What a difference a year can make

This time last year I was in a holding pattern. We had been to adoption agencies and debating ivf. I spent the first quarter of 2008 losing weight in anticipation of beginning a cycle in early summer. I never could have imagined that the end of 2008 would be bring me the title of mother. And certainly not in the way it came about. I am simply overwhelmed that I now have a son. Most days, I am still thinking someone will wake me up from this dream realized.

For 2009, I pray that the babies born to those in the infertility community this year flourish, especially Robbie. And for those with continued longing, I want 2009 to be the year you bring your babies home.

Zachary's blog

can be found at Critter Tales.

We're home today

what a thrill it was to bring our little guy home. We have a new blog set up just for him and all of my baby issues will be there- url to come. This blog will remain for infertility issues.

Welcome Zachary William

Zachary William was born at 6:53 pm Central Standard Time, December 6, 2008, delivered by C section. He weighed 8 pounds 7.8 ounces, and is 21.5 inches long.

His name means "The Lord has remembered." And He has. We both feel truly blessed with our precious gift from God.

Mrs. Shoes is doing fairly well but still in a lot of pain. Perhaps you will get a new left handed post from her tomorrow if she feels well enough.

Frustrated

after 10 hours of pitocin, still no further dilation. they are going to run it until midnight and then turn it down until morning. I may get to eat a little something then.

Friday night

this is the first I have been able to type and it is left-handed. The day has been long and it is far from over. Went in at 7:30 and two nurses each tried twice to get in an iv. had to call in a specialist after four blown veins. my cervix was the same as yesterday. at 9:30 they put in cervadil, but had to pull it two hours later because I was having contractions of 6 mins in duration. Apparently, that is rare and not good for baby. With nothing else to try, they started the pitocin at 1:00 at a very low dose. it's 6 and still not in active labor. If I can get a little dilated, they will break my water. Tomorrow might be optimistic for baby. I am hungry.

Room at the Inn

There is a bed for us at the hospital so that is a promising start at least. I imagine it is going to be a long day given the state of my unfriendly cervix. I will try to update from there and DH will post a birth announcement when we finally get to that point.

Just call me Betsy Ross

because my vagina is feeling very patriotic these days- red, white and blue!

There was no change this morning despite hard contractions coming three to four minutes last night that prevented a second goo application. But this morning they were able to get in the other gel (white rather than blue) that goes directly on my cervix. Of course, this was after two cervical exams because the first nurse couldn't find any dilation at all despite a lot of digging around. This white gel caused no cramping or contractions and I had the easiest day of the week so far. I had a bit of bleeding in the afternoon so wondered if maybe it was some bloody show, but I think it was just irritation from the rather rough cervical gropings. And I was able to go back tonight for a second dose for the first time all week. This nurse had huge hands and I thought I was going to come off the table when she delved into my nether regions. But at least I had made some progress- about 75-80% effaced, 2 centimeters dilated and soft rather than firm. So my Bishop's score has gone from 4 to 6, need an 8.

Oh and the best part was the nurse tonight tells me I have my own supply of prostaglandins at home (wink, wink). It took me a minute, but then I realized to what she was alluding. And she explained the old wives' tale about that one is really true. Yes, after having my vagina assaulted five times today and having it bleed a bit and leak goo most of the day- I really want to have sex.

For any Grease 2 fans, I guess I should start humming, "Let's do it for our country, the red, white and the blue . . .

Stalled

The ol' cervix is not cooperating. I was able to get the gel this morning because I wasn't contracting. Unortunately, all of these contractions aren't leading to any progress- still only 1.5 cm dilated. This afternoon I have had the pretty constant contractions and if they don't settle down soon, I won't be able to get another gel treatment this evening. I don't mind the pain, I just wish it was causing something to happen.

My body is up to something

I went in for my first prostoglandin gel application this morning. before it began I was still only 1 centimeter dilated and 50 percent effaced. I had a really rough rest of the day, It felt like the worst crampy period ever, intermixed with some serious contractions. When I called to go back in for second application at 3, they were too busy, so I didn't go back in until 6:30 When i finally got hooked up, they couldn't do the gel this evening because I was having too many contractions- about 1 every two minutes or so per the monitor so they sent me home. I am still only 1-1.5 cm dilated but now 80 percent effaced. I feel slightly better in that I wasn't crazy in the afternoon- I was actually having painful contractions and it wasn't all in my head. I have to go back in the morning.

Harumph

I had my last OB appt today. No progress. I am still one cm dilated and 50% effaced. Baby is at -3 station And the baby is still head down, but has flipped from side-facing to sunny side up. The OB "changed" my induction date which annoyed me. For weeks, we have discussed December 2, but now we are on definitely on the hospital schedule for next Friday Dec. 5. Meanwhile, starting on Monday, I go in once or twice a day for cervical ripening. Such fun.

Thankfulness

In 1863 Abraham Lincoln issued the following proclamation [in part]:

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. . . . No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.
It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

I have been so incredibly blessed this year- not only with a baby on the way, but also a husband who loves me, a family who cares for me, and material wealth and security so far beyond what most of the world's population can even imagine. With gratitude in my heart, I give thanks beyond what words can speak.

Alpha and Omega

On Thursday, I sent out two cards. Interestingly enough, both to the same town in Texas to two families who don't know each other and probably never will.

The first is to celebrate the joyous arrival of Benjamin. I can't tell you how excited I am that this little ivf miracle is here. His mama and I have "known" each other online for over two years. I imagine that one day our babies will finally get to meet and play together.

The other card was a sympathy card for a family who lost a beautiful 31-year-old woman. Although I knew her only through her sister-in-law who is my friend, I felt a certain connection because I knew she was "one of us"- an infertile. I didn't know all the details, but knew how long they had tried and didn't seek medical treatment. I often wondered how she dealt with the news of both of her sisters-in-law being unexpectedly pregnant within minutes of their weddings even though they were married years after she was. This year, they finally decided to pursue more testing and found out that she had severe endometriosis. So severe that a hysterectomy was recommended-ending all hope for a biological child. What a blow that must have been. But her infertility journey was not to end there. Tragically, during surgery her aorta was punctured and she bled to death. And now her young husband is left only with grief.


A beginning and an end.

Last day of work

and still have on heels (albeit a fairly boring pair of 2.5 inch T-strap Mary Janes).

Inching along

Well, centimeters actually, but that doesn't work well in verb form. I am 1 cm dilated and the OB could feel the baby's head. I had a handful of mild contractions on the NST. My fluid ultrasound was a robust 14. The OB is concerned about the size of my "very narrow" and "triangulated" pelvis (oh and hadn't she mentioned this before?- um no, but thanks). So, she launched into the c-section spiel- how I shouldn't be surprised or disappointed if it ended up that way. SHe was doing quite the job of letting me down easy.

I quickly reassured her that I am not one of those women that has any particular notions about my "birth experience"- just get 'er done. The baby is of a size not to be concerned with a vaginal delivery, but she is concerned about the big head (I am blaming DH for that one) fitting through my narrowness. I have had a feeling all along that a c-section was the mode I woud be going, so I wish we could just schedule it now. Anyhow, at next week's appointment, we are to "make a plan" depending on what the ol' cervix is up to.

Full term

Yup, 37 weeks today. It's so surreal to think we are going to have a baby in less than two weeks' time.

Planning Conception and OB update

Last Thursday, I had my final appointment with the pregnancy and diabetes clinic. As part of the spiel, they went over my risk for type II diabetes in later life and gestational diabetes in subsequent pregnancy. The nurse gave me a rather long lecture aout how important it is to have my blood sugars in line at conception and through 10 weeks because of the risk of neural tube defects. She advised that "the minute" I go off birth control, I have the OB test my fasting levels. Umm, yeah, like I am going on birth control and like I have any idea at the possibility, not to even mention, the actual timing of a subsequent conception. I was trying not to snicker because she was so earnest.


Last Friday's OB appointment included my first cervical check which hurt more than I believed possible. No dilation going on, but I did have a contraction (which I didn't feel) on the NST.

Not a ten-pounder

I had my growth ultrasound today. Baby was at 67th percentile again and estimated to be 6 lbs. 10 oz. Baby is still measuring about two weeks ahead overall, but that huge head is at over 39 weeks. The head is already a little over 9 cm. I am not sure how that is going to work since dilation only goes up to 10 cm?

But at least we are talking more like an 8 lb baby if I go to December 2, which is only THREE weeks from today. The very cool thing is I got to see baby "practice breathing." And I had a significant contraction on the NST today, so that was something new.

NSTs

Rachel asked for a description of NSTs, so here is a rundown.

The nurse puts two straps around or a belly band (they used the belly band at the hospital). Two monitors are used; they are basically just plastic discs of a few inches in diameter connected by wires to a machine. The first is placed high and measures uterine contractions, the second they use the ultrasound gel and aim for baby's heartbeat based on what we know of positioning of baby. The monitor plots on the same page both the baby's heartrate and uterine activity- think a printout like an ekg.

