6 things one labor & delivery nurse wants you to know about delivering during a pandemic

Let’s face it, the world as we know it is a scary place right now. We’re told to stay home with a stockpile of food and toilet paper, wear masks and stay away from loved ones or else we may get ourselves or someone we love very, very sick. For many, the stay at home order is inconvenient, for a lot, it’s devastating for their financial well being, and for pregnant mothers, it’s all that plus terrifying, upsetting, and downright unfair.

For mothers nearing their due date, I want to personally say my heart breaks for you. Giving birth is a life changing experience that is a bit scary even in “normal” times. Throwing a pandemic in the mix certainly adds unneeded stress, anxiety and fear to what should be an exciting and joyful time. I know this isn’t what you planned, but please know so many people are rooting for you and think you’re very, very brave.

In an effort to ease the worry of expectant mothers, I caught up with my friend Jessica, a BSN, RN working in the OB, Postpartum unit at a South Florida hospital through these unprecedented times. During our chat, I asked her some questions that many expectant mothers have concerns about. It’s important to note that these answers stand true for the hospital she works at, but are a good reference overall. Since I personally gave birth during a different time, I polled a few friends that are currently pregnant, and most of these questions came directly from them.

1. Are the birthing person or support person required to BYOM (Bring your own mask?) Will the mother be required to wear a mask at all times, even during labor? 

Currently, literally everyone is wearing a mask 24/7. I can only speak for our hospital, but we currently have enough PPE to provide to the mom and support person. We all know it is very hard to breathe during labor, let alone with a mask on so all we can do is recommend it. Do all moms continue to wear the mask? No, but that is her choice to refuse our recommendations. You have the right to refuse any medical treatment at any time.

2. What are the main differences in the L&D ward now vs. prior to Covid

Our OB unit is great because the entire floor (L&D, Postpartum, and NICU) is locked and not really connected to the rest of the hospital. Its always been very secure and strict with allowing visitors even before Covid. Currently, we (and Pediatrics) allow only 1 visitor, whereas the rest of the hospital allows none. Besides more PPE and only 1 visitor, our nurses still provide the same compassion and care to our patients.

3. Are new moms getting tested for Covid-19? If so, is it only if they’re showing symptoms?

We are screening both moms and fathers/support person. No one is tested unless they show symptoms.

4. Some expectant mothers have heard rumors that due to Covid 19, mothers will be discharged from the hospital just hours after delivery. Do you know if there is any truth behind this?

There is no truth to that at my hospital and I have not heard that in others. I think that is completely unrealistic and utterly unsafe. Most mothers havent even recovered enough to even get out of bed, let alone go home and take care of herself and her newborn.

That is the exact reason for the postpartum unit. To continue to take care of a mother and her baby. Most complications can happen 24-48 hours later. I do not foresee a discharge that quickly ever happening.

5. Do you feel that first time moms are at any disadvantage receiving some of the support new mothers usually receive at the hospital? For example, visits with lactation support?

We are still allowing lactation specialists to visit mothers. They are a part of our staff, and we believe breastfeeding is so important, so they are still seeing families.
I do think its unfair to the mothers who want/need a doula. I personally didnt use one during my birth, but I know the unbelievable support they provide for some mothers, that no one else can provide. So currently, our policy is only 1 support person allowed. Which usually is the father.

What is your message as a L&D nurse to birthing persons during this time?

We always want and – more importantly- need a mom to be flexible with her birth plan. We will respect every decision a mother makes and will educate as much as we can to help her make an informed decision. Things change hourly and even by the minute, things that are out of our control. Just be open and flexible. We will try our best to still make it the best experience possible. Come with the idea in your head of a safe delivery and happy healthy mom & baby.

Also, since there is only the dad allowed in the delivery room, make sure to give another nurse your phone/camera to take pictures! We love capturing the beautiful miracle and even more so now with no help from family or photographers.

The takeaway here, is your labor and delivery nurses will be there to support you through the most monumental moment of your life, just as they always would. They may have a little more PPE on, but know that they are smiling underneath that mask and ready to help you become a mom, or a mom again!

You got this mama!

 

 

 

 

They say it takes a village but mine lives in my phone.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, but I’m here to correct that phrase. The truth is, it takes a village to raise a mom.

The phrase “It takes a village” never truly resonated with me before I had a baby.  Back then, I thought it meant you’d probably need some friendly faces to bring you a casserole during the sleep-deprived newborn stage, or a few trusting pals to help pick up your kid from daycare. I learned very shortly after giving birth that you need people in your corner for things far beyond the occasional favor. You need a village. A village of gracious, trustworthy souls that can help guide you through the foggy world that is motherhood.

A lot of lucky mamas live near family and friends that can step in and act as their village. But what happens if you don’t? You can do one of two things, navigate that shit alone or find yourself a freakin’ village.

I’d like to strongly encourage doing that later of those two options.

Realistically, not everyone lives near their friends, family or people they can count on. Military families for example, are likely going to be displaced when they and add a tiny new member to their tribe. In our case, we had just moved hundreds of miles away from “home” when I found out I was pregnant. So when the baby came and my husband went back to work, I was pretty much navigating those murky waters on my own.

A few exhausting and overwhelming weeks into new motherhood, it became very apparent to me that I needed support. I found myself wishing so badly I had a readily available “village” nearby to support me and my new little family during one of the most difficult and to be frank, lonely times of my life.

It was during those very foggy weeks that I learned they didn’t need to be physically present to be my people. They didn’t need to ring my doorbell with a lasagna in hand to be exactly what I needed. I realized that a “village” for me was just people to talk to. I’m not talking about chit chat about the weather, I mean, people to really vent to—without judgement. People to be there to listen when I was ready to share my struggles. True conversations about the hard, messy, motherhood stuff you can’t talk about with just anyone. Like true confessions to a therapist at the other end of your fingertips. But on the same token, like-minded individuals to talk about the mundane, boring stuff too. So much happens in the nothings.

Aside from the obvious group of lifetime besties and family, my “village” expanded to include old friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, friends of friends I’ve never physically met, and even strangers I “met” on Instagram. Without even realizing it I was talking to these people nearly every day, because they too were in this weird new club we all somehow knew the password to. That club was motherhood and we were all dazed and confused and in it together. We were all just searching for our tribe.IMG_0633

Before I knew it, I had grown to find my village. But there was a catch—they didn’t have an address nearby. They lived in my phone. This random assortment of humans I would likely never see in person, filled a void in a way I never expected.

