Where's the beef?

Those of you that know me, know that for the last 8 or so years of my life, I've avoided red meat like the plague. Before that, I was a big beef/red meat eater. I never gave much thought to it. Growing up in my house, it wasn't a meal without meat. But in my freshman or sophomore year of college, I started to hear about the negative effects of red meat, saw a few gross pictures of the colon (thanks Mrs. P *wink*) and I decided I was all done with it.

Lately though, I've been rethinking my position. My change of heart began about the time I was being wheeled off for my emergency c-section.
In my effort to remain calm, I began doing what I do best. Talking.

I was chatting it up with my nurse and anesthesiologist, and though I had long ago asked them to stop updating me on my blood pressure readings, I must have inquired about the seriousness of my condition. That's when one of the nurses said something to the affect of, "Honey, we want to keep you from having a stroke."

Uh, excuse me? A stroke? OK, apparently you missed something. I do my best to eat well, I work out fairly regularly, and continued to do so when I found out I was pregnant; I'm not the type of person that needs to be concerned about a stroke.

Or so I thought.

Anyway, I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I think I'm shying away from the total avoidance mentality when it comes to red meat. In a weird way, I was using it as an insurance policy to guarantee a long healthy life, but let's face it. There are no guarantees. I could do all the "right things" as it relates to health, and still be gone tomorrow.

Now I don't plan to gorge myself on hamburgers and steak (truthfully, they still don't appeal to me), and I still intend to take precautions when it comes to my health, but I think the answer, like most things in my life, is that moderation is the key.

Now, where is that pepperoni pizza?

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

This past week I've been focusing on fundraising for the March of Dimes-March for Babies walk. As a result it has caused me to reflect on Ian's prematurity and has brought up some interesting thoughts and memories. I've often wondered what it is I am supposed to learn from Ian's early arrival. I'm of the mindset, that if God allows an unexpected bad situation to happen in my life, or anyone's life, there must be an opportunity to learn, grow, and benefit from the experience.

So far that theory has proven true, and some of things I've learned so far are to focus on what matters and not to take life, love, and family for granted. But even with the lessons I've learned I still had some unanswered questions, and so I did what I always tend to do when I have thoughts all over the place. I decided to have a chat with God.

God and I have long since gotten past the formalities so the conversation went a little something like this:

God, while I am appreciative of the life principles I have learned thus far, I can't wrap my mind around why you had to use something as traumatic as a premature birth to convey the message. Am I that hard-headed? Couldn't I have learned these lessons through other means?
I mean this is something that affected not only me, but my family; my child. Plus Dan and I did it right. We met, we dated, we got married, and then we had children. If you're going to have a family, that's the way it should be done. There are plenty of people out there sleeping around and when they get pregnant, you reward them with a perfectly normal and healthy pregnancy. It just seems unfair.

Anyway, as I continued in this dialogue with God, all of a sudden a little light bulb went off in my head and I took a second to really think about what I was saying. Technically, I was saying that I didn't think I deserved the trials of having a premature child, but there was a hidden implication that there were some that did deserve it, and they were the ones who didn't have the same standard of morality that I had. Now, I'm not of the belief that the inverse of a statement necessarily reveals truth, but in this situation it did. In my mind, since I did it "right", I deserved a healthy pregnancy, and while I wouldn't wish a premature birth experience upon anyone, if anybody deserved it, it was those that did not create a child within the confines of a loving, committed, and stable relationship.

When I realized that this was what I was really thinking, it was like a punch to the gut and I was disgusted with myself. I understood that I needed to make a change in my mindset. I had two options.
I could shake my head and say "Tsk, tsk" to all of those who have and will have children in less than ideal circumstances, or I could show love and compassion for both the parents and the children in those difficult circumstances. I chose the latter.

Now I don't think that this revelation was the all-encompassing reason as to why Ian came into this world 16 weeks early, but I believe that this was a principle that I needed to learn in order to become the best me I can be.

Life Lesson: Self-righteous judgment never helps anything. All it does is create an inflated ego that prevents one from experiencing true love.

Back down memory lane

March 21st.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to think of that date in the same way. March 21, 2007 was the day that I found out my pregnancy would be a difficult one.
The day started off normal enough. My cell phone alarm went off at 6am, which was the time I usually woke up to work out, but on that morning I decided I didn't feel like exercising. I had stayed up late the night before and I had my 24 week appointment at 9am so I figured I would make it a lazy day and sleep in.

I got up around 8, showered, dressed and hopped in the passenger seat of the car while Dan drove me to the appointment. He was so great about that. He never missed a doctor's appointment. He was already a proud Papa. We had found out a few weeks prior that we were having a boy, and I had been feeling him really kick for the past 4 weeks. It was an exciting time.

When I got to the doctors office it was business as usual. The nurse had me do the same, stand on the scale, pee in a cup, and let me take your blood pressure routine, but when she took my blood pressure, she made a funny face. The nurse left the room and went and got my doctor. When the doc came into the room, we went through the usual routine and she told me how things seemed to be going well, but she noticed my blood pressure was pretty high. She wanted to have the nurse check it a couple more times, but if it was consistently high, she told me she would have to put me on blood pressure medication.

I started to cry.

I'm normally not a crier, but I was convinced that I had done something horribly wrong, and the only way I could express all the emotions running through me was in tears. But, Dan and my doctor consoled me and my little outburst was short lived. After that, I was ready for action. What did I need to do? Did I need to change my diet? I was eating pretty healthy stuff, but I was ready to make changes if needed. The OB told me that if it was just high blood pressure, I just needed to take the blood pressure medication, and they would keep an eye on if for the rest of my pregnancy. She said the only thing that would signal a major problem was if they found something like protein in my urine.

Cue the nurse. I had a substantial amount of protein in my urine. Now I won't pretend to know all of the medical jargon or attempt to give you an exact definition of what that meant. What I can say is that I walked away understanding that my kidneys weren't doing their job to the best of their ability. But I was still ready to do whatever I needed to make things right. I was CONVINCED that I could do something to fix this problem, but my doctor gently assured me that, no, I wasn't doing anything wrong and she explained that from here on out the goal was to keep me pregnant for as long as possible. They would monitor me overnight in the hospital, and if my blood pressure came down I would be allowed to go home, but I would be on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. If my blood pressure continued to rise, I would still be on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy, but it would be in the hospital.

It was about that time that one of us, I can't remember if it was Dan or me, asked the doctor just how serious this condition was, and she said "I'm going to say this only once, because I don't want you to become overly worried. You know how women used to die in childbirth? This is the condition that caused it." She then explained how far the medical field had come and that I was going to be well taken care of. I loved my OB and really appreciated her honesty. She really helped me put things in perspective.

I have to pause right here and say just how great Dan was during this time, and the difficult days to come. He was my rock, in the flesh, to lean on. I'm sure he had a host of emotions that he was trying to process, but he selflessly put them on the back burner to tend to me, and I love him all the more for it. He's the best.

Now, I could bore you with the details of my extended hospital stay, but I won't, because this post is long enough, and honestly some of it is still painful to remember. The short version is, my blood pressure couldn't be controlled, as a result Ian wasn't getting the nutrients he needed from me, and I had to have an emergency c-section 5 days later.

The silver lining in that dark cloud is that here we are a year later, and we have a happy NICU graduate who brings a smile to our face every day without fail.

Thanks for taking a trip down memory lane with me. Hopefully, I didn't depress you along the way :)