The Invisible World: A Review

Last December I had the opportunity to review Anthony DeStefano's children's book Little Star. DeStefano is one of my favorite authors so I was delighted to receive his newest book, The Invisible World, to review.

This book is a short and simple read. That is one reason I enjoy DeStefano's writing so much- he doesn't get overly complicated. You don't have to be a theology or philosophy major to understand what what he is trying to explain.

DeStefano dives into the unseen world of spiritual realities. Now this isn't some New Age-y, pie-in-the-sky, doing-yoga-on-a-mountaintop spirituality. He uses Scripture and tradition to back up his claims. This is the real, nitty gritty stuff.

He starts off by explaining we all have a "haunt detector"- that feeling you get when you know something other-worldly is going on about you. That makes us a little more in tune to the spiritual happenings going on around us.

What spiritual realities does DeStefano write about? First and foremost- God. He is invisible, and is so for a reason. He is so vastly outside our realm of understanding, yet he is our Creator and Father. Our God is indeed an awesome God.

He then writes about the nature of angels and demons and our very own souls. This leads up to his chapter of the invisible battle for our souls. The stuff he writes about is real and scary, but he presents it in a way that doesn't scare the bejesus out of you; it really makes you think.

He then writes about the gift of grace and how that helps us in our everyday life.

My favorite chapter was about our final destination- heaven or hell. He writes about judgement, the end of times and the resurrection of the body. It is really fascinating how he presents our afterlife.

DeStefano uses a lot of personal stories and humor to really explain his points. There are many things that he wrote that just made me stop and and be in wonderment at our God. Somethings he wrote about just boggled my mind and really made me think. I wish he would have reached a little more into Catholic theology-Purgatory, sacraments, community of saints, for example, but he wrote this book for all Christian denominations to enjoy, so he kept the view pretty open theologically.

I really enjoyed this book. It definitely made me want to go to confession!

Mr. DeStefano has been generous enough to give me TWO autographed copies to give away to you fabulous readers! To qualify you can do two things:

1. Leave a comment- easy peasy!

and

2. Follow my blog and leave a comment letting me know you did so. If you already follow my blog leave a comment telling me that you are a follower!

Do this by 1:00 p.m. (CST) on Friday, August 5 and I will announce the winners later that afternoon!!

If you'd like to read more about Anthony DeStefano and his other books, you can visit his website here.

A Mish Mash

I have a whole lot to write and not enough time to write it! I'm working on my third and final part of my series. It will focus on how difficult it was for me to bond with my son, the challenges of new mommyhood, and thinking about baby #2.

It's NFP Awareness Week! The Catholic blogosphere is bursting with all sorts of NFP posts! I wanted to write about how different NFP is after having a baby. But all I can really say is that now there are a lot less check marks in that special coitus box on my chart than there is before Joe was born, and Ryan and I are totally OK with that! :-)

I weighed in at WW yesterday. I lost 4.4 lbs! So far that I've lost 16.4 lbs and am at 130.2 lbs. I'm now below pre-pregnancy weight an it feels pretty good!

I'm also in the process of writing a post about photographs. Do you scrapbook, do photo books, print them off and put them in albums? I'm conflicted. :-)

On a sad note, please pray for one of my college professors. His newborn son passed away after a premature birth (at 23 weeks, I believe) but by the grace of God was able to receive baptism before he took his last breath. This professor is a very good and holy man who embraces his Catholic faith and does a darn good job at teaching it. I'm pretty sure he could be a saint someday. Please pray for him and his family.

That's all, folks! I have a very ornery almost 11 month old who is causing havoc! Must go chase!

Part II: My C-Section Woes

Photo from my C-section

Part I can be found here.

Long before I was pregnant with Joe I was anti-cesarean section. Maybe the word “anti” is too harsh. I simply wasn’t a fan.

I used to always watch A Baby Story on TLC. I loved reading, watching, and seeing everything motherhood related- including pregnancy and childbirth. However, if the episode featured a woman having a repeat c-section I would change the channel. A c-section just doesn't make for a good story. You don't see characters in movies or TV having c-sections. C-sections can be so boring and anti-climactic. (I stress the word usually. I’ve heard some hum-dingers about some emergency c-sections.) Whenever I would hear of someone I knew having a c-section, I’d think, “What a bummer.”

When I became pregnant I poured over pregnancy books and magazines. I very arrogantly skipped over the parts covering c-sections. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of having one. I focused on the nitty gritty parts of the labor process- the stages, the pain, what happens to the woman’s body and what happens to the baby. That was the interesting stuff. That was the stuff I wanted to experience.

My first fear when the doctor guessed I was going to have a big baby was not “Oh my goodness… a big baby means there is going to be tons of pain!” My fear was, “Great, now there is a bigger chance at having a c-section.” I was very apprehensive. Ryan was even getting nervous. He hated the thought of me having a c-section.

The Birth I Wanted. The Birth I Pictured.

From Day One of my pregnancy I wanted a natural birth. I know a lot of people thought I was crazy for wanting that, but that’s just what I felt most comfortable with. I did not want an epidural, but if worse came to worse I would get one if that meant I could deliver vaginally.

This might sound kind of masochistic, but I actually wanted to experience the pain of contractions. I wanted to feel what God made my body to do when it came to giving birth. I wanted to have the same experience as my mother did, and her mother before her, and so on.

