Tuesday, January 11, 2011

One + One = Three

On April 13, 2005, we found out I was pregnant again.  At my first doctor’s appointment, he performed an internal ultrasound since we had problems with the first pregnancy, and we had the first glimpse of our baby.  He was about the size of a jelly bean, and it was so exciting to watch the heart flutter on the screen!  At the same time, there was apprehension.  When you lose your first child, you enter your next pregnancy with caution.  You share the news with everyone, wanting to be excited, while at the same time knowing very well how quickly it can all go wrong.  You wish you could embrace it with full abandon.  You long for blissful ignorance.  But you know better.  It probably wasn’t until they later did the regular ultrasound that I began to let my guard down.  I could tell long before the ultrasound technician pointed it out for me.  It was definitely a boy, and they did not see any problems.

They say the nausea usually starts around eight weeks.  For me, it was 5 weeks, and by April 22, I was nauseous all day, every day – and it didn’t leave until Silas was born.  I tried crackers, peppermint, gum, everything you can think of.  To this day, I can’t stand the sight of a peppermint because I ate them constantly for so many months.  There were a few months that were especially bad.  I was so sick that someone simply walking across my field of vision or even the channels changing on the TV made me woozy.  For some reason, the only way I could get out of bed in the morning was by eating chicken.  I still say one day of labor was a whole lot easier than 9 months of constant nausea.

Then, it happened.  On Wednesday, December 21, 2005, Silas was born.  He had some jaundice that lasted for a few days and problems with low body temperature, but overall, he was doing well.  Criss, however, had been trying to get over a sinus infection.  He didn’t feel well the entire day that Silas was born.  That night, Criss took his temp, and it was 102.6!  The hospital was close to a walk-in clinic, so the next morning he headed out early to get checked out so he could head back to the hospital to be with me and Silas.  The doctor ran some tests and told Criss he needed to take himself to the ER and be admitted.  He had c. diff., a reaction to the antibiotics he had been taking.  So, there I was with a new baby in one wing of the hospital, while Criss was far away in a different section of the same hospital.  A few days later, Silas and I headed home, with Criss still in the hospital.

It was all I could do to hold myself together.  Leaving Criss behind was just too overwhelming.  We even had problems getting the van started in the parking deck.  I finally had to leave it there and head home in my parents’ car.  When I made it home, a family member met me in the driveway.  I could tell it wasn’t good.  She had kindly offered to make all of us lunch.  Somewhere along the way, a plastic container caught fire on the stove, the house smelled of smoke, and soot dusted the kitchen.  She had tried to put out the fire with a dish towel.  It caught on fire, and there was a black stain on the back sidewalk where she had thrown the burning towel out the back door.  It really is very humorous to think about it now.  I’m just glad the house didn’t burn down.  J


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