Tag Archives: cerclage

A Stitchy Saga

12 Aug

Dear Amanda Bynes, 

I believe I just found out what it feels like to have someone “murder my vag.ina”. I wanted let you know that contrary to what you may think, this was not fun. In fact, it hurt like a mofo. It actually still does. And no, I don’t think it would have hurt any less if Drake had been the one doing the murdering.  Just thought I’d give you a head’s up. 



So I’ve been through an —- interesting —- 48 hours to say the least.

Let’s recap, shall we?

We arrived at L&D yesterday morning to get the cerclage removed. I was nervous, but mostly because of the small chance that cerclage removal  can cause labor.

Here’s what I thought was going to happen: We arrive, I get an NST, I go in to see a doc. The doc inserts a speculum, it hurts. The doc grabs the cerclage and removes it. It hurts a bit more. I have another NST, and go home.

That’s what everybody told me was going to happen. It never even occurred to me that it would go any differently. Which is weird, considering I’m so good at coming up with worst-case scenarios.

Here’s what actually happened:

B5 passes the NST with flying colors. We wait a while and the doc calls me in. Shmerson comes in with me. The doc inserts a speculum. It hurts like hell.

Then he tells me he can’t reach the stitch. No big deal, he says. We’ll just get a bigger speculum.

A bigger speculum arrives. The doc inserts it. It hurts like hell. He still can’t reach the stitch. Apparently, the Russian did too good a job. The thing is just too high up.

That’s when things get messy. Tools are tried. Another doctor is called in. Things are stretched and pulled. I writhe in pain (keep in mind this is all being done without any pain relief, because this is supposed to be a 2-minute simple procedure). At one point I have 2 doctors and one resident with some sort of tool/hand up in my lady bits.

Finally, after 45 minutes (!) they give up. There’s only one option: I come in the next day, go under general anesthesia, and have it removed that way.

So home we go. Needless to say I was freaking out. Granted, I’m used to general anesthesia by now, but for some reason the thought of it when I’m this far along just was not sitting well. Plus – I was terrified that all of the “stuff” they did down there would bring on labor and I would have to go in for a C-section because the freaking cerclage was still in there.

So I spent the whole day in bed, drinking lots of cold water. I did have a few contractions through the day, but they were not regular.

This morning we headed back to the hospital. They had an emergency section right as we got there which lead to a delay with all the day’s surgeries. I ended up waiting in a surgical gown for 3 hours with nothing to do except freak out. All while starving and parched since I wasn’t allowed anything since midnight. That was fun.

So then the surgeon comes in and tells me he would like to try again without anesthesia. I go along, because obviously – who wants general anesthesia? We go into a procedure room and the torture session begins.*

I won’t go into detail, but basically the surgeon manages to remove two pieces of the cerclage (after about half an hour of painful messing around up in my bits). But there is still one piece left. There is more digging. To say it hurts is the understatement of the century.

Finally, it’s decided to pull out the big guns. We’ll go into surgery, he’ll try one more thing with a fancy surgical tool, and if that doesn’t work, it’s general anesthesia for me.

So another room. Another 15 minutes of pain, pushing, and prodding. Finally, the doctor gives up and calls in the anesthesiologist. At this point I’m no longer nervous about going under. I’m relieved.

So ten minutes later I’m in recovery and that effing stitch is finally gone. They send me for an NST and B5 is fine.

Now I’m home, and everything is ok. Except of course that my vagi.na has been murdered. It hurts to sit. It hurts to pee. There is bleeding and bruising which hurts. It just all freaking hurts.

I guess this is good preparation for the damage that will be done during childbirth, right?

The one upside, is that now I’m a bit less eager for labor to start. My junk needs a while to recover before I try pushing a human out of it.

All in all, good times. And yet another reminder that I have no control. Over anything.

* Just to clarify: I’m not upset with the doctors at all. I know they had my best interest at heart with trying to avoid general anesthesia. 