I had seen births on TV and in our childbirth class, but nothing compared to seeing it happen in person. Long before I got pregnant I went to visit one of my best friends, H, while she was laboring in the hospital. I came to visit her very shortly after she had been induced, and planned on staying about 30 minutes. She was in good spirits. I even walked around the hospital with her and we caught up on our gossip. Very soon after I got there her contractions started picking up. Instead of leaving, I stayed there and held her hand through every contraction while her husband had the job of continually rubbing her lower back. She did not have an epidural and I saw all the pain she endured, but she labored beautifully. I was planning to leave when she started pushing, but everything happened so fast and I was holding her hand while she delivered her first-born son.

I cannot describe how amazing this experience was. I saw it happen, just as God designed it. It was so incredibly beautiful. I marveled at how my dear friend had used her body to bring her child into this world. I had chills as tears of happiness streamed down my face. It was the grace of God, and her blood, sweat and tears that got her to the point to see her baby.
I wanted that. Exactly that.

I wanted to feel my water break. I wanted to lose my mucus plug. I wanted that nervousness and uncertainty of “Is it time?” and calling the doctor. I wanted that exciting drive to the hospital, where Ryan and I realize that the next time we are in the car we wouldn’t be alone.

I wanted to labor. I wanted to feel the contractions. I wanted to use a labor ball (which is what my friend H used and it seemed to work very well for her.) The hospital that I labored at offered a laboring tub (not a birthing tub) and I was very open to trying that. I wanted my husband there, rubbing my back, encouraging me. I wanted a doula to walk me through the process. I wanted my iPod- I had even written a post asking for music suggestions and I had it ready to go with hundreds of songs.

I wanted the exciting/scared/anxious feeling of getting my cervix checked in hopes I would have progressed. I wanted to feel all the stages of labor.

I wanted that “Oh my gosh, here we go…” feeling when the nurse told me I had reached 10 cm and she was calling the doctor. I wanted to feel that scared feeling. I wanted to feel the adrenaline. I wanted that excited feeling of finally getting to see my son face-to-face.

I wanted my husband to be there holding my hand, and my mom on the other side also holding my hand. I wanted to push, push, push, push. I wanted to feel my baby leave my body. I pictured looking down and seeing this ooey, gooey, bloody baby who happened to be the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I wanted to be one of the first ones to lay eyes on my child. I wanted my baby laid on my chest. I pictured him laying there crying, me sobbing hysterically and cradling his warm body next to mine. I pictured my husband crying, as well as my mom. I pictured beauty, happiness, a sense of peace. I wanted to be the first person (besides the doctor) to hold the person I had been carrying for 9 months. I wanted Ryan to get to cut the cord.

I wanted to hold my child seconds after he had entered the world. I wanted to marvel at him, cry with him, and comfort him. I wanted that moment. I know the whole labor and delivery process is long, painful, and difficult, but I wanted it all. I wanted to feel what my body was designed to do. The birth of a child is a huge, life-changing and momentous event in a woman’s life. It is a key factor in transforming a woman into a mother. My heart ached for this feeling long before I was even married. It was part of my vocation to be able to give birth naturally.

Holding on to Hope

My hopes and dreams for the birth of my child were not meant to be. As soon as my doctor mentioned an induction I knew that meant the possibility of having a c-section was increased. I knew the chances were even greater because my blood pressure was so high. But I still held onto the hope that I could deliver naturally.

I was induced Tuesday evening. They placed Cytotec in my cervix and the waiting game began. I was placed on a fetal and contraction monitor. The nurse said I was having regular contractions and I should be feeling them. I didn’t feel a thing during the entire process. I might have felt one slight twinge, but that could have been gas for all I knew.

I was checked a few hours later. No progress. I was checked Wednesday morning- still nothing, so we tried another round of Cytotec. They also tried Pitocin. I was then placed on the magnesium sulfate that I mentioned in my pre-eclampsia post to prevent me from seizing due to my sky-rocketing blood pressure. The bad thing about being put on this stuff was that magnesium sulfate is also used to prevent women from going into premature labor. So here I was on Pitocin to get me to go into labor AND the mag that prevents labor. Which one would win out? I held onto the hope that the induction would work.

I didn’t feel any of the contractions. I felt nothin’ “down there.” But I suppose my “labor pains” came from the magnesium sulfate. My face was on fire and my whole body felt flushed. I felt sick to my stomach and had aches all over my body- like having a fever. It felt like a bad hangover and still feeling loopy. The worst part was I wasn’t allowed water. I was barely allowed ice chips. I was so so so so so so so very thirsty. I was getting fluids from the IV, but I just wanted something to quench the bone-dry thirst in my mouth. I also wasn’t allowed to eat so I was starving. It was torture. The room was pretty much as cold as it could be and I was still beyond hot. Ryan kept putting ice cold wash cloths on my head, but the refreshing coldness would only last a minute or two.

My labor pains also consisted of being on bed rest. They had to insert a catheter which was also torture. It was such a painful and uncomfortable feeling. It took a couple hours for me to get used to the catheter. I hated being confined to the bed. I couldn’t lie on my back because I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lie on any one side for too long, but in order to roll on my other side I had to call a nurse in to help me switch the blood pressure cuff that was now a permanent fixture on my arm. The annoyance of bed rest and the extreme uncomfortableness of being on the magnesium sulfate got worse and worse throughout the day.

That afternoon I was checked again and still nothing. The nurse informed me that the doctor would probably come in and suggest a c-section. I broke down in despair. Thankfully, my doctor was understanding and said he would allow me to continue the induction overnight and see what happened.

I was so relieved. I felt I had few more hours of hope that the Pitocin and Cytotec would do its job. I begged God that a miracle would happen. Miracles happen all the time, right? It wasn’t like I was asking to have my sight or hearing restored. I just wanted a birth the way God intended it.

