Tag: Parenthood

A Missed Diagnosis Could Have Cost Me My Life

A Missed Diagnosis Could Have Cost Me My Life

by jell ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month and today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss and some women experience it multiple times. It’s so common, but it seems like there is some sort of stigma surrounding pregnancy loss that prevents women from talking about their experiences. What is it that makes us keep this to ourselves? Are we embarrassed? Are we ashamed? Is it too traumatic to talk about? I don’t have the answer to why women don’t talk about their experiences with pregnancy loss more and I’m sure the answer is different for every woman. For me, the answer is that I was traumatized and I got angry every time I told my story. Pregnancy loss is a very personal and sensitive subject but it’s so important to talk about it because women need to know that they’re not alone. It’s important to tell our stories because we never know who may be able to relate and we never know who we may inspire. So, I am 1 in 4 and I’m going to tell my story!

After I had Rhyan, I had an IUD placed because I didn’t want to worry about getting pregnant again for a LONG time! I’m talking like not ever! It was the non hormonal IUD because I had migraine issues with hormonal birth control in the past. The copper IUD, Paragard, is supposed to provide pregnancy protection for up to 10 years. However, as with all birth control, an IUD isn’t 100% effective. I know several women who have gotten pregnant with an IUD in place and went on to have a healthy, normal pregnancy. On the other hand, pregnancies that occur with an IUD in place are more likely to be ectopic, which means they occur outside of the uterus. Without proper treatment, an ectopic pregnancy, especially one that occurs in the Fallopian tube, can rupture and cause life threatening bleeding.

On January 1, 2019, I started what I thought was my period. Now, my body has always been very regular, and once I got my IUD placed my periods were always the same. They usually lasted about 5 days and cramps would go away by day 2. By January 10th, I was still having some bleeding and cramping. I started to get concerned because that was definitely abnormal for me, but I also knew that birth control could make your body do some weird things so I wasn’t to the point of panic just yet. I wanted to make a doctor’s appointment to get checked out just in case. The OB/GYN that I had been seeing since before I was pregnant with Rhyan had moved away and I hadn’t established care with a new doctor yet which made getting an appointment kind of tough. Doctors at the hospital where I worked and wanted to establish care, didn’t have appointments available until March. I tried to make an appointment with a doctor I had seen once in the past but she didn’t have any appointments until February. But, the schedulers asked me if I needed to be seen that day and I said yes so they were able to fit me in with someone else in the office.

I got to the doctor’s office, registered, gave my urine sample and waited almost an hour before I saw the doctor. She came in, we reviewed my symptoms and she gave me a list of all the things that could be causing this extra long, extra crampy period. It could because of the IUD or it could be an indication of endometriosis or maybe I was starting to have thyroid issues. Then she said “Could you be pregnant?” In my head, I said “Well I provided you with a urine sample for a pregnancy test, you tell me.” Out loud, I said “Well, I have the IUD so I wouldn’t think so. But I guess anything is possible.” She said “Well let me go look at your urine because if you’re pregnant, that changes the whole conversation.” Again, I provided the urine sample. Shouldn’t the results have been checked prior to the beginning of this conversation? Whatever. She left and came back to tell me “Your pregnancy test is negative, so we don’t have to worry about that.” But obviously, something was wrong. So she ordered some lab work and sent me on my way.

The next morning, I got a notification that my lab results were available on the online patient portal. I checked the results of my blood work and something told me to open the pregnancy test results, so I did. And right there, in big bold print, was the word POSITIVE. Then, I was at the point of panic. I was trying to rationalize and I started thinking that maybe they accidentally posted someone else’s lab results to my profile. That happens, right? I hauled ass to Walmart and got a 3-pack of pregnancy tests. I got back home and took all three. One by one, they all came back. Positive. Positive. Positive. By then, I was panicking while simultaneously being filled with rage at the thought of that doctor telling me that my pregnancy test was negative so we “don’t have to worry about that.” I called the doctor’s office to explain the situation and basically let them know that I needed to be seen again that day so this could be sorted out. They asked me to go to the lab first to get an HCG level drawn before going to the office.

The doctor that I had seen the day before wasn’t in the office (how convenient), so I saw a Nurse Practitioner. She apologized for what had happened and said it was because whoever read the test didn’t read it correctly and my results were really faint. Then she said “There could be several things going on. Your HCG level is only 38, which is VERY low. So, it could be that you’re having a miscarriage and this is the very end of it and your HCG level is still dropping. Or, it could be that you’re having an ectopic pregnancy where the HCG levels wouldn’t behave as expected.” I had a full blown meltdown and tears were falling down my face because I knew that the risk of an ectopic pregnancy was higher with an IUD in place.” They took my IUD out, sent me to get an ultrasound and told me to come back the next Monday to get another HCG level drawn to see if it would increase or decrease over the weekend. After the ultrasound was done, I was told that I could go home and that someone would call me with the results.