Increased heartrate indicates movement, so they are looking for a certain number of increases within a specified time. If the baby isn't showing movement, which is often the case with me because of the time of the test (too bad I couldn't do these at about 8 p.m.), they have me drink cold water (juice would be ok for non-gd situations) to get baby moving. After about 30 minutes, if the nurse thinks there has been sufficient movements (they usually make me go 45 minutes, at least, due to my sleepy baby) she will tear off the printout and bring it to an OB to review. Often, the monitor will not show the actual movements I feel, especially with the straps rather than the band because the baby's movement actually causes the monitor not to pick up the change in heartrate. Even if baby is not terribly cooperative with the accelerations in heartrate, it is reassuring to hear that thump-thump for so long.

I am sure the sperm were really relaxed

I had my usual fluid check ultrasound on Friday, but had a new tech. She commented on the bruises from my insulin injections and also the scars from the gall bladder surgery (rather impertinent, but she said, she "didn't want to hurt me"). After explaining both, I commented that this hadn't been an uneventful pregnancy and I threw in, as I often do, that it had been a while in coming. She then asked if we had done fertility treatments. Not one to be shy about infertility when asked, I explained that we had but that this baby was a result of an unassisted cycle just prior to a planned ivf cycle.

Then, she made the cardinal sin of saying, "That happens a lot. I think it's because people relax." I replied with the sarcasm dripping as loudly as I could get the faucet going, "Since our infertility was exclusively male factor, I guess it was that the sperm just needed to relax in order to multiply sufficiently." She actually said, "That must have been it." And she meant it.

I really hope I don't get her again.

Show and Tell through Cross-Pollination

Today's post is from a guest blogger, courtesy of the Great Blog Cross-Pollination set up by Geohde. Check her blog for a list of participants, and from there try to guess who wrote this post and leave your guess in the comments. And THAT is where you'll actually find Mrs Shoes today.

Show & Tell: The Table

Awhile back I shared some souvenirs we brought back from the 2 years we lived in the Middle East. Today I'm showing and telling about the gift I got for my husband's birthday in 1998, from the souk in Damascus.

It's just a table.


That opens up.

For cards.

Or checkers or chess.

Or backgammon.

Mostly, it's a decoration. We haven't had time for such games in, oh, 7 years or so.

For more Show & Tell, check with Lollipop Goldstein the teacher.

Advent

From Wikipedia:

Advent (from the Latin word adventus, meaning "coming") is a season of the Christian church, the period of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus, in other words, the period immediately before Christmas.

Latin adventus is the translation of the Greek word parousia, commonly used in reference to the Second Coming. Christians believe that the season of Advent serves a dual reminder of the original waiting that was done by the Hebrews for the birth of their Messiah as well as the waiting that Christians today endure as they await the second coming of Christ.

Advent begins on November 30 this year. The Christmas season and especially the waiting nature of Advent has always been a special time for me. Even though I am now in my (ahem) mid-thirties, I love the wonder and magic of the anticipation. Not just for the presents (although I am quite the gift lover), but the feeling of something coming. The music in church during Advent is my favorite and I truly do see the change in strangers faces as get closer and closer to the celebration of Christmas, even those who do not celebrate it as Christ's birth.

I realized a few weeks back that this year I won't be experiencing much of Advent since I will be home with baby. (And I am of the old-fashioned ilk who won't want to take baby out for a while.) Baby will go to church for the first time on Christmas Eve.

But that sense of Advent, of anticipation, of coming, has been present for me in the form of this baby. The last few weeks of pregnancy are my own personal Advent where I wait "expectantly." So many questions, so many hopes and dreams. All on the verge of being realized. It makes me remember what Mary must have felt as she prepared for the blessing of her miracle child (whom mine can in no way compare, of course). And like Mary, I have "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." (Luke 2:19)

Stubborn (like mama?)

Our child is most uncooperative at these NSTs. The nurses tsk-tsk at me as if I have anything to do with it. The baby's heartbeat is always very strong and steady, but often the monitor does not show the change in heartrate associated with movement, despite the very strong kicks to the ribs that I experience. So, they make me lie there what it seems like forever and suck down cold water as if I was in the Sahara. And without fail, as soon as the nurse sighs at the not-so-stellar monitor strip and removes it to be checked by the doctor, the little bugger does all kinds of neat patterns on the monitor strip.

And so it begins

I had my first trip to the hospital last night. I was rather glad that we had gotten the tour during the birth class so I didn't feel so clueless.

In addition to feeling crummy all day, about 4:00 I started having cramping (not contractions, just menstrualish cramps) that seem to increase in severity. I finally called the OB at 9 and she had me go in because I "might not know what a contraction feels like." There was no evidence of the suspected UTI, my cervix was extremely closed (thought I was going to come unglued when she did the internal exam for that), I did have a contraction or two, but not much. Baby was monitoring fine, so all was good and I got to go home. The OB did order me to stay home today after my NST this morning.

Baby was not nearly as cooperative at the NST this morning so I was there for over an hour, serenaded for more than twenty minutes of that time by a banshee child who ended up locking herself in the bathroom in an effort not to get the flu shot. Seriously.

Scary news

Ahuva Batya from the anguished corn with whom I just attended birth class is in the hospital with a placental abruption and preparing to give birth to her little one. Please send prayers and thoughts for her, her husband, and little boy as they prepare to bring him into this world very soon.

Yes, I am still wearing heels!

The nurse at the OB's commented with surprise that I was "still wearing heels" given how pregnant I am. No, I wasn't wearing my python Jimmy Choos slides or anything here, just a pair of chunky-ish pumps with little buckles on the top. I got a similar comment on church when wearing some peep-toed Carlos Santanas. I intend to continue to wear shoes with a heel until I no longer own a pair (or can't find one to buy) that I can shove my sausage feet into. I'm pregnant, not dead.

Anyhow, the appointments this morning revealed that at last week's ultrasound, baby was 4 pounds, 15 ounces, thus the 77th percentile. The OB also confirmed that she efinitely will induce or perform a c-section as appropriate December 2 if I haven't gone into labor before then. At my NST, I actually had a contraction over the 40 minutes I was hooked up. But just the one and I didn't even feel it. I wouldn't have known if I hadn't seen it on the monitor. Baby was a cooperative little squirmer.

So, 41 days and counting. Perhaps, I should pack some strappy sandals in my hospital bag for labor?

Pouting

I know it's petty, but my feelings are hurt. It seems that despite my hopes to the contrary, my coworkers are going to combine mine and coworker's shower in November because the woman who usually organizes sent out an email asking if we would both be on a specific day. I will be having my baby a full two months before hers and really feel resentful that I have to "share."

We have had two baby showers in the last year or so- one for the baby of a coworker who conceived after we started trying and one for the coworker who was successful her first month of trying. I have had to sit through both of those showers and make nice despite our infertility struggle. And now it is supposed to be "my turn" and I have to share with a woman who was successful (at 40) in getting pregnant after less than six months. A woman whose pregnancy has similarly been a breeze instead of filled with worry, a surgery, and gestational diabetes. I would rather they just not have one at all.

And to top it off, its not as if I will be able to eat anything at this shower, not even cake. And she will.

So, yes, I sound like a spoiled toddler, but it's not fair.

NIAW

Today begins National Infertility Awareness Week. According to the Resolve website, 7.3 million Americans are affected by infertility. The infertile are many, but often quiet. Find one small way this week to raise awareness and check out Resolve's ideas on ways to get involved.

Chillaxing Baby

I had my first nonstress test (NST, for those in the know) yesterday and have another tomorrow afternoon. It was a mind-numbingly boring hour, surrounded by magazines more than six months old, where my uterus didn't show even the tiniest hint of contracting and the nurse had to re-start with monitoring the baby's movements because the little bugger decided to retreat to the other side. Before tomorrow's ultrasound and NST, I meet with the endocrinologist, whom I assume will up my dose of insulin as my fasting numbers are still not settling down.

P.S.- I am working on a post about birth class, but think I may save it for the big cross-pollination since I am having trouble coming up with anything of interest about which to write.

Loss

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I have not personally lost a baby, but know many who have. So, today, for my friend A., for my mother (who lost 6 babies), and to all those who don't get to hold all of their babies in their arms, know that I weep with you.

And my prayer for each of you is from John 16:20-22:

I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

The world of high risk

Now, that I am on insulin, I have officially been termed "high risk." Along with that comes lots of appointments. Thirty-two between now and the end of November, as a matter of fact. It took the scheduler and I over a half hour to get them all scheduled. I am to have a growth ultrasound newt week and then again at 36 weeks. And I am scheduled for twice weekly nonstress tests and once weekly ultrasound checks of amniotic fluid. And that does not even include visits to the diabetes clinic and the endocrinologist. It should be interesting trying to squeak out my forty hours of work a week somehow.

The OB and I discussed induction v. c-section in the event that I don't go into labor myself by Dec. 2. She is leaning toward induction because she is concerned about the greater risk of complications to a wound with the diabetes diagnosis. My preference of the two remains a c-section because the last thing I would want is a failed induction. We will have to see how big baby is looking and in what position.