Wednesday night was horrible. I got absolutely no sleep. The mag was killing me. The bed rest was killing me. I was completely uncomfortable. I started to despair every time the nurse came to check on me and I hadn’t progressed at all. All hope for the birth I wanted was lost. Around 4:00 a.m. I was tempted to have the nurse call in my doctor and just get it all over with and get the c-section. What was the point of waiting?

When my doctor came in to check me around 8:00 I prayed and begged that some miracle had occurred and I would have progressed some. No such luck. As soon as Dr. M checked me he said he didn’t want to wait any longer. I unhappily agreed.

Dashed Dreams

I didn’t really have time to be afraid or nervous. It took about 20 minutes from the time Dr. M said, “C-section” to the time I was wheeled into the O.R. Thankfully in that short amount of time my priest came by and prayed with us and gave us a blessing. I am convinced that God sent his grace over me and I was at peace. I was still very emotionally numb. I wasn’t even excited about finally getting to see my son. It was like I was going down to get an ultrasound- nothing felt special.

I remember being wheeled into the O.R. It was so bright and cold. Very steel-y. Everyone there was in scrubs, surgical masks and hairnets. I couldn’t tell who was who. I could barely recognize my own doctor.

Everything happened so fast. I got my spinal block, was laid down and before I knew it they said they were cutting. They warned me as they were getting Joe out that I would feel a lot of pressure and tugging. I did not feel one single thing. I heard Joe’s little cry and tears filled my eyes. They didn’t lift Joe up over the sheet that was blocking my view from my innards- they took him straight to get him cleaned up. Everyone else in the room got to see him before I did.

Less than 30 minutes ago I was wheeled into the O.R. Now I had a baby. I just laid there in shock listening to the nurses talk about Joe and listening to him whimper. I started getting the shakes and feeling very queasy. Finally they brought Joe to me. Before I could get all emotional I started to vomit. Great… my son sees me for the very first time and I’m barfing all over myself. Nice.

I believe I would have handled my c-section a lot worse than I did if it weren’t for the awesome post-op policies the hospital had for c-sections. Most hospitals require the woman to recover in a separate room and she isn’t allowed to hold her baby for about an hour after the c-section. The hospital I was at believed it was very important for the woman to develop a bond with her baby as soon as possible. I recovered in the comfort of my hospital room and was able to hold Joe as soon as they put the brakes on my bed after they wheeled me in. No visitors were allowed for an hour while I recovered. It was just my nurse, Ryan, Joe and I. I am so thankful for that experience. I didn’t really have time to think about my lost birth plan. I soaked in that precious hour with my new little family.

However, my happy feelings dissipated as the afternoon came on. I was suffering from bone-crushing exhaustion, dealing with my nervousness and uncertainties with breastfeeding and handling this new little baby and my still sky-high blood pressure.

The days following Joe’s birth were filled with bitterness and fear. All I could think about was my c-section and blood pressure. I remember the first time I got to walk the halls after finally getting off bed rest and hearing the nurse talk to someone on the phone She was asking the caller how far along she was, how far apart the contractions were, if her water had broke, etc. I remember hearing a woman in the room next to me delivering her baby. I heard screams, yells, coaching and soon the cries of a new born baby. My heart broke. I felt sick to my stomach with sadness.

I wish so badly that things would have turned out differently. I wanted to be the woman who called in with contractions. I wanted to be the woman who screamed out in her labor pains. Why didn’t I get that experience?

Thankfully Dr. M did a very good job with my c-section. Many nurses exclaimed how wonderful my incision looked and bragged that Dr. M was one of the best c-section doctors they had ever worked with. My incision was healing nicely and I didn’t really experience any pain.

The days following my release from the hospital were difficult. It was hard enough adjusting to the new role of mommy, but I just could not shake my sadness of having a c-section. More than one person said to me, “Sorry you had to have a c-section.” Sorry? Aren’t we supposed to be having feelings of happiness and elation over the birth of a baby? People were “bummed”… just like I used to be when I heard of a woman I knew having a c-section. I hated that negative feelings were tacked on to the birth of my son.

Thankfully I didn’t experience much pain from the surgery and healed quickly. Breastfeeding was going very well for Joe and me, so I was thankful for that. I would have been much more messed up if I didn’t have those bright spots in my life.

The weeks following Joe’s birth were chalk-full of post-partum hormones. That added to the crushing sadness. One of my best friends called me soon after Joe was born to see how I was doing and how I liked being a new mom. I immediately burst into tears and all I could talk about was how sad I was at having a c-section. We couldn’t talk long because Joe started crying in the other room. My friend was probably thinking, “Thanks, baby! You got me off the hook from talking with your crazy mother!”

There were times I couldn’t stop thinking about my c-section. I would re-live it in my head over and over. When I would shower and wash over my scar I would think about how I felt like I had been slaughtered like a cow. I was so angry that things didn’t work out. I had begged and pleaded with God in the hospital to let me birth naturally. Why didn’t God answer my prayers? God does the impossible- couldn’t he just let me have the birth I wanted? I started feeling very resentful towards God. I was also resenting other women's experiences of giving birth naturally. There were women I knew that had serious medical complications, women who were pregnant with twins, women who were skinnier than a board who were able to deliver naturally. Why the hell couldn’t I? I couldn’t read anybody’s birth stories on blogs and it was very difficult to hear other women’s stories as well. I remember reading all these awesome, heart-warming stories of peaceful births while I was pregnant and ached for those experiences. My heart raged with envy and sadness.