As months went on, I found myself texting these new found village people before anyone else. Why? Because they too were in my shoes, and maybe they found their village in me also. They too just wanted to vent that their husband “did it wrong” or that their baby wont nap. They too just want to know they’re not the only ones that have days of anxiety and self-doubt. They too just want someone to send pictures of their babies doing baby things back and forth with without worrying that they’re being annoying. They too love to share their baby’s milestones but also share the days their little ones are pushing them closer and closer to insanity. They too want to share easy recipes because they’re exhausted but also want to feed their families. They too, just want someone to talk to. They too, speak the language of a voice text gone wrong, and actually understand it.

They say it takes a village and maybe mine doesn’t live next door, but I’ve got one and a damn good one at that. I’ve got people in my corner. Motherhood can be isolating and lonely, but it can also make you feel like you’ve never been more connected or understood.

When you connect with women in a way you never thought possible, over this one thing that you have in common, that’s when you’ve found your secret society, your support, your village.

The village of motherhood.

To the mama in the thick of newborn life, I’m here to tell you it gets better. So much better.

Anyone who knows me or who has read this blog, can probably guess I did not thrive in the newborn stage. It was hands-down the most difficult time of my life. So many people told me “enjoy every minute, you’re going to miss this…” and I HATED them for it.

I hated them because that statement, although meant to be harmless, made me feel so guilty that I wasn’t enjoying it. Did I enjoy cuddling that tiny, warm little baby that slept soundly (only) when on my chest? Absolutely. Was I in complete awe of him? Without a doubt. Did I love waking up to that tiny baby’s blood curdling cries every 45 minutes – 3 hours for weeks on end? Sure didn’t. There were women who actually told me, “But aren’t the 2 AM cuddles the sweetest?”

Um…No Sharon, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, 2 AM is not my favorite of all the cuddling time slots. Especially when they’re accompanied by 2 AM projectile spit up, wardrobe (and diaper) changes for both baby and I, and attaching my swollen, bloody boobs to a breast pump every night for weeks. Those nights were the nights I questioned everything.

I won’t carry on about the hardships of newborn life, because if you’re in it right now, I don’t need to remind you. But I will tell you that everyone said it would get better. That you will sleep again. That you will heal.  You won’t always need a plastic squirt bottle to accompany you to the toilet. You won’t always have a bag of frozen peas stuffed into your bra while you rock a screaming 6 pound baby that strangely resembles a roast chicken. That eventually, you’ll wash the spit up out of your hair, and you wont always be pinned beneath a (finally) sleeping baby on the couch, unable to move. I truly thought they were all full of shit, and this was my life now, and that they were all wrong.

But here I am. nearly 9 months into my motherhood journey, and I can tell you—things got better. SO. MUCH. BETTER. They were right. All those parents before me. It’s amazing what a little sleep can do for your mental state. Eventually, we fell into a rhythm. My body healed. We worked through kinks and food allergies and medical issues. Our chronically fussy newborn morphed into the happiest little cherub with the most delicious cheeks you’ve ever seen. I look at him every day and cry for a much different reason. It’s just incredible.  He’s just incredible. Watching him grow and change and learn every day, is just….There are no words to describe it.

Now, I’m thrilled to announce that I’m so incredibly happy. A happy, proud, beaming mama. The one I wanted to be from the beginning. It just took me a little bit to get here.

I didn’t love the newborn phase, and no, I don’t miss it. I miss him being that small, but I don’t miss the vulnurable chaos of it all. There, I said it. I don’t miss the exhaustion, or the fear, or how fragile my tiny baby was. I don’t miss how fragile I was either. I didn’t realize how fragile I was at the time, until I look back and see how far we’ve come, and how strong we are now. There is not a single photo of me with a big toothy-smiled grin until my baby was nearly 2 months old. It breaks my heart, but months 3-8 have been such a joyful sweet spot for us. The smiles, the milestones, the first giggles, the first foods… All the firsts… Did I mention the giggles? Although there are still learning curves and challenges every day, nothing compares to those first all-consuming weeks.

If you can survive the first few months—and you will, although you will question it every day—you will come out stronger than ever! adp_9578You’re a lot stronger than you think you are. Hang on mama, motherhood is a wild ride filled with seasons, and before you know it, that tough season you didn’t think you’d survive will be in your rearview.  Some seasons will feel like they will never end, but I’m here to tell you, they won’t last forever—promise.

Our Must-Have Baby Items for Surviving the First Six Months

When I was pregnant, I scoured the internet for all the “must-have” baby products. I followed mom forums and asked all my mom friends what I needed to register for or purchase! Ultimately, it got pretty overwhelming and I ended up with a huge amount of baby stuff in a not so huge house.

Now that my little one is  8 months old, I’m starting to put away and purge some items Emmett has outgrown or no longer uses. I look at all this stuff like a staple in my home now, but know it wasn’t always that way. So I figured I’d do a round up for any expecting parents who might be interested on what worked in our house and what we could have skipped.

I’m going to go beyond the obvious car seat, stroller, high chair, crib… All these items have paid for themselves already. (I linked the ones we use in case you’re interested, and we’ve been happy with them overall!)

ITEMS THAT WE COULDN’T LIVE WITHOUT (I mean, we could have, but these made life a whole lot easier) 116490561239272p

White Noise Machine: Hatch Baby Rest Sound Machine – We’ve been blasting this white noise machine + nightlight since night one. You can control it from your phone so you don’t have to sneak in and disturb a sleeping baby if you need to adjust it. It plays a ton of different sounds, has many different nightlight color options and honestly, just get it.
I asked 5 of my friends what their must-have baby item was, and this was in the top 3 for all. Honestly, I want one for my room too.  AND on the topic on noise machines, get a portable one for on the go. We have this one and it works great. Perfect for drowning out the sound of a waitress dropping a glass just as your baby falls asleep when you’re out to dinner. TRUSTTTT.

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Owlet Smart Sock:  Okay, this item was a major splurge, and at first I really didn’t like it. Because he was waking up ever 2 hours and sleeping 1 foot from my face in a bedside bassinet, (we had this bassinet that we got secondhand, but honestly we moved him to his crib after 3 weeks and wish I would have moved him sooner) so what was the point? I’d also forget to put it on before I put his footie pajamas on and I wasn’t going to get him undressed to put it on after the fact. But once he was in his crib, sleeping long stretches and I remembered to put it on right after his evening bath, this thing became my best friend, especially after some health scares. You can’t put a price tag on peace of mind, and being able to check my baby’s vitals easily (without hovering over him to see if his chest is rising and falling) was/still is priceless to me. We also have the Owlet Cam which we also love, but it was brand new to market when we got it, so there have been some glitches to work through. (They have great customer service!)

