving up your money now and making plans to spend Spring Break with us and the new baby. Or if you’ll be in the area come pay us a visit here in Washington. It looks like I’ll be here for a while.
As many of you may well know I was planning on leaving to Hawaii the first week of September. All the plans had been made and everything seemed to be going along like clockwork. The movers came on August 17th and started packing our house. I lounged around the house reading up on all my baby magazines and checking in on the movers from time to time. We already past our pre-inspection just a couple of days before and I was feeling pretty good about my first major military move.
The next day the movers came to finish packing and to start loading our boxes onto their truck. About an hour after the movers had arrived I received a call from Ray who sounded very upset. There was a possibility that he would have to do West Pac with the sub at the end of next year. This didn’t make any sense to me since Ray is scheduled to leave his sub before then. About a couple of hours after I got off the phone with Ray the doorbell rang. It was Ray on the other side of the door. Now I realized that something was wrong .
It turns out that the military only allows one family move every 12 months. But those 12 months are counted starting on the first day that Ray arrives in Hawaii, not me. So if Ray’s sub doesn’t get to Hawaii until December we wouldn’t be able to move again until next December. Ray would have no choice but to extend his time on the sub until next December and be forced to go on West Pac. (For those of you who don't know, a West Pac is a sub spending six months under water somewhere in the middle of the ocean with little to zero contact with family.)
Well, this is not what we had planned. Even though the movers were ready to load everything that day, I knew that we were given three days for the move, so after several calls to the moving company I had the movers drop everything they were doing and asked them to come back tomorrow. Ray and I needed time to figure out what we should do.
After several long talks with the both the moving inspectors and Ray a new plan was made. I would stay here in Washington until after our baby is born. By that time Ray’s sub might actually be in Hawaii, (but no one is holding their breath on that). Once I get the okay from the doctor I’ll have all our stuff here in Washington put into temporary storage and the baby and I will fly out to Hawaii. We will rent a small furnished apartment and make the best of everything for the short time that we are in Hawaii.
So, the next day we had the movers come back and unpack everything. It was a mess getting everything back in order. There are still half-empty boxes and packing tape scattered around the house. We are still working on getting our house back to looking and feeling like a home.
On a good note, all this packing and unpacking has totally confused all our neighbors. Now they don’t know what to think of us. The other good thing is that Ray and I will be together to go trick or treating this Halloween. (It is never too early to teach your kids the art of begging for candy.)
Now, before you get all bummed out, I want to tell you that yes, you will still be able to have an excuse to go to Hawaii. I suggest saving up your money now and making plans to spend Spring Break with us and the new baby. Or if you’ll be in the area come pay us a visit here in Washington. It looks like I’ll be here for a while.
Pregnancy Pictures
This is just a couple of our beautiful pregnancy photos that the wonderful Lorrie Lott took for us when we can down to Phoenix.
Oh, the Bellies You'll Meet
During this pregnancy I have discovered that having a belly puts you into a totally new society. I call it the Belly Society. Even though this society may look a lot like our own, it follows its own set of social rules. I am documenting my observations of this society. Below is just a few of the bellies I have encountered since entering this society.
Victim Belly
These bellies love to wallow in self-pity. Everyone is against them and their growing tummy- even the their unborn baby is out to get them. They have their OB’s number on speed-dial and is on first name bases with all the nurses at the OB/GYN clinic. Every cough and cramp warrants a visit to the emergency room. If their doctor puts them on bed rest they lay there like Evita on her deathbed morning over their life and their unfulfilled dreams. And don’t dare tell them that there is nothing wrong or that it’s all in their head. Oh no, this type of talk will send the Victim Belly into an Oscar worthy fainting spell. But if you are lucky, the Victim Belly will stop talking to you because, as she will say to her friends between fake contractions and dramatic grabbing of the belly, “She doesn’t understand how truly painful pregnancy can be. I’ve suffered so much. I pray she never has to experience what I’m going through. I just don’t think she could handle it.” Oh, Please!!!
Mother Hen Belly
Oh, I’m sure you’ve met one of these bellies. They know everything that you should and should not do when you are pregnant and if you don’t take heed to their warnings, your baby will come out deformed or dead. You know that Big Mac you’re about to take a bite out of? Well the bun is made with a processed flour that may increase the chance of your baby developing cancer when they’re 50. Did you go bike riding yesterday. Well you’re living dangerously. Didn’t you know that there was over 150 miscarriages reported last year due to bike falls? Oh, and don’t even think about going to the salad bar at the Old Country Buffet. Chemicals found on non-organic lettuces can cause birth defects and even death. No matter how good you are at following the normal pregnancy restrictions Mother Hen Bellies will follow you around pointing out everything you are doing to kill your unborn child. If you see one of these bellies coming, run to the nearest Basket Robin or Cold Stone. Order two scoops of that steroid-infested-ice-cream-made-from-chemically-enhanced-cow-milk-that-will-cause-your-son-to-be-born-with-an-unusually-small-penis and relish in the fact that you and your baby will be just fine.
Snob Belly
Oh, yes, there are Snob Bellies. Obviously, not all bellies are created equal and Snob Bellies want to make sure you know that fact. Snob Bellies are easy to recognize. They are usually dressed from head to toe in Gap Maternity finished off with a pair of high heels and the latest Coach purse. Their nails are flawless and so is there skin. So, what’s the problem? While there is nothing wrong with trying to look your best during your pregnancy, I do have a problem with Snob Bellies looking down their nose at other bellies who may have more body roll then bank roll to look like they just walked off the cover of Vogue. Snob Bellies carry themselves in such a way as to make other bellies feel like they don’t deserve the right to show off their beautiful bellies. I’ve seen them snicker and point as Wal-Mart bellies. And the look of disgust that they give thrift store bellies is just down right rude. Yes, Snob Bellies may have a personal Yoga instructor, a personal chef and weekly bookings at the spa, but there is one thing these bellies don’t have- freedom. Snob Bellies are so tied down by image that they can’t enjoy the real liberating joy that pregnancy should bring. Snob Bellies are very annoying, but just like the ‘It’ girls in high school you’ll soon come to realize they are not worth your time or thought.
Superwoman Belly
These bellies are dangerous to be around. They are career mined, power hungry women who treat pregnancy as just another job on their to-do list. They are always spotted with their cell phone glued to their ear and a Palm Pilot open and at the ready. Everything is scheduled and planned right down to the very minute they plan to arrive in the hospital in labor. There is no room in their life for the unexpected. Everything in their life has been planned with superb perfection. And their pregnancy should be no different. Superwoman Bellies will work up to the very moment that their contractions are five minutes apart. They will only take a week of maternity leave because they know their body will bounce back quickly and besides, the company will just go under if they are not there to oversee what needs to be done. In fact during the week they are off Superwoman Bellies will be calling the office everyday to check in and make sure everything is running like clockwork. To put it simply Superwoman Bellies are walking time bombs. Life is going to exploded in their face at any moment and they won’t know how to handle it. My suggestion is to stay far enough away from Superwoman Bellies so you won’t get hit by the pieces of their shattered schedule, but stay close enough to catch them when life throws them across the room. They will need other bellies around them when reality hits and they start to realize that life- especially an unborn life, is something that they must give over control to, instead of trying to take control of.
Victim Belly
These bellies love to wallow in self-pity. Everyone is against them and their growing tummy- even the their unborn baby is out to get them. They have their OB’s number on speed-dial and is on first name bases with all the nurses at the OB/GYN clinic. Every cough and cramp warrants a visit to the emergency room. If their doctor puts them on bed rest they lay there like Evita on her deathbed morning over their life and their unfulfilled dreams. And don’t dare tell them that there is nothing wrong or that it’s all in their head. Oh no, this type of talk will send the Victim Belly into an Oscar worthy fainting spell. But if you are lucky, the Victim Belly will stop talking to you because, as she will say to her friends between fake contractions and dramatic grabbing of the belly, “She doesn’t understand how truly painful pregnancy can be. I’ve suffered so much. I pray she never has to experience what I’m going through. I just don’t think she could handle it.” Oh, Please!!!
