Tag Archives: incompetent cervix

Second Verse – (Pretty Much) Same as the First

26 Apr

So we went in for our second opinion yesterday, and Dr. Second Opinion: I officially re-dub thee Dr. Sunshine!

Seriously, the guy was AWESOME. If he didn’t practice over an hour away from here I would transfer.

It’s not that I don’t like the Russian. But THIS GUY, seriously. Is it possible to have a completely non-sexual crush on a 70-ish year old doctor strictly because of his awesome bedside manner?

Evidence of Dr. Sunshine’s awesomeness:

  • When recounting my story, and saying my water broke at 22.5 weeks, he sighed and said “just shy of the promised land” yep. You get it. *swoon*
  • When I started conversing with him in Infertile-speak, or in other words, giving him terms and information no normal woman would know, rather than looking at me strangely, he was freaking impressed. Loved that.
  • He started talking about “our next steps” then caught himself, and said: “Oh, right, you live more than an hour away. I don’t want you making that drive all the time.” Then he helped me figure out a way to tell the Russian what he said without actually telling the Russian that I went for a second opinion, so as not to hurt his feelings.
  • When I told him this is our last shot as far as I’m concerned, he yelled at me, saying: “Don’t say that, you WILL have a baby. I can tell what kind of woman you are. You’re way too strong to give up, and there’s no reason why this won’t work out.”
  • Finally, and this was my favorite part – the man gave me his personal cell phone number and offered to be my “Phone Friend” whenever I had a question.


Also, nothing he said really contradicted the Russian, and he agreed that the Russian is a good doctor and there’s no reason for me to leave him.

Wow, I feel like I totally just had an affair on my doctor. Ahh well.

As for what happened, he went into a bit more detail, from a different perspective. He said we’ll never know for sure what happened, and it could have been contractions, it could have been the cerclage failing, or it could have been the cerclage itself. We’ll never really know.

So, Dr. Sunshine’s recommendations:

  1. Slight medication change for the first trimester, and progesterone shots starting at 14 weeks (that’s to keep any contractions at bay).
  2. Cerclage at 12 weeks, same stitch as the Russian recommends.
  3. Bed rest, of course.
  4. He sent me in to get my glucose levels tested and my TSH tested again, just in case.
  5. He convinced me to skip the HSG, because he too doesn’t see a need for it, and two docs saying not to have that painful bit of hell is enough for me.
  6. As far as he’s concerned, we can jump in again right away.

So basically, not so different from the Russian’s prognosis.

Another thing that came up was a bit of a validation for me. He pretty much confirmed that they effed up my first D&C and that’s where all the problems most likely started. No point in getting angry about it all over again. But finally a doctor confirms what I’ve been saying all along.

Shmerson and I left the appointment feeling hopeful.

I can’t say the fear has disappeared. I don’t think it ever will. But a bit of hope creeped in thanks to Dr. Sunshine, my new Phone Friend.

AF should show her face in a couple of weeks, and then, we hold our breath and jump in.

Holy crap.

On Hold

27 Jan

Before we dive into this post, please head over to Wannabemom’s blog. She lost her little one at 16 weeks, and could use everyone’s love and support right now. My heart is broken for her.

Honestly, after reading her news, I feel kind of selfish for even writing about what’s been going on in my head. Though on the other hand, it’s precisely these moments that keep me sober, and scared.

I’m 19 weeks today. Almost half way. A few days ago I started feeling him move in a much more defined way than ever before. I sang to him, and he responded by giving me a swift kick in the bladder. It was miraculous. I cried for ages afterward, just in awe of him.

A few days ago I was talking to Shmerson, when he admitted he was scared to go to that wedding last week. He was scared because he knew we’d have fun, and every single time in the past that we’ve had fun while I was pregnant, something has gone horribly wrong.

This is what we’ve come to. We can’t go out and have fun, because something will obviously go wrong. Ahh, the joys of PTSD.

I feel like I’m holding my breath until we reach viability. Or, if I’m really being honest, I’m holding my breath until our Shmaby comes out safe, sound, and healthy.

I have not bought one piece of baby clothing. I have not bought one maternity related item (even though I’m really starting to need a few things). I have not posted funny little anecdotes about my insane cravings. I have done nothing to prepare for if when (who knows) our baby comes into this world. Because I’m holding my breath. I’m not doing a thing every day except keeping myself busy in between “What if”s.

I think that so much has gone wrong for us so often that it’s become impossible for me to imagine that things can go right. It’s much easier for me to visualize a worst-case scenario, because we’ve been there so many times before. In my world, my body fails me more often than not. That is a fact that has just been compounded by this incompetent cervix diagnosis. Things will go wrong, because they have gone wrong in the past. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

I don’t know when I’ll get the courage, if ever, to step into a store and look at stuff for this baby. I don’t know if I’ll ever let myself truly enjoy every minute of this.

The fact is that I am not normal. My body is not normal. I am, as I’ve said before, broken until proven otherwise.

Each day that passes I love Him more and more. And with each day the terror increases exponentially. The thought of possibly losing Him is terrifying.

So I’m on hold until further notice. Probably 21-ish more weeks. I wish I had a fast forward button.

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.

Hey, Other Shoe – Did You Really Have to Drop? Stupid Shoe.

4 Jan

Ok we’ll start with the good news.

It’s a perfectly healthy baby BOY. Yep – it’s a boy. And he’s just fine. I was ecstatic to see that teenie weenie. Guesses be damned.

My cervix on the other hand – is not ok.

During the U/S the Russian noticed that my cervix was shortened and funneled.

In other words – I have an incompetent cervix.

Of all the pregnancy complications I seriously didn’t think this would be the one I would be contending with, and it sucks.

So – the Russian wishes we would have caught it sooner, but there’s nothing to be done about that. For right now it looks like on Monday (at 16 weeks 3 days) I’m going in for surgery to have a cerclage put in (that’s basically a stitch that’s supposed to keep my cervix closed). According to the Russian, if put in up until 14 weeks, there’s a 90% chance of carrying to term. But we’re a little bit late to the party so he’s putting my chances to less than that, he guessed around the 85% mark. Until monday I’m on strict bed rest (again).

When the Russian first pointed out the problem I was actually quite calm. I only really started freaking out after having to call people who were eagerly awaiting to find out Shmaby’s sex and tell them that it’s a boy, and I have to go into surgery to keep him in as long as possible.

I’ve done my freaking out and crying for the day. Now I need some freaking reassurance. Pile on the success stories please. I need them.

Dude, when I said the other day that us ALI ladies tend to always fall on the bad side of the stats, apparently, I wasn’t kidding. Sheesh. Let’s just hope this is truly the only other shoe and I’m done being on the bad side of the stats. I’m kind of overdue for that, right?

Here’s hoping.

Hang in there Shmaby boy.

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