Bullets and Bunnies: Stitchy Edition

8 Aug
  • We had a check up with the high-risk OB today (36 weeks, 2 days). B5’s tummy is measuring about 10 days behind but her head is right on track. The doc didn’t seem concerned about it, so I’m not going to be either. She’s gained about 300 grams in two weeks, and is now estimated at around 2.5 kg. That’s about 5.5 pounds for you Americans. She also passed her NST with flying colors.
  • I got the official referral to Labor & Delivery to get the cerclage out, and that’s happening this Sunday or Monday. Yipes! There’s only about a 5% chance that removal of it will cause labor, but I’m packing the hospital bag this weekend just in case. I’m also trying not to get my hopes up. It’s still a little early, and she’ll come out when she’s good and ready. So they say. So I keep trying to tell myself.
  • B5 is getting crowded in there.  A couple of days ago she pulled some ninja moves that hurt like a mofo. I told her sternly that I’m very happy that she’s so active, but would she please just come out already so I can see the ninja moves rather than feel them?
  • I seriously need this baby out already. I know we’re still kind of at the point where she’s most likely to do better inside then out, but the anxiety is killing me. I’m constantly obsessing, fretting, and worrying about what’s to come. I need her to be here, and be ok.  I’m practically full term, that should be enough. I need to see her, living and breathing in front of me.
  • Just so you understand how deep the crazy goes: The doc gives me the L&D referral to get the cerclage out. He says I could go anytime between now and whenever, really (which is actually encouraging and I guess means he’s fairly confident that she’s fully cooked).  You don’t need to make an appointment for a cerclage removal here, you just go into L&D in the morning with a referral and they get ‘er done. So I talked it over with Shmerson and we decided Sunday or Monday, depending on what’s going on with his work. Then I looked at the referral again and noticed the words “good for 24 hours” on it  (it’s an automatic thing with L&D referrals). And the referral has today’s date. So I go back into the doc’s office and point this out. He crosses out today’s date, puts in Sunday’s, and signs the paper where he changed it.  I leave the clinic, and then spend the next HOUR AND A HALF literally obsessed with worry that L&D won’t admit me because of a bad referral. I mean what if I come in and they don’t approve of the handwritten change? What if that’s ok, but we come in Monday and the referral is dated Sunday? Will they count that as 24 hours or will the date change screw it up? I finally CALL the hospital, describe the referral in detail, tell them when I’m thinking of coming in, and check whether they will accept it. Of course they said they would. I spent an hour and a half worried sick about it. Honestly, I’m still a little worried about it. Even though I’ve been told explicitly that it’s ok. Moral of the story: I literally cannot fathom things actually going right. They have gone wrong for so long that it’s much easier for me to just think that they will continue to go wrong. Even when I am told “this isn’t a problem”, I’m still afraid it will be a problem. This is not a good way to live through these next couple of weeks. My head is not a fun place to be, I assure you.
  • My belly button is in danger of becoming an outie. It’s getting very squished at this point. So Shmerson and I have given it a voice with which we dub it often, and decided that it is the perfect way to channel my feelings. An emoji emoticon has been chosen to properly represent the belly button’s constant sense of disdain toward the world. The Hebrew word for belly button is “poopik”. I have been texting  Shmerson regular updates during the day on Poopik’s emotional state.  “Poopik is worried”, “Poopik is bored”, and so forth. Today, Poopik has fluctuated between freaking out and proclaiming that “Poopik is not amused.” Which of course, it never is. It’s part of what makes Poopik Poopik.
  • That last paragraph made me realize just how far gone I really am. Poopik concurs, in case you were curious.
  • Ok, so a few of you guys have requested a bump pic. Since I’m fairly huge, I thought it was time I gave in and actually had Shmerson take a couple, as much as I hate getting my picture taken.  And posting a bump pic is still on my “stuff that freaks me out” list. But with the exception of this, I have not had one picture taken of myself this pregnancy, so I figured I should at least have a few, right? So here ya go (and yes I am wearing the same shirt as before since it’s practically the only one that fits at this point. Also, note the “I hate having my picture taken” faces I pull. Epic.):

bump1 bump2

  • I leave you all with bunnies and a promise to update once the stitch is removed. Poopik has spoken. Poopik out!