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Zip Up Swaddles – Love to Dream Swaddle Up – I’ll admit I spent a lot of money on swaddles that we barely used, until we found this one. Emmett preferred to sleep with his hands up and would bust out of every other kind of swaddle, so this one was a total game changer! GAME. CHANGER. Plus, it’s cute and made him look like a flying squirrel. There is also a transitional one for when they’re ready to have their arms free, which made the transition to a sleep sack so much easier. You can find the transitional one here.

BURP CLOTHS– ALL THE BURP CLOTHS – DONT GET CUTE ONES. GET ABSORBENT ONES… Like these. Even if you don’t have a baby with reflux, babies are still messy and drool a lot. Just get a pack.

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Bottle warmer: Philips Avent Fast Bottle Warmer – obviously, if you are solely breastfeeding, this won’t be necessary, but we were a pumping, bottle-feeding family pretty much from the start, and this was a necessary item for our family. (Used 8x a day for the first 4+ months) Even when we switched to formula, we had a special formula with mix-ins that we always prepped ahead of time. We pre-made bottles and stored them in the fridge for the day, and popped them in this thing to warm them up quickly and safely.

Play Gym Activity Center– This seems silly, because it’s just a mat with some dangly things, but we’re on month 8 and Em is STILL using this. We have this one by skip hop and he love, love, loves it! Plus the toys can come off and they can play with those as they get older.Unknown-3

Bouncer Seat– I’d like to promote the Rock ‘n Play as it was the only thing my child would sleep in the first few weeks, but it has been recalled so I will move on to the next best thing, a bouncer seat. We had this one by Ingenuity and at nearly 8 months are still using it. Bouncers (as opposed to a swing which is huge and my child hated) have a small footprint, don’t require an outlet and are portable. A lot of babies have some level of reflux and need to be propped up to help keep them from spitting up, so a safe space to place babe other than your tired arms is such a mom essential. You can also strap them in to the seat and bring them into the bathroom with you so you can take a shower. Besides, who doesn’t love showering with a tiny cute audience?

Zip Up Jammies– do yourself a favor, skip the snaps. No one wants to deal with lining up snaps in the dark at 2 am. We love the jammies from Carters. They fit him the best and wash well! These are also a great gift, because you can never have enough. Get all sizes, they grow so quickly! But be sure to keep the seasons in mind—fleece generally is not necessary in August.

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Moms on Call Books– I did a post all about how this book helped get Emmett sleeping. I won’t go into detail, but they are a great resource regardless on your view on schedules and sleep training. Great gift idea too!

Diaper Rash Cream–  This seems like a given, but it was one of the things I didn’t have stocked in the nursery. Newborns have super sensitive skin, and they also poop a lot. BAD COMBO. Grab a few tubes for the nursery before baby is born, so you don’t have to panic at 3am and send your sleepy spouse to CVS when your week old baby looks like they just sat on lava rocks (seriously, it’s terrifying and heartbreaking how bad diaper rash can get). We use A&D daily and Desitin when a rash flairs up.

Boon Drying RackA clean, designated place to dry baby’s bottles, baby bowls, pacifiers, etc. A tiny life hack, just get one. Plus there is a cute travel one too! Unknown-2

Blackout Curtains in the nursery or wherever the baby is sleeping– When baby sleeps, you sleep, and all is right in the world.  Be like NIKE and Just Do It.

GIANT WATER CUP WITH A GIANT ASS STRAW– This was something I Amazon primed for myself about 5 days postpartum at 3 in the morning and still use every day. I ordered this cup with these ridiculous 15″ straws. When you have a newborn, you won’t have free hands or free time to refill your water, and probably won’t have free hands to pick it up and drink from it either. And you’re going to be thirsty AF. Get a giant straw and a cup that won’t need as many refills. I will honestly gift these to all my pregnant friends from here on out.

 

Things we probably could have lived without.

Honestly, we’ve used everything we got for baby! Even the list below…  We got A LOT of stuff, but if I had to make a list of things we could have skipped, this is what I’d say:

Baby Swing – We had this one, every baby is different, but Emmett never loved it. We had high hopes for this item and it was one of the first things we registered for! But it’s big and we definitely didn’t use it as much as the bouncer.

SnuggleMe Lounger– I don’t know why I felt like I HAD TO HAVE this thing. I did so much research and heard so many great things about this and the Dock-a-Tot, but went for the SnuggleMe because it looked cozier for a new baby. (It’s supposed to mimic the feeling of being held) We used it a few times, but it definitely did not get it’s money’s worth.

Boppy Breastfeeding Pillow My breastfeeding journey didn’t last long, but for the few weeks I did breastfeed, I found a regular pillow from my bed was a lot more comfortable and stayed in place better. However, now that he’s older, we brought it back out for him to lounge on and help him sit up!

Bottle Sterilizer and dryer– So, I did use this a lot, and still do because I have it and got it as a gift, but if I wanted to save money, I definitely don’t think this is a necessity. I feel like running bottles through the dishwasher with “sterilize” works fine and doesn’t take up counter space. You can also just just boil the bottles to sterilize. I felt like washing his bottles well with hot water and soap has sufficed most often.

All the breastfeeding tops, bras, etc…. I wish I would have waited to buy all these things as the whole breastfeeding thing didn’t work out for us. I’m not saying they’re not worth it, I’m just saying make sure you tackle breastfeeding before spending the money! Besides, I spent those weeks topless or in a robe anyway.

At the end of the day, a baby doesn’t NEED much.  They need to be fed, snuggled, changed and loved. However, a lot of the gadgets on the market these days sure make parenting a heck of lot easier.  I hope this list was helpful, and if you have any questions, feel free to drop a comment!