Mother Hen Belly
Oh, I’m sure you’ve met one of these bellies. They know everything that you should and should not do when you are pregnant and if you don’t take heed to their warnings, your baby will come out deformed or dead. You know that Big Mac you’re about to take a bite out of? Well the bun is made with a processed flour that may increase the chance of your baby developing cancer when they’re 50. Did you go bike riding yesterday. Well you’re living dangerously. Didn’t you know that there was over 150 miscarriages reported last year due to bike falls? Oh, and don’t even think about going to the salad bar at the Old Country Buffet. Chemicals found on non-organic lettuces can cause birth defects and even death. No matter how good you are at following the normal pregnancy restrictions Mother Hen Bellies will follow you around pointing out everything you are doing to kill your unborn child. If you see one of these bellies coming, run to the nearest Basket Robin or Cold Stone. Order two scoops of that steroid-infested-ice-cream-made-from-chemically-enhanced-cow-milk-that-will-cause-your-son-to-be-born-with-an-unusually-small-penis and relish in the fact that you and your baby will be just fine.
Snob Belly
Oh, yes, there are Snob Bellies. Obviously, not all bellies are created equal and Snob Bellies want to make sure you know that fact. Snob Bellies are easy to recognize. They are usually dressed from head to toe in Gap Maternity finished off with a pair of high heels and the latest Coach purse. Their nails are flawless and so is there skin. So, what’s the problem? While there is nothing wrong with trying to look your best during your pregnancy, I do have a problem with Snob Bellies looking down their nose at other bellies who may have more body roll then bank roll to look like they just walked off the cover of Vogue. Snob Bellies carry themselves in such a way as to make other bellies feel like they don’t deserve the right to show off their beautiful bellies. I’ve seen them snicker and point as Wal-Mart bellies. And the look of disgust that they give thrift store bellies is just down right rude. Yes, Snob Bellies may have a personal Yoga instructor, a personal chef and weekly bookings at the spa, but there is one thing these bellies don’t have- freedom. Snob Bellies are so tied down by image that they can’t enjoy the real liberating joy that pregnancy should bring. Snob Bellies are very annoying, but just like the ‘It’ girls in high school you’ll soon come to realize they are not worth your time or thought.
Superwoman Belly
These bellies are dangerous to be around. They are career mined, power hungry women who treat pregnancy as just another job on their to-do list. They are always spotted with their cell phone glued to their ear and a Palm Pilot open and at the ready. Everything is scheduled and planned right down to the very minute they plan to arrive in the hospital in labor. There is no room in their life for the unexpected. Everything in their life has been planned with superb perfection. And their pregnancy should be no different. Superwoman Bellies will work up to the very moment that their contractions are five minutes apart. They will only take a week of maternity leave because they know their body will bounce back quickly and besides, the company will just go under if they are not there to oversee what needs to be done. In fact during the week they are off Superwoman Bellies will be calling the office everyday to check in and make sure everything is running like clockwork. To put it simply Superwoman Bellies are walking time bombs. Life is going to exploded in their face at any moment and they won’t know how to handle it. My suggestion is to stay far enough away from Superwoman Bellies so you won’t get hit by the pieces of their shattered schedule, but stay close enough to catch them when life throws them across the room. They will need other bellies around them when reality hits and they start to realize that life- especially an unborn life, is something that they must give over control to, instead of trying to take control of.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
It's Alive!
We saw the OB for the first time on June 28th. She gave me a complete check-up and said that everything looks great. We got to see the baby's heart and hear it beat. It was so overwhelming. I started getting all teary-eyed.
Because I am a high-risk pregnancy, I will be transferred to a high-risk OB/GYN. But that news was really no surprise.
So here are the first pics of our soon-to-be new addition. Sorry, no twins this time, maybe next time.
For those of you that need a little help regarding what you are viewing, you are looking at a profile of the baby. The baby is facing right and looks as if he / she is on their knees praying with their head tilted down and their hands clasped together.
Belly Pictures
Here is my belly at 10 weeks.
Maternity clothes are courtesy of my sister-in-law, Corinna.
Thank you Corinna!!!
The Accident
As many of you may already know, Ray and I were in a car accident on Saturday, June 24th.
Before I start this story, yes, the baby and the Jag are fine.
We were taking our friend, Chris, to the airport Saturday afternoon. Due to legal reasons, I can not go into the details of the accident, but I can tell you about all the fun I had at the hospital!
Shortly after the accident occurred the ambulance arrived. I was put into a neck brace, laid on a stretcher and rushed to the nearest military hospital. Inside the ambulance I tried my best to answer all the medical questions that were asked. (Note to self and others- do not attempt to say words like Sickle Cell Anemia or pregnant when your entire jaw is strapped down to a plastic board).
Suddenly, during the ride I felt a rush of warm liquid in my shorts. Complete fear and panic took over. "Oh God, I'm having a miscarriage. No, God, please, no!" The liquid was increasing. I was starting to cry. I tried to gather myself enough to tell the paramedic what I was feeling, and just when I was about to speak I heard him say, "Oh, I sorry. I got the IV bag leaking all over you. Sorry about that."
I swear, if my arms weren't tied down to that board I was ready to do some serious hurt to that fool.
While I lay there thinking of ways to cause bodily harm to the paramedic, my violent fantasies were shattered when I heard the idiot say, "Okay Mrs. Mattingly, I'm going to put your IV in now."
'Oh, no you're not!', I thought. After almost making me think I was having a miscarriage, I don't even want you breathing too close to me, let alone have you stick me with a needle.
"Hey John, keep the speed steady. I'm installing an IV."
Keep the speed steady? He must be out his mind. He better stop this thing. I have a bad enough time getting an IV when I'm in the ER and now you want me to let you stick me in a moving vehicle? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
As I tried to move I realized that every part of my body was strapped down to the board. I couldn't even turn away when he stick the needle in. I screamed, I cried, and the bastard had the nerve to say he didn't get it on the first try and that we will have to try again.
We? We ain't trying anything. The only thing I'm trying to do is wiggle my foot free so I could kick his butt. However my attempt was foiled by another poke in the arm. I swear if he didn't get it right this time I was going to flip this entire board on to of him. The evening news would have reported it:
"A paramedic died earlier today during a routine ambulance drive after being suffocated under a black pregnant woman strapped to a board."
Lucky for him, he got the IV in correctly and what seemed like a second later, I was being wheeled into the military hospital ER.
The nurses there were very nice. My nurse, Mike was funny and really tried to make the best of a bad situation. As I was laying there waiting for the doctor the pain started to get worse. In fact it was almost unbearable. I started crying and screaming again. Mike told his assistant to grab the first doctor he sees in the hall and to drag him in to see me.
This random doctor came in and asked what was wrong. I told him I was having extreme pain in my head and his response was, "So, why are you crying?"
"Because usually extreme pain fucking hurts!!"
Yes, I'm sorry, I did curse. But at that point I was beyond polite talk and that had to be THE MOST STUPID question that I have ever heard come out of a medical professional's mouth.
luckily my actual doctor came in and took over. Before he could give me any medication he had to check my spine for injury. A group of nurses assisted in rolling me over and checking me out for spinal injury. When everything appeared fine I was removed from the board and placed on a bed. However I had to keep on the neck brace. Mike gave me some nice drugs that relieved the pain, but would not harm the baby.
I had two CT scans, two X-Rays and an ultrasound done. The nurse, Mike stayed with me for all of them. Sometime during the evening Ray and Chris came in to see me. They were quickly ushered out to get fitted with neck braces of their own until other doctors were able to give them the okay that nothing was serverly damaged.
Sometime, late in the evening the doctor removed my neck brace. Honey it was like being freed from slavery. I just wanted to get on my knees and kiss the ground. 'I's free everybody. I's free!!' Oh, it was such a relief to just be able to move my mouth and scratch my neck.
After a physical test the doctor felt I could go home without a neck brace, however, I was not going to get the cool drugs that Ray and Chris got. I was reduced to simple Tylenol for my pain.
