June 15 - 31 weeks 5 days

First day of holidays. What a place to be. I didn't sleep much last night. Could have been the two IV lines inserted uncomfortably, one in the back of my hand, one just above my wrist in my arm. Or it could have been the compression stalkings hiked up to my inner thighs, or my face swelling swelling swelling and making me breathe out my mouth instead of my nose. Or maybe it was the blood pressure cuff inflating automatically every 15 minutes, or the taking of my vital signs every hour. Or perhaps it was the screams of women delivering normal healthy full term babies echoing through the halls keeping me awake. Ok, no fooling it was really the thought of delivering a two or three pound baby that might not be able to breathe on it's own that kept me from sleep.

David solidly asleep on the pull out chair beside me made me feel better. It's hard not to think back two years to when he was in the hospital bed and I was the one sleeping on the pull out chair. At 4 am I got up and David jolted awake beside me. It's so nice not to be alone. I did miss Leuk snoring beside me in his usual spot - his body sprawled across is huge Costco dog bed, his head always missing the bed and coming to rest of the hardwood and hidden carefully under the bed, as if this made him invisible to the world, the hiding of his head. If only it was that easy.

The doctor stopped by in the morning, my blood counts had stabilized, my blood pressure slightly lower most likely due in part to the blood pressure mediation they gave me last night, and also probably due to being trapped in a dark room with no stimulation and not being allowed to move.

My face already a bit smaller.

She explained that she thought we could wait another 24 hours before inducing labour, as long as things stayed the same. I apparently passed the induction test the night before where they pump my up with some petocin or something and wait for contractions to start. They kept asking me if I felt anything, needing 10 good contractions to call the test a success. The nurse seemed to be able to pick up these so called contractions on the monitor - I overheard them say they doubled the dose - but really, in my opinion and I didn't feel a thing. My body has no intention of going into labour - even with medication. That's what I think. Anyway apparently baby's heartbeat was unfazed by the contraction test, which means the doctor thinks he/she will tolerate a 'regular' delivery.

So another 24 hours means I get another shot of steroids which will help the baby's lungs develop. I guess this is all I can ask for right now.

Tammy and Don came by this morning. I feel like crap but was happy to see them. Mom and Dad were geared and ready to come down to but I sent Tammy home with the message. There would be no baby today.

June 13 - 31 weeks 4 days

I am trapped in a room. It's 8:30 pm. The walls are painted pink, the furniture blue, yet the room feels far from cheery. The paint seems old and greying. There are no windows, the only source of light a dim fluorescent in the corner. It seems like it should flicker but it doesn't. The air is recycled, stale and too warm. I feel greasy and uncomfortable. A monitor encircles my stomach, around my back. A heartbeat echos through the room, not mine, but my baby's. The monitor registers it strong and unwavering. My clothes have been exchanged for a hospital gown, making me look like I should be sicker than I feel. A scratchy over-bleached hospital blanket covers my legs. A swollen ankle and foot protrude at the end of the slightly too short bed. I look down and wonder if that foot can really be mine. I flex my ankle and my toes but they hardly move. The swelling is getting worse. My skin seems stretched to the breaking point and I've started to lose feeling in my feet, my nerves collapsing  under the pressure of the fluid building up in my body. My parents are there. We wait for David. He's crawling through Vancouver traffic, truck loaded with everything he could pack in 15 minutes. The dog and the cat included. He's hoping to make it here before his baby is born.

Four hours ago I was in a helicopter, being airlifted from Nanaimo General Hospital to Royal Columbian. As we soared across Georgia Straight towards the mainland, the helicopter flying what seemed to be mere meters above the ocean's surface, the pilots searching for orcas. 

This all happened fast. Yesterday morning I woke up feeling pretty rough. Hard to explain exactly, just an overwhelming feeling of something wrong. I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom two steps away. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror as I passed by on the way to the shower, thought 'oh shit', did an about face and carefully lowered myself back into bed. I layed there quietly for a few minutes then pulled myself back up and headed for the shower. Hoping, hoping, hoping that showers make everything better.

My feet pounded as the blood rushed down into them as I stood. I shifted my weight from one to the other and back again wondering how my feet could still be so swollen after a full nights sleep. I cut my shower short, wrapped a big towel around myself and returned to the bedroom where I sat perched on the edge of the bed. I began to sob. The tears flowing freely down my face, bent forward, my head near my knees, shuddering and heaving with each sob. Even though pregnant, this outburst was unusual. David rolled slowly out of a deep sleep. "What's going on?" "My face" I reply. My tongue seemed to big for my mouth, the words came out in a muffle. "I think some thing's wrong". David looks at my face in shock, "Whoa, emergency?" "I'm not sure" I reply.