Small world

Look whom I met at birth class today. As lovely in person as online.

Time to shoot up

with my itsy-bitsy little insulin needle. Hoping this does the trick for my fasting levels.

I go to the OB tomorrow and I am curious as to how much I can nail her down about. Planning to use my very pointed, former prosecutor interrogation voice. Hee.

A date with the endo

is set for Thursday afternoon. The fasting numbers are just too high and creeping higher.

What was humorous to me is that the nurse on the phone was trying to reassure me about the insulin injections and how they aren't that bad and I was just questioning are they sub-q or IM and where did they need to be injected and reassuring HER that I would be just fine. What she described seemed laughable compared to an injectables cycle and certainly much less than an ivf round.

I have my regular OB appointment on Friday, so will have to consult with her about what my schedules are going to look like now. Pretty sure she will have me in for NSTs twice a week as that is what she mentioned. And we may be looking at Thanksgiving baby (which is 38 weeks for me).

Moment of truth

I called in my glucose readings for the last week to the pregnancy and diabetes clinic. All of my post-meal readings are within range, but all but one of my fasting numbers are too high. I am just waiting for the call back now. I just know it's going to mean an appointment with the endicronologist and insulin for me.

The handwriting on the wall

according to the dietician with 25 years of experience is that I am headed toward insulin.

I was told I am doing everything right with my food (patting self on the back) and my post-meal numbers are good. The ketones that appeared are likely attributable to not eating enough and a lot of activity this weekend. I did lose almost a pound in a week so more food for me.

Unfortunately, my fasting glucose numbers are just not getting under control. The fasting numbers are ones that usually can't be controlled with food and show what my body is really doing. There is nothing more I can do to impact the numbers. So, the plan in the mean time, is to with my food plan and home monitoring for one more week and then I call in my numbers. If they are better controlled then I get to go another week. If not, then I have to see the endocrinologist on Wednesday or Thursday and likely will be placed on insulin.

In addition to the added risks and effects of the insulin, this means that I will be delivering at no later than 39 weeks, have to go to the OB twice a week in addition to the endocrinologist once a week, and baby will likely be sent to NICU initially.

The Irony

Upon receiving an EOB from my insurance company for a percentage of the cost of the three-hour glucose test, I called for an explanation of the charges since all maternity care is covered under my insurance plan with no co-pays. My one-hour glucose screening was covered so I was confused as to why this one wasn't. It turns out that because I failed the test and tested positive for GD, it is no longer a "routine" OB cost, so I have to pay the co-insurance. If I had passed the test, however, it would have been covered completely.

On to the new OB and lots of numbers

I met with a new (well, new to me) OB this morning. I liked her. and she has already updated my online chart with results so that makes me happy. I like responsiveness. [Ok, yes, I am rather demanding on this front.] She also told me all my measurements without my having to ask. My cervix was good though and I am meauring 1 cm behind on fundal height so that is actually good given the GD situation. Hopefully, baby won't be sucking up my messed-up glucose and getting too rotund in there.

I have to do a pee test every time now b/c of the GD. I wasn't having to do them before.

She also told me that b/c of the GD, I won't be going past my due date- which is more than fine with me. If I don't need to go on insulin, and haven't gone into labor, then an induction or c-section probably right before my due date. If I do end up needing the insulin, then it will be 39 weeks max. Also, fine with me.

If I have to go on insulin, I will have to go in twice weekly in addition to going to the prgnancy and diabetes clinic at least weekly. I had two slightly high readings today so I am hoping things settle back down.

So, it looks like, God willing, we will be having a baby in ten weeks give or take a day.

Back to the sticks

Peeing on them, that is. As part of my monitoring for GD, every morning, I get the opportunity to pee on a ketone stick. For this one, we are looking for a negative result. I was a champion opker and for the beginning of this pregnancy, I peed on more sticks than I am willing to admit. So, I have come full circle.

The monitoring aspect (a little blood stick and testing my sugar) is not a big deal. It certainly pales in comparison to an injects cycle. The meal planning is much more complicated even for a veteran, like me, of every imaginable diet plan. I feel like I have no leeway. And I can sense the anxiety level in me rising because I now have the possibility of "failing" 4 times a day. I have battled the scale for most of my life and every time I have had to weigh in, I placed a moral value on my ability to succeed or fail. Now, I get to do that with my blood sugars four times every day, with the back drop of knowing every thing I eat can have an effect on my baby. It's like mental torture for the OCD-ish.

Failed

as expected. Now, I have to set up appointments with the pregnancy and diabetes center at the hospital and start with testing strips.

Still waiting

My 3-hour test yesterday was far from pleasant and not just because of the four needle sticks in three hours or the interminable length of time I had to do nothing but sit. The first hour made me nauseated and gave me a headache. While I was waiting for a call back about the results, I received a voicemail about rescheduling my OB appt next Friday. When I called back I found out he is leaving the practice! Just what a pregnant women in her third trimester wants to hear. I called the nurse and left a message because I could easily imagine never getting my results if there is no doctor assigned to review them.


The old busybody nurse called me back this morning. She couldn't tell me my results because no doctor had reviewed them (what are you doing talkign to me then, go get them reviewed already) but she did mention that some things look "abnormal." Not sure exactly what that means. Anyway, I stressed to her how I didn't want it to fall through the cracks so hopefully she will get some random doctor to look at it. But my money is on me having gestational diabetes.

Waiting

I had the three-hour glucose test this morning and am now just waiting for results. Hopefully, I should find out by the end of the day.

And 28 weeks today. Time is flying.

It doesn't go away

At our baby shower this weekend was a friend of MIL's who had adopted two children around the same time as DH and his sister were adopted, so thirty plus years ago. She made two comments that plucked my heartstrings. One was about how excited she was and didn't know about so many things like breastfeeding since she and MIL never got the chance to do it. She also mentioned that when they adopted, so many people told her that now they had adopted, she would get pregnant. [Isn't it amazing how long this myth has been around?] I told her that I am sorry she had been told that and it was a shame how ignorant people are since less than 10% of couples who adopted subsequently get pregnant. I could tell that even now these decades-old comments weighed on her mind.

The losses of infertility do not just fade away.

A little bit of equal time

A new study makes clear that it's not just the age of a mother that affects fertility or resultant issues with baby. I was just happy to see the reference to male infertility being addressed. Bet this one won't be on Oprah though.

This time last year

I was preparing for our first IUI cycle after having to sit out a cycle. That was a terrible rollercoaster of drugs and disappointment.

And now, here I am preparing for MY first baby shower this weekend and celebrating the beginning of the third trimester.

It is so hard to believe.

Exclusive Membership

A woman at church (whom I have seen a handful of times and whose name I don't know but is an apparent mother of two) approached me yesterday and asked if I was expecting. When I answered in the affirmative, she began the barrage of when was I due, boy or girl, names, was I going to work, where was I going to deliver, one and on with the litany. All this from someone whose name I do not know. Who seemed like she was ready to be my best friend. I felt the ringing in my head and what DH likes to term the neverending bitterness rise up. I resent that just because there is now a baby on the way that somehow I am now "part of the club."

I realize that everyone gets excited about babies. And it doesn't bother me when someone I actually know asks me baby questions. But where the heck was this woman when I felt like I was the only one at church without a baby? Why am I suddenly part of the "mommy club?"

As DH pointed out when I told him about my experience, Yes, I AM STILL bitter.

The bottom of the class

So, I failed the one-hour glucose test. And not by a little. Lovely.

I can touch my toes and thoughts on ignorant bliss

I am starting to experience difficulties with bending over. I can still do it, but it's a bit of a struggle. For some reason, grunting seems to help with the process. Letting the dogs out sounds like a sumo wrestler session.

And now on to ignorant bliss. . .

My coworker (remember the one who got pregnant on her first try) and now has a three-month old and I were discussing the state fair. For the dangers of the state fair, see the the anguished corn. She mentioned how great it would to be pregnant and to eat one's way through the fair. And then amazingly said, "That's what I'll do next year. I'll be pregnant for the fair." I was taken aback. Isn't that nice to think one can plan these things?

My other coworker, the 40-year-old pregnant one, was discussing her OB appointments. She mentioned "that thing they use to hear the heartbeat." I said, "You mean the doppler?" She responded, "Oh, that's what it's called." I said, "Yes, I have one at home. I find it reassuring to hear the baby's heartbeat whenever I want." The obviously blissfully ignorant response, "I'm still eating and still getting fat, so I assume baby is growing just fine." I refrained from sharing my thoughts.

Viability

"Twenty-four weeks is usually considered the point of viability, meaning that if [one's] baby is born now, it has a chance for survival."

Yeah, I know it's just a chance, but it still amazes me that the little being inside of me could really live outside.

Every milestone is another step closer to those baby shoes.

Does this post make me look fat?

My lovely wife has been in a crisis of self-confidence lately.

