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!

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?

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.

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.

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.