The medicine that was given to me in the hospital really made me nauseous. Even though they gave me anti-nausea drugs, my stomach was feeling pretty bad. After seven hours in the hospital we were all tired, hurt and hungry. Since we all need to take food before taking our medication we decided to stopped at a Jack-in-the-Box on the way home. After dropping off Chris at the airport, (he still had a flight to catch), we headed home.
I love french fries, especially when I haven't eaten food for seven hours. After a long and painful day it was nice to finally be home. Ray and I dragged ourselves out of our now damaged Jag and into the house. Just as Ray opened the garage door for me to step into the house, I thrust my purse into Ray's empty hand and puked like a hero.
I managed to make it to the downstairs bathroom and continued to puke my guts out.
Now women listen up! Men may promise you the moon and the stars. They may offer you diamonds and gold and take you on trips all around the world. But when your husband is standing in the garage with a water hose at one o'clock in the morning washing your puke off the pavement, that right there is real love!
Before I start this story, yes, the baby and the Jag are fine.
We were taking our friend, Chris, to the airport Saturday afternoon. Due to legal reasons, I can not go into the details of the accident, but I can tell you about all the fun I had at the hospital!
Shortly after the accident occurred the ambulance arrived. I was put into a neck brace, laid on a stretcher and rushed to the nearest military hospital. Inside the ambulance I tried my best to answer all the medical questions that were asked. (Note to self and others- do not attempt to say words like Sickle Cell Anemia or pregnant when your entire jaw is strapped down to a plastic board).
Suddenly, during the ride I felt a rush of warm liquid in my shorts. Complete fear and panic took over. "Oh God, I'm having a miscarriage. No, God, please, no!" The liquid was increasing. I was starting to cry. I tried to gather myself enough to tell the paramedic what I was feeling, and just when I was about to speak I heard him say, "Oh, I sorry. I got the IV bag leaking all over you. Sorry about that."
I swear, if my arms weren't tied down to that board I was ready to do some serious hurt to that fool.
While I lay there thinking of ways to cause bodily harm to the paramedic, my violent fantasies were shattered when I heard the idiot say, "Okay Mrs. Mattingly, I'm going to put your IV in now."
'Oh, no you're not!', I thought. After almost making me think I was having a miscarriage, I don't even want you breathing too close to me, let alone have you stick me with a needle.
"Hey John, keep the speed steady. I'm installing an IV."
Keep the speed steady? He must be out his mind. He better stop this thing. I have a bad enough time getting an IV when I'm in the ER and now you want me to let you stick me in a moving vehicle? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
As I tried to move I realized that every part of my body was strapped down to the board. I couldn't even turn away when he stick the needle in. I screamed, I cried, and the bastard had the nerve to say he didn't get it on the first try and that we will have to try again.
We? We ain't trying anything. The only thing I'm trying to do is wiggle my foot free so I could kick his butt. However my attempt was foiled by another poke in the arm. I swear if he didn't get it right this time I was going to flip this entire board on to of him. The evening news would have reported it:
"A paramedic died earlier today during a routine ambulance drive after being suffocated under a black pregnant woman strapped to a board."
Lucky for him, he got the IV in correctly and what seemed like a second later, I was being wheeled into the military hospital ER.
The nurses there were very nice. My nurse, Mike was funny and really tried to make the best of a bad situation. As I was laying there waiting for the doctor the pain started to get worse. In fact it was almost unbearable. I started crying and screaming again. Mike told his assistant to grab the first doctor he sees in the hall and to drag him in to see me.
This random doctor came in and asked what was wrong. I told him I was having extreme pain in my head and his response was, "So, why are you crying?"
"Because usually extreme pain fucking hurts!!"
Yes, I'm sorry, I did curse. But at that point I was beyond polite talk and that had to be THE MOST STUPID question that I have ever heard come out of a medical professional's mouth.
luckily my actual doctor came in and took over. Before he could give me any medication he had to check my spine for injury. A group of nurses assisted in rolling me over and checking me out for spinal injury. When everything appeared fine I was removed from the board and placed on a bed. However I had to keep on the neck brace. Mike gave me some nice drugs that relieved the pain, but would not harm the baby.
I had two CT scans, two X-Rays and an ultrasound done. The nurse, Mike stayed with me for all of them. Sometime during the evening Ray and Chris came in to see me. They were quickly ushered out to get fitted with neck braces of their own until other doctors were able to give them the okay that nothing was serverly damaged.
Sometime, late in the evening the doctor removed my neck brace. Honey it was like being freed from slavery. I just wanted to get on my knees and kiss the ground. 'I's free everybody. I's free!!' Oh, it was such a relief to just be able to move my mouth and scratch my neck.
After a physical test the doctor felt I could go home without a neck brace, however, I was not going to get the cool drugs that Ray and Chris got. I was reduced to simple Tylenol for my pain.
The medicine that was given to me in the hospital really made me nauseous. Even though they gave me anti-nausea drugs, my stomach was feeling pretty bad. After seven hours in the hospital we were all tired, hurt and hungry. Since we all need to take food before taking our medication we decided to stopped at a Jack-in-the-Box on the way home. After dropping off Chris at the airport, (he still had a flight to catch), we headed home.
I love french fries, especially when I haven't eaten food for seven hours. After a long and painful day it was nice to finally be home. Ray and I dragged ourselves out of our now damaged Jag and into the house. Just as Ray opened the garage door for me to step into the house, I thrust my purse into Ray's empty hand and puked like a hero.
I managed to make it to the downstairs bathroom and continued to puke my guts out.
Now women listen up! Men may promise you the moon and the stars. They may offer you diamonds and gold and take you on trips all around the world. But when your husband is standing in the garage with a water hose at one o'clock in the morning washing your puke off the pavement, that right there is real love!
Cravings
People have been asking, so I figured I would give an update of what I have been craving so far:
Buffalo wings from Hooters or Dominoes
Dill Pickles
Green Olives
Movie popcorn
Nachos with cheese
Mudslide from Applebee's
( Yes, I know I'm not suppose to have one, but that doesn't stop me from craving it).
Caesar Salad
Linda and David's (my in-laws) grilled steak, baked potato, grilled pepper and red apple sauce
(Maybe I can convince them to fire up the grill when we come to visit).
Fruit
My hubby's grilled steak (yes, I have a thing for steak at the moment).
Fanny Mae chocolates
So, those are my cravings so far. Hey moms, what were your cravings when you were pregnant?
Buffalo wings from Hooters or Dominoes
Dill Pickles
Green Olives
Movie popcorn
Nachos with cheese
Mudslide from Applebee's
( Yes, I know I'm not suppose to have one, but that doesn't stop me from craving it).
Caesar Salad
Linda and David's (my in-laws) grilled steak, baked potato, grilled pepper and red apple sauce
(Maybe I can convince them to fire up the grill when we come to visit).
Fruit
My hubby's grilled steak (yes, I have a thing for steak at the moment).
Fanny Mae chocolates
So, those are my cravings so far. Hey moms, what were your cravings when you were pregnant?
Friday, June 16, 2006
The Paper Weight
Yes, we all expect to fill out forms when we go to the hospital. And anyone who has any experience with the military knows that 90% of what the military does is paperwork. However, neither Ray or myself was prepared for the amount of paperwork we received on our first visit.
Let's see if you can keep count.
So on our first prenatal visit we were scheduled to see Mrs. Cruz. But before we could see her, we had to fill out just a few forms. There was a personal medical history form; a family medical history form, general health form; privacy statement; prenatal survey; spousal abuse questionnaire (I actually laughed at this one. Yes, I know abuse is a very bad thing, but it sounds so funny when I try to put the words, 'Ray' and 'fearing for my safety' in the same sentence.) Okay where was I, oh yes, there was also the mental health history form and the prenatal education survey.
After Ray and I gave enough information for the FBI to know the location, age, and physical health of every family member we know, we proceeded to our appointment.
