Chase

Where do I even begin? Chase is almost six months old now, and I think I could probably count on one hand the number of times he's been mentioned on this blog. I would love to blame it on being busy. To an extent, that's true. The past 12 months have been crazy at work and trying to keep up with two boys, two dogs, home renovations, etc. has been draining to say the least. But there is really a whole lot more to the story, and when my boys are older and perhaps reading this blog and reflecting on their young lives, I do not want them to think that Chase's entrance into our lives was somehow trivial or unimportant. Quite to the contrary, his addition to our family has been such an emotional experience for me that I've had a really hard time writing about it. For those of you who do not know, in February of 2011, just two days before I was to go spend a eagerly anticipated long girls' weekend in Amelia Island, Florida celebrating the upcoming wedding of my close friend Ellen, I had a routine OB visit to check on our growing baby due to make his/her appearance on our fifth anniversary. My belly was growing nicely, the baby had had a strong heartbeat at the previous visit weeks earlier, I was feeling nauseous constantly and there was no reason to expect that anything was wrong. Casey had a conflicting appointment at work, so I went to the appointment without him. The examination was going along well, everything was checking out right, and then came the time to check the heartbeat. Couldn't find one. No big deal, the baby was probably just difficult to find since he/she was still so small. But "so I could see the baby and feel better," the doctor sent me for an ultrasound. I had had enough ultrasounds at this point that I knew immediately that something was wrong. And then the ultrasound technician put her hand on my shoulder, said "I'm so sorry" and left the room to retrieve a doctor. We had lost our little baby. Again. Telling Casey was the hardest thing I have ever done. I don't even know if I was able to get the words out, but I'm sure he knew from my sobs over the phone what had happened. A few hours later, I had a D & C (surgical procedure to remove the baby and cells), and I was released from the hospital in time to pick Riley up from school. I remember being so incredibly grateful that we had decided to wait to tell him about the baby "just in case." We may have hugged him tighter that day, but besides that, he would've had no reason to know that anything was wrong. Two days later I left for that much-needed girls' weekend. When I returned, I had another "routine" visit with the OB to go over the pathology report from the D & C and to talk about post-miscarriage issues. We had been through this before when the miscarriage prior to Riley occurred, and I was expecting nothing different. And that's when the doctor hit me with a bombshell. Unfortunately, no, this had not been a miscarriage. As it turns out, I had had what's medically referred to as a molar pregnancy. In my case it was "partial" meaning that there had been a living, breathing baby, but the placenta had turned into a tumor, ultimately causing the baby to die. Believe it or not, this was actually a blessing in disguise. The pathology report also revealed that the baby had an entire extra set of chromosomes, a fatal genetic defect. It is possible that if circumstances had been different, I could've carried the baby to full term, and he or she would've died during childbirth or shortly thereafter. I really cannot thing of anything much worse. I mention all of this as background for what has been my internal emotional struggle since then. It is not something that crippled me on a daily basis after the initial shock, but part of the deal with molar pregnancies is that because a tumor was present, it is possible that cancerous cells existed, and it's also possible that they could multiply even after I was no longer pregnant. Therefore, I had to be tested for the presence of cancer for months and during this time, under no circumstances could I get pregnant to replace the hole in our hearts. Sitting in the lobby of my OB's office on a weekly and then monthly basis watching glowing, excited pregnant women coming and going was a constant reminder of our loss. Finally, in October of 2011, I was deemed cancer free and we were told that we could start trying again if we wanted, but that it would probably take months for us to get pregnant, if we were able to get pregnant again at all. So imagine my surprise when halfway through our Thanksgiving vacation in Barbados I couldn't seem to shake the seasickness I experienced during a snorkling trip. Of course, we were in Barbados, so it's not like I could run over to the local CVS to pick up a pregnancy test, but I just knew. I told Casey sitting next to the pool in Barbados on a gorgeous warm sunny day. We were both excited but reserved. I kept thinking, what if there's something wrong with the baby because we got pregnant too quickly? What if the massive amounts of Mr. Steven's rum punch that I consumed during the first half of our trip was too much? What if the baby has an extra set of chromosomes again? What if, what if, what if... We kept my pregnancy a secret for months. My obviously growing belly was no doubt whispered about at work, with our families, with our friends, but the topic was off limits. Even Casey and I didn't talk about it much with each other. I can't speak for him, but I just felt like it would be easier to pretend like the baby didn't exist than to endure the heartbreak of losing another one. Maybe if we didn't talk about it, the loss wouldn't hurt so bad if it happened. Fast forward about nine months. We had made it to the third trimester. The pregnancy was going well. We finally had the courage to tell Riley that he was going to be a big brother. And then it dawned on us that this baby was almost here and amongst other things, we hadn't even set up a nursery, he didn't have a name, we hadn't bought a single baby supply, I hadn't packed any hospital bags. Maybe it was a case of second child syndrome, but I think more likely we were still waiting for the inevitable. Or at least I was. The night before my scheduled c-section, I barely slept a wink. Three things were on my mind: a co-worker's sister had lost her baby for unknown causes two days before her due date, a friend from Junior League whose baby was due three days before Chase was in the hospital saying her last good-byes to her baby who had been born with an extremely rare and entirely inoperable brain tumor and I was terrified that our little guy would suffer a similar fate to one of those babies. It was not so. Sweet baby Chase was born in an extremely uneventful c-section on July 17, 2012. He started screaming instantly and I was so relieved that I could barely breathe. Casey told me he was perfect and started crying. I'm not sure if they were tears of joy or relief or both, but that was all the reassurance I needed. He had made it. He was healthy. Riley loved him instantly. I couldn't have asked for more. What I didn't expect was for the fear to linger. I think the loss of our second baby took a much larger toll on me than even I realized. For months now, I have kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Chase slept too much as an infant, I was certain that he was dying. When he had a messy diaper before he could even finish his bottle literally every single time he ate for the first 4 weeks, I just knew that he had a serious intestinal problem. And until very recently, as he has continued to be on the low side of every growth chart for weight, I have been certain that there was something seriously wrong. Casey and our pediatrician have told me over and over and over that there is nothing medically wrong with Chase, and I knew they are right, but I just kept thinking that our amazing, healthy family is just too good to be true. But then it just hit me one day recently. There is no need to dwell on what happened in the past. I cannot change it. There is, however, every reason to be grateful for what I have. And what I have is an amazing husband who has supported me even when he didn't know how fully I was struggling, two incredible, happy, healthy little boys full of smiles and personality, two goofy dogs who brighten up even the darkest of days, and one little guardian angel for EACH of my boys who we may have never gotten the chance to meet, but who are a part of our lives each and every day as they protect every sacred moment we get with Riley and Chase. And with all of that said, let the resumption of the blog begin. I have a lot of catching up to do. And besides, these boys are just too funny and sweet and amazing to not write about.