I don't know if this is just her or if all pregnant ladies reach a point where they just feel somewhat blah about their appearance, even if they're excited about being pregnant.

I try to tell her all the time that she looks good, but she always asks me, "Do I look pregnant, or just fat?"

That question is kind of like asking a normal person "When you kill people, do you eat their liver or their brain first?"

Most men would rather run hurdles barefoot across a track strewn with shards of pointy broken glass that hear that question.

For the record, my wife looks pregnant and beautiful.

"May Your Spouse Be Bountiful"

We attended a friend's wedding this weekend. It has been a (very) long time since I have gone to a Catholic wedding (talking over a decade here). Throughout the service were references to being blessed with children. It made me cringe. But the one that really got to me was a prayer sung to the couple that included a line "May Your Spouse Be Bountiful." At first, I wondered if that one had been politically corrected with the introduction of spouse (as opposed to wife). And then, I started to ponder who else was being bothered by this phrase. I know, based on discussions with my friend the bride, that she has several infertile friends. Was anyone else in the church pondering their lack of bounty?

On a side note, I learned that the bride's sister miscarried the day of the wedding at 7 weeks. I wonder how much pain the words about being blessed with children brought her. And I pray that seeing all of the babies and small children and my pregnancy did not wound her even more.

Another reason to hate the pill

I wasn't on birth control pills very long but how I hated them (although I was obsessive-compulsive about taking them on time). But this study is another reason to count them as evil. Apparently, being on the pill can cause women to pick bad mates, even ones who are incompatible from a fertility perspective.

Since I wasn't on the pill until DH and I decided to get married, I can't say as they affected my decision-making, but I thought the study was interesting to ponder.

A Rose By Any Other Name

I have always known what I was going to name my daughter. That is, until there was a real possibility that I might have one. For reasons that I can't seem to fathom, I can't make myself settle on a name for a girl. DH is more than happy with some of the suggestions I have thrown out, but just when I start to think we have settled on one, I start to second-guessing.

Strangely enough, DH and I could never agree on a boy name before I was actually pregnant, but now I am totally sold on the boy name we have chosen.

I never realized before how huge the responsibility it is to pick a name for someone else to have for the rest of his or her life. I don't want to add to the inevitable years of therapy by saddling the child with a name that makes life more difficult.

Above average baby

Well, of course, our kid is above average, he or she is ours, after all. But it was confirmed that our child is indeed in the 66th percentile for gestational age. As my OB put it, someone's kid has to be bigger than the average. My OB (whom I am still trying to decide whether he is gay- he commented on the cuteness of my shoes today- do straight men do this?) said that all the measurements are good and all the parts are in place. I am having a nice, normal, boring pregnancy. Who'd a thunk it?

I have the glucose tolerance test next month concurrent with my appointment, so I will be pestering Dr. Google for ways to "beat" it.

After my appointment, I celebrated by going to buy baby's bedding set. You all will be happy to know that the majority won- moon and stars it is!

Big baby

Ultrasound went well. Baby appeared to have all its parts, was measuring ahead at 22w1d (I am 21w2d), and weighs a pound, which is a bit heavier than average for this gestational age. She didn't do a money shot but I was trying to watch when she was looking at the bladder and nether regions (DH looked away per the warning) and I have an idea. I could be wrong b/c there wasn't a clear look. Baby is in a funny position though- basically a V or a pike dive position- imagine holding your feet with your hands and that's pretty much what he or she is doing. Butt down, head and feet up. You can see it in the picture above. The left side of the picture is actually up on me. The baby is sitting wrapped right around my belly button.

Enormous vs. gargantuan

My wife seems to think that describing the size of her breasts is a bad thing. I can't quite figure that one out. I mean, it's basically like all the benefits of getting a $6,000 boob job without any of the cash outlay, surgery or post-operative discomfort. She's offended that I recently upgraded her size from merely "enormous" to "gargantuan." As if that's a bad thing.

I know that some of my beautiful wife's regular readers (and most if not all of her entire extended family) think I am some kind of deranged maniac for not wanting to find out the sex of our baby-to-be - whom I have tentatively named "critter." I hope it doesn't come as too much of a blow to learn that my commitment to remaining blissfully ignorant is unwavering.

I have conceded that if we ever have another critter, I will grudgingly allow us to discover that baby's sex.

Incidentally, did you know there's a social networking site for babies? When I found out I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard of. Eventually our critter is going to have the full-on accessories of being the child of a first-rate dork father but I just can't quite wrap my head around a venture capital pitch that essentially comes down to, "We're going to be the next Facebook for babies."

First, isn't that just an invitation to deranged sickos to do God knows what in front of their computers with pictures of young babies? And second, how are they going to make any money? And third, can you honestly imagine sending your mom to some Facebook like site to look at her grandchild? To be honest, I'm lucky my mom has her own email address and doesn't TYPE IN ALL CAPS like some people's parents.

Disturbing.

Without words

Whatever I wore on Tuesday must have made me look more pregnant than usual. We joined with a bunch of people from church to attend a baseball game and several people commented on when the baby was due or extended congratulations. One woman, whom I just don't like for a variety of reasons, said that she hadn't congratulated me yet. She followed that up with the statement, "I'm jealous, I wish I had a little baby." Her tone wasn't joking. She has a seven-year-old son. I have previously pieced together that she has secondary infertility. I don't know any of the circumstances or whether she sought treatment. I just know based on some comments she has made (to others) in the past few years that she would have liked another child, but it didn't happen. I honestly didn't know how to respond to this woman. But I felt bad. A lot of people at church know just how miraculous this pregnancy is, but she is not one of them. And I'd rather not clue her in. For no other reason than I just have a hard time getting on with her. I tell pretty much any other stranger in Target that this baby was against the odds. I can discuss the heart wrenching ups and downs of infertility with the 92-year-old who adopted a long, long time ago. But this woman, I just can't bring myself to engage with.

I don't equate secondary infertility with primary infertility. Both are painful. Different, but painful. I have been careful of those struggling with secondary infertility because I watched my mother try so hard for so long to have another baby and also personally understand the desire to have more than one child. I don't ask people who have one child when or if they are going to have another. I have always felt it was none of my business. I am fairly careful about talking about any baby or pregnancy-related topics with anyone whether they have children or not unless I know their comfort level. I never assume.

After having this awkward conversation (not sure that it can be called a conversation since I didn't say much), as I munched on my Cracker Jack, I started to ponder what we will do about another child. DH has always wanted three (I have informed him that ship sailed, so he had better be thinking more along the lines of two) and is insistent that we will have another child by some means. Will we try on our own (what are the odds on lightening striking twice?), will we try treatments again, do we just move to adoption? You mean, we have to get on the damned rollercoaster of craziness again?

Yes, I know I am putting the cart before the horse. And mostly, I am consumed with just getting to the point of having THIS baby in my arms. But my Cracker-Jack induced thoughts are lurking, waiting for a time to pounce.


P.S.- Anatomy ultrasound tomorrow afternoon. I haven't convinced DH to change his mind, so we will still be having a surprise. God willing, a healthy one.

X-files

I thought on Monday that I had actually felt the baby from the outside but was unsure of myself that I wasn't somehow equating the internal feelings with the external. But yesterday afternoon, I was positive I felt the tap-tap-tap from the outside. I had called DH to tell him, but figured he wouldn't be able to feel this for a few more weeks. Nonetheless, as we were walking across a street on the way to a MLB baseball game, I grabbed his hand and asked if he could feel it. And he could!

His response though was, "It feels weird. It's like you have something in there. An alien or something. It's just like X-files."

Not exactly the heartwarming moment I had imagined.

Hilarity ensues

Two funny DH stories to quickly share. Needless to say, he's got a LOT to learn.

My mother sent me a nipple brush she found on clearance. [Don't know why she keeps sending random things but it makes her happy.] DH didn't know what it was and I explained to him that "it's a nipple brush." Clearly horrified, he said, "You have to wash your nipples with that? Doesn't it hurt you?"

And I was also mentioning to him that next summer we can take baby swimming (note my positive attitude here) and that we could even sign up for a Mommy and Me class. DH's response, "What will we do with the baby while you and I are swimming?" It took me a minute to realize he was interpreting Mommy and Me as me and him.

"You Don't Even Look Pregnant"

This was MIL's comment when she first saw me this weekend. Thanks.

I found out another coworker is pregnant. I sort of knew she had been trying and she was one of the reasons I hadn't been overly public at work about being pg. I was trying to be a considerate pregnant inffertile. I had kind of figured she was having a hard time because she is 40. Her husband also travels a lot. Apparently, I had no cause to be concerned. Anyhow, here she is telling everyone and she is 12 weeks and here I am 20 weeks and still somewhat on the down low. And I love how surprised she was that I am pregnant. Thanks again. Way to make a girl with weight issues feel even fatter.

The ironic thing is that yesterday was the first day I really felt pregnant. I don't know what that baby was doing in there, but in the evening it was if I had acquired a spare tire (not fat either, as it was firm) right around my middle. And there were little bits of kicking here and there.