Learning to Tolerate… I Mean LOVE My Post Baby Body

To be completely honest, when Emmett was born, I was so exhausted and just trying to survive those first months that I didn’t pay much attention to my new body. It was still really cold, so I kept the sweatshirts on and decided I didn’t have the energy to pay any attention to my postpartum physique. At my postpartum checkup, I hopped on the scale that showed I still had about 10 pounds to lose to get back to my pre-baby weight. I thought to myself, hey, it could be worse, I’ll get there and honestly I’m not in any hurry. It took 9 months to make this baby, I shouldn’t be expected to bounce back in a few weeks. Then spring started to melt into summer, and I thought I deserved some new clothes. I was 10 weeks postpartum at the time and I carefully selected a few cute summer dresses that would likely suit my pre-baby style and my post-baby body and hit proceed to checkout. When the box arrived on my doorstep, my Grandma was here and my husband had just gotten home from a deployment. I optimistically told them I’d model my new outfits for them!

LOL. That’s not what happened.

I had ordered these dresses with visions of cute, Instagram worthy pictures of me in Cape Cod this summer with an adorable baby on my hip. I made sure to select more forgiving flowy summer styles and left the fitted numbers where they belonged—saved for later. The flowy floral number I was so excited about zipped up, and I thought to myself, “Hey, it zipped! That’s a good sign!”

But the woman that stared back at me in the mirror looked like a stranger to me. She looked so tired. I could see the anxiety around her eyes, and she clearly shouldn’t be wearing anything relatively low cut or that doesn’t have an elastic waist. I think what really hit me was my breasts. I don’t use the word breasts, so I’ll call them what I normally call them; boobs. The dress was lower cut, and guess what else was lower? My freakin’ boobs. Before baby I never wore a bra. NEVER. I had silicone stick-on nipple covers I’d replace every few months as I rocked those low-cut sun dresses that flaunted my perky cleavage and cheeky side boob. Clearly, I can throw those out now… The nip covers and the cheeky dresses. My new boobs look like I tried to breastfeed a rabid grizzly bear and lost the fight. Within seconds I was in tears, with flashbacks of just how horrible my experience breastfeeding was. Not only was it the worst experience of my adult life, I now have a permanent reminder of it every time I look in the mirror.  A saggy, stretch-marked reminder of the constant pain, sobbing, bloody nipples and the sound of the breast pump’s aggressive buzzing as it tugged away at my raw nipples. A dainty scar left behind from Mastitis like a tattoo you regret but can’t get rid of.  I felt the defeat of screaming “I can’t do this anymore” through bloodshot eyes wash over me all over again. I felt the fever and chills from Mastitis return. I felt the sobbing in the shower as the warm water hit my tore-up nips. It all came back and it sucked just as much this time as it did when it was really happening. A true flashback of a time I’d rather never, ever revisit.

I also saw my tummy. That needed work too. Although it had somewhat deflated back to normal, the loose skin was definitely visible. My belly button looked like it was frowning. Kind of like the flower towards the end of The Beauty and The Beast—wilted AF. I thought to myself, thank goodness one-piece bathing suits are back in style. My hips were wider. My stance, less confident. Everything just seemed foreign and unfamiliar. Softer. I just stared at myself as the tears continued to well up.

I heard my eager audience say from the living room “I guess we don’t get to see the show!”… I wiped my eyes, folded up the dress and put it back in the box. I slipped back into the maternity leggings I still rocked and emerged from the bedroom explaining they weren’t worth showing. I picked up the baby and went into his nursery and sobbed as quietly as I could as I rocked him and put him down for a nap.

When I was pregnant, I cried over the most insignificant things and whined how I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could get my mental stability back. HA! After baby, everything is new, and the tears certainly didn’t slow down. Your life, your schedule, your body… Everything. But at that moment, I sat there staring at my baby who was now sound asleep in napland, and I took a deep breath and I thanked him. First, I thanked him for not fighting said nap at a time that Mama really needed him to be sweet and cuddly. I thanked him for making me a Mama and giving me this job. I assured him I wasn’t crying because of him. I whispered to him that I loved him more than any sundress. Then I thanked him for my new body. I wiped away my tears, turned off the tear spigot (righty tighty y’all), and promised I’d try to do better at respecting this body that gave me him, and not get so angry at it.IMG_7410

This is something that will be a constant struggle and will take some work, but I’ve promised to do better. Although I still joke about my body and say things along the lines of it being Emmett’s first apartment, I’m trying to not me mean to myself. I actually wrote this 3 months ago, and have never been brave enough to share it, because it’s weirdly personal and emotional. I’ve started working out again. But I’m not doing it “to get my body back,” I’m doing to for me, and for me time. I’m doing it as a little something good for myself. To thank my body for being strong during tough times.  I’m working out to stay healthy and strong for my baby who will soon be a toddler that needs chasing. Honestly, as much as it sucks, the endorphins really do a body and mind good.

This body, as much as I’m not a super fan of it’s appearance, worked really, really hard to give us this healthy baby, and so what if it’s hard work shows. The phrase “bounce back” needs to be retired. You can get back into a healthy lifestyle, but there certainly is no bouncing into anything… Especially because new moms are likely afraid of wetting their pants in the event of bouncing. With that said, you can find me in my yoga pants and one-piece swimsuit for now. And if you have a problem with that, then that sounds like your problem, doesn’t it.

How becoming a mom showed me gratitude

Becoming a mom is one of the most incredible things to ever happen to me. It has been such a roller coaster of emotions that I’ve had a tough time processing them at times. It’s hard yet awesome. It’s exhausting yet most exhilarating thing ever. It makes you happy and sometimes sad, and sometimes I catch myself crying for no reason other than my brain is trying to keep up with all the emotions swirling around in my head.

But if there’s one emotion that has become the star of the show, its gratitude. Anxiety is a close second, but we’ll save that puppy for later. It may seem like I’m always whining about how hard it all is, but that’s because, well, it is hard. And by the way, hard does not always equal bad. But as hard is at may be, my son has single handedly showed me what it feels like to be hashtag blessed. I just stare at him in a complete awe and wonder how this tiny person that’s a mix of my husband and I is real. How his chubby cheeks and butt chin wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the miracle that is procreation.

I know, I know. I used to hate those bitches who said that their hearts were just exploding with love. Or said having kids is like feeling your heart walk around on the outside of your body, but it’s freaking true. Damn. I hate when those bitches are right.

Going out to eat with a baby can be a little stressful. Sometimes your baby will cooperate through dinner, and sometimes they won’t. They’re babies. They cry sometimes. And generally the people around you are not super pumped about being near your crying baby. But sometimes when your baby cries in public, you don’t get rude looks and death stares, but instead, looks of empathy from grandmas who are missing their little ones, or a waitress who has been there.