My sadness developed into fear. I was now severely limited to how many children I could have due to having a c-section. I don’t really feel called to have seven or eight kids, but I’d still like to have a hand-full. However, since the chances of me having repeat c-sections are very high, having a lot of babies puts me at risk. I immediately thought that God didn’t think I had it in me to be the mother of many children and this was his way of stopping it before it happened. I felt like a failure as a woman. My body had failed me and I was afraid it was because I didn’t take very good care of myself. If only I had not eaten such crappy food and exercised more and drank water. Then I wouldn’t have gotten pre-eclampsia and I wouldn’t have had to endure all this. I played the “What If” game constantly.

It’s one thing to go into labor and push for hours and hours and not progress and then have to have a c-section. But I didn’t get any of that. No water breaking, no excitement of dilation, nothing. I felt no labor pains whatsoever. I didn’t even come remotely close to having to push. I didn’t even feel the pressure when they took Joe out of me. The only pains I got were from the magnesium sulfate and I think I would have rather dealt with the contractions. I didn’t experience one iota of the birth I wanted. It wasn’t fair. It was like I went to the hospital to get treated for high blood pressure and I got a baby out of it.

Many people tried to make me feel better. “Now the next time you have a baby you can pretty much pick the due date!” That doesn’t make things better at all. It’s like saying, “Hey, your dog just died, but next time you want to get a dog you can pick out any kind you want!” My sister, who also had a c-section, said to me, “Oh, c-sections are the way to go. No contractions or pushing! It’s great!” Well, considering I’m the freak that wanted all that gory painful stuff, that was a no-go in the feel good department. I appreciated people attempting to cheer me up, but it just wasn’t working.

I was starting to get a little worried about myself. Why was I so upset about having a c-section? Did I need therapy? Was I going crazy? I did a little research online and learned that there are many women out there who suffered the same feelings of disappointment and sadness over their c-section. These feelings come close to post-traumatic stress disorder. I was relieved to have my feelings validated. It didn’t lessen the pain, but I took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone.

10 ½ Months Later

Each day the pain has lessened. I am not thinking constantly about my c-section. I focus on the good part of my c-section- my perfectly healthy baby boy. C-sections are performed for a reason. If I didn’t have this surgery Joe and I could have died- that’s how bad my blood pressure was. It wasn’t like Dr. M was getting impatient and had a 1:30 tee time- this had to be done for the sake of our health. I should be thankful for this medical technology because if it weren’t for a c-section things could be a lot worse. God not only designed our bodies to give birth naturally, but also in a way that a child could be born in another form to save the life of the baby and mother.

I often wonder if I would have been able to deliver Joe if I wouldn’t have gotten pre-eclampsia. Joe was 2 weeks early (one of the nurses thought he was actually 3 weeks early) and he was basically 9 lbs. How much more would he weigh if he cooked a little longer? Could I have managed delivering a big baby since I am so short? A friend of mine told me that one of her close friends was against any kind of drugs or monitoring or c-section and her baby actually died in the birth canal because she was smothered. The thought of that happening scares me to no end.

Sometimes my scar will itch, or I’ll notice the skin around my scar is still slightly numb and I will re-live it all over again. This scar will be with me the rest of my life. My uterus- my precious womb- where my future children will be conceived and beautifully developed now has been defiled with a scar.

I often feel at odds with myself. I can’t believe how unbelievably upset I was over having a c-section. I have a healthy baby- isn’t that all that matters?! But don’t I have that right to mourn the loss of the birth I wanted? Pregnancy, labor and delivery might not be a big deal to some women. It’s just part of life. But to me, it is something I looked forward to and believe to be a huge part of my life and vocation. But then again, some women who ache for a baby of their own would gladly have c-sections if it meant holding their own child in their arms. Women have miscarriage after miscarriage. Women have stillborn babies. How selfish am I to be to mad about not getting the birth I wanted? It’s a constant war within my heart.

I am not as upset about having a c-section as I was when Joe was first born. I’m sure the nice post-partum hormone cocktail I was served didn’t help matters any. The sadness has worn away and it is kind of hard to describe my feelings now. My c-section haunts me every so often. It's still hard to read birth stories, but the envy is fading.

VBAC Hopes

My hopes of having a future VBAC (Vaginal Birth after Cesarean) immediately began in the hospital. I remember asking Dr. M why the induction failed. Being on the magnesium sulfate didn’t help matters any. Plus, Joe just wasn’t ready to come on down. He was still very high while still inside me and was happy on staying that way. I asked him if he thought I could have VBAC someday and he thought it would be possible since it seemed my pelvis would be wide enough to deliver. He informed me that he didn’t do VBAC’s since the hospital wasn’t equipped to handle that big of procedure and that I would have to go to a bigger hospital.

He seemed to change his tune at my 6 week post-partum check-up. I asked him what he thought about VBAC’s. His immediate response: “I don’t like them.” Followed by, “My wife had 2 of them after our first born, but that was when I was a resident.” Oooookay??? So, when you are resident your super-human doctor wisdom hasn’t come in yet? Dr. M is a wonderful man and doctor; I just don’t think he likes to give negative news. He said his wife said in hindsight that she just wished she would have had repeat c-sections. If she really thought that then why did she have TWO VBAC’s? He also said that I’m always going to have big babies and that I probably won’t be able to deliver naturally. I don’t really know what to believe with him. However, I don’t live where he practices anymore, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I am currently researching here and there about VBAC’s. I’m thinking about joining my local ICAN chapter. I want to educate myself on both sides. I refuse to be pulled into the polarizing debate over giving birth. I’m not one of these people who think that hospitals and doctors are evil and doctors push for c-sections so they can get more money to install a tennis court in their backyard. I believe there are genuinely caring hospitals and doctors who want the best for their patients. I am not anti-c-section. But I don’t think that VBAC’s are a horrible option that will automatically result in death. I might be mistaken, but I think I read somewhere that Michelle Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting fame has had multiple c-sections and VBAC’s. Her uterus hasn’t exploded or fallen out, so that gives me hope. I’d like to set up camp moderately between these two differing sides.