Mrs. Cruz was not an OB like we were expecting. She is actually one of the head nurses for the OB/GYN. Cruz started our first meeting by going through every page of questions that Ray and I had just painstakingly answered. Everything I marked was questioned and double checked. When it came to the Sickle Cell anemia question I almost felt like I was being interrogated. It felt really weird defending my disease. It was like helping an anemia. It wasn't that she didn't know what sickle cell was, its just that she needed to know if I really had the disease and how was it affecting me.
Excuse me as a take a moment to go off on a rant here. Every time I'm in the hospital it never fails that someone will ask me what I think is one of the dumbest questions you can ask an adult with Sickle Cell Disease. And Cruz was no exception:
"Are you sure you have the disease and not the trait?"
Of course, I'm always polite and respond with my usual, "Yes, I'm sure. I have the disease."
But more often then not, one of these quirky responses is just waiting to jump out out my mouth-
"27 out of 29 emergency room visits can't be wrong!"
"Yes I have the disease. Psych! I fooled you. I really have the trait. Ha, Ha, ha , Ha!"
"Yes, I am diseased! There, I said it. Why can't you just learn to accept me and my lifestyle. I'm tired of living my life pretending to be a trait. This is who I am. I'm diseased and proud of it."
"My disease comes every month like clockwork. But last month it was six days late and I started to worry. So I took one of those at-home disease test and it came out positive! I'm going to have a trait!"
"Oh, I had the trait last year, but decided to upgrade to the disease. You know, living with a deadly blood disease is totally in right now."
"Disease, I wish I could quit you!"
Well, enough of my ranting, now back to the story.
After reviewing my paperwork it was time to bombard Ray and I with more information then our little brains could hold. Cruz was a non-stop talking machine. She started spewing out information about what I should eat, how I should sleep, what I could and couldn't do, and who I could and couldn't do it with. With every change of topic came a stack of material to reinforce everything she just said. We got handouts on meat safety, food preparation and food intake. For physical fitness there was the weight gain handout, physical limitation handout, and a schedule of health classes provided by the hospital. With prenatal education came the flyers for every prenatal class offered this side of the Mississippi along with car seat safety booklets and at-home hazards pamphlet.
Next, I received a personal prenatal book that I was instructed to treat like the 'ring to rule them all', and have with me at every single appointment from now until the baby's six week check-up. We were also given homework. We had to read the book cover to cover, and re-read each corresponding chapter before every OB visit.
Finally we were given what I cheerfully call the prenatal guilt-trip package. It consisted of a stack of pamphlets describing every disease the Ray or I might pass on to our baby. I believe that if they made this pack of paper mandatory reading for all high school students you would see a dramatic drop in teen pregnancies. Every pamphlet is filled with the same message of how you might give your baby a dreadful deadly disease that you didn't even know you were a carrier of.
About an hour later and ten pounds heavier, Ray and I left the OB/GYN, our hands loaded with paperwork and our minds full of mush. I really can't remember half the stuff the nurse told us and I'm sure Ray remembers even less then that. The two most important things we both got out of the meeting was that yes, we are going to have a baby, and despite everything that could go wrong there is a good chance that nine months from now we will deliver a healthy, happy baby.
Let's see if you can keep count.
So on our first prenatal visit we were scheduled to see Mrs. Cruz. But before we could see her, we had to fill out just a few forms. There was a personal medical history form; a family medical history form, general health form; privacy statement; prenatal survey; spousal abuse questionnaire (I actually laughed at this one. Yes, I know abuse is a very bad thing, but it sounds so funny when I try to put the words, 'Ray' and 'fearing for my safety' in the same sentence.) Okay where was I, oh yes, there was also the mental health history form and the prenatal education survey.
After Ray and I gave enough information for the FBI to know the location, age, and physical health of every family member we know, we proceeded to our appointment.
Mrs. Cruz was not an OB like we were expecting. She is actually one of the head nurses for the OB/GYN. Cruz started our first meeting by going through every page of questions that Ray and I had just painstakingly answered. Everything I marked was questioned and double checked. When it came to the Sickle Cell anemia question I almost felt like I was being interrogated. It felt really weird defending my disease. It was like helping an anemia. It wasn't that she didn't know what sickle cell was, its just that she needed to know if I really had the disease and how was it affecting me.
Excuse me as a take a moment to go off on a rant here. Every time I'm in the hospital it never fails that someone will ask me what I think is one of the dumbest questions you can ask an adult with Sickle Cell Disease. And Cruz was no exception:
"Are you sure you have the disease and not the trait?"
Of course, I'm always polite and respond with my usual, "Yes, I'm sure. I have the disease."
But more often then not, one of these quirky responses is just waiting to jump out out my mouth-
"27 out of 29 emergency room visits can't be wrong!"
"Yes I have the disease. Psych! I fooled you. I really have the trait. Ha, Ha, ha , Ha!"
"Yes, I am diseased! There, I said it. Why can't you just learn to accept me and my lifestyle. I'm tired of living my life pretending to be a trait. This is who I am. I'm diseased and proud of it."
"My disease comes every month like clockwork. But last month it was six days late and I started to worry. So I took one of those at-home disease test and it came out positive! I'm going to have a trait!"
"Oh, I had the trait last year, but decided to upgrade to the disease. You know, living with a deadly blood disease is totally in right now."
"Disease, I wish I could quit you!"
Well, enough of my ranting, now back to the story.
After reviewing my paperwork it was time to bombard Ray and I with more information then our little brains could hold. Cruz was a non-stop talking machine. She started spewing out information about what I should eat, how I should sleep, what I could and couldn't do, and who I could and couldn't do it with. With every change of topic came a stack of material to reinforce everything she just said. We got handouts on meat safety, food preparation and food intake. For physical fitness there was the weight gain handout, physical limitation handout, and a schedule of health classes provided by the hospital. With prenatal education came the flyers for every prenatal class offered this side of the Mississippi along with car seat safety booklets and at-home hazards pamphlet.
Next, I received a personal prenatal book that I was instructed to treat like the 'ring to rule them all', and have with me at every single appointment from now until the baby's six week check-up. We were also given homework. We had to read the book cover to cover, and re-read each corresponding chapter before every OB visit.
Finally we were given what I cheerfully call the prenatal guilt-trip package. It consisted of a stack of pamphlets describing every disease the Ray or I might pass on to our baby. I believe that if they made this pack of paper mandatory reading for all high school students you would see a dramatic drop in teen pregnancies. Every pamphlet is filled with the same message of how you might give your baby a dreadful deadly disease that you didn't even know you were a carrier of.
About an hour later and ten pounds heavier, Ray and I left the OB/GYN, our hands loaded with paperwork and our minds full of mush. I really can't remember half the stuff the nurse told us and I'm sure Ray remembers even less then that. The two most important things we both got out of the meeting was that yes, we are going to have a baby, and despite everything that could go wrong there is a good chance that nine months from now we will deliver a healthy, happy baby.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
8 Weeks and Counting
Our baby is just a few days over two months now. ( 8 weeks and 3 days to be exact). This picture sort of gives you an idea of what's currently going on in my tummy. Don't worry, I'll be posting real pictures of my belly soon.
The Bomb Drops
May 16, 2006
"Who on earth is calling me at 7:30 in the morning."
That was the though going through my mind as I rolled out of bed to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hello, may I speak to Michelle Mattingly, Please?" So, I quickly realize this was not Ray calling me for some unearthly reason, but I was going to be ticked off if this was some sales call.
"This is she."
"Hello Michelle, this is your doctor, Doctor Hsu, (pronounced: shoe). I am calling because you were in for labs and I see you took a pregnancy test, is that right?"
(Let me just butt in right now to let you know that I have actually never met my primary doctor. As many times as I've been to the emergency room, I have somehow failed to run into Hsu. Up until this point I didn't even know if Dr. Hsu was a woman or a man. P.S.- Dr. Hsu is a woman.)
"Yes, a urine test." I can't believe I'm telling her what test I took when she obviously knows this already.
"Well, the test came back positive. So is this good news for you? Were you expecting this?"
Well, I was obviously expecting something. I don't go around peeing in cups for the fun of it.
"Oh yes, yes. Thank you so much."