Recently, I was out to dinner and my baby had a full diaper blow out. He was crying. I was sweating. I was trying not to cause a scene as I snuck away from the table (just as the food arrived of course, because #momlife). As I approached the restroom while holding a poop grenade just waiting to be detonated, I prayed to the good lord baby Jesus that this restaurant had a changing table. Thankfully it did. As I laid my baby out on the changing table, hair in my face, poo that resembled spicy mustard just waiting to make it’s great escape, baby cries echoing through the marble bathroom (those bathroom acoustics!), I struggled to get wipes out of the diaper bag that swung from my elbow. With one hand on the baby at all times, I exhaled as I finally finagled some wipes from the swinging trapeze of my diaper bag. And in that moment, a woman came up to me and offered a hand. I didn’t know this woman. I politely declined her help and genuinely thanked her. She looked me in the eyes and told me I was doing a great job and she remembered how hard it was like it was yesterday. I went home later that night and thought, I wish there were more people in this world like her. To the kind strangers in the world who make up for all the not so kind ones, I’m grateful for you.

Also, can we just say I’m grateful to public places with changing tables? No matter how gross, at least there’s a safe place to clean up your babe.

When our son needed an emergency grand entrance to the world during his birth, the doctors and nurses made sure he and I were safe and healthy. They also made sure we felt safe and healthy. Even though I know it’s their job, the way they treated me with dignity and respect will never be forgotten. I feel forever grateful to these humans.

When our son had surgery at 5 weeks old, the skilled surgical team carefully operated on our tiny newborn with care and precision. His doctors and nurses cared for him and even myself with such grace and kindness, I felt like we were a part of their family. Each time we left the hospital as a healthy family of three, I thought to myself—thank God. I am not super religious. But there are times you just have to look around and thank the universe or the powers that be for your happy ending. I was bursting with gratitude. I still am.

When our insurance covered our baby’s operation in full, and then assigned a registered nurse to call and check up on him and answer any questions I may have, I felt so grateful to have such wonderful healthcare coverage. Not having to worry about a stack of medical bills piling up allowed us to focus on the health of our son, and I never once took that for granted.

When I struggled transitioning into my new role as a mother, with sleepless nights and a fussy newborn, my friends and family that checked in on me meant more than I ever thought possible. I was fighting that good fight of staying afloat as a new mom. Everyone has their own busy life, their own struggles, their own good fight to fight, but the daily calls, texts, cards and even gifts we received, made me truly realize how loved we are. My friends and family love our baby like their own, and it shows. For that, I am so freakin’ grateful.

When I watched the news and saw a segment about a mother living out of her car with her babies, it made me appreciate the walls around me and the roof above my head. Our house is not a mansion by any means. It’s not featured in Better Homes & Gardens Magazine. There is plenty of updating my husband and I would love to complete eventually, but it’s our home. The first home our baby will know, the house that turned into a home the second that baby came home with us. The one small bathroom is the one I found out I was pregnant in. The same bathroom that has become “Bubbie’s Spa” during our baby’s nightly bath. Our house that won’t be home forever, but it’s filling up with memories by the day. For this humble home that keeps us warm and safe, I am so grateful.

There’s so much more I’m truly grateful for every day, but this post would be 15,000 pages long and likely get cheesy enough to cringe. I’m grateful for the gift if being able to have a child, the gift of health, the gift of feeling safe and protected and loved. The gift of feeling supported when I needed it most. I’m grateful for my husband who loves both me and our son unconditionally. Grateful for this postpartum body, no matter how I struggle with it, because it gave me my baby. I’m grateful for the bad days, because they taught me just how good the good days are. Not to say that I used to be an ungrateful person, but the little things are just a lot bigger now, and the big things, well, they’ll figure themselves out.

When it’s not just reflux; my newborn had pyloric stenosis and needed surgery

As a new mom, the word “scary” gets tossed around a lot. Because honestly, it’s the best way to describe it. Everything is new and unfamiliar, and every poop, grunt or squeak from your baby gets observed the way a resident on Grey’s Anatomy observes a patient who has been admitted for Ebola. “Does this look normal?” is also just a part of a new parent’s love language.

But when something doesn’t feel right, or in fact feels very wrong, it’s all consuming. I’m a brand-new mom to a brand-new baby—a baby who had been diagnosed with reflux. Reflux in babies is common. Their tiny tummies aren’t mature enough to hold their feeds down, so sometimes a little comes back up as “spit up”. I was told it’s usually more of a laundry issue than a medical one, but to monitor and call the pediatrician in the event things seemed to get worse.

By week 5 with my newborn, spit up was everywhere. It was in my hair, it was on my clothes and every surface of my home had a burp cloth ready for clean-up. I switched from breast milk to different kinds of formula. We kept him elevated after feeds. We tried it all. But when the burp cloths transformed into full on beach towels, and the “spit up” turned exorcist-style projectile, I knew in my gut it wasn’t just reflux. It couldn’t be.

The morning we found out that it wasn’t “just reflux” still haunts me. I brought my 5-week old baby back to the pediatrician, spit up in my hair, apologizing profusely for being a paranoid first-time mom. But my worry was valid. I wasn’t over-reacting. There was something wrong with my baby. They found he had a milk allergy and for a brief moment, that diagnosis was a relief. I assumed that explained all the vomiting and constant fussiness. We would change his formula, and everything would be better. Right?

Wrong.

The doctor also said they wanted to have him looked at for something called pyloric stenosis; a condition where the pylorus muscle in babies becomes thickened, preventing food from leaving the stomach and entering the small intestine, causing them to forcefully vomit up their feeds. She explained that this condition usually presents itself in babies around 4-6 weeks of age, causes forceful vomiting, and is most common in first born males. We checked all the boxes and were immediately sent for ultrasound at Hasbro Children’s Hospital.

When the ultrasound tech left the room to get the radiologist so he could take a closer look, my heart sank. It kerplunked so deep in my gut that I couldn’t breathe. I sat there, holding my breath and my 8 pound, 5-week old baby, when they returned with the news I already saw coming.

The radiologist said “Your son does in fact have Pyloric Stenosis and he will need surgery. We will be admitting him now.”