I layed down in bed for while. Told David I was feeling better, decided to go to work. I felt horrible, but figured it would get better as the day progressed. I hadn't been feeling well in the morning throughout most of my pregnancy anyway, so figured it just must be getting worse as I approached my due date - still a painfully long two months away.

By the time I got to work I didn't feel any better. I dragged my swollen legs down the hall and tried to put on a smile. As people commented on my face and asked me if I was okay an eerie feeling came over me. I shuddered at the thought - I wasn't going to be able to make it two more months if I felt like this everyday. Everyone seemed nonchalant about it though, I got a bunch of similar comments along the lines of "Swelling is normal in pregnancy", "It happens to all of us"... I kept smiling but inside I couldn't shake the feeling that this was more that typical pregnancy swelling.

I called the medical clinic to see if I could see a doctor. The receptionist kindly advised me that there were no more same-day appointments available. That's ok I thought, I'll be fine till tomorrow. And as I left work that afternoon I couldn't help but notice the smell of burning toast in the air, wondering if it was in my head, or if someone really had burnt toast in the lunchroom nearby. Suddenly I couldn't get the word pre-eclasmpsia out of my head and I promised myself that tomorrow at work I would finish cleaning off my desk, just in case the doctor decided to put me on bedrest.

I knew there was an afternoon emergency medical clinic but I opted to skip it telling myself that if I started to complain now, the last two months would last forever. I'd feel better when I got home. And I did. I layed on the couch and David told me to stay there. He made dinner. The evening was uneventful.

I went to bed. Fell asleep immediately. I woke up at 4 am, not with the usual urge to pee. Instead it felt like my dinner was sitting somewhere near my heart. I gasped for a few breaths, drank a glass of water and went back to bed. At 6 I woke up again. This time I was really awake. An intense pain in my upper abdomen stabbing me with every breath. Thinking I just slept weird I got up and headed toward the kitchen. The pain got worse. I was now clutching at my ribs. Holding them in to try and stop the pain. I paced back and forth. Living room-kitchen-hallway waiting for the pain to subside. I lasted about 4 minutes before waking up David. "I think we have to go to the hospital." "What, why? What's going on?" I have this pain. David sits up in bed. "Your face is swollen again too". "And my feet" I say, "I think they are going to explode". I take my blood pressure on the monitor we borrowed only a day before. It's high. Too high. David starts asking me questions as I pace back to the kitchen... "Do you have this ____, what about this ____". I turn and return to the bedroom, he's on his iPhone googling symptoms. I answer yes to all of his inquiries.  I repeat, "I think we have to go to the hospital" as I lie back down in bed. David says "Now?". "I'm not sure" I say, "I have this meeting. Maybe I could go to the doctor in a few hours". I know that David has meetings too. I look at the clock. It shines 6:11. I'm not going to make it to 8:30 when the clinic opens. "Let me think" I say. I call the nurse line - 811. I answer yes to all their questions as well, except for the one that asks "Can you feel a head or a foot protruding from your vagina?" I laughed and for a second forgot about the pain. "Oh," she says, "I have to ask that one, I didn't mean to alarm you". "Well," I reply, "I'm pretty sure if I felt a foot that would have been my first complaint". She stifled a giggle.

And this was the nurse's recommendation. Very professionally delivered. "Please proceed to the nearest emergency room in the next 30 to 45 minutes." "Hmmm, that's what I thought I replied."

I got off the phone and kiddingly told David that we should have listened to everyone that told us to have our hospital bag waiting by the door. "Let's go to the hospital" I said. "Now?" "Yep. Now." "Except," I said, "you can have a shower first, I'm not going to die in the next 10 minutes". So David showered, then we dropped a bag in the middle of the floor of the bedroom and proceeded to take turns throwing things into it. Toothbrush, flip flops, a book. "We don't need much" I say. "You can come home and get stuff for me if you have to but I'm pretty sure they'll just put me on bedrest or something, we'll probably only be there for an hour. You'll probably still make you meetings."

Or not. Fast forward to the hospital. I was seen immediately, bloodwork was ordered, baby heartbeat monitor was strapped across my stomach. I fought fought fought the urge to vomit and lost the battle. As we waited for the bloodwork results the nurse gave David the ok to escape across the street to get the last of his post-transplant vaccines. And of course, as soon as David left, a doctor appeared. He was the prenatal specialist in Nanaimo. And I didn't even have time to think about what that meant before he approached my bed, looked me straight in the eye, sat down beside me and grabbed my hand. My instinct was to pull back, the thought of a stranger holding my hand seemed far from comforting. I didn't have a choice though, he had a good grip. I felt the blood rush out of my face. 'Shit,' I thought, 'this is going to be bad news'.