Per my promise to DH, I am trying to "enjoy" my pregnancy more (since it may well be the only one I ever have) and not be so anxious. Now, that the baby's furniture has arrived, I have made a nightly habit of going in the room and "showing" the baby all his or her stuff and talking to the baby. Sometimes, I read one of the books to him or her or just sit and rock in the glider.

Quick update- still just fat

I had a routine OB appointment on Friday. All was fine and I scheduled my anatomy ultrasound for August 1. DH is still being stubborn, so it looks like team green will continue.

Yesterday, I was wearing a maternity dress that I feel makes me look particularly pregnant (that's not why I was wearing it- it happened to be clean). One of my coworkers who had been out for a few weeks asked me how things were going and when I was going to start wearing maternity clothes. Yeah, thanks. So, I guess, I am still just looking fat. I don't wear really fitted clothing because I am just not one of those types that buys into the baring my bump theory. I buy my maternity clothes in a size bigger than I would normally wear b/c I am not some skinny, twenty-year-old who wants to prance around with my belly hanging out.

We are going to the ILs this weekend, so I am curious to see how crazy they drive me about baby stuff.

Prayers, thoughts, etc.

My real-life infertile friend, who had such a wonderful response to my pregnancy, is going for a beta today. She is 15 DPO, not on progesterone, following a femara/trigger cycle. So far, no period in sight. Please pray or send positive thoughts her way.

Edited for update- she was told that her "progesterone is really high, which is indicative of pregnancy, but hcg is negative." She goes in for another blood test on Friday. I am so very disappointed for her.

If

IF I wasn't 17 weeks pregnant, I would be starting stims for ivf right about now. I have been pondering this all week. We purposely planned to be home for the month of July and didn't plan anything big for this very reason. It is so humbling to be in the place that I am and not the one that I had imagined. Instead of poking myself with needles, I am picking out a nursery. I know how blessed I am and I constantly remind myself that I am not "supposed to be" in this position. And I make sure everyone knows it. I don't allow the comments that "it was because we stopped trying" to fly without correction. I still feel the divide between the "normal" and the infertile worlds.

The irony of the IF abbreviation for infertility is not lost on me and has been commented on by others, I am sure. Infertility is all about "if"- if only I could get pregnant, if only there were more sperm, if only the embryos had implanted, if only I could stay pregnant, if only there was insurance coverage, if only we could afford treatment, if, if, if . . . . And the ifs also lead to the "what ifs"- what if we tried a different protocol, what if my husband tries clomid or has surgery, what if we did ivf, what if we tried a different clinic, what if we did it just one more time, what if . . . .

But the biggest IF of infertility is the foundation of hope implicit in even asking the question. If is more than just the desperate wanting, it is the hope creeping in, the wanting to believe in the non-zero chance.


IF.

Crutch

I finally got my doppler in the mail yesterday (don't get me started on the USPS) and ripped that puppy open to check the baby's heartbeat right away. It was a reassuring 154-160. I repeated the magic for DH when he got home. He wasn't nearly as impressed as I was.

But now I have my fallback when the anxiety level starts to rise.

Thoughts on a nursery

In an effort to be optimistic (ha), I am trying to focus on more baby things.

DH and I are torn between two different nursery schemes, so I decided to put it up for a vote. We are going for gender neutral and the room is already painted a pale green and is staying that way. Both of these patterns have the same green, but it is not readily apparent in the pictures below. The furniture is dark cherry. I have put a poll on the sidebar.

Here they are:

The Barnyard Choice (Countryside by Kidsline)


or
Moon and Stars (Goodnight Star by Lambs & Ivy)

Stumble

Last night, I had a bit of a scare when I fell as we were walking on the sidewalk after dinner. There was a chunk of sidewalk missing (apparently, people here are not nearly litigious enough so that the sidewalks are kept up) and I didn't see it and stepped in it and lost my footing. I landed pretty hard on my rear. I have enough padding on that end, but I was ab it freaked out. I ended up calling the OB who didn't think much of it. I really wished I'd had that doppler now (still waiting to receive it).



In her comment to my last post, fiddle suggests reading The Red Tent. I second her recommendation if you haven't read it yet.

Shock And Awe

At the women's group I am facilitating at church on Friday mornings, we discussed the Binding of Isaac from the Old Testament. For those unfamiliar with the Biblical account, God orders Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. Isaac is the son of Abraham and Sarah's old age- the child promised during their barrenness. I won't go into all of the theological debate behind this story, however, I started our discussion by sharing how when I learned I was pregnant, my mind immediately went to this Biblical event and has returned there many times. [These women are aware of our infertility struggles.] I fear so much what God could call me to sacrifice after granting us this miracle.

They were shocked, to say the least. How could I even think that way? My response to them was, "What God has given, God can take away." The terrible tragedies of loss in the blogosphere alone is proof of that.

I am trying so very hard to believe that December or thereabouts will bring us a real baby. I bought some furniture for the nursery because I got an amazing deal on it. And I almost hyperventilated when I got home from the anxiety of what would I do if there was not a baby to put in it.

I even broke down and bought a doppler this week (still waiting on it to arrive). I had been trying for so long to act like a "normal" unworried pregnant woman that I had resisted buying one. I couldn't take the worry anymore and DH has almost barred me from the internet to prevent me from stumbling across stories of terrible loss. This maddening dichotomy of believing in this baby and the crushing fear of how could I possibly cope with a loss is paralyzing.

Back from MIA

I was out of town for my little sister's college graduation, so have been a bit missing in action. I told the rest of the relatives about the pregnancy status. The weirdest responses have included:

from my grandmother: "I am so proud of you"- as if pregnancy is an achievement for a resume?

from my aunt: "Where did it happen?" hello, not discussing my sex life, or as the case may have been, my medical procedures

from my 18-year-old clueless cousin: "How can you be pregnant?" Honey, didn't they teach you that one in sex ed?


All of the family is deeply disappointed that we are not finding out the baby's sex (because DH is stubbornly refusing to know and I am reluctantly acquiescing). I am 15 weeks today and still trying to wrap my mind around it all.

The Waiting Room

I had my OB appointment this morning. Down three pounds, which I got a look about. (whatever, my gall bladder had to have weighed something- it was full of stones). Overall, the appointment was just routine, but I did get to actually hear (rather than see) the baby's heartbeat, so that was reassuring.

But what got to me was the waiting room. I picked up part of the newspaper to read while I waited instead of the myriad of pregnancy magazines. Two women walked in together a few minutes later and sat near me. One of them remarked, "All they have is pregnancy magazines." I heard the pang in her voice and felt the visceral wrench in my stomach. I grabbed a Wine Spectator magazine that I had noticed sitting under the newspaper and offered it to her, commenting that I didn't want to read pregnancy magazines either. She smiled (that weary smile, you know the one) and thanked me. I only wish I could have offered her some other sort of comfort.

NT Scan results

came back with a very low risk of Down's, so that was good news.

Hospital happenings

So, this post is a while in coming, but I haven't had the patience to sit down and type whilst recovering. Since I am now back at work, my patience level (or my need for distraction) has increased.

As I sat on a gurney in pre-op well before seven in the morning, wearing an inflatable purple hospital gown and chatted with DH, I saw a short man pass outside my "room" a few times. He looked familiar but I couldn't place him, likely because I don't see too well when wearing my glasses. Finally, he poked his head around the curtain and we determined it was Dr. M, DH's urologist! He asked why I was there, etc. Then, I told DH that he should tell Dr. M our news. DH responded, "He doesn't know?" Somehow, in his ignorance, DH must think that my pregnancy is being talked about in doctors' lounges all over the Twin Cities. Of course, Dr. M was very happy for us, but was ever so slightly smug at the idea that it really is just a matter of time as long as there is some sperm. Ah, the ever hopeful urologist.


All of my nursing staff was excellent, but the nurse that came on at midnight was an IF sister. My surgeon and I had discussed having someone come in to monitor the baby after the surgery, just for my peace of mind. I knew that it was kind of iffy that a doppler would work at just over 10 weeks. But there was no way I was leaving that hospital without some sort of reassurance the baby was ok. I didn't want to have to go into bitch mode and get "insistent," but I was prepared to do what I had to do. The first thing I told my day nurse when I arrived on the post-surgical ward (just done the hall from the birth center, conveniently) was that I expected to have someone try a doppler. She tried to explain that it wasn't ordered in the computer. Between groans of pain, I made it clear, it had better get ordered. By the time the afternoon shift came on at 4:00, apparently a notation had been made and the nurse called over to L&D and was told they were really busy and full of babies, but would send someone over at some point during the night. No one seemed nearly as concerned as I was that the time kept slipping away.

At midnight, Nurse B came on the scene and came in introduce herself, check my vitals, and all that jazz. Although half asleep, I mentioned that I was still waiting for L&D to come. She asked me if this was my first pregnancy and I told her yes and that it was quite a while in coming. She high-five me and asked, "IVF?" I said, "No, we're actually one of those cliches that happened the month prior to starting the birth control pills." Then, she told me that she had done ivf three times before having her twins. She told me she understood how I felt and was off to call L& D right then because "they shouldn't have that much to do at this time of night." Not sure what she told them, but someone arrived within thirty minutes.