Not even an hour later, I was picking Rhyan up from school and my phone rang. It was the Nurse Practitioner I had seen earlier calling to tell me that I needed to go back to the hospital immediately. The ultrasound showed an ectopic pregnancy on the right side and I may need emergency surgery. I left Rhyan at school and called my mom to pick her up and then I called my boyfriend to tell him to meet me at the hospital. When we got to the emergency room, they started an IV on me, drew labs and then we were just waiting for someone to come and tell us what the plan was. Eventually, an OB/GYN came in to talk to us. But she gave us a very different story than we were expecting. Apparently, my ultrasound that “showed” an ectopic pregnancy wasn’t convincing enough to the OB/GYN team, so they weren’t comfortable doing surgery or giving me the medication that they normally would to treat an ectopic. Maybe it was ectopic, maybe it was a miscarriage, or maybe I was in the very very early stages of pregnancy, they weren’t sure. So for the second time that day, I was sent home with a plan to return the next Monday to get another HCG level drawn.

I went home and spent the weekend in shambles. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Was I pregnant? Was I having a miscarriage? Was it an ectopic pregnancy? None of these were good options. I didn’t want to have another baby which is why I got the IUD in the first place. But if I was pregnant, obviously I wanted it to be a “healthy” pregnancy. I found out I was pregnant and found out something was wrong with my “baby” all in the same day. Did this even count as a pregnancy? Did this count as a loss? Would people judge me for being said because I wasn’t “really” pregnant? There were so many thoughts running through my head. And I couldn’t fully process it because I didn’t even know what *it* was.

I went back that Monday to get another HCG level drawn and that one was pretty inconclusive as well. The level didn’t rise the way it should in a “normal” pregnancy. All that told us was that *something* was wrong but we still didn’t know what that something was. I was told that I should make a follow up appointment with the doctor on Wednesday to discuss options and get another level drawn. But I had already made up my mind that there was no way in hell I was going back to the doctor who told me I wasn’t pregnant. Because I had a positive pregnancy test, I was now considered a new obstetrical patient which made it a LOT easier to get an appointment. I was able to get an appointment with a different doctor at a different hospital two days later.

At that appointment, my pregnancy test was actually negative (I requested to see the results myself). By then, I had stopped bleeding and cramping so the doctor determined that it was likely a miscarriage and that it was finally over. I was to get blood work done every couple of days until my HCG level was low enough that I could be started on birth control again. After getting labs drawn several times, my HCG level WOULD. NOT. DROP. My doctor decided to do another ultrasound but wasn’t able to find anything. He told me that he was concerned because my HCG level wasn’t dropping the way it should and nothing was visible on ultrasound but there was clearly something wrong. He recommended that I have exploratory surgery THE NEXT MORNING! Talk about a whirlwind.

So finally, on February 7, after over a month of confusion, the mystery was solved. It was an ectopic pregnancy after all. It was in the left Fallopian tube, not the right like I was originally told. Thinking back on it now, I remember being woken up out of my sleep one night with such an intense pain on the left side of my abdomen. It didn’t last very long so I didn’t think much of it, especially because in the beginning I was told that the issue was on the right side. But that intense pain that I was felt in the middle of the night was because my Fallopian tube had opened a little and blood was leaking into my abdomen. My Fallopian tube was damaged and had to be tied off. It was a very quick surgery, I recovered and went home the same day. That was it. I had my answer. But I still didn’t know how to feel. I still didn’t know how to process it. I felt like everything happened so quickly and so slowly all at the same time. But it was finally over and I was left with “where do I go from here?”

I felt like I didn’t get the opportunity to grieve the way I really needed to. Life went on as normal. I still had to be a mom and take care of my child. I was hiding my emotions from her because I didn’t want her to see how upset I was. I still had to go to work and handle business there. From the outside looking in, you never would have known what I had been dealing with for the past month. But that’s usually how it is for women. We don’t get the time to stop and process and grieve. The world is still moving around us. There is still work to be done, people to be taken care of, groceries to be made, meals to be cooked, and all the other things we do as women and mothers. We don’t get a break.