And so he started. "There are three things that can happen when you have high blood pressure and are pregnant."

1) Pregnancy induced hypertension (PIH) - since your blood pressure was normal for the initial part of your pregnancy and is high now, I am confident that you have that.
2) Pre-eclampsia - looking at the swelling in your feet, legs and face, combined with a blood pressure reading that is elevated above a 'safe' level, I am confident you have that.
3) HELLP - Your blood results indicate your liver enzymes are elevated and your platelets are low. So, unfortunately you have that too."

And then he asked again the due date. "August 12, yes, I am sure". He was quick with his response. "So that means we have to get you to a higher trauma level facility. If you were 32 weeks I would deliver you now, but you are 31 weeks 4 days, and we can't take the risk here."

Today, what you crazy? I though to myself. He must have picked up on my disbelief. He explained that the placenta was triggering an immune response in my body. My body was filling up with toxins and my kidneys and liver couldn't keep up anymore. My pregnancy was killing me. I took a deep breath, I fought back the tears, and asked. "What if I say no?" "Then you and your baby will die." One more deep breath. And the question I was most scared to ask, "If I deliver today, you will save me, but will the baby die?" His answer, reassuring. He quoted a 95% survival rate. I couldn't help but think for  a second that with our luck we would be that 5%. I swallowed that fear. "Ok then. Where am I going?"

And so the next hour was whirlwind. A shot of steroids to help the baby's lungs develop. David home to pack. A phone call to my parents. A second IV. A drug called magnesium sulphate. A helicopter ride. A pink and blue hospital room.



Holy moley - I had no idea my face was that big!



Last minutes

I think this is really well done. I cried though.

Thanks to everyone that loves their dog enough to show it.

Dancing dog

Leuk has a long way to go...
He would look pretty in a skirt though.

Sunday photo

Helleborus aka Lenten Rose

We saw the sun today. And ripped appart the kitchen. Or further ripped apart the kitchen anyway. We now have a fridge in the dining room, food in tupperware boxes scattered throughout the house and cupboards outside under tarps. If all goes well, we'll install our new tile floor next week. So much for a weekend of relaxation. But having a functional kitchen sounds pretty nice. I think we pulled the wall down and started the kitchen reno over a year ago... so it's about time. It only took us about 5 months to choose the tile, so it seems a bit crazy to think that we can actually install the tile in a few days. We'll see.

Making a bit of progress on the cherry blossoms. I found one that had 'hatched' I think our tree is struggling. David thinks it's just hidden from the morning sun. He's the tree expert...

Surf, spring and Leuk's crow friend



David catches a friendly wave.



My stomach stretches. And my feet disappear.



Leuk's beach buddy. The crow seemed to enjoy the game of chase.



Waiting for spring. Patience.



Sunday photo

Sunday pictures

A few pictures this Sunday. Since I seemed to have missed posting Sunday photos for a few weeks - ok, months. So, we've been trying to get out to enjoy the sun - it's been so rare it seems wrong to let it pass by unnoticed. It was really cold a few weeks ago but we decided to head to the beach anyway. We somehow managed to keep Leuk out of the water - which is almost impossible - he seems to sense the end of the walk and mysteriously disappears in search of the biggest deepest and muddiest puddle. Anyway at the end of this walk we strategically attached his leash and just as we were headed to the truck David realized there were no pictures with me in them so Leuk and I posed. But the allure of the long grass was too much for Leuk and he chose picture time to roll in the grass like a madman. It made me laugh though. This was the best shot of Leuk and I together. The one of David and Leuk I love because it's sunny and we're at the beach.

 

Leuk snoozing on his chair. I still can't believe he gets a chair. And it has the best view in the house.

    

Leuk checking his facebook. For real. I walked into the living room and found him like this - the screen is even really open to his facebook page too. This dog obviously has some talents he is keeping hidden



Hunt mode.

Mins lately has taken a new interest in an old game. Cap. He chases a bottle cap around the house. When it gets into a spot he doesn't want it to be he picks it up in his mouth and carries it back to the place he does want it to be. Of course he's way to cool to actually be seen playing this ridiculous game with a bottle cap, so we mostly just hear the cap flying around, catch a glimpse of him prancing back with it in his mouth, then when we enter the room he looks at us like... what you looking at? Kinda the look he has in the photo actually.


 

What cap? I wasn't playing with a cap.



Mins and Leuk - I knew they loved each other - caught on camera

 

And finally the game of cat and dog continues. I think they actually quite like each other and I hope to get a video of Leuk pretending to attack the cat, like a cat, soon. 