*Starts frantically googling pyloric stenosis*

No matter how good the bedside manner, or how many times a doctor calmly tells a mom that the surgery her baby needs is a “simple, straightforward one” or that “everything will be fine,” it does not ease the blow. At that moment, in that room, dried spit up caked to my scalp, eyes so heavy and tired from weeks of spit up filled nights, I lost it. I sobbed while rocking my baby, in shock that this was happening, yet saying over and over I knew something was wrong. My baby was so tiny, born just 5 weeks prior, at only 37-weeks gestation and already needed an operation. Why my baby? Why our family? Why did he have to be the one in a thousand babies who get this diagnosis?

We were admitted right away, to the children’s hospital that would become home for the next 3 days. They explained that the operation would not take place until morning, but they needed to keep him overnight on an IV drip to keep him hydrated, as the most dangerous parts of pyloric stenosis is dehydration. Several nurses were needed to place the IV in his tiny foot. I had to leave the room. I would have rather been pacing the halls of a children’s hospital with tears streaming down my face than see my baby get poked and prodded. I felt an enormous amount of guilt about this, but my husband stayed with our baby, holding his tiny hand while they placed the IV. The compassionate nurse signaled for me that it was safe to come back in.IMG_3029

We were not allowed to feed him until after the surgery, which was nearly 30 hours after first being admitted. Listening to your newborn baby cry his “hungry cry” and not be able to feed him, is a torture like I had never experienced. My body was so tense that I was physically sore for days after. My breastfeeding journey had ended about 2 weeks prior, and yet by the time we left the hospital, I had mastitis (a painful, clogged, infected milk duct) from my body physically trying to respond to my baby’s cry.

The hours spent in pre-op, rocking my infant son as he wailed, IV lines and EKG cords dangling from his foot, were the worst hours of my entire life. As we waited for him to be taken back to surgery, in the pre-op room with other parents and their sick kids, I looked around with blurry eyes. My eyes met the gaze of other moms, eyes filled with the same dread and worry, waiting for their turn to follow their kids out of the pre-op room, just to take their detour to the purgatory of the surgical waiting area.

When the surgeon came to take our son back for surgery, I was filled with dread—a dread that was almost tangible. My husband and I took our own personal journey to the waiting area. We were ready for this mess to be behind us, and to be reunited with our baby who would now hopefully be able to keep his feeds down.

A long hour and a half later, the surgeon came and told us our baby did wonderfully, and we’d be able to see him in recovery soon. When we finally got to see him, all bandaged up, monitors beeping, I exhaled for the what seemed like the first time in days. After some recovery time, and plenty of worry, our baby was going to be okay. Being in a children’s hospital has a way of making your issues—no matter how great—seem small. Looking around at the other recovering children and their worried families made it very apparent we were lucky. Our baby was going to come home with us in a few days, and some of these kids had a much longer journey ahead of them.

When we got home, there were a few more weeks of vomiting episodes. This was normal, but that didn’t make it easy. I had hoped the surgery would have been a quick fix, but it wasn’t. Every time he vomited or spit up from that point forward, my entire body would tense up and I’d be thrown into a full-blown hysterics. I honestly think I had a mild case of PTSD (self-diagnosed obviously). But as weeks went by, and he adjusted to his new milk-free formula and Zantac prescription to manage his reflux, things got better. It just took time and a lot of trial and error.

To all the mamas out there going through a rough patch and possibly a sick baby, I feel for you. It’s the worst feeling in the world. But always trust your gut and know that doctors and nurses are there to help, and they are truly miracle workers.

Preeclampsia, a get to the hospital now story

As I have mentioned in previous posts, the last few weeks of pregnancy were not fun for me. I was wildly uncomfortable and full of anxious nerves. Each day seemed to last a week and I felt like I was trapped in my own body with symptoms getting more uncomfortable by the day. And to my poor husband, I apologize. I know I was not pleasant to be around.

Around week 36 of my pregnancy, I started having what I called “vision spells,” where out of nowhere I would start seeing stars or “auras” and lose almost all vision in one eye and only be able to see out of my peripheral in the other. It would last about 20-30 minutes and then dissipate. The first time it happened, we were at the Olive Garden—leave me alone, I had a craving for breadsticks—and I couldn’t read the menu. I was trying not to freak out and cause a scene amongst the crowd enjoying their unlimited soup, salad and breadsticks, but I was truly frightened.

Visual disturbances are a symptom of preeclampsia—a serious pregnancy complication that affects roughly 5% of pregnancies, that is often characterized by high blood pressure and protein in the urine, that if left untreated can lead to very serious and even fatal complications to both mom and baby. Other symptoms of preeclampsia include swelling, headache, nausea and shortness of breath, which to be honest are all symptoms of a normal pregnancy too, so don’t freak out mamas. When I saw my doctor for my 36-week checkup, I talked to her about the scary visual disturbance that had happened, and just as I began to talk about it, it happened again. Right there in her office… I mean, that never happens! (You know… Like when you’re driving around for months with a check engine light on, but as you pull into the dealership it turns off?) I started crying—the usual at that point in pregnancy—but honestly, I was really freaked out. I mean, I was having temporary bouts of blindness, that’s scary AF.

I did not have high blood pressure or protein in my urine to indicate preeclampsia, so they sent me to the lab to see if there was anything else going on with my bloodwork that could make sense of the vision spells I was having. The bloodwork showed that my blood platelets were low. They weren’t low enough to worry at that point, but they wanted to check again in a few days to monitor. Blood platelets are what helps blood in the body clot, which is very important during childbirth, because, well, there is so. much. blood. during childbirth. I had bloodwork done 2 more times before my 37-week appointment and continued to have the visual disturbances off and on every day or so. I had also stopped driving at that point because the visual issues happened randomly and without warning.

On the morning of my 37-week checkup, I still had no typical signs of preeclampsia (high BP + protein in urine) but my doctor ordered a rush panel as my platelets had continued to drop over that week, and she wanted to test one more time. She explained to me that she would call as soon as the panels came back, but if my blood platelets had dropped again, it would be cause for induction.

Now, as much as I did not want to be pregnant anymore, this was frightening. Pregnancy is considered full term at 37 weeks, but I did not see this one coming. I was sure I’d be an overdue mama. I called my husband at work and told him what had transpired at the appointment, but told him not to worry, and that I was pretty sure if I were to get induced, it would probably be scheduled for later in the week. When the doctor called a few hours later, she informed me that she didn’t like what she was seeing, that my platelets had continued to drop, and now my liver levels were elevated as well. She then said she felt it was time to end the pregnancy.

Wait. What?

The phrase “end the pregnancy” hit me like a ton of bricks, well, it was more like I ran into a brick wall and got slapped into reality real quick.