The thought of having a VBAC is scary. I wish I wasn’t in a position to decide between putting myself in a situation where I could lose my life and baby or having a procedure that devastates me and can also put my life at risk. I wish it would have all gone the “normal” way the first time.

I prayed to God shortly after Joe was born to guide me in this decision to have a VBAC. Some days I’ll be driving a long and I’ll just say, “God, give me the wisdom to make the right choice on having a VBAC if I ever get pregnant again.” I haven’t had any clear-cut answers, but I’m really hoping he gives me an answer when I need it the most. I’m hoping for success. I went to a general doctor’s appointment a few months after Joe was born and the doctor there mentioned that Dr. M did an awesome job with my c-section. She said the scar was very small. I’m hoping that will be a good factor in a successful VBAC.

I wonder how I will feel if I do attempt a VBAC and still have to have a c-section. Will I be even more devastated? Or will I be satisfied in knowing I did everything I could and tried with all my might to have the birth I wanted? How will I feel if I have a successful VBAC? Will it be an even more rewarding experience than if I would have delivered normally the first time?

While I still get sad from time to time about having a c-section, I do believe that God has a plan. I gave him the control and this is what happened, so it must be for the best. I know it is for the best because as I type this post, with tears in my eyes, I lay next to my son. My perfect, healthy baby who came to me in a way I didn’t want or expect, but still came and changed my life for the better.

Weight Loss Update: Week 8

This week I had to weigh in on Monday instead of Wednesday. I gained 0.2 lb. I expected that because I pigged out yet again this past weekend. I'm not disappointed at all. I'm actually surprised that it wasn't more of a gain.

I just love to eat. I'm not a very adventurous eater; I'm actually rather picky. But when I have a food I love- mac and cheese, donuts, ice cream, etc.- I just want to eat the good stuff until I burst. Sometimes I eat just for the yummy tastes- not just for hunger or nourishment. The good thing about WW is you can have your favorite foods, just not a whole lot of it. Sometimes I just find it hard to not have that little handful of gummy bears or say "no" to that roll at dinner. I like to eat and I don't want to give up the pigging out.

I haven't been tracking like I should which has been my biggest downfall in not losing weight these past couple of weeks. I also haven't had the time to exercise. This week I'm going to focus on tracking more and jump back into the exercise routine.

So here's my progress so far:


First Weight Watchers Meeting: 146.6
2nd Week of WW: 141.2 (5.4 lbs lost)
3rd Week of WW: 139.6 (1.6 lbs lost)
4th Week of WW: 138.6 (1.0 lb lost)
5th Week of WW: 135.8 (2.8 lbs lost)
6th Week of WW: 135.4 (0.4 lbs lost)
7th Week of WW: 134.4 (1.0 lb lost)
8th Week of WW: 134.6 (0.2 lb gained)

Total Pounds Lost: 12.0 lbs

Goal Weight 120 lbs

This is totally off topic, but I'm in the process of writing my post about my c-section woes. Writing it has been a lot more difficult that I thought it would be. I'm nearly finished so look for that post either tomorrow or Monday.

Part I: Pesky Pre-Eclampsia

A few months ago I wrote about how I wanted to write about my struggles with pre-eclampsia, my devastation after my c-section and the difficult time I had adjusting to motherhood. There were personal reasons for wanting to hold off on writing them, but the main reason it has taken me so long to write about these subjects is because I am lazy. It’s hard to put into words the feelings I felt toward the end of my pregnancy. I fear I won’t make any sense, but I will do my best to explain what happened.

First of all, I have to say this- I loved being pregnant. Even towards the end when I was a giant, swollen, pregnant blob, I loved it. I loved seeing my belly grow and my belly button disappear. I loved feeling the kicks and the hiccups of the miracle growing inside me. I was in awe of seeing my body change to accommodate this new life. I wasn’t really afraid of anything with this pregnancy. I knew there’d be unbelievable pain during delivery. I wasn’t really afraid of getting gestational diabetes. I wasn’t afraid of gaining weight. There was, however, one aspect of pregnancy I was hoping to avoid:

PRE-ECLAMPSIA!

The first time I had ever heard of this was when one of my best friends, H, was pregnant. My other best friend, A, who happened to be an OB nurse and H’s housemate, was extremely worried because she knew what complications could develop.

It was a close family member who really got me scared of pre-eclampsia. She frequently told me stories of her battle with toxemia and the emergency c-section with her first born. I won’t go into details, but these stories made me beg and pray I wouldn’t get high blood pressure.

The first 20 weeks of my pregnancy were relatively smooth. I gained weight, but not too much. In fact, I think it was the “recommended” allowance. Toward the end of those 20 weeks the only bump along the road was the one time I went to the E.R. because I was dehydrated and my heart rate was elevated. It remained elevated the following day when I saw my doctor and although he was slightly concerned, he told me to take it easy and nothing else was said.

This was taken when I was about 1 month pregnant.

Around 13 weeks preggo. I started showing early. Since I have such a short torso there's only one way for the baby to go- OUT!

Here we are at 19 weeks. No swelling yet!

Things went downhill towards the end of June when we packed up our apartment and moved to a house. Ryan’s schedule was all sorts of jacked up, so I was the one who did most of the unpacking and organizing. Sure, I could have left it for when he was there to help me, but I just CANNOT live in unorganized chaos! Plus, our family reunion was coming up soon and I didn’t want to come back to an unpacked, cluttered home.