"So, you want to keep this baby?"
"Yes!!!!"
Here, I had to remind myself that there are still plenty of women who, for personal reasons, are not interested in carrying a baby full term.
"Oh good. Then congratulations. So, we need to get you started on some prenatal pills. I don't normally see my patients who are pregnant. I have one of my nurses do that. So, you will be contacted soon by her to set up your first prenatal appointment. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to call my office. You can either ask for me or my nurse, we...."
And here is where I drop the bomb-
"Actually, I do have a concern. I have Sickle Cell Amenia, so I'm concerned about what I need to do now that I'm pregnant."
"Oh. You have just the trait?"
"No, I have the disease."
"The disease! Oh, well, this is very serious. You are at a very high risk. You need to get started on your prenatal pills right away, okay? You are a high risk, so you will need to go to the OB right away. I will have my nurse set up an appointment for you to see someone. If you do not hear from her by the end of the week then call my office. But you need to get in right away to get your pills. You need to get started quickly."
"Okay, I'm getting dressed and will be over there shortly."
"I will mark your medical file, so they know you are high risk. There is not much I can do for you. But the OB, when she sees you, will know better as to what you need to do, okay? Just make sure you drink lots of water and don't forget your pills, okay?"
"Yes, yes, I'm on my way. Thank you so much doctor."
"Oh, yes. You stay healthy and again, congratulations."
"Thank you. Bye."
So, I'm high risk, which I already knew. But somehow it still came as a little bit of a shock hearing it from a doctor's mouth.
I went and got my pills. The nurse did call me. She asked for the first date of my last period and estimated my due date as January 24, 2007. An afternoon appointment later in the week was scheduled for me to see one of the nurses at the OB/GYN. I was reminded to arrive no later then 30 minutes before my appointment so that I would have time to fill out paperwork.
Although every pregnancy has an exact starting point, there is also a point when it really starts to sink in that you are carrying another life. This moment marked that point for me. Sitting in our dining room with the prenatal pills in my hand and the due date running through my mind, I came to a realization. It was the realization that I had to start being an adult about my health.
It's not that I haven't taken care of myself, but all my life I've tried to pretend that my disease wasn't there, that I could just 'think' myself well and be just like everyone else. These thoughts, unfortunately, would always result in a harsh reality check of me going into the emergency room with yet another sickle cell crisis. But now, I could no longer play the role of the stubborn child, refusing to acknowledge the limitations and restrictions of my disease. Our child needs me to listen to my body and to keep it strong and well. 'Our child'- it is amazing how two little words can change your whole perspective on life.
I can not promise that I will have a pain-free, crisis-free pregnancy, but I can promise that I will try.
"Who on earth is calling me at 7:30 in the morning."
That was the though going through my mind as I rolled out of bed to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hello, may I speak to Michelle Mattingly, Please?" So, I quickly realize this was not Ray calling me for some unearthly reason, but I was going to be ticked off if this was some sales call.
"This is she."
"Hello Michelle, this is your doctor, Doctor Hsu, (pronounced: shoe). I am calling because you were in for labs and I see you took a pregnancy test, is that right?"
(Let me just butt in right now to let you know that I have actually never met my primary doctor. As many times as I've been to the emergency room, I have somehow failed to run into Hsu. Up until this point I didn't even know if Dr. Hsu was a woman or a man. P.S.- Dr. Hsu is a woman.)
"Yes, a urine test." I can't believe I'm telling her what test I took when she obviously knows this already.
"Well, the test came back positive. So is this good news for you? Were you expecting this?"
Well, I was obviously expecting something. I don't go around peeing in cups for the fun of it.
"Oh yes, yes. Thank you so much."
"So, you want to keep this baby?"
"Yes!!!!"
Here, I had to remind myself that there are still plenty of women who, for personal reasons, are not interested in carrying a baby full term.
"Oh good. Then congratulations. So, we need to get you started on some prenatal pills. I don't normally see my patients who are pregnant. I have one of my nurses do that. So, you will be contacted soon by her to set up your first prenatal appointment. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to call my office. You can either ask for me or my nurse, we...."
And here is where I drop the bomb-
"Actually, I do have a concern. I have Sickle Cell Amenia, so I'm concerned about what I need to do now that I'm pregnant."
"Oh. You have just the trait?"
"No, I have the disease."
"The disease! Oh, well, this is very serious. You are at a very high risk. You need to get started on your prenatal pills right away, okay? You are a high risk, so you will need to go to the OB right away. I will have my nurse set up an appointment for you to see someone. If you do not hear from her by the end of the week then call my office. But you need to get in right away to get your pills. You need to get started quickly."
"Okay, I'm getting dressed and will be over there shortly."
"I will mark your medical file, so they know you are high risk. There is not much I can do for you. But the OB, when she sees you, will know better as to what you need to do, okay? Just make sure you drink lots of water and don't forget your pills, okay?"
"Yes, yes, I'm on my way. Thank you so much doctor."
"Oh, yes. You stay healthy and again, congratulations."
"Thank you. Bye."
So, I'm high risk, which I already knew. But somehow it still came as a little bit of a shock hearing it from a doctor's mouth.
I went and got my pills. The nurse did call me. She asked for the first date of my last period and estimated my due date as January 24, 2007. An afternoon appointment later in the week was scheduled for me to see one of the nurses at the OB/GYN. I was reminded to arrive no later then 30 minutes before my appointment so that I would have time to fill out paperwork.
Although every pregnancy has an exact starting point, there is also a point when it really starts to sink in that you are carrying another life. This moment marked that point for me. Sitting in our dining room with the prenatal pills in my hand and the due date running through my mind, I came to a realization. It was the realization that I had to start being an adult about my health.
It's not that I haven't taken care of myself, but all my life I've tried to pretend that my disease wasn't there, that I could just 'think' myself well and be just like everyone else. These thoughts, unfortunately, would always result in a harsh reality check of me going into the emergency room with yet another sickle cell crisis. But now, I could no longer play the role of the stubborn child, refusing to acknowledge the limitations and restrictions of my disease. Our child needs me to listen to my body and to keep it strong and well. 'Our child'- it is amazing how two little words can change your whole perspective on life.
I can not promise that I will have a pain-free, crisis-free pregnancy, but I can promise that I will try.
The Test
May 15, 2006
I wake up feeling really excited about going in to get my pregnancy test. I called the Naval Hospital and they said to come in any time for the test. So, off I was to the hospital like a little kid going to the candy store.
The short stroll from our house to the hospital was wonderfully peaceful. The security guard at the gate was very friendly and the almost zero traffic made it easy for me to cross the major street into the hospital. In no time I found my way to the medical lab and cheerfully handed my I.D. to the nurse. She took it, typed in a few words and numbers on here computer, handed the card back to me and walked away. She returned a few seconds later with a plastic cup and simply said, "Take this cup into the restroom on your right, follow the instructions and bring it back here when you're done."
Okay, a urine test. I could do this. I was actually expecting a blood test, but figuring how much I hate needles I took this as a great blessing and proceeded to the restroom. To this day I think I am the only person that finds humor in the fact that in the womens restroom they have urine collection instructions for both women and men posted.
So, with the job done, (and yes, I did follow the instructions), I headed back to the front desk and stood there quite proudly with my cup. The nurse finished checking in another patient and then looked up at me. "Just place the cup in the bin over there, someone will call you with the results."
That's it? That's all there is? I got all dressed up, walked up hill to the hospital, and took the stairs up to the lab just for some chick dressed in white to tell me to toss my efforts in a bin and walk away? Don't I get a lollipop or something? When you give blood you always get one of those stickers that says, 'I Gave Blood Today'. Well, where is my sticker? I should have one saying, 'I Gave Pee Today', or ' I Just Peed for My Baby'.
I'm not asking for a standing ovation because I remembered to flush, but at least give me something in return for my efforts. At least have a jar of hard candy or tootsie rolls next to the pee bin. Such a simple gesture can make a world of difference.