With a shaky voice, I asked, “Okay, when?”

Her response, “Now. I’ve already sent your charts over and spoken to the doctor on call. They’re waiting for you. You’ll be induced tonight. You’re in good hands.”

Even though she delivered that news calmly and in the most reassuring way, it left me trembling.

She explained that although I don’t have the typical symptoms of preeclampsia, sometimes it presents itself in strange ways. She classified it as “atypical preeclampsia” which is typical of me to get a rare pregnancy complication and then make it even more rare by not even getting the standard, run-of-the mill preeclampsia.

Suddenly, I wasn’t allowed to whine about being uncomfortable and pregnant anymore. My placenta previa-turned low-lying placenta seemed like the most minor of issues, even though just a month or so prior it had me very worried. If I would have known this would have transpired the night before, I might have laid off the theatrics of sobbing for an hour after I realized I had lost a button to my duvet cover. (Pregnancy hormones and nerves will really make ya loco, y’all). But I felt guilty. Like I had somehow willed the universe into giving me a scary complication so that I could have the baby sooner, and now we were both at risk. It was a real “be careful what you wish for” moment for me.

I had now been slapped with a scary diagnosis and it was go-time, I didn’t have too much time to think about it honestly. I called my husband and let him know he needed to get home ASAP. Luckily, we had packed our hospital bags two weeks prior so we were ready to go, but we hadn’t put the car seat in yet as it had been snowing non-stop. He rushed home, and with the help of YouTube got the car seat installed, grabbed our bags and we headed to the hospital. We began calling and texting friends and family to let them know what was going on and shortly after we arrived, we were admitted. To be honest, even though I was shaking violently, I was oddly calm. I knew I had a job to do, and that the best treatment for preeclampsia was delivery of the baby. I knew we were in good hands and we were going to meet our little boy soon. This wasn’t at all how I had expected things to go, but pregnancy is weird like that. It was very surreal that what had started as a routine 37-week prenatal appointment landed me in the hospital, but there we were.

As I got changed into what would be the backless gown I’d wear for the next three days, I couldn’t help but notice my husband pacing around the room. We were going to be parents soon. This was it. This was how our story started and how my pregnancy ended. No dramatic water breaking in public, rush to the hospital story. No middle of the night “I think I’m in labor” moment. My labor would be started artificially, here in this room, by a doctor I was about to get to know very well.

I watched the monitor that was tracking the baby’s heartbeat as I waited for the doctor to come and begin the induction. I listened to the beeping of the machine and looked away winching as the nurse placed the IV in my arm. My phone buzzed with text after text, call after call from family and friends sending their “you got this” messages and well wishes. When the doctor walked in with a full cart of medical devices, I knew this would be the moment that started it all, my life was about to change forever.

Why The Last Month of Pregnancy is Brutal AF

Hooray! You’ve made it to the third trimester. At the beginning of trimester 3, around week 27, You’re more than halfway through baking that little bun in your oven. You’re probably feeling pregnant, but excited. Your bump is on display. You’re amazed how the baby is growing and look forward to checking your baby tracker app each week to see what fruit your baby has grown into. You’re working on the nursery. Nesting is in full swing. You’re excited for your baby shower and if you found out, you know the gender of your little one by now! You may feel even more confident that this is really happening and overall, unless you have had a difficult pregnancy with complications, you’re probably feeling pretty good.

As you enter the 9th month of pregnancy (PS-  40 WEEKS IS LONGER THAN NINE MONTHS, DO THE FREAKIN’ MATH PEOPLE) you feel rested, excited, never felt better right? WRONG! So, so wrong. I am speaking from personal experience here, so please just stop reading if you were one of those mythical creatures who just felt like a magical pregnancy fairy floating through your ninth month of pregnancy farting glitter that cleans itself up. Because the only mythical creature I felt like during those final weeks was a fat, fire-breathing dragon.

Every month lasts about 30 days, except your final month of pregnancy, that month lasts 985 years, or at least it feels like it. The waiting game is the most brutal of all. I don’t think I’m alone here when I say by month nine, I was OVER IT. I just so happened to be pregnant through the dead of winter in New England. My coats didn’t fit. Trying to squeeze my wide load into layers of clothing was like running a triathlon. My gigantic belly made me so unsteady on my feet that I was afraid to go outside for the fear of slipping on ice. I became a hermit that lived in flannel pajamas. My hip hurt so badly I’d shriek like a puppy who’s tail just got stepped on with almost every step. My husband had to help pry me out of bed 15x a night so I could get up to pee. I couldn’t breathe and I had to sleep upright or else my throat might have caught on fire due to horrendous heartburn—just another reason why I felt like a fire-breathing dragon. Every time I looked in the mirror my body looked more and more like an orangutan. Everyone and everything annoyed me. And don’t even get me started with the hemorrhoids. My doctor confirmed I had hemorrhoids—yes, I made her take her headlamp down there and confirm, these were new to me and I wanted to make sure they were normal. She confirmed they were an unfortunate but totally normal symptom of late pregnancy  (so. much. pressure. down. there) but lucky for me, they didn’t seem “too angry.” Um…to the pregnant ladies with the “angry version” of hemorrhoids, I commend you. TMI? Not on this blog.

To prove that I’m not alone, I asked some friends who have been through it to tell me how they really felt when they were in their last month of pregnancy, and their answers did not disappoint:

“I felt like a manatee. I was always thirsty and searching for an air return to cool off my vagina which was so puffy and swollen it looked like a sea urchin. I basically was an aquatic sea witch in heat. Also, I sat on anything cold from the freezer. Sorry honey, can’t eat those peas, I sat on them” – Anonymous Friend 1

“No matter how thankful I was to be pregnant, the end was rough.  Imagine trying to prep for baby knowing everyone in the room is going to see your va jay jay so you try to shave but can’t see down there. I felt like I was carrying around an 8 lb Butterball Turkey pressing on my bladder. But THE WORST though, was they say to rest before baby comes but trying to sleep was awful. Baby was pressing on my nerves and my hips and thighs would go numb. I would toss and turn all night because if it. Plus pelvic floor? What pelvic floor? Better have that panty liner in. Fun times.” – Anonymous Friend 2

“I felt like a beached whale. Do beached whales cry a lot?” – Anonymous Friend 3.