I went into a cleaning/organizing frenzy. That was probably the closest I got to nesting. But the heat and the constant on my feet got to me. Ryan would come home from work and gasp and be in shock at the state of my ankles. He would make me sit down with my feet up. Of course, I’m stubborn and a clean freak so that didn’t last long. The swelling got so bad that I had to buy a bigger size of sandals!

I had made the mistake a few months prior of volunteering to organize the theme and activities for our family reunion. No one would have cared if I did a half-@ss job, but me, being the perfectionist that I am, strove for organization and fun for all ages. I organized games which I had to get supplies for, I made candy bags, decorated coozies, all while trying to unpack a house and gestate. And of course things didn’t slow down while at the reunion. I was on my feet A LOT. Both my mom and husband constantly urged me to sit down and relax but I had to be in control and make sure I did everything myself. Even my brother who loves to tease me (he loved to joke with me earlier in my pregnancy about me “getting fat”) said he wasn’t going to make fun of me because my ankles looked too painful.

As you can see… it got pretty bad.

Photo Credit: Cassie Riley
This was taken about 2 weeks before the family reunion

Just call me Ginormica

Holy swollen ankles, Batman!

These photos were from my baby shower. I swear I really did enjoy my gifts, despite my look of unhappiness!

After the reunion things really went downhill. I just kept getting more and more swollen. However, my blood pressure was always just right when I would go in for my doctor’s appointments. My doctor would tell me to rest my feet but never mentioned anything else when it came to my blood pressure.

It was around the time of my baby showers that I saw just how bad I was getting. I looked at the photos taken of me and couldn’t believe my eyes. I was practically unrecognizable. In the photos where I thought I was smiling really big I looked like I was grimacing. My nose even looked swollen, even though Ryan assured me that it wasn’t. (The day I was induced my doc said that he knew I was in bad shape because my nose was “enlarged.” I said to Ryan, “SEE! I told you my nose was getting bigger!)

I felt EXTREMELY self-conscience about my appearance. I knew I looked horrible. I knew people took one look at my ankles and just thought “Wow.” or "Ewww." Thankfully most people kept their mouths shut. Unfortunately, there would be a comment here and there that would really get under my swollen skin. There was one time at BBQ at my in-law’s where a family friend came up to me and said, ‘Oh, Maggie! I didn’t recognize you! Your face is so full!” Ummm… thanks?

This was taken about a week before I was induced. Me in all my pregnant glory.

It was 2 weeks before my due date when I went in for my doctor’s appointment. I had to do the whole pee-in-a-cup deal which was what I did at every visit and (TMI alert!) my pee looked kind of funky. I was then weighed and noticed I had seriously gained 5 lbs in one week which is a sign of pre-eclampsia. I knew this wouldn’t be good. The nurse took my blood pressure and said it was a little high. I had to go into a back room with recliners and get hooked up to a blood pressure machine and a fetal monitor.

Thankfully Joe was healthy and happy. However, my blood pressure was through the roof. They kept asking me if was having headaches or seeing spots (which are other big signs of high blood pressure) but in all honesty- I felt perfectly fine. I didn’t even feel anxious!

My blood pressure did not go down so I was sent for observation at the hospital’s labor and delivery. They checked me every 15 minutes and my blood pressure would not go down. Finally, an induction was ordered because my blood pressure was so high.

Right before my c-section. Budda Maggie is what I like to call this pose.

Holding Joe for the first time. Look at those gorilla fingers....

It was so high they put me on magnesium sulfate to prevent me from going into seizures. That was the devil’s juice! It might have prevented me from seizing, but my blood pressure still remained high.

They kept asking me over and over again if I was experiencing headaches or was seeing spots. I really felt fine. I was getting anxious about my induction failing, but that was about it. Thankfully, throughout this whole ordeal, Joe was doing great inside me. His heart rate remained perfect and he was just swimming along all happy and care free. Thank the Lord for that!

They say that the cure for pre-eclampsia is delivery of the baby. That wasn’t so for me. My blood pressure was still through the roof after Joe was born. I remember it being 200/90 at one time. People were starting to get worried. I was getting annoyed at having my blood pressure taken all the time. They kept saying they might have to put me back on the magnesium sulfate and I was pleading with God not to let happen. I tried to relax and think happy thoughts but it never worked. There was even one time I kept saying in my head, “Jesus, I trust in you. Jesus, I trust in you. Jesus, I trust in You.” and my blood pressure still remained high. Everyone worrying about me made me fret. How on earth was I going to be able to take care of my new baby if I couldn’t take care of myself?

With everyone worrying about me I started to freak. I kept thinking, “Oh my gosh, could I die? What if have a seizure?’ I wanted this to be a happy occasion. I wanted the attention to go to my new baby and not me and my blasted blood pressure. This was not the experience I wanted. I had never before been this sick, or had a serious illness or even had been in the hospital. Why now was my body going all crazy-like on me?

They tried all sorts of medication and nothing worked. I could see the frustration and worry in the nurses eyes. Was my heart destined to explode? At this point I didn’t care about the swelling and how much I looked like a Beluga whale; I just wanted my ticker to function properly.

Finally 6 days after I was admitted it was time for me to leave the hospital. I was more than ready to get out of there, but the thought of being away from a medical facility in case something bad did happen really scared me. I think the first time I really felt my blood pressure spiking was when the nurse was giving me discharge instructions.

Thankfully my mom and husband were there to take care of me while I struggled to take care of my son. I had an appointment with my doctor a few days after I was discharged and while my blood pressure was still high, it was a lot lower than it was in the hospital. The Procardia medication was doing its job.