But we deserve the space to be able to process our emotions. We deserve the opportunity to cry and scream and punch a pillow if we need to. We deserve the space to tell our stories because we deserve to heal. And we can’t heal if we keep all of our pain bottled up inside. Even though we handled and processed this situation in completely different ways, I’m so thankful that my boyfriend gave me the space to cry and sulk when I needed to. Eventually, I was able to move on. I got to the point where I wasn’t sad every time I thought about it. I still get chills when I think about the fact that I literally felt my tube open up. I still think about how much worse it could have been and how blessed I am that it didn’t rupture completely because it’s very likely that I wouldn’t have made it to the hospital in time with my daughter in the middle of the night. But I am *still* not to the point where I don’t get just a little angry when I think about how everything transpired in the beginning.

I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to feel whatever emotion you feel when this happens. You get to be angry, sad, depressed, confused, hurt and lost. But you should NOT feel ashamed, embarrassed or guilty. The bottom line is pregnancy loss is not something to be ashamed of, it’s not something to be embarrassed about, it’s not something to blame yourself for. We should feel empowered to talk about it. Look how common it is. 1 in 4 women experience this. 1 in 4. You never know who you may help or inspire by sharing your journey!

Blessings.

Our Children Deserve to Be Heard

Our Children Deserve to Be Heard

by jell ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A few years ago, I decided to surprise Rhyan with a new bedroom for Christmas. Our guest room was a little bigger than the room she was in and it was right across the hall from my room. I got my uncle to paint it pink and purple, Rhyan’s two favorite colors. I moved her bed and dresser. I set up her bookshelves and added her snow globe collection to them. It looked like such a big girl room compared to the pink and brown polka dot room she had been in since she was a baby. On Christmas morning, after she opened all of her gifts from Santa, I told her that mommy had a surprise for her. She held her eyes closed as she walked down the hall to her “new room”. When she saw it, she was so excited. She loved the colors and her bookshelves and her snow globe collection. She loved it!

Looking back now, I realize that that was the beginning of our bedtime problems. Sleeping in her new room started off pretty good. We had a little bedtime routine and everything went pretty smoothly. Eventually though, Rhyan found her way into my bed. At first, it was just one night a week and it seemed like we just worked our way up slowly until we got to the point where she was sleeping in my bed every night when I wasn’t at work. Over the summer, she did better with sleeping in her own bed because she was able to watch TV until her sleep timer went off. But as that summer went on, she eventually found her way back into my bed again. Kindergarten was approaching and mama was getting grumpy. On one hand, I loved the fact that she wanted to sleep in my bed. I loved the fact that she wanted to be close to me. I told myself “enjoy this time while it lasts because eventually, she won’t want anything to do with you.” But I couldn’t help but to also acknowledge the part of me that didn’t really like sleeping with her. As most children do, Rhyan sleeps WILD! I would spend the whole night getting kicked in the back and elbowed in the head. I was never able to get a good night’s sleep and it was starting to wear on me. So, as the school year got closer, I told her that she wouldn’t be able to start kindergarten if she was still sleeping in my bed. That worked, kind of. Slowly but surely, she moved back into her bed. She was still watching TV in bed and I had the sleep timer set. But every night after the timer went off, she would start crying. I had to lay with her until she fell asleep. But hey, at least she was sleeping in her bed! To me, that was progress. Then, quarantine started. As soon as school ended abruptly, I started to see the little progress that we had made slowly slip away. Eventually, I was either rocking her to sleep in her own bed or I was getting kicked in the back all night again because she was back in my bed.

One night about a month ago, we had a breakthrough. In the middle of a bedtime meltdown, she had the option of sleeping in our guest room, which was her “old room”. And it was in the guest bed that we had an enlightening conversation.

  • Me: Do you want to sleep in the guest room for tonight?
  • Rhyan: Yes. I love that room It has all the stuff in there from when I was a baby and it reminds me of when I was a baby. I miss all that stuff.
  • Me: You miss that room? Is that why you don’t like sleeping in the other room? Because you miss this room?
  • R: Yes! I want to sleep in this room because I love this room.
  • Me: So if we make this your room again, you would be able to sleep by yourself?
  • R: Yes. Definitely!!

So that night, she slept in the guest room and she fell asleep without a single tear drop falling. The next morning when she woke up, she said she slept GREAT! Later that afternoon, she asked if she could sleep in the guest room again. I said yes and once again, she fell asleep without any tears. After the second day in a row, I was convinced that I had solved our entire bedtime issue! No tears two nights in a row may not seem like a big deal to some. But when there are tears literally every night, two nights of peacefully falling asleep is a huge deal. We had another conversation and she said she would love to move back into her old room because she loved sleeping in there. I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself and start moving furniture until I knew for sure. So, I started small. I moved her comforter and a couple of her stuffed animals and decided to give it a trial run for a week before I moved everything. When it was bedtime, we started our new bedtime routine and then she was off to sleep with dry eyes every single night! A week was enough to convince me that she definitely wanted to stay in her “old room”. She decided that she liked the furniture that was in there, so I didn’t even have to move anything around. I’m happy to say that she’s been sleeping in the bed by herself and falling asleep on her own with dry eyes every night since!