Nurse B made sure to poke her head in after the L&D nurse finally left and make sure I was ok with the results. I couldn't thank her enough. She chatted with me a bit about our infertility diagnosis and the clinic I had been to and told me that the anxiety never really went away for her entire pregnancy. Then, she left me to sleep. I feel like I got my very own IF angel who was watching out for me.

It Brought Tears to My Eyes

Not the heartbeat pumping away nicely at 162. Not the perfectly normal NT scan measure. Not the bouncing baby that wouldn't stay still enough to get measured. Not even the little wave he or she threw out to us.

What brought tears to my eyes today was my mother-in-law's offer to buy me maternity clothes. I was giving her the update on my appointment this morning when she said she knew I would need some maternity clothes at some point and she wanted to get me some because she never got to have that experience herself.

I am so blessed.

Back home

I am home as of yeterday. Still hurting more than I thought I would be. I guess I didn't think much abt that part. At 1:00 am aturday morning, they sent someone over with the crummiest doppler ever, but were finally able to register movement and h/b for the baby- 154. I had the most wonderful nursing staff, esp my night nurse who had been thru ivf three time before having her twins. I will have a post about her in the future. In the mean time, thank you all for your thoughts and prayers for me and baby.

A perfect day

Yesterday, I left the office early and met my husband for lunch. And not just an ordinary lunch. I picked up some food and met him downtown where the orchestra was giving a free outdoor concert. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining brightly, and a breeze reminded us that it's not quite summer yet. But sitting in the sun was warm enough for my floral skirt and the music was lovely, especially the piece from Carmen. And for that brief blip of time, all was right with the world. The music provided an aura of swelling beauty, complemented by the warming sun, as I held hands with the person I love most in the world and felt secure (for once) about this little being that God has granted us. I was happy to my core and so very grateful.


I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I will always have this one perfect day.

Still Alive

After a weekend of working around the clock (literally 8 am Saturday to 8 am Sunday and then back at 1 pm Sunday until midnight), I am trying to readjust to the light of day again. I go in this afternoon to meet with the surgeon and review the plan for Friday's surgery. I will be kept overnight and may be out of it for several days, so an updat emay be a while in coming.


I just wanted to thank you all so very much for your kind words and thoughts and prayers. I am doing my best to trust that this little miracle baby wants to stick around.

So Afraid

I heard back from the surgeon who talked with my OB and reviewed my ER records. She thinks I need to have the surgery now. In fact, she said if I was having an attack today, she would do the surgery today. At this point, the surgery is scheduled for next Friday. I am so very afraid. I so don't want to lose this baby. I was really hoping to get to the second trimester. Apparently, the surgeon and OB think the risk of pancreatitis with waiting is too great. I am just a mess. I ca't stop crying despite being at work.

The First OB visit

Because Rachel asked, I just wanted to give a little more detailed run-down of my visit. It started off with a fairly clueless nurse who did not know what to do with the papers from the RE. Then, she told me to take my clothes off and that the doctor would do a pap and pelvic. When I told her that I didn't want a pap today, she basically just said that the doctor would have to decide. Um, no. I am the patient, I will decide.

Anyhow, the doctor came in and he went through my history and then spent quite a while just answering our questions (mostly about the risks and benefits of the gall bladder removal while pregnant). He discussed the different testing options- NT scan, quad screen, cvs, amnio. Then, I explained to him that I didn't want a pap because I usually spot after a pap and I didn't need the anxiety today, especially since my last three have been normal. He agreed that I was fine to go without and also informed me that usually they like to do then merely because it's the only time they get women in, so it's an attempt to take advantage of the opportunity. He did a pelvic to check that my cervix was appropriately closed. I really appreciated all of the time he took and like him a lot. He didn't talk down to us, realizing that we aren't exactly the typical couple who just ends up pregnant. Unfortunately, he is just filling in for my regular OB, who is on maternity leave. But I already know that I like her.

Afterward, I was sent to the lab for blood testing- HIV, typing, vaccine titers, etc.- and radiology to schedule the NT scan. All in all, a pretty routine vist.

Good news!

The ultrasound this morning went fabulously. Even got to see the little critter moving its arms and legs. He or she is still measuring a day ahead and the heart rate was 176.

Quick update

After working 96 hours from Monday to Saturday, I was slated to go back into work last night at 6 p.m. Unfortunately, I was instead in the ER until almost 3 this morning with a pretty severe gall bladder attack. I had to wait three hours in the waiting room, puking in pain. Such fun. After some iv drugs and fluids, I was finally allowed to go home. My gall bladder must come out. We are hoping that I can hold off four more weeks until the second trimester is underway.

I went for my first official OB visit this morning. Fairly underwhelming. But on a positive note, in order to have an NT scan, I need a dating u/s, so that is scheduled for tomorrow morning.

Keeping Up

I am keeping up with my fellow bloggers (although not commenting as much as I would like- why do they have to have that comment month this month?), but my onwn blogging is, and will continue to be, light. I am spending way to much time at work and probably will continue to do so for the next two weeks. Nothing terribly exciting occuring with me anyway. I have my surgical consult this afternoon and first OB appt next Monday.

ETA- I am so mad b/c they had to cancel my appt with the surgeon who has an emergency surgery. I had to make special arrangements to be able to leave today and now I have to try to do that again on Thursday. This was after they already re-scheduled it for a different time today. I have just about had it with this clinic and I am really disappointed at how this whole obstetrical experience is going.

Is it Just Me?

That hates inaccuracy in fiction? I was watching Brothers and Sisters last night and there is an ivf story line. Of course, the classic mistake was made- referring to implanting embryos rather than transferring. (As an aside- I do have to say that I did appreciate the realism that the cycle didn't work- it drives me nuts how ivf is always portrayed as a quick and easy fix.) I felt compelled to correct the television. Yes, I "talk to" the tv.

DH wanted to know why I "always" have to that- whether it is infertility or legal shows (don't even get me started about how I object during courtroom scenes). Because it should be right, I responded.

I don't know why it matters to me, but it does.

Stones and sludge

Apparently, my gall bladder is full of both. I have a surgical consult next week. The hope is to push out the removal until at least mid-second trimester.

No peeky

The u/s tech was very no-nonsense and was not interested in chatting or looking south. I will have to wait until my OB appointment in two weeks to hopefully hear the heartbeat on doppler.

The Gall

bladder, that is. The NP was pretty sure it's my gall bladder- possibly gall stones. Apparently, issues with the gall bladder can be exacerbated by pregnancy. I have an ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow, but it is doubtful they will get south enough for me to see what I really want to see.

Paranoid?

I was repeatedly struck by upper gastric pain this weekend and not of the heartburn variety. I finally put in a call to the OB and the doctor on call indicated that it might be my gall bladder. So, I called today to make an appointment as suggested by the doctor on call and had to play the telephone hokey-pokey and hemming and hawing about maybe I should wait for my scheduled appointment in two weeks. Umm, no. If there is something wrong with my gall bladder, I would like to know now, thank you very much.

When complaining to DH about the runaround, I said I didn't know why they make women wait until 10-12 weeks to come in for their first appointment anyway. He replied that most women are probably not as paranoid about their pregnancies. Yes, paranoid! I guess that would be me.

Personally, I think he is dead wrong. I think that even fertile women (especially those in their first pregnancies) are just as anxious about getting in to the doctor initally.

He is so in trouble.

Becoming a Vegetarian

Despite my normal carnivorous nature and all the protein-emphasized diets I have been on, it appears that pregnancy may render me a vegetarian. Even the thought of meat isn't sitting too well.

Lapped

I just learned (from DH who really didn't want to tell me, no doubt predicting my reaction) that our next-door neighbor is pregnant again. Four months apparently. Unplanned, another "oops." This is the couple who weren't married yet when they bought the house next door because she was finalizing her divorce. Shortly after they moved in in October 2006 (months after we started trying), I learned she was "accidentally pregnant." She had a little girl in May 2007, just as our infertility diagnosis was being finalized. At some point before the birth, they quietly got married.

Before the birth, the father mentioned how he would be disappointed if it was a girl. Turns out he was disappointed. He spends very little time with the baby. The great-grandmother or grandmother watches her constantly. I understand needing someone while the mother is working, but if the mother is not there, the grandmother or great-grandmother is, even when the father is home. The mother did not breastfeed because it was "inconvenient." I know that often breastfeeding doesn't work out for people, but to not even give it a shot for the sake of your kid? It frustrates me how little these people seem to do for their baby. I could go on and on. And yet, they're having another.