The doctor told me it could 6 weeks for my blood pressure to settle down. When Joe was 3 weeks old for grins I went to a blood pressure machine at Wal-Mart and checked to see how bad I was. I was back to normal! When I went in for my 6 week post-partum check up my doctor and nurse practically high-fived over my perfect blood pressure. My doctor was almost giddy. I didn’t have to continue the Procardia and life was back to normal. (Kind of.)

Slowly the swelling went down. One good thing about pre-e is I lost 40 lbs in 5 days. That was a lot of peeing and sweating!
LOOKING BACK

Looking back, I see how serious the situation was. I hate having that kind of attention. People kept saying after Joe was born, “Oh gosh, I KNEW your blood pressure was bad.” And others made comments about how swollen I was. I know these people mean well, but these comments just make me feel like crap. I feel like they think I was a fool for going to a doctor who didn’t catch this earlier. I feel like they are now free to tell me how big I was. People, I KNOW how big I was; you don’t have to remind me. I try to have a sense of humor about it, and poke fun of myself, but when others joke, my sensitive nature kicks in.

I have seen some of my facebook friends who have gone though the same thing I have. One girl had her friends call her legs tree trunks and balloon animals. I’m sure she’s not as sensitive as me, but those comments would have truly pissed me off. I know people weren’t being 100% honest with me when they said I looked beautiful as a swollen pregnant person, but I still appreciate them trying to make me feel better.

Pre-e can be a onetime deal and the chances of it happening in a first-time pregnancy are higher than following pregnancies. I pray to God I don’t have to go through this again. I have read where you can pop a baby aspirin a day during pregnancy and that can stave off pre-eclampsia, so I will definitely keep that in mind. I’m also going to try very hard to control my diet, exercise more, and drink like 400 oz. of water a day.

Pre-eclampsia was a pain, both physically and emotionally. Basically- it sucked. But it has taught me that I am not in total control of my body. AND it has taught me to appreciate my ankle bones and knee caps!

The swelling went down after a few weeks. This was taken about 3 weeks after Joe was born.

My ankles and knee caps today. Glorious! (Oh, I promise I'm wearing shorts. The way I cropped this seems a little scandalous!)

Upcoming Series

A couple months ago I had planned to write a 3-part series about how I dealt with pre-eclampsia during my pregancy, my utter devastation with having a c-section and also my adjustment into motherhood. I've never gotten around to it due to good ol' fashioned laziness!

I've finally gotten around to writing, so look for my first post about pre-eclampsia on Monday!

Weight Loss Update: Week 7

Just checking in with y'all about my weight loss journey.

The week after the 4th of July I was very nervous about weighing in. I will admit that I pigged out big time that weekend. To make matters a little more complicated, I had to weigh in on Tuesday intead of Wednesday night because I was leaving the next day to go to my family reunion.

I went to one of those Weight Watcher centers where they are there all day and you can just drop in to weigh in or buy products. I went in and started chit chatting with the receptionist. I told her I was dreading this weigh in and she started talking my head off about how not to beat myself up.

I weighed in and she said, "You're only up .4 a pound. That's not bad at all!" Even though I was slightly bummed about gaining I was just glad it wasn't more. I bought some WW bars and went back to my van to leave.

I looked at my weight record and I immediately noticed that she did her math wrong. I didn't GAIN .4 of a pound. I had LOST that much! I called my mom to make sure I was right and asked her if I should go back in and say something. .4 of a pound may not seem like a lot, but after you've pigged out all weekend and are desperately trying to lose weight, that .4 of a pound matters!

I went back in and showed her the mistake. She immediately apologized and started talking my head off again.

This past weekend was my family reunion. I had big plans to track carefully and eat right. Those plans did NOT last long. One of the games we played was cookie face race. You put a cookie on your forhead and use your facial muscles to move it to your mouth. Well I had to demonstrate this for a lot of people, so many cookies were consummed. (For examples, see above pictures.) Plus we had awesome BBQ catered in and I couldn't skimp on that good stuff!

I weighed in yesterday expecting a gain. To my surprise and delight I lost a pound! (Although I think this might have something to do with not gaining a lot.)

I'm getting back to tracking again. It's kind of hard when you've stopped for a few days!

So far...


First Weight Watchers Meeting: 146.6
2nd Week of WW: 141.2 (5.4 lbs lost)
3rd Week of WW: 139.6 (1.6 lbs lost)
4th Week of WW: 138.6 (1.0 lb lost)
5th Week of WW: 135.8 (2.8 lbs lost)
6th Week of WW: 135.4 (0.4 lbs lost)
7th Week of WW: 134.4 (1.0 lb lost)

Total Pounds Lost: 12.2 lbs

Goal Weight 120 lbs

My Love for Harry Potter

My awesome Neville shirt that is way too small for me now!

The lovely Sarah at Fumbling Toward Grace shared her story of how she came to know and love the Harry Potter series, so I thought I'd share my story too.

I was a late bloomer when it came to getting into the HP series. The first book came out in 1997 and I didn't get into them until 2006. I remember hearing about all the hype about how this series was getting children to read again. I also read about how many groups were boycotting these books because they promoted witchcraft and the dark arts. The movies came out and there was even more hype, but I just wasn't into it. None of my close friends were into the series. I don't remember my mom reading them. My brother told me that he and his wife were reading the series to their oldest daughter. I thought that was pretty cool, but still, my interest was not piqued.