Once I started thinking about it, I realized that I never asked her if she wanted to switch rooms. I just packed up all her stuff and made the decision for her. In my 6 1/2 years of doing this parenting thing, I’ve realized how important it is to listen to your kids and validate their opinions. When I was coming up (I know I sound really old right now), and in the many many generations that came before me, children weren’t really allowed to have an opinion on what they wanted. You did what your parents said because they were the parent and you were the child. Giving your kid options was a slim chance. But as I think about this situation, I realize how important it is to allow your children to have *some* input on decisions that will impact them, no matter how small the impact may be. Give them options when possible. They have opinions that deserve to be heard. Switching rooms seems like no big deal, but clearly it was for her and she just never knew how to express that to me in words. Instead, she expressed it every night by having a meltdown at bedtime because she didn’t want to sleep in that new room.

As a parent, I pride myself on the fact that I acknowledge and validate Rhyan’s feelings, especially when she’s angry or sad about something. Bedtime is certainly not the only time we’ve had issues. My girl can throw a fit unlike anyone I’ve ever seen before (except me when I was a child). Over the past several years, there has been a big emphasis on the social/emotional needs of children. With that, we’ve learned that a lot of times, meltdowns happen because they’re feeling an emotion that they don’t know how to express with words, not because they’re “bad”. It’s our job as parents to validate all of those emotions while helping our kids navigate them and learn how to express them in an appropriate way. I am no where near perfect at this. It can be absolutely frustrating when she’s acting a fool for no reason and there have been plenty of times when I’ve lost my cool in the process. But over time, I’ve learned that it’s impossible to reason with her when she’s in the middle of a meltdown. I do my best to remember that and I send her to her room for quiet time and tell her that she can come out when she’s feeling better. She always re-emerges bright eyed and bushy tailed like nothing ever happened. I take that opportunity to talk to her about the way she was behaving and I tell her that even though it’s okay to be angry or sad or whatever emotion she’s feeling, it’s not okay to behave inappropriately nor is it okay to lash out at others because of how we’re feeling.

Too many times, I hear the phrase “big girls don’t cry” and I literally HATE that shit! It’s one of the biggest lies ever told. Big girls do cry. Hell, I cry all the time and I know I’m not the only one! I also hate when people say “boys don’t cry.” Why are we okay with teaching our kids that they need to suppress their emotions? I know I’m not! Cry if you need to. Get that shit out. We all need a good cry sometimes. Why do we fuss at our kids for being sad, angry, frustrated? Why do we expect them to be emotionless robots meanwhile we allow ourselves to feel all the feels? Why are grown ups allowed to have an attitude because they’re having a bad day, but kids get reprimanded for daring to have that same attitude? They aren’t allowed to have a bad day. Why are we allowed to talk to our kids any kind of way but they better not talk to us that same way? “It’s about respect and kids need to respect adults.” Well, that’s true. But what’s more true is that respect is earned and we all need to respect each other. Children are people with feelings and they deserve respect as well. And they deserve the same grace we give ourselves when we’re an emotional wreck.

Again, I’m far from perfect. I’ve yelled, I’ve screamed, I’ve lost my temper, I’ve cried, I’ve spanked when I felt like nothing else was working. But I always apologize. I acknowledge when I fail, I apologize when I hurt her feelings and I always vow to do better. The way we speak to our children will eventually become their inner voice. So I always think about what I want her to hear. How do I want her to talk to herself? I want Rhyan to speak to herself with love and respect, so that is how I choose to speak to her.

Celebrate Your Village

Celebrate Your Village

by jell ♥ 4 Comments

So apparently, Grandparents’ Day was this past weekend and I missed it. But, I’m a firm believer that any time is a good time to celebrate your people! I never really thought much about the phrase “It takes a village to raise a child” until I became a parent myself. I know people who are out here raising their kids alone with no “village” to help them for various reasons and I truly don’t know how they do it. I feel so fortunate to have grown up with my grandparents (and a great-grandma) and that my daughter has all of her grandparents and had the privilege of getting some time with TWO great-grandmas!