Despite the lack of stickers and candy to recognize my accomplishment, I obeyed the nurse and went on my merry little way. Who knew that this small uneventful moment would lead to great excitement and even greater concern.
I wake up feeling really excited about going in to get my pregnancy test. I called the Naval Hospital and they said to come in any time for the test. So, off I was to the hospital like a little kid going to the candy store.
The short stroll from our house to the hospital was wonderfully peaceful. The security guard at the gate was very friendly and the almost zero traffic made it easy for me to cross the major street into the hospital. In no time I found my way to the medical lab and cheerfully handed my I.D. to the nurse. She took it, typed in a few words and numbers on here computer, handed the card back to me and walked away. She returned a few seconds later with a plastic cup and simply said, "Take this cup into the restroom on your right, follow the instructions and bring it back here when you're done."
Okay, a urine test. I could do this. I was actually expecting a blood test, but figuring how much I hate needles I took this as a great blessing and proceeded to the restroom. To this day I think I am the only person that finds humor in the fact that in the womens restroom they have urine collection instructions for both women and men posted.
So, with the job done, (and yes, I did follow the instructions), I headed back to the front desk and stood there quite proudly with my cup. The nurse finished checking in another patient and then looked up at me. "Just place the cup in the bin over there, someone will call you with the results."
That's it? That's all there is? I got all dressed up, walked up hill to the hospital, and took the stairs up to the lab just for some chick dressed in white to tell me to toss my efforts in a bin and walk away? Don't I get a lollipop or something? When you give blood you always get one of those stickers that says, 'I Gave Blood Today'. Well, where is my sticker? I should have one saying, 'I Gave Pee Today', or ' I Just Peed for My Baby'.
I'm not asking for a standing ovation because I remembered to flush, but at least give me something in return for my efforts. At least have a jar of hard candy or tootsie rolls next to the pee bin. Such a simple gesture can make a world of difference.
Despite the lack of stickers and candy to recognize my accomplishment, I obeyed the nurse and went on my merry little way. Who knew that this small uneventful moment would lead to great excitement and even greater concern.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The Secret Comes Out
May 14, 2006 - The story continues....
So we are still in Denver at the airport with a two hour lay over. Ray and I are in need of food. We make our way to a little French cafe inside the airport. Yeah, I know, when you think of Denver, French food is usually not the first thing that comes to mind. But neither does Wolfgang Puck, and he has a restaurant in the airport too!
So inside the French cafe it is almost hard to believe the wonderful soft and quite atmosphere. We order our meals, a salad for me and a pasta dish for Ray. In order to calm his nerves, Ray orders an apple martini.
With our stomachs filled and two apple martinis later, we are both feeling really good. If fact we feel so good that we start giggling like little school girls. ( No, I didn't drink. Those martinis were for Ray's lips only). Then we come up with the wonderful idea of playing on the moving sidewalk. This is really fun. If you ever get the chance to play on those moving sidewalks please do. People will give you the strangest looks and little kids will give you the look of utter jealously.
We must have went around on that sidewalk at least four times before finally settling down at our gate. We still had a good 45 minutes before we started boarding the plane. So Ray and I decide to call our moms and wish them a happy Mother's Day.
Now Ray and I had already decided that we were not going to tell our parents we were pregnant until they came to visit us in July. We both felt it would be better to tell them face to face. But as Ray was calling his mom, we started giving hand singles to each other as to whether or not to tell them now or later. Finally realizing that neither of us are good at keeping secrets for very long we agreed to tell our moms.
Ray's mom was the first. She wished her a Happy Mother's Day and a Happy Grandmother's Day. Her joyful yell could be heard well beyond the cell phone. Frank was excited. Corrina screamed. Christina jumped around. Bruce was very pleased. Both grandmothers were overjoyed and when I finally got a hold of my mom, she did a little song and dance.
Next came our friends. John, (aka, our baby's god-daddy), was almost speechless and Maggie, ( our baby's god-mommy), was definitely surprised. The time went by fast with calls and text messages. Almost half of Arizona now knew we were expecting. When we landed back in Seattle the calls continued well into the evening.
We were invited over to dinner at our friends Max and Elaina's home. They were both excited for us when we told them the good news. We finished the night at home discussing who we still needed to call and email. It was a relief to finally break the news to everyone. The following week would be filled with emails and calls congratulating us and tones of questions about the details of how we found out.
Now came the next big hurdle - going in to see the doctor. Because as we all know, you're never really pregnant until the fat nurse lady says so.
So we are still in Denver at the airport with a two hour lay over. Ray and I are in need of food. We make our way to a little French cafe inside the airport. Yeah, I know, when you think of Denver, French food is usually not the first thing that comes to mind. But neither does Wolfgang Puck, and he has a restaurant in the airport too!
So inside the French cafe it is almost hard to believe the wonderful soft and quite atmosphere. We order our meals, a salad for me and a pasta dish for Ray. In order to calm his nerves, Ray orders an apple martini.
With our stomachs filled and two apple martinis later, we are both feeling really good. If fact we feel so good that we start giggling like little school girls. ( No, I didn't drink. Those martinis were for Ray's lips only). Then we come up with the wonderful idea of playing on the moving sidewalk. This is really fun. If you ever get the chance to play on those moving sidewalks please do. People will give you the strangest looks and little kids will give you the look of utter jealously.
We must have went around on that sidewalk at least four times before finally settling down at our gate. We still had a good 45 minutes before we started boarding the plane. So Ray and I decide to call our moms and wish them a happy Mother's Day.
Now Ray and I had already decided that we were not going to tell our parents we were pregnant until they came to visit us in July. We both felt it would be better to tell them face to face. But as Ray was calling his mom, we started giving hand singles to each other as to whether or not to tell them now or later. Finally realizing that neither of us are good at keeping secrets for very long we agreed to tell our moms.
Ray's mom was the first. She wished her a Happy Mother's Day and a Happy Grandmother's Day. Her joyful yell could be heard well beyond the cell phone. Frank was excited. Corrina screamed. Christina jumped around. Bruce was very pleased. Both grandmothers were overjoyed and when I finally got a hold of my mom, she did a little song and dance.
Next came our friends. John, (aka, our baby's god-daddy), was almost speechless and Maggie, ( our baby's god-mommy), was definitely surprised. The time went by fast with calls and text messages. Almost half of Arizona now knew we were expecting. When we landed back in Seattle the calls continued well into the evening.
We were invited over to dinner at our friends Max and Elaina's home. They were both excited for us when we told them the good news. We finished the night at home discussing who we still needed to call and email. It was a relief to finally break the news to everyone. The following week would be filled with emails and calls congratulating us and tones of questions about the details of how we found out.
Now came the next big hurdle - going in to see the doctor. Because as we all know, you're never really pregnant until the fat nurse lady says so.
To Hell and Back Again - A Mattingly Tale
May 14, 2006
We ate, we drank, and we saw our friends get married. Now it was time for us to return home.
On our flight from Kansas City to Denver Ray and I found ourselves to be the unfortunate pair destined to spend the almost two hour flight seated in the very last seats on the plane. Right next to us was the restroom and shortly we would discover that seated before us would be a couple flying with their baby for the first time.
It was a twenty-something couple maybe only a few years younger then Ray and I. Their baby was about eight months old and very finicky. My nausea was starting again and the chemical fumes from the restroom were not helping the matter. Buckled up for take off and no barf bag in site, I practiced deep slow breathing to keep myself from adding a new color to the back of the seat in front of me.
And then it started. Just as the plane was leveling off in the air our youngest passenger started to cry. This was not the small cute whimpering that you hear before a mother sticks a pacifier in the baby's mouth. Oh no, this was the all out 'I'm-dying-a-slow-and-painful-death-academy-award-winning-scream-of-terror'. This baby cried so loud that the flight attendant had to cover her ears as she screamed into the microphone in order to explain how to use our seat cushion as a flotation device. Of course at that moment most people were thinking of using it as a suffocation device, but the worst was yet to come.
