Back to the Bronx

After two years of searching, we finally have some answers.

After seeing multiple specialists and enduring endless tests, Bronx finally started getting closer to having a diagnosis when the initial labs and x-rays ordered by his endocrinologist came back with red flags when he went for his first visit last November.

That led to even more testing.

More specifically, testing to check for growth hormone levels, which consisted of spending an entire day at the hospital. During the stay, Bronx was injected with a drug to stimulate his growth hormone response and then his blood was drawn at regular intervals over the next several hours through an IV.

He went through two awful rounds of this using two different drugs. We spent one test day on the pediatric floor of the hospital and the other in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.

copyright - suburban princess diaries

Long story short, he failed both of those tests.

Then he underwent a brain MRI to rule out any pituitary abnormalities. Thankfully, the results for that came back normal.

And now we finally have a diagnosis. A solid explanation for why our little man just won’t grow.

Bronx has Growth Hormone Deficiency.

Unfortunately, because Bronx’s body does not make enough growth hormones to grow on his own, we had to start giving him nightly growth hormone injections.

copyright - suburban princess diaries

Not exactly something we wanted to incorporate into his bedtime routine.

Bronx isn’t too thrilled about it either.

The worst part is that he will have to continue these injections until he stops growing, which may be for next twenty years or so.

Poor kid.

copyright - suburban princess diaries

Right now, at 2 1/2 years old, he weighs 21 pounds and he is 32 inches tall.

He just started the injection treatment.

It will be interesting to see how his growth picks up once these hormones start working.

Super Nova(lee) – part deux

(If you haven’t read part one, yet … click here.)

February 14th. Valentine’s Day.

That morning, I woke up cramping.

It wasn’t long before the pain had me rolling on the floor.

I woke up my husband. He called his dad to come over and watch the boys. When he pulled up, I dragged myself out to our minivan and tried to get as comfortable as I could in the passenger seat. I yelled at Matt that if he didn’t hurry up, get in and start driving that I would have to call 911.

At the time, a little voice in the back of my head thought that maybe my threat to bring in a brigade of paramedics was a bit melodramatic.

In retrospect, 911 might have been a good idea.

Matt got us to the hospital at 5:46 am.

Roughly 36 hours after my epidural was taken out and I was sent home.

I was wheeled up to labor and delivery, where an initial check revealed that I was six centimeters.

I was screaming for the epidural at this point.

Ten minutes later, after putting in an IV to start fluids, the nurse checked me again.

She announced to another nurse that I was now at eight centimeters and my bag of waters was bulging.

When I heard that, I knew that there was no time for me to get an epidural.

I started screaming for them to give me some pain medication in my IV line instead. Anything they could get to me quick enough, just to take the edge off.

But there wasn’t even time for that.

Just moments later, my water broke and almost immediately after the baby started crowning.

The nurses were panicking (and telling me not to push), the hospital’s on-call doctor was just walking in the room (still half asleep) and my OB-GYN was still in route to the hospital.

The baby was delivered with a single push. She came out so fast that the nurse barely had time to catch her head and her body actually landed on the bed. In fact, right before I pushed her out, the nurse had noticed I was lying halfway off the bed, and she had yelled out to one of the other nurses that if she didn’t roll me over the baby would have fallen out onto the floor. No joke.

28 minutes after arriving at the hospital, at 6:14 in the morning, Novalee Berlin was born at exactly 37 weeks gestation, weighing 5 pounds 10 ounces and measuring 18 inches long.

copyright - suburban princess diaries

copyright - suburban princess diaries

copyright - suburban princess diaries

My little Valentine’s Day lovebug…

copyright - suburban princess diaries

copyright - suburban princess diaries

I still can’t believe how fast she arrived.

Seriously, if we had left the house any later, I probably would have given birth in my minivan.

Super Nova(lee) - part 1

copyright - suburban princess diaries

This is not a birth story for the weak.

And I don’t say that because I’m about to recount all the messy details of my most recent childbirth experience.

As a courtesy, I’m leaving out all the bloody stuff.

But, if like me, you were not aware that labor is a process that can go on for days or even weeks, you may not want to read on.

Unfortunately, this was not my first experience with a prolonged early labor.

I spent a week in the beginning stages of labor with my last baby and this time was no different.

It started on a Tuesday. I was still preterm, contracting every eight minutes for several hours. On my doctor’s advice I went to the hospital where we discovered I was dilated a centimeter and almost completely effaced. Eventually the contractions tapered off and I ended up back at home.

By Saturday, I started contracting every two minutes. At the hospital, we found out that I was almost halfway dilated now. The contractions were getting pretty uncomfortable, so the anesthesiologist came and administered an epidural.

The nurses brought the baby warmer into my room. They put diapers in the drawer on the hospital bassinette. They even fingerprinted me for the hospital birth certificate.

Matt called our parents. It was show time.

Except…it wasn’t. After a few hours the contractions started slowing down.

And by Sunday morning, my labor had come to a screeching halt.

The entire situation was getting pretty frustrating. I was exhausted and still contracting (the epidural was turned off by this point because the doctor suspected that it might have been what stalled my labor), but nothing was happening. And because I was only 36 weeks, my OB did not want to do anything to speed things along.

I was okay with that. I really did not want to be induced and I didn’t want to give birth to a baby whose lungs might not be ready yet.

Although, I was irritated that my body was dragging this out and making me so miserable.

That evening the doctor came into my hospital room with three options, :

Option 1) I could stay in the hospital and wait for things to start back up on their own.

Uh, thanks…but no thanks.

Option 2) I could have an amniocentesis performed to see if the baby’s lungs are mature. The results would be back in a week and then, if the lungs were ready, the doctor would induce.

Again, no deal. There were way too many down sides to this plan. First, the procedure isn’t exactly non-evasive and there are risks. Not exactly something you want to just automatically volunteer to do. Second, I knew that my labor was probably going to start back up before the results would even get back, which would make the amnio pointless. Finally, even if the baby didn’t arrive before the results came back, there was still a slight chance that the test would show that her lungs were not ready and that would mean no induction. Back at square one only now I’ve added on the fun of a large needle to the belly.

Nope, nope and nope.

That left us with only one other option.

Option 3) Lose my precious epidural catheter and get sent home.

It was really the only realistic option, but it was almost just as crappy as my other choices. The lesser of three evils, really. I actually cried as the nurse took out my epidural because I knew, being as close as I was to having this baby, that when my labor started back up again I was not going to have time to get another one.

And after already enduring two horrendously painful childbirths, I really wanted to avoid a repeat experience.

So I went home feeling like a ticking time bomb and entered the record books as the woman who was the closest to giving birth and ended up leaving the hospital still pregnant.

Seriously, who gets sent home after getting an epidural?!

Nobody. Except me, of course.

To be continued….

Related Posts with Thumbnails