Not Much New Under the Sun

12 Apr

So yesterday’s appointment with the Russian went pretty much the way I thought it would. Let me break it down, bullet-style (TTC geekery ahead):

  • They don’t do abdominal cerclages in Israel. The Russian says only 2 have been done here in total, and though he could probably pull one off, he doesn’t want to make me his guinea pig. I pretty much agree with that. I don’t want to have a procedure done that hasn’t been tested and practiced here, and I don’t think I want anyone but the Russian operating on me at this point anyway. He said he would consider doing one on me if we had another second-trimester loss, but for now he doesn’t want to take the risk. Urgh. I don’t even want to think about another second trimester loss.
  • The plan as far as he’s concerned is to get me knocked up again, and then at 12 weeks do a double cerclage (that means two stitches one right under the other), with complete bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.
  • He basically said that statistics are on our side. He’s seen far worse cases end up with a take home baby. In his words: “It just depends on how much you’re willing to go through and how much patience you have. Some people have it easy, and unfortunately you’re not one of those people, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have a baby at the end of all of this.”
  • He doesn’t think I need a repeat HSG but gave me a referral anyway because I asked for it for my own peace of mind.
  • Oh – and he laughed at me when I brought up IVF. For good reason. It was a pretty silly proposition.

Ok – the next part is not bullet-appropriate. Yesterday’s appointment pretty much cemented the fact that this was a failure of my body, and Nadav was healthy. I’ve known it all along but it was still hard to hear “Your cervix failed, and that’s why your water broke.”

I’m trying really hard not to hate my body. But it’s a difficult place to be.

I know the best thing I can do right now is treat my body well, and hope beyond all hope that a double cerclage will be the help it needs to finally bring us a baby.

I know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

HSG scheduled for May 8th, and if all is clear, we’re a go to try again.

I’ll be making an appointment with a PPROM specialist for a second opinion, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say the same thing as the Russian.

So that’s where we’re at. I knew there were no guarantees to be had, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping for one.

Now all we can do is process the information, cross our fingers, and jump in when the time comes.

Le sigh.

10 Things I Learned While Staying Overnight at the Hospital

11 Jan
  1. While lately at home my brain has tormented me at night with crazy post-apocalyptic and dystopian dreams, it knows when to give me a break, and at the hospital only brought me mundane dreams of winter wear and people parking crookedly.
  2. Always bring your own white toilet paper. The hospital is environmentally friendly and uses the recycled brownish type. This is no good for a paranoid RPLer, and does not allow proper examination of the exact tinge of anything that comes out of my cootch.
  3. Apparently, I know more about U/S machines than most residents, considering I had to show my intake doc how to use one after she fumbled around for a good 15 minutes.
  4. They don’t give preggos those fun pre-anesthesia happy pills. Darn it.
  5. NEVER go in for surgery constipated. It will make your bowel movements a topic of conversation for far longer than you would like.
  6. It seems hospital food is specifically tailored to be the most unappetizing thing in the world. Even after 16 hours with no food, I opted out of the hospital lunch.
  7. The universe apparently has a sense of humor. 2 hours after being ordered to another week of strict bed rest, I got a call from that high school offering me the teaching job. Ha ha.
  8. The Russian also apparently has a sense of humor. At the U/S before my discharge (he thankfully knew how to work the machine) I asked him what my chances are now of carrying to term. He answered: “Ask me when you’re 38 weeks”
  9. I apparently do not have a sense of humor when I’m smelly, desperate to go home, and on about 4 hours sleep.
  10. A cerclage isn’t really so painful. After about 4 hours and a few pain meds, I was fine and dandy.

So yes, here I am, doing ok. Going a bit stir crazy though. I’m on bed rest until next week, then I can go back to semi-normal, and just take it easy. Oh- and now I’m considered a high-risk pregnancy. Fun times. I really need to find myself a hobby.

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