Some how through some small miracle the baby did manage to calm down and even nap for a short time. The flight attendants took this as a signal to begin serving refreshments. Ray and I started to settle in with our drinks and bags of pretzel rations. You could hear in the distance the conversations of those up front discussing the weather, the local news and their final flight destination. But alas, this simple peaceful flight was not meant to be.
The baby had awoke with a cry that was unmistakable. His parents pulled out toys and blankets, pacifiers and bottles, but nothing seemed to work. It was a non-stop cry-a-thon! All conversations stopped as people quickly scrabbled for their headsets and blasted their ears with in-flight music in the hope of trying to drown the cries.
With the baby faced toward us as the mom tried desperately to bounce the baby silent on her knee, Ray and I received a constant full blast of the baby's lung capabilities. Several times the flight attendants came to the back to ask the couple if their was anything they could do to help. I though filling the baby's bottle with a couple of shots of Brandy would do the trick, but Ray's idea of giving the family a parachute and kicking them all off the plane was also an excellent idea.
Now this event does bring up the question of "how do you handle flying with a baby?" We would love to hear some of your suggestions as Ray and I are both clueless about this and are not afraid to admit it.
So let us get back to the story.
Just as it began to look as if Ray was going to personally kick the family off the plane without the parachute, the voice of hope could just faintly be heard over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now making our decent into Denver. " I swear I have never seen seats and trays returned to their right position so quickly. It was as if there was this collective longing to speed up our decent and get us all on the ground and away from the screaming baby as quickly as possible.
At this point the sound was deafening. The screams seemed to penetrate all bone and matter. I think at some point I started to understand all those sermons about Hell that was preached to me in Catholic school. I finally understood what Hell was. In fact, I swear I could even smell the deep disgusting stench rising from the pit of evil. But wait, I wasn't in Hell. I'm still on the plane. It was a short and simple line from Ray that brought me back to reality. "Oh, no she isn't!"
Ten minutes before the plan was to land and it was not the smell of sulfur and decaying bodies from the deep dark hole of terror that I smelled, but the full on fumes of 'baby anti-Christ' getting his diaper changed!!! "Ten minutes! You couldn't wait ten freaking minutes!", I heard Ray saying loud enough for the couple to hear. At this point our ears and now are noses had been so violated that I wondered if it was possible to press charges against a minor for ear and nose rape.
As the plane finally touched down in Denver, passengers collected their belongings and stood waiting patiently for the door to open. No one seemed to look back at the baby that was still screeching his heart out. But then I understood why. To look upon the face of this baby would be like touching the very bones of Cain himself- such pure evil was sure to bring sudden death.
A brave attendant came back to ask if this was the couple's final flight. They replied, no, we have a connecting flight, and Ray responded with, "It better not be our flight." The mother turned around having obviously heard Ray, but there was nothing she could say. Our unborn child had just been subjected to almost two hours of noise pollution and if our child is born with any ear problems I was determined to find this couple and sue them for all medical expenses.
We got off the plane as quickly as we could and breathed deep the fresh air of freedom. As we strolled through the terminal I began to realize that Hell is not a place you go to, but a moment, an experience, that can forever change you. It is in those moments of darkness, in this moments of deep despair that your start to realize the hope and strength found in faith. It is that kind of faith that keeps us holding on. The kind of faith that speaks to us within the darkness and says, "Do not fear, for I am with you. I will comfort and protect you. And I will make sure you don't kill that crying baby because I heard that prison food really suck!"
We ate, we drank, and we saw our friends get married. Now it was time for us to return home.
On our flight from Kansas City to Denver Ray and I found ourselves to be the unfortunate pair destined to spend the almost two hour flight seated in the very last seats on the plane. Right next to us was the restroom and shortly we would discover that seated before us would be a couple flying with their baby for the first time.
It was a twenty-something couple maybe only a few years younger then Ray and I. Their baby was about eight months old and very finicky. My nausea was starting again and the chemical fumes from the restroom were not helping the matter. Buckled up for take off and no barf bag in site, I practiced deep slow breathing to keep myself from adding a new color to the back of the seat in front of me.
And then it started. Just as the plane was leveling off in the air our youngest passenger started to cry. This was not the small cute whimpering that you hear before a mother sticks a pacifier in the baby's mouth. Oh no, this was the all out 'I'm-dying-a-slow-and-painful-death-academy-award-winning-scream-of-terror'. This baby cried so loud that the flight attendant had to cover her ears as she screamed into the microphone in order to explain how to use our seat cushion as a flotation device. Of course at that moment most people were thinking of using it as a suffocation device, but the worst was yet to come.
Some how through some small miracle the baby did manage to calm down and even nap for a short time. The flight attendants took this as a signal to begin serving refreshments. Ray and I started to settle in with our drinks and bags of pretzel rations. You could hear in the distance the conversations of those up front discussing the weather, the local news and their final flight destination. But alas, this simple peaceful flight was not meant to be.
The baby had awoke with a cry that was unmistakable. His parents pulled out toys and blankets, pacifiers and bottles, but nothing seemed to work. It was a non-stop cry-a-thon! All conversations stopped as people quickly scrabbled for their headsets and blasted their ears with in-flight music in the hope of trying to drown the cries.
With the baby faced toward us as the mom tried desperately to bounce the baby silent on her knee, Ray and I received a constant full blast of the baby's lung capabilities. Several times the flight attendants came to the back to ask the couple if their was anything they could do to help. I though filling the baby's bottle with a couple of shots of Brandy would do the trick, but Ray's idea of giving the family a parachute and kicking them all off the plane was also an excellent idea.
Now this event does bring up the question of "how do you handle flying with a baby?" We would love to hear some of your suggestions as Ray and I are both clueless about this and are not afraid to admit it.
So let us get back to the story.
Just as it began to look as if Ray was going to personally kick the family off the plane without the parachute, the voice of hope could just faintly be heard over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now making our decent into Denver. " I swear I have never seen seats and trays returned to their right position so quickly. It was as if there was this collective longing to speed up our decent and get us all on the ground and away from the screaming baby as quickly as possible.
At this point the sound was deafening. The screams seemed to penetrate all bone and matter. I think at some point I started to understand all those sermons about Hell that was preached to me in Catholic school. I finally understood what Hell was. In fact, I swear I could even smell the deep disgusting stench rising from the pit of evil. But wait, I wasn't in Hell. I'm still on the plane. It was a short and simple line from Ray that brought me back to reality. "Oh, no she isn't!"
Ten minutes before the plan was to land and it was not the smell of sulfur and decaying bodies from the deep dark hole of terror that I smelled, but the full on fumes of 'baby anti-Christ' getting his diaper changed!!! "Ten minutes! You couldn't wait ten freaking minutes!", I heard Ray saying loud enough for the couple to hear. At this point our ears and now are noses had been so violated that I wondered if it was possible to press charges against a minor for ear and nose rape.
As the plane finally touched down in Denver, passengers collected their belongings and stood waiting patiently for the door to open. No one seemed to look back at the baby that was still screeching his heart out. But then I understood why. To look upon the face of this baby would be like touching the very bones of Cain himself- such pure evil was sure to bring sudden death.
A brave attendant came back to ask if this was the couple's final flight. They replied, no, we have a connecting flight, and Ray responded with, "It better not be our flight." The mother turned around having obviously heard Ray, but there was nothing she could say. Our unborn child had just been subjected to almost two hours of noise pollution and if our child is born with any ear problems I was determined to find this couple and sue them for all medical expenses.
We got off the plane as quickly as we could and breathed deep the fresh air of freedom. As we strolled through the terminal I began to realize that Hell is not a place you go to, but a moment, an experience, that can forever change you. It is in those moments of darkness, in this moments of deep despair that your start to realize the hope and strength found in faith. It is that kind of faith that keeps us holding on. The kind of faith that speaks to us within the darkness and says, "Do not fear, for I am with you. I will comfort and protect you. And I will make sure you don't kill that crying baby because I heard that prison food really suck!"
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The Discovery
For the past few weeks I have been feeling nauseous off and on at work. I really didn't think much of it. My body usually has an allergic reaction to working. But seriously, I just though I was catching a cold.
