Welcome to my Pity Party

Consider yourself warned...this is me, right in the middle of my very own full blown pity party. Read on, if you choose.

Today I hit what many consider a big pregnancy milestone, 24 weeks. That point in your pregnancy when, if, one did in fact have any trouble with their pregnancy, the baby is considered viable. Ahh, yes...viability. With my last pregnancy, we were thrilled to reach this milestone. That was, until 2 days later, our sweet baby Madison died.

Today is different. Although in the eyes of the medical world, yes, today my baby girl may be considered viable, but not to me. Nope. After spending 49 days in the NICU at CHOC with Abby, and seeing more than my share of 24 weekers clinging to life, under no uncertain terms, is having a 24 weeker acceptable. Not to me anyways.

There has been some anxiety for me these last few weeks, with the 24 week milestone approaching. Knowing that we breathed a huge sigh of relief when we hit it last time, and having our dreams of making it safely to this point completely ripped from us with the passing of Madison. With this pregnancy, I just wanted to get past this dreaded 24 week milestone unscathed. Safely. Without incident. Without hearing some sort of devastating news that could change the outcome of this pregnancy.

We have been really enjoying this pregnancy so far, especially it's lack of excitement. We go to the perinatologist every two weeks, looking forward each time to seeing a good cervical length measurement and a happy, healthy baby. And until this point, we have not been disappointed.

Until this point.

Now, let me remind you, in my very first post ever on this blog, I talked about my complicated pregnancy. I talked about our horrific diagnosis of Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. I talked about how the doctors told us our odds if we didn't address the TTTS...a 95% fetal mortality rate. Remember?

So, back to this pregnancy. This seemingly normal pregnancy that we have been enjoying so much. The one that would end in a big, strong, healthy baby girl whose Mommy and Daddy would actually get to witness being born (general anesthesia and an emergency c-section prevented this last time). The one that would end with our sweet baby coming home with us on the same day I am discharged. Yeah...let's get back to this one.

Per the usual routine, we hopped in the car and off we went to our regular 2 week checkup with the perinatologist. After a long wait we were called back and as usual, all was looking good. My cervix was still measuring over 3cm, so there really wasn't anything to worry about.

After a few minutes, the tech mentioned something about a little bit of previa going on. No biggie. I've heard of that. Placental Previa. I think that sometimes corrects itself, but if not...well, I am not delivering vaginally anyways, so really, this is not a big deal. To confirm, she wanted to call the doctor in. Again...we are used to this, so I am still not worried. Doctor comes in. He watches the screen as she shows him what she's looking at. They talk a little medical lingo, and then he decides to sit down next to me and have a look for himself.

The technician leaves the room.

Now I know we are in some trouble. This is just all too familiar to us.

So I could go into details about what went on for the next 30 minutes during this exam. But I won't bore you (any more than I already have). Let's just say there was a lot of silence, a lot of anxiety, and ultimately, yet another could-be-devastating diagnosis. One that once again, we were told, 'if left untreated or undiagnosed, your baby will die'.

Yesterday, I was diagnosed with Vasa Previa, caused by a bilobal placenta. I will let you educate yourself on Vasa Previa, if you so choose. At this point I am just exhaused. Exhausted from all of the research that I have been doing on the internet. I am exhausted from crying over the fact that once again, my baby could be in grave danger if we don't manage this appropriately. I am exhausted from crying over the fact that once again, I have been robbed of a "normal" pregnancy.

I am tired of thinking about the fact that there is now a possibility that we won't get to witness our baby being born, if in fact, a now more likely emergency arises. I am tired from thinking about the fact that, under no uncertain terms, I face hospital bedrest at 32 weeks (or earlier if my cervix shortens to 2cm or I have any kind of preterm labor). I am absolutely exhausted from trying to figure out how I can possibly survive weeks of being without my Abby while I am in the hospital. Not putting her to sleep at night. Not waking up with her in the morning. Not comforting her when she cries. Not playing with her and reading to her. Especially with her being too young to understand where Mommy is and why she has been gone for so long. Especially with the 'no visitors under 16' rule in place at the hospital due to H1N1. I am tired of thinking about that fact that now, we most certainly face some sort of NICU time.

Now don't get me wrong. I am happy that we are in good hands. I am happy that our doctors are so competent and really, as far as I am concerned, the very best in the business. I am happy that this has been diagnosed and can be managed.

Yes, for these things I am and will continue to be happy and thankful.

But today?

Today, I am tired.

Today, I am puffy-eyed.

Today, I am in the middle of a pity party.