I was working at Wal-Mart in the summer of 2005 when Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince came out. We got a huge shipment in and people were lining up at the customer service desk with their pre-order forms. I remember when we sold out and someone asked if we had anymore. They asked for "The Half-Blood Prince book" and I had no clue what they were talking about. Some of my co-workers were talking about reading the book. I was beginning to think they were kind of crazy!

In the summer of 2006 I babysat my brother's kids. By this time, my brother's oldest had read all the HP books herself and had all the movies. She was still interested in Harry Potter and so I started asking basic questions. She tried to explain, but my little un-experienced Harry Potter mind wasn't getting it, so we popped in the first movie.

I LOVED it. Such a great story! So full of imagination! So of course we proceeded to watch the next three films. I was itching to read the books, and thankfully she had them all. I read 1-6 in about a week and a half. There was one time I borrowed the 3rd book thinking it would take me all weekend to read it. I finished it on a Friday night and went to the county library the next day to get the 4th one! I couldn't wait a few days!

My nose was in a HP book so much that my nephew stated that I loved Harry Potter more than him!

I was officially a Harry Potter geek. To my delight, one of my roommates for the following school year had also discovered Harry Potter the same time I did. We had long discussions about Harry Potter and what mysteries were to be revealed in the last book. What were the horcruxes? Was Snape truly evil? There were time we'd get on The Leaky Cauldron or MuggleNet and yell across the room- "There's a new trailer!" or "JK Rowling has a new interview!" Our other roommate probably thought were were nuts.

I remember being excited about the 5th movie coming out. It was the first one I had seen in theaters. I was thoroughly disappointed. It wasn't like the book at all! I knew most movies were like this, but this was just bad. However, that same summer the 7th and final book came out. I was so excited! One of my housemates was getting married the night it was to be released. As Ryan and I drove across Iowa after the wedding we stopped in some podunk Iowa Wal-Mart. I figured there would be a line, but we walked in, got a book and walked back out without waiting at all.

I holed myself up in my room to finish the last book. I did not get on the internet for fear that people would post spoilers. I read it very quickly. As I was getting to the last few chapters I wanted to savor it because there would be no more Harry Potter books to enjoy after this.

The ending did not disappoint. I thought it was perfect. I was sad it was all over, but happy at the outcome. Since then I've read the whole series two more times. One time was while I was pregnant. My reasons for loving this series are pretty much the same as Sarah's, so check out her post!

Since then 2 more movies have come out. The 6th one- The Half-Blood Prince is my favorite book and I was pretty much seething after the movie because they left out so many awesome parts. The first part of the 7th film was pretty good. I am REALLY looking forward to this final film.

It's gonna be epic!

How about the rest of you? Any more Potter-heads out there?

I'm Back... and My Blog Stinks!

I'm back!

This year's family reunion was a blast! It took a toll on Joe's schedule, but he handled it fabulously.

I promise to get back to blogging soon. And I promise my blog post subjects will delve deeper than the subject of baby sleep. I've noticed I've lost 3 blog followers this past week (I'm weird about noticing that stuff) so I think I need to ramp up the interest of my blog!

I have been horrible on commenting on all y'all's blogs lately. Life is just so crazy!

Headin' to Tightwad...

Tomorrow we are headed to our annual family reunion in Tightwad, MO! Our family pretty much doubles the population of this teeny tiny town. It will be interesting to see how Joe handles his first reunion!

I have such a wonderful, caring and kooky family. I always have such a great time!

I hope everyone has a great rest of the week and a great weekend!

Growing and Growing...

What happened to my itty bitty baby boy?



Tomorrow Joe turns 10 months old. The double digits... wow. I'm sure some of you are sick of the "Oh woe, woe, woe... my darling baby is growing up entirely too fast" posts, but I am just in amazement at how fast these last 10 months have gone.

He is turning out to be such a boy (which is good, considering that is indeed his gender.) He loves to hide in his own little fort.

He loves to play with cars and trucks- especially crash them together!


He loves to get messy, although I'm sure most babies do. But seeing him all covered in spaghetti makes me think of what he'll be like in the toddler years...


He's growing more and more hair everyday! A few months ago I kept thinking to myself that it is hard to imagine Joe with a full head of hair. Well, he's slooooooowly getting there!


He loves to play outside and explore. He isn't content just playing in one room. He has to go everywhere. I remember the days of just setting him in his bouncer and being able to go to the bathroom in piece or browse the internet. Those days are no more!


He makes the funniest expressions. It is very hard to bathe him in a regular bath tub. He just wants to stand even though he can't stand independently. Bathing him in the baby pool is much easier!


You can see some little teethers in this picture. He just popped one on top a week ago and another one is getting ready to come out very soon. No more gummy old man grins... he's going to look like such a big boy with those two top teeth!



He went to his first concert a couple weeks ago. Brewer and Shipley, of all people. He loved it! We are now discovering how much he loves music!


Sticking out his tongue. Typical boy!


Terrorizing my mom's cat. Another typical boy move. He's crawling after her in this picture.



Joe loves to stand and would stand all day long if he were able. He also loves to rip the ALT key off my computer.


Such a big boy!


He's not too sure about swimming...


He is growing up so fast. He is becoming his own little person with his own personality. Some of his baby fat has melted away now that he's crawling all over the place. It kind of makes me sad. A girl from my hometown celebrated her baby boy's 1 year birthday this past weekend. I looked at the photos from the party and I actually got teary-eyed. In two short months that will be my own little boy. Crossing from babyhood to toddler hood... it's such a big change and this change is happening so fast.

I know I shouldn't be all mopey. Maybe it's because I'm PMS-ing and I have baby fever, but I just can't help feeling all mushy gushy about my baby boy!


Happy 10 months, my darling Joe. You are growing up to be more than we ever could have imagined!