It started with a loaf of bread. I always write the date on it, to keep track of when we bought it, and this morning, for the first time since my stroke, I put the marker in my left hand. I realized that was something I had never even tried. I couldn't stand the thought of finding just one more thing I couldn't do (even though I *knew* it in my head), so I just never made the attempt. But I was alone...no one to watch me fight with fingers that don't cooperate, or give up and throw the pen across the room out of frustration, so I gave it a try. And I did it.
It was not pretty, by any stretch. My 5 year old has better penmanship. but that isn't really the point. The point was that I did it :) If I have learned anything from all of this, it is to be thankful for every little thing...no matter HOW little it is. So for me to write the date, even if it was a mess (though I thought it was legible)was huge and it just cemented in my mind that there is ALWAYS hope. Way back in the very, very beginning of all my rehab, I remember being told that at 6 months-post, I'd probably be as "recovered"as I should expect to get. I am happy to say that whoever it was who told me that was WRONG. Granted, most of the *big* stuff happened in those first six months, and it slowed way down after that, but to be able to say, after 7+ years, that I am still having "firsts" is definitely more than I used to hope for or believe was possible.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
An unexpected blessing
December 2004...after being not quite sick...but feeling a little "off" for a couple of weeks, I went to the doctor, thinking maybe I had an ulcer or something. He asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant. The thought had never even crossed my mind, so I immediately said NO. He ordered a pregnancy test anyway. I was so sure it would come back negative. I'd had three babies...I knew what "morning sickness" felt like and this was not it. So I was SHOCKED a few hours later when the nurse called and told me that it was positive, and I should schedule an ultrasound ASAP.
I am beyond ashamed to admit this, but my initial reaction was not excitement or happiness. I was upset. Not only was it not exactly "planned", but I was SCARED. I was just over a year post-stroke..still sort of learning how to take care of MYSELF, and didn't know how in the world I was going to take care of this tiny, helpless newborn. I wasted much of my first trimester being afraid and feeling guilty for letting this happen...I was 32 years old...it wasn't like I didn't know how to NOT get pregnant.
My fears settled down somewhat during the second trimester, but picked up again as my due date got closer. There were just so many questions that no one could answer (of course...even in a normal pregnancy, no one can guarantee that there will be no complications). I understood this, but it didn't do much to make me feel better. In addition to my regular OB, I had one visit with a neurologist, and I always sort of got the feeling that no one knew what to do with me. Again, I understood--how many women do you know who gave birth post-stroke? I was told that I would "probably" be ok. I not only questioned whether or not I had the strength/stamina to give birth naturally, but then started to wonder if the strain of pushing could cause another carotid dissection and, thus, another stroke. Questions no one could answer, so we decided to schedule a c-section for August 2,2005 which would have been 38 weeks. I still didn't know how I was going to take care of him once he was here, but at least I felt a little better about how he was going to get here.
Although the pregnancy was technically considered "high risk", all was normal. It was harder on me, physically, than the first three had been. I was older, and my body was just different...I felt every ache and pain so much more than I had with the other boys..when really I felt great all the way through (other than tired and then...fat).
I did end up having some non-stroke-related complications late in the third trimester, which resulted in our little Samuel being born via c-section on July 26, 2005, at 37 weeks. Now there was definitely no turning back and I was going to have to figure out how to do this.
As always...I did. It was not easy, but also not what I was expecting. I figured it out. The dressing, the bottle-making, the holding and comforting. The one-handed diapering was tricky because you know...you gotta be quick with those baby boys, so I got peed on more than once as I "practiced", but I never dropped him or hurt him in any way, like I had been so afraid of doing, and, most importantly, I stopped feeling so guilty for ruining him by "making" him grow up with a disabled mother. It doesn't seem to bother him at all.
I am beyond ashamed to admit this, but my initial reaction was not excitement or happiness. I was upset. Not only was it not exactly "planned", but I was SCARED. I was just over a year post-stroke..still sort of learning how to take care of MYSELF, and didn't know how in the world I was going to take care of this tiny, helpless newborn. I wasted much of my first trimester being afraid and feeling guilty for letting this happen...I was 32 years old...it wasn't like I didn't know how to NOT get pregnant.
My fears settled down somewhat during the second trimester, but picked up again as my due date got closer. There were just so many questions that no one could answer (of course...even in a normal pregnancy, no one can guarantee that there will be no complications). I understood this, but it didn't do much to make me feel better. In addition to my regular OB, I had one visit with a neurologist, and I always sort of got the feeling that no one knew what to do with me. Again, I understood--how many women do you know who gave birth post-stroke? I was told that I would "probably" be ok. I not only questioned whether or not I had the strength/stamina to give birth naturally, but then started to wonder if the strain of pushing could cause another carotid dissection and, thus, another stroke. Questions no one could answer, so we decided to schedule a c-section for August 2,2005 which would have been 38 weeks. I still didn't know how I was going to take care of him once he was here, but at least I felt a little better about how he was going to get here.
Although the pregnancy was technically considered "high risk", all was normal. It was harder on me, physically, than the first three had been. I was older, and my body was just different...I felt every ache and pain so much more than I had with the other boys..when really I felt great all the way through (other than tired and then...fat).
I did end up having some non-stroke-related complications late in the third trimester, which resulted in our little Samuel being born via c-section on July 26, 2005, at 37 weeks. Now there was definitely no turning back and I was going to have to figure out how to do this.
As always...I did. It was not easy, but also not what I was expecting. I figured it out. The dressing, the bottle-making, the holding and comforting. The one-handed diapering was tricky because you know...you gotta be quick with those baby boys, so I got peed on more than once as I "practiced", but I never dropped him or hurt him in any way, like I had been so afraid of doing, and, most importantly, I stopped feeling so guilty for ruining him by "making" him grow up with a disabled mother. It doesn't seem to bother him at all.
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