I have such fond memories of my childhood with my grandparents. My dad’s parents would pick me up from school sometimes and I would stay there until my parents got off work. My Granny would fix my favorite meal, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese with fried hot dog weiners (yes, it was amazing; no, I don’t need your judgement). She would follow it up with some butter cookies, the kind with the hole in the middle that I could put on my finger like a ring. One cookie for each year of my age dipped in a nice cup of cold milk until it was just a little soggy was all my little heart desired! I would sit on my grandfather’s lap and read with him. We would sit in his leather recliner that had a faded mark at the top where he would rest his head all the time. Time with my maternal grandparents was just as amazing. My grandma made the best banana pancakes for breakfast and the best tuna sandwiches for lunch! There was never a shortage of company because I always had a group of cousins over there to play with. We would play school, Jerry Springer and Ricky Lake (again, I don’t need your judgement). We would play card games and gamble for candy because my grandma would NEVER let us play for actual money. When it was raining outside, we weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in the dark and be quiet. No TV, no phone, no lights. Sound familiar? (I swear we all lived the same childhood.) We played tricks on my grandpa and turned off his TV through the crack in the door with the universal remote. My great-grandma was the “candy lady” in her neighborhood. I used to love answering the doorbell and helping her sell everything. She kept her money in an empty baby wipe container! My memories with my grandparents are endlessly wonderful. As of last year, all of my biological grandparents are no longer on this earth, but the memories I have of them will last me a lifetime.

I love that Rhyan is getting that same experience. My parents are literally the best and biggest support I could ever ask for. When Rhyan’s dad and I divorced, I was still working overnight as a NICU nurse. Working 7pm-7am three nights a week with a little one at home every other week would have never worked if it weren’t for my parents. They would pick her up from school, do the whole night time routine and bring her to school the next morning so that I could continue working and doing what I loved and was passionate about. They were my lifeline for three full years before I got my “normal” job and I could never thank them enough. That time alone gave Rhyan so much time with her grandparents. COVID has mostly kept us away from my parents because of health conditions, but it has honestly brought us closer. We see my mom for a few minutes several times a week. She cooks Rhyan’s favorite meals and brings them over, mask and all, to take some of that stress off of me. She goes to the park with us and walks with Rhyan or lets her swing while I do my exercise in peace. She’s sat at my house with her mask on while I got out of the house for a little while when life got to be too much and I needed a break. Rhyan and my dad FaceTime several times a day. He has spent countless hours with her doing school work, having virtual tea parties and playing whatever other games she decides to make up. They even figured out a way to play UNO over FaceTime and Rhyan has become the family UNO champion! My dad and my MiMi have virtually babysat her and kept her entertained just so I could take a nap. She loves putting on fashion shows and MiMi is the best hype (wo)man a girl could ask for. In a time that has been so challenging in so many ways, we have found ways to make the best of it. Rhyan is making so many memories that will stay with her forever.

The village doesn’t end with grandparents, and not everyone has grandparents in their lives. That’s ok too. Your village can be comprised of so many different types of people: aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, friends, coworkers. Some people live away from their family and have a group of friends as their major support system. Some people live in close knit communities and have neighbors who look out for them and their kids. Some people are so close to their coworkers that they become like family.

With all that said, let’s be real here. A village isn’t just full of people who help you take care of your kids. A village also helps you take care of YOU! Because who the hell are we kidding? We definitely need our own personal adult village too, our core group of people who love us and support us endlessly. I have multiple “groups” of friends that serve different purposes in my life and make up my village. I have my “nurse friends” who understand the woes of working in the medical field and the wonderfully horrible memories of nursing school. I have my “healthy lifestyle friends” who I talk to about eating healthy and working out and who help me get my shit together when I fall off the wagon. I have my “couple friends” who are my go-to people when I need relationship advice. I have my cousins who I talk to about every random thing you could ever think of. I have my friends who are also parents for when I need to vent about whatever drama I’m going through with my kid. I have friends that I don’t see or talk to often but that I can pick back up with like we just saw each other yesterday. I have my friends who have known me since high school and have been there through the good, bad and ugly. And so many of my friends fit into many of those “categories”, if that’s what you want to call them. I literally have the best group of friends a girl could ever ask for. We may not see each other as often as we would like because we all have our separate lives between marriages, jobs, kids, living across the country and a million other responsibilities. But when shit hits the fan, I know exactly who to call. When I have great news that I want to share, I know who’s going to celebrate me. And they know they can find that same love and support in me.

Think about all the things you’ve been through, good and bad. Think about the people who have shown up for you, however they could, when you needed them to. THAT is your village. This life can be fucking hard, and the more people we have to lean on in times of need, the better. Whatever your village looks like, love them, appreciate them and thank them. And life is short, so love and celebrate your people often! So shoutout to my people! Thank you for loving me and my kiddo to the moon and back!