Does being pregnant take some of the sting away? Yes. But I am still left angry and full of righteous indignation at the unfairness of these people getting ANOTHER oops baby when there are so many others who have endured so much that deserve a baby so much more. She will have two babies and mine will still not be born yet. And that's assuming that we get a take-home baby out of this pregnancy. I know in my head that it rains on the just and the unjust and that life is not "fair." But in my heart- the voice calls out, "Unfair, unfair."

Relief

That is what I feel- a big whoooooosssshhhhh of it.

The baby is measuring a day ahead and we saw the heartbeat.

Parenting After Infertility: Singing Your Lullabies at Last

This final chapter of Unsung Lullabies was a struggle for me to read several weeks back. I never thought that by the time I got through the end of the book, we would be a step closer to parenthood. The authors make the point that having a baby in your arms soothes many of infertility's wounds. And I can understand that. But I am still viewing the pregnancy experience through the lens of infertility.

The authors accurately describe the sense of impending doom that women who are pregnant after infertility experience. "After so much going wrong, it's hard to believe things could possibly go right." Yes, thank you for putting my feelings into words.

The chapter also deals with the guilt and difficulty that new parenting brings and how that is exascerbated by the length of time that one struggled to get to the goal of parenthood. The infertile parent may feel ashamed that parenting is harder than expected because of the great lengths one has gone through to have a baby.

My favorite section of this chapter was what do you tell your child. It appears that I won't have to explain ivf or adoption to this child about his or her conception. But I guaranteed you this child will know about infertility and that having a baby isn't always easy. He or she will also learn how much we longed for his or her presence and what a miracle we were given.

Check out some more thoughts on this final chapter at Fertility Challenged in Florida.

You gotta believe

My father, the erstwhile Little League coach who longed for a little boy but doomed to father only three girly girls, was always ready with the Bad News Bears-style peptalk that centered around the phrase, "You gotta believe." The bottom of the ninth with two outs and your team behind- "you gotta believe." My sister teetering on the balance beam, so close to losing her footing and a gymnastics medal- "you gotta believe." He always is willing to extend the benefit of the doubt that things are going to work out on the side of victory. His catchphrase is a running joke in our family.

The other night when I asked DH for the umpteenth time if he thought all was going to be well at the ultrasound on Thursday, he confidently answered, "yes." I asked him how he could be so sure and he responded, without a hint of irony, "You've gotta believe." DH so strongly feels that God would not have given us this miracle only to then snatch it away from us.

I so very much want to believe.

An Amazing Friend

I have been working on this post for over a week and can't seem to get through it without shedding tears, so I am just going to wrap it up as quickly as I can.

I have an IRL friend who is also infertile. She is the friend I call multiple times a week, the one who was matron of honor in my wedding. Someone I have known for 12 years and can talk to about nothing for hours. She has been married seven years. She got pregnant in July 2006 while on the pill and then miscarried the day after she found out she was pregnant. The miscarriage prompted them to start actively trying. Her cycles are incredibly long. They are nearing the two-year mark now. She has been to an RE and attempted two IUI cycles that were both cancelled because neither her lining nor follicles grew. Right now, she is waiting for her insurance to change over so that she can try injectables. Perhaps, in June.

She and I have done our best to support each other through this infertility journey. We have shared that longing for a baby, we have shared the pain of others' insensitive comments, we have prayed for each other constantly. I have done my best to say the "right" things and be a sounding board when she found out her younger sister was pregnant within two months of trying.

She and I have often discussed that one day one of us is going to have to make the hardest phone call and tell the other she was left behind. I always assumed it would be her making the call to tell me.

When I saw that positive test last week, I knew that she was the first person I had to tell (after DH). I didn't even know how to form the words. I could just imagine her pain and I know how I would feel in her shoes- left behind once again.

But I screwed up my courage and called her on my way in to work. In my usual fashion, I yabbered about nothing for a few minutes, asking her about innocuous things. Then, I said I had to tell her something important and did she remember when we had discussed about making that really hard phone call? Barely able to utter coherent words, I blubbered out, "I took a test this morning and it was positive."

Never in my life have I heard such sheer joy in someone's response. I thought she was going to hyperventilate she was crying and screaming in excitement so loudly. Of course, this just made me cry harder. She kept repeating, "This is a miracle and I am so excited." She never once clarified that she was excited for me. She was genuinely and purely happy. She took joy from this miracle and did not once even pause to feel her own pain.

She is a much better person than I.

The difference in the fertile world

I met with the OB nurse treatment center this morning. It was basically just to give me a packet of info and for me to fill out forms, ask questions, pee in a cup. She tried to explain to me all about the various testing and the need for genetic testing and counseling. Yeah, been there done that one, have the cf gene, got the letter from the genetic counselor, don't need to go again.

But the thing that struck me as funny is when she asked whether I had had an ultrasound yet. I haven't yet, so I honestly answered no. She said that because of my infertility history, they would have me come in much sooner because it would be less anxiety-producing for me- how was May 12? May 12!!That is more than a month away! Can you imagine the RE's office saying, "yeah, come back in a month?"

The assumption is that all is hunky-dory must be a lovely fertile fantasy.

Apparently still pregnant

Second beta today was 1039, so doubling time of less than 48 hours.

ETA (because Kristen asked)- I have an u/s appointment at the RE's for next Thursday the 17th and I have an OB appointment this Thursday the 10th, which just consists of meeting with a nurse and giving history and getting a packet kind of thing. [Yes, I am double-tracking and not telling one about the other.]

Powerball

DH has taken to referring to the baby as Powerball since our odds were in the range of winning the lottery.

I am still pretty much a mess of emotions and having a hard time processing.

Results

Beta was 222! And progesterone is 26. As the nurse put it, "I am most definitely pregnant."

Miracles

The cynic in me has to admit that miracles happen. Because with less than a 1% chance of conceiving without medical assistance, I got a positive pee stick this morning.

I have been frustrated with the timing of my period since I wanted to go in by Friday for this updated CD 3 bloodwork this new cycle and maybe schedule a sono/trial transfer. So I would stop obsessing about where was my period and letting that half-percent of hope sneak in, I took a test.

It was positive. All four of them.

I am still shaking. I can't believe this is happening to me. Things like this don't happen to me.

I called the RE's office and will be going in for a beta later today and on Monday.

A bit of good news

Because DH works for a large corporation that includes a pharmacy, we get to use the employee discount of 10% at the pharmacy as well. I just had a lovely discussion this morning with the local pharmacist (who also confided that her sister had gone through ivf last year) and they can get all of my ivf meds and I can still get the 10% discount. And if we have the bonus 10% coupon (available after 10 pharmacy purchases), we could get up to 20%. When we are talking thousands of dollars worth for injectables, that is a lot of money! Finally, a little bit of silver lining.

If I get my period today or tomorrow, I will be going in for my updated CD 3 blood work on Friday. And I may be scheduling my sono/trial transfer for next Friday. The work baby shower has been rescheduled til then and I am hoping that I have a reason to be out of the office.

Blindsided by a Baptism

So, yesterday was not so great. When we got to church (DH insisting on sitting in the second row), I looked over to thr front row across from us and saw a line of well-dressed people and a dressed-up baby. I madly flipped through the bulletin to confirm my suspicion. Yup. Baby baptism planned in the middle of service. I hissed at DH, "There is a baptism." He looked at me with his usual confused expression, not understanding the sheer torture of these events for me.

All I could think about was the baptismal gown (sewn by my great-grandfather's wife so many years ago) that is hanging in THAT room. You know the room, the one that is supposed to be a nursery, but now just sits empty, except for the rocking chair that belonged to DH's grandmother. The rocking chair I am supposed to be rocking my babies in.

I had such a hard time keeping it together. I could feel the tears slipping down and I was thanking God silently that I have let my hair grow so it could cover my face. The baptism was thankfully as short as most Protestant ones can be. But I keep thinking to myself that should be us. I kept my head down and read my bulletin through the process. But, of course, our pastor insisted on carrying that baby down the aisle row by row for every person to see. I could hear all of the whispers of "oh, how cute he is." I just did my best to avert my gaze.

I know I am PMSing (and hence dying for some chocolate) and on the verge of weepy. But just when I think I am in a place where I can fake it through things like this, I am blindsided by the hurt that I can't seem to keep under control.

A New Ending, a New Beginning: Rewriting Your Reproductive Story; Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 11

I got a little behind in my chapter, so this weekend is a catch-up of two.

The authors start off this chapter with a series of very important questions:

How do you figure out what's right for you? What if one day you are sure you want to adopt, yet the next day you think it would be better to be childfree? Or you find an egg donor, but your partner doesn't like your choice? What if you get scared and change your mind midstream?

The authors describe how for some, it is important to be prepared for the next step and for others a time to grieve is necessary. I am sort of the next step type. It is soothing to me to know a plan is in place.

An interesting aspect of re-writing your story is when the two halves of a couple have different feelings on how to proceed. I feel that right now DH and I are on the same page, but I often wonder about where our rewritten reproductive stories may verge.

The authors conclude this chapter with great advice:

[T]here are no right or wrong choices at this juncture in your reproductive story. The beauty of the reproductive story is that it can be written and rewritten as you go through your life. Your infertility trauma will never be completely erased-it will always be a part of you-but it will be only a part, a single chapter, in the story of your life.