In other news... David is doing better. He even got out of bed for a bit yesterday. We're both crossing our fingers that the doctors caught the pneumonia in time and put him on the right medication. He says we'll be going on walks again soon. I again lost my breakfast to toilet - but that's ok. I'm used to it now and am giving up hope that the nasuea will actually go away.   



Silent walks

I found a penny yesterday outside the coffee shop where I stop on special mornings for a good coffee and a cheese scone, or sometimes a muffin. I picked it up of course, thinking to myself, “Interesting, I haven’t found a penny in so long. I wonder why now?” That thought overshadowed by a sense of foreboding, because you see, I found a penny the day before yesterday as well, embedded in the gravel of my own driveway. I must have walked over it a thousand times. But the day before yesterday I saw it clear as day, and it begged to be picked up. So I picked that one up too. Two pennies in two days. Very unusual. I tried to convince myself there was just a lot of good luck headed my way, but I worried more that I would need that luck.

And so last night I lay awake watching the minutes tick by in the green glow of the bedside alarm clock thinking about those pennies. Thinking about how much good fortune we've had and how thankful I am for everything. Listening carefully to the laboured breathing of David, beside me. Resisting the urge to leave and go to another room to sleep to avoid the horrible sound of his lungs crackling and popping and his frequent cries into the silence of the night. In pain, or in fear I’m not sure. I decided not to disturb him to find out, because he was sleeping, and sleep is good, I think. I tossed and turned for hours, often spending time laying on my back my hand placed lightly on my stomach feeling the little bump bumps of the tiny life inside me. The life David and I saw hours earlier on the ultrasound screen. In the midst of doctors calling and prescriptions and chest x-rays for David – our 20 week ultrasound. I’m pregnant. It’s real. And last night, the first night that I didn’t worry about that tiny life.

As you may guess, David is struggling. Yesterday he went to the doctor with a horrible cough, shortness of breath and crackling lungs and now he is being treated for pneumonia. We’re both scared. Actually I’m terrified – but I’m not sure I have time to be. I’ve quickly transitioned back into caregiver and I have a feeling that the harder I try to keep things in order the less grip I have on life. Like building a sand castle with dry sand. The more I try to squeeze the sand in my palm to mould it into a castle, a home, a life the more it slips through my fingers. Right now I just miss my best friend. I want him to be better. I want him to smile. I want to go for a walk in the forest after work with him and Leuk. Meandering slowly through the trees, sometimes not even talking. Stopping to look at the moss or the leaves of a plant, just enjoying each other’s silent company and the fresh air. I want to see him attached to the computer staring at his research graphs for hours. I want him to be able to walk without running out of breath. I want him to be normal. I want to see him without suffering.

When I woke up late for work this morning, I pulled both pennies out from my pockets of the jeans laying askew on the floor and placed them in the bathroom on the shelf. I’m waiting for the luck to arrive anytime now.

What, it's a new year?

So I admit, I pushed ‘pause’ on life a few months ago. Woke up briefly for Christmas, then back into hibernation. I’ve decided it’s time to participate again. After all, the days are getting longer, I have a new camera that I should actually use, and honestly, I’m getting sick of watching TV. Well maybe not totally sick of TV, cause that’s impossible.

So what’s new in two months?

The house is still standing, my participation in renos at a standstill. The yard looking just about as yucky as it can, just before spring, like that hour before dawn that seems the darkest and the longest.

David’s doing well these days, apart from some compression fractures in his knees due to the long term effects of being on prednisone. His graft-vs-host has decided to be a little more present these days and his mouth is raw with ulcers again. These small things we live with, because they are small. I consider them annoyances – like I can’t cook spicy food cause it burns too much and I have to watch David limp around. We passed the two year mark of David entering the hospital, and I didn’t even notice. That’s a good thing.

Leuk on the other hand has not been in hibernation. He doesn’t really get why there are less walks in the winter so instead of contemplating he’s gone to work on the back yard. His most recent accomplishment: a well formed tunnel leading under the deck. Doesn’t seem like such a big deal except the previous owners of the house used the back yard as their garbage can and there are many treasures to be found and eaten by a bored dog. He’s also destroyed his warm fluffy cedar infused dog bed. Ate all the fluff, that’s not good. He’s also still working on his den under the cedar trees and the ‘Leuk potholes’ are looking more like trenches. He’s so excited when we get home that he’s taken to luring us outside to show us his accomplishments of the day. Then once he’s found what he wants to show us he bounces. Pretty funny. It’s hard to get mad at a bouncing dog, but he did get in big trouble last week when he tore all the patio lights off and chewed them to pieces.

Anyway, life is happy. And that’s all I can ask for at the beginning of a new year.