I really didn't want to think I was pregnant because I though that way last month only to take the home pregnancy test and stare at that one little pink line for a long time before accepting the fact that the second pink line was never going to show. It was not that I was expecting to get pregnant so quickly, but 15 year old girls seem to be getting pregnant just by looking at a guy too hard. So, yeah, I guess I was expecting the power of marriage to bring forth a child the moment we said we wanted one.
It wasn't easy for me to hide my disappointment from Ray. He understood, gave me a huge and commented that our previous attempts were just warm-ups. Now we would get down to some serious baby making.
Ray can read me like a book, so there was just no way of hiding my nausea from him. We both talked about me taking another pregnancy test. I decided to wait until May 11th to take the test. Ray and I were both in the wedding party of our friends David and Elisa's wedding. We would be flying out to Missouri for the wedding the afternoon of May 11th. I figured if I took the test that morning and it came back negative, I would be too excited about the wedding to get bummed out.
On May 11th, the girls ( Wylie Cat and Wylie Kit ) work me up for their usual 6 am feeding. I took the pregnancy test and my jaws just dropped. Instantly two pink lines showed up! I kept staring at it, thinking the test must be faulty and that the second line would disappear any moment now. But it didn't. I was pregnant!
I had never really planned how I was going to tell Ray. Right now he was still asleep in bed. I quickly remembered a Winnie the Pooh rattle I had in my closet. It was suppose to be a gift for someone else I knew that was expecting. I quickly came up with a plan. I would take the rattle, lay it on my pillow and when Ray rolled over and opened his eyes he would see the rattle and my smiling face. It was a perfectly sweet idea!
I walked out of the bathroom and started rambling through my closet. Obviously I made a lot of noise because when I emerged from the closet, Ray was wide awake and staring right at me. He looked at me and asked if I took the pregnancy test yet. I was frozen stiff. I didn't know what to say or do. I tried to think of something to do, but my brain is only capable of coming up with one good idea before breakfast. So, with one last mental strain and Ray looking right at me, I did the first thing that popped into my mind. I tossed the rattle at Ray's head.
Didn't I just say I can only come up with one good idea before breakfast. No, it was not romantic or cute, but it did get the point across. Ray asked why I was throwing things at his head. He looked at the rattle, I jumped on the bed saying we were pregnant and then Ray responded in the most Rayish way possible. "Cool", he said. And then he rolled over and went back to sleep.
A couple of hours later we were both up and getting packed. Ray said it took his sister Corinna five to six different pregnancy test before she was sure she was pregnant, so we shouldn't trust the results of just one test. My hubby then went to the store to get another test and a few other items we needed for the trip. He came back, I took the test, he timed it for three minutes just like the instructions said and we waited. Three minutes later it was once again confirmed that I was pregnant.
We finished packing, had lunch and took the ferry over to the airport. We dealt with ticket changes, security checkpoints, finding our way through the maze that is SeaTac airport and finally making our way to the plane just as they were starting to board. And then sometime between Seattle and Denver where we would meet our connecting flight, while I was resting on Ray's arm it finally hit him - "We're pregnant".
I really didn't want to think I was pregnant because I though that way last month only to take the home pregnancy test and stare at that one little pink line for a long time before accepting the fact that the second pink line was never going to show. It was not that I was expecting to get pregnant so quickly, but 15 year old girls seem to be getting pregnant just by looking at a guy too hard. So, yeah, I guess I was expecting the power of marriage to bring forth a child the moment we said we wanted one.
It wasn't easy for me to hide my disappointment from Ray. He understood, gave me a huge and commented that our previous attempts were just warm-ups. Now we would get down to some serious baby making.
Ray can read me like a book, so there was just no way of hiding my nausea from him. We both talked about me taking another pregnancy test. I decided to wait until May 11th to take the test. Ray and I were both in the wedding party of our friends David and Elisa's wedding. We would be flying out to Missouri for the wedding the afternoon of May 11th. I figured if I took the test that morning and it came back negative, I would be too excited about the wedding to get bummed out.
On May 11th, the girls ( Wylie Cat and Wylie Kit ) work me up for their usual 6 am feeding. I took the pregnancy test and my jaws just dropped. Instantly two pink lines showed up! I kept staring at it, thinking the test must be faulty and that the second line would disappear any moment now. But it didn't. I was pregnant!
I had never really planned how I was going to tell Ray. Right now he was still asleep in bed. I quickly remembered a Winnie the Pooh rattle I had in my closet. It was suppose to be a gift for someone else I knew that was expecting. I quickly came up with a plan. I would take the rattle, lay it on my pillow and when Ray rolled over and opened his eyes he would see the rattle and my smiling face. It was a perfectly sweet idea!
I walked out of the bathroom and started rambling through my closet. Obviously I made a lot of noise because when I emerged from the closet, Ray was wide awake and staring right at me. He looked at me and asked if I took the pregnancy test yet. I was frozen stiff. I didn't know what to say or do. I tried to think of something to do, but my brain is only capable of coming up with one good idea before breakfast. So, with one last mental strain and Ray looking right at me, I did the first thing that popped into my mind. I tossed the rattle at Ray's head.
Didn't I just say I can only come up with one good idea before breakfast. No, it was not romantic or cute, but it did get the point across. Ray asked why I was throwing things at his head. He looked at the rattle, I jumped on the bed saying we were pregnant and then Ray responded in the most Rayish way possible. "Cool", he said. And then he rolled over and went back to sleep.
A couple of hours later we were both up and getting packed. Ray said it took his sister Corinna five to six different pregnancy test before she was sure she was pregnant, so we shouldn't trust the results of just one test. My hubby then went to the store to get another test and a few other items we needed for the trip. He came back, I took the test, he timed it for three minutes just like the instructions said and we waited. Three minutes later it was once again confirmed that I was pregnant.
We finished packing, had lunch and took the ferry over to the airport. We dealt with ticket changes, security checkpoints, finding our way through the maze that is SeaTac airport and finally making our way to the plane just as they were starting to board. And then sometime between Seattle and Denver where we would meet our connecting flight, while I was resting on Ray's arm it finally hit him - "We're pregnant".
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
In the Beginning...
This story takes place on an ordinary evening sometime in early March.
So, I'm sitting on the couch watching television while Ray is sort of tinkering around the house. It's late and I'm starting to crave some chocolate and maybe a small glass of dessert wine as a nightcap. I notice Ray walking into the kitchen and I hear the sound of drawers opening and closing. A few minutes later I hear him hammering something. This sound really doesn't bother me. Obviously he is trying to fix something.
However, curiosity got the best of me and I just had to find out what was so important that it required such late night hammering. To my amazement, Ray was not fixing anything, but breaking something. And that "something" was my birth control pills!
Laid out on the cutting board like a sacrific on an alter, Ray hammered away at my little yellow pill case. Specks of pills and chips of the plastic case were flying everywhere. The front of Ray's shirt was covered in pill dust. It was the most cute and slightly disturbing sight I had ever seen. Leave it to a theatre student to find the most dramatic way of telling his wife he is ready to start a family.
And of course I agreed with him. You just don't argue with a man holding a hammer and covered in birth control.
So, I'm sitting on the couch watching television while Ray is sort of tinkering around the house. It's late and I'm starting to crave some chocolate and maybe a small glass of dessert wine as a nightcap. I notice Ray walking into the kitchen and I hear the sound of drawers opening and closing. A few minutes later I hear him hammering something. This sound really doesn't bother me. Obviously he is trying to fix something.
However, curiosity got the best of me and I just had to find out what was so important that it required such late night hammering. To my amazement, Ray was not fixing anything, but breaking something. And that "something" was my birth control pills!
Laid out on the cutting board like a sacrific on an alter, Ray hammered away at my little yellow pill case. Specks of pills and chips of the plastic case were flying everywhere. The front of Ray's shirt was covered in pill dust. It was the most cute and slightly disturbing sight I had ever seen. Leave it to a theatre student to find the most dramatic way of telling his wife he is ready to start a family.
And of course I agreed with him. You just don't argue with a man holding a hammer and covered in birth control.
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