On top of all the physical ailments that tend to plague women in their final month of pregnancy, the one thing that was most bothersome to me was the anxiety and nerves. This was my first pregnancy and therefore my first labor & delivery and I was terrified. Terrified of the unknown, terrified of when and where I’d go into labor, terrified of how delivery would go and if I would get the epidural in time—because YES CHERYL I PLAN TO GET AN EPIDURAL , NOT LIKE IT’S ANY OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS HOW I BIRTH MY CHILD. (See reference to everyone and everything annoying me, above.) I also had an irrational fear of going past my due date, because I was just so uncomfortable and anxious, the thought of crossing my due date off my calendar and moving to the next seemed like some messed up kind of torture.

When bi-weekly check-ups with my doctor turned into weekly around week 36 and my doctor began checking me for any signs of labor, I weeped when she told me no. She handed me a tissue and said “all babies come out, one way or another.” Not really what I wanted to hear, but she was right.

Now that I’m on the other side of pregnancy and type this as my baby naps outside of my body, I still remember very clearly how much those last few weeks sucked. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I do know that motherhood really is a sacrifice in so many ways, and pregnancy is just part of the journey. As crazy as it sounds, I thought people were insane when they told me I’d miss it, but I kind of do. Feeling those little kicks—even if they were straight to the bladder—is a feeling that you truly can’t explain and I guess it is kind of magical in a glitter fairy kind of way.  So, to those mamas out there in their final month of pregnancy, you got this! Soak up the last weeks of those baby kicks, because your little one will be here soon and it will have been worth it, promise.

Pregnancy Part 2. Hey There Placenta Previa.

Once I emerged from the dreaded first trimester, I was feeling a whole lot better and whole lot more confident that this was real. The chronic nausea was behind me and onions were no longer something out of a horror film for me. A baby bump had emerged and so had the maternity leggings. Things were really moving along!

My second trimester of pregnancy was mostly uneventful, and for that I am grateful. I still cried all the time, but I would soon learn that the tears would stay with me long after the baby was born. Cooking became a thing of the past pretty much from the beginning of my pregnancy. I used to love to cook but while simultaneously cooking a new human in my oven, it just seemed like an exhausting chore. And although I wasn’t nauseas anymore, raw meat still made me queasy. Also, when I did attempt to cook, I would ruin every meal I attempted, or I’d burn myself! I swear, has this happened to anyone else? Where you just totally lose all cooking ability or the desire to? It was a very odd symptom I didn’t expect.

In your second trimester, you are still only seen by a doctor once a month, unless there are any issues that require you to be seen more often. At my 19-week anatomy scan, they confirmed we were having a boy (we had found out at 13 weeks via NIPT blood screening) but they also found that I had something called placenta previa, just another one of the many terms I would learn over the next 9 months.

Placenta previa is essentially a condition where the placenta (the organ that is connected to the umbilical cord and provides oxygen and nutrients your baby) is too low in the uterus, therefore blocking the cervix, AKA baby’s exit door. A normal placenta rests above the baby, but mine was below him. Placenta previa is somewhat rare yet not totally uncommon. It’s said to effect less than 200,000 pregnancies per year; however my doctor was confident that my placenta would move upward before baby was due for his exit. In an effort to learn more, I spoke to a lot of friends of mine who had given birth before, and found a few of them also had placenta previa and it did in fact correct itself. To me, this was just another example about how being open about things that are going on in your motherhood journey can help make you feel less alone. If placenta previa does not correct itself, it means the baby has to be born via c-section. Which is not the end of the world, but ultimately was not my first choice.

What happens if you’re diagnosed with placenta previa? The answer; not a whole lot. I was put on “pelvic rest” at that doctor’s appointment and was scheduled for another ultrasound a few weeks later to check on the placenta’s progress. What is pelvic rest you ask? Basically, it means you can no longer work out, lift heavy things, have sex, or put any foreign objects in your vagina—ya know, in case you were planning to. The reason for this is because the placenta is so low (how many times can we say placenta? Placenta, placenta, placenta…The limit does not exist) that there is a high risk of bleeding. Bleeding during pregnancy = no bueno.

While I was grateful to not be on full bed rest, it was also discouraging to be given limitations. I was only halfway through my pregnancy and already I was being slapped with a list of can nots in addition to the can nots of coffee, wine, soft cheese, deli sandwiches, the finer things in life, etc. It was about 6 long weeks until I was seen again to check on the status of my placenta. I scheduled that appointment for the same day as my glucose test—the test every pregnant woman dreads that checks for gestational diabetes. You drink a horribly sweet syrupy drink, wait and hour, and then have your blood drawn to check how your body responds to the sugar. If you “fail” this test, you have to do it again, and the second time, you have to wait three hours and get your blood drawn every hour on the hour for those three hours. I do not handle blood well—something I’d have to get over as my pregnancy continued—more on that later. So I did not anticipate handling the glucose test well. I was right, I fainted in the waiting room of the lab and had to lie down on the table adorned with puppy posters and reserved for pediatric patients (see main photo in this post, thanks for the pic, husband!)  As embarrassed as I was, somehow I passed the test.

After the glucose test, and after assuring the nurse I did not need a wheelchair escort, I went into the ultrasound room to check on the placenta. I was confident it would have headed north by then, but my confidence was quickly squashed when they pointed to the screen and told me it had moved slightly, but not enough to be in the clear. The placenta needs to be a minimum of 2 cm from the cervix to no longer be considered a previa, and mine had only moved 1 cm. It was really disappointing, but it was out of my control. We continued to monitor my placenta well into my third trimester. Eventually I was told it is the most stubborn placenta the doctor had ever seen, but it had moved  the 2 cm it needed to (although they had hoped for a lot more) and she felt confident I wouldn’t need a c-section. Since my placenta was still considered “low lying” there was still a risk for bleeding, so I was kept on pelvic rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. Hey, at least I had an excuse not to workout, although my initial pregnancy goal was to stay as fit as possible to help make delivery easier. I was also very worried because I was told there is a higher risk of bleeding during delivery, but because I had planned to birth at a hospital, I would be closely monitored in the event bleeding did happen. *Spoiler* placenta previa ended being the least of my worries during the delivery of my little one, and caused no complications.

On a positive note, placenta previa gets you way more sneak peaks of your little bun in the oven as many more ultrasounds are needed! A normal pregnancy usually only gets 2-3 ultrasounds in its 40 weeks, but I got at least 8—enough to fill a whole album with ultrasound pictures!

Did you have placenta previa? Did it correct itself or were your required to have a c-section? Share your story in the comments!