Knowing When to Stop Trying; Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 10

This chapter makes a very good point- how do you reach the point when you know you're done? And what does "done" even look like?

The authors' first point is another I want to add to my list of mantras- "You Made a Choice To Start, You Make a Choice to Stop." For me, there is no "stopping" until we become parents- whether that is through ART or adoption or some miracle. But we also have a stopping point for treatment. We have committed to a shared risk agreement of three fresh cycles- and that's it. For me, that is giving ivf the best possible chance of statistically happening and then we need to move on.

The authors also look at the many spiritual aspects that arise as a result of this journey- feeling abandoned by God; feeling guilty; feeling as if one is playing God. I can relate to the feeling of being abandoned by God during this process and askign, "Why?" I don't feel that treatment equates with playing God, however. No ART treatment is 100%, there is still very much a divine hand in its success or failure.

Another question posed by the authors is whether someone is selfish for seeking treatment rather than adopting. Those niggling questions that an infertile asks herself"Am I wrong for wanting my own? There are lots of babies who need homes so why aren't you adopting?" The authors address this issue so well:

If you want to keep on with treatment, by all means do. Adoption is a wonderful choice, but to adopt and deny yourself medical treatment out of guilt is not constructive for yourself or the baby you are adopting. If and when you choose to adopt, do so because you want to, not because you think you should.

I want to be able to remind myself if the time comes that ivf is not successful that I need, as the authors suggest, to honor our decision to stop. That it is a loss and it is not easy, but it will be time to get off the treatment treadmill.

Read some other great thoughts on this chapter at fertility Challenged in Florida.

Let the sun shine

In light of the lovely sunshine (although still cool temperature), I decided I needed to make the call. Since work has slowed oh so momentarily, I figured today is the daySo, I called the RE's office this morning.

And my favorite nurse- nurse J- called me back. I felt sort of overwhelmed by all the info. They are going to send me a big packet and I have to go in for bloods on cd 3 when I get my period. But the tentative plan is bcps starting with the 1st week of June and ivf stims starting first of July, retrieval around July 10-13 or so. I still need to get down about 2 pounds to be the right BMI and I want to lose about 20 more before starting the stims at the beginning of July.

Spring

I can't say that I have ever been all that impressed by spring as a season. I imagine that is a result of growing up in Southern California where spring and summer (and much of fall and winter, for that matter) are pretty much similar temperatures. But since moving to the Middle, I've had a much greater interest in spring and the end of winter. And this year, I am especially longing for it to be spring. It has been a long, cold, bitter winter. I am so weary of the snow and the icy wind that sneaks its way under one's coat. The white Easter and the snopw forecatsed for tomorrow despite the start of April next week just depresses me.

This spring feels particularly momentous for me. This winter has been a dormant period not just for the cold ground but also my infertility journey. Although we give it to the old college try every month, we haven't had a treatment cycle since October. I feel like I have just been in waiting and spinning my wheles until my work allows for a break in action and my weight reaches the necessary loss for ivf. I know that summer will bring ivf and I need to call the RE's office and get on the schedule, but something stops me (other than those few stubborn pounds). There seems an inexplicable hold on my pursuing this next step until the winter has passed.

Team on the Road

Why You Should Donate to Team On the Road

The Stirrup Queen is walking to support the March of Dimes and all of their work on behalf of premature babies. Join her by lending some support- cheer on Team on the Road or make a donation. It doesn't have to be large. A few dollars can make a difference. If every one of the 1,200 IF blogs gave just $1, that would be $1,200. I challenge you to give up a latte or mocha for just one day and direct your $4 to support the March of Dimes and Team on the Road.

Not Willing to Let It Go And Something to Decide

This post is an explanation of what started my Easter weekend to put me in the self-pity mode.

I was lucky enough to spend most of Friday at the spa. For Christmas, DH had purchased me a package that included a facial, a massage, a pedicure, deep condition and blowout, and lunch. Every single one of the technicians (what is the proper term here?) asked me if I had children, but the one that got me was the conversation that took place during my pedicure.

I was sitting there zoning out with my feet in the bubbly water, when a woman sat down in the chair next to me. Apparently, she hadn't been in for a pedicure since before the birth of her eight-month-old. So, she and her pedicurist proceeded to chatter on incessantly about babies, specifically her baby. I guess, my dirty looks (since we were in the "quiet area") weren't evil enough. Picking up on their conversation (but obviously not my consternation) my pedicurist asked me if I had children. When I said no, she replied that I was smart. I can't even express how much I wanted to hit her. I just looked at her with the most disdainful expression I could muster and used my steely cross-examination voice to say, "It is not by choice." She just gasped out an awkward, "Oh."

I seem to have reached a point in this infertility journey that I am unwilling to say the "right" and easy thing and let people "off the hook" for their insensitive comments. I am not angry or "bitter" about it, just matter-of-fact. Infertility exists and I hate that no one ever talks about it or only discusses it in the shadows (usually in shame or fear). I resent the fertile assumption that one has control over the reproductive process. And I am no longer willing to breach the awkwardness and silence. Let 'em soak in their stupid comments.


And to add insult to injury, my regular stylist is pregnant. When I saw her in January, she told me about her first-ever IUI on her second month of Clomid. This was for child number 3, the first two involved no fertility issues. Of course, I figured it would work for her. And it has. And now she is showing. She is aware of our situation, but I just don't think I want to deal with her pregnant belly for my two-hour-plus appointments. So, I have to decide whether I am on the look out for a new stylist. And I have to decide fast because my roots are starting to show something awful.

Hold the pity

I received a call from a friend (we'll call her "U") today to wish us a Happy Easter. U is the one who was married in September 2006 (months after we started trying) and was pregnant immediately despite trying to avoid. Her little boy will be one in about six weeks. She knew that we had started trying in summer of 2006, but I haven't really talked with her about it because I just didn't need to hear her fertile response. She has never once asked how things were going (and we are getting close to two years now).

Today has been a particularly difficult reminder of our infertility. In addition to the ridiculous snow storm that made for a white Easter and eliminated any hope of wearing cute open-toed shoes (the one and only thing I was looking forward to today), church was the usual struggle of wall to wall families with small children and pregnant women spilling out all the pews. The, to add to my dismay over another childless holiday, U asks out of the blue, whether we were trying again to get pregnant. I asked her in response what she meant. She said that she figured we had stopped trying because of my work and wondered if we were going to or had started up again. I told her that we had not stopped trying and it was getting close to two years of that now. There was an interminably llllllooooonnnngggg pause. I refused to fill the awkward silence.

She said, "Oh, I didn't know." I replied, "Well, you never asked." Then, U begins to give me "advice" and asks have we considered "testing." I just cut her off and said we completed "testing" about a year ago and were looking at ivf this summer. Another silence. I could feel the pity emanating through the phone line. And then, she abruptly made an excuse to get off the phone, sending Easter wishes to DH.


I don't mind talking about our infertility, if asked. But damn, I can do without the pity.

Anyone want to put bets on her being pregnant with number 2?

My second thought

I received a save-the-date in the mail for a college friend who is getting married in August. My first thought was how happy I was for her. My second thought?
Do you think they'll have a baby before we do?

Dealing with the World: Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 9

The point of this chapter is to assist the infertile in how to get through the inevitable aches of the daily insensitivities and reminders of infertility. The authors point out that one can only protect herself so much. Unless one lives under a rock, there really is no way to avoid the onslaught of reminders. There is inevitably going to be the comments or experience that pit the infertiles, as the have-nots, against the haves. The authors advise that a remedy is to remember to own up to the feelings of anger, sadness, self-pity and acknowledge the normalcy of such feelings under the circumstances.

The authors also up self-talk as the solution to feeling bad about these encounters. Focusing on what one does have (intellect, career, etc.) is a positive reinforcement that infertility does not define one. But the thing is I don't feel inadequate by these experiences- I just feel saddened and left out and no amount of bolstering is going to change the circumstance. One helpful point that the authors address is preparing responses to the inevitable stinging remarks. As I come farther out of the infertility closet, I am finding these interactions a little easier in that I usually snap off a sarcastic remark. I find it difficult to let an "educational moment" slide. Unless DH is with me because he doesn't like to bring it up.

This chapter also delves into the topic of how much to tell one's family. We have been fairly upfront with our families since last summer (mostly as a result of finding out my cystic fibrosis carrier status) although I haven't been very upfront about the cause of our infertility with my parents. This chapter also helped to break a stalemate between DH and I about asking his parents for money to help finance ivf. The authors strongly encourage asking for help where there would not be strings attached. DH has strongly felt that we should ask his parents for financial help. They are wonderful people who are extraordinarily generous. And I know they could afford to help us. And they are thankfully not like my parents for whom money = strings. I just hate having to ask someone else for money. I know they wouldn't let us pay them back because that is just how they are. The books makes the same point that DH has made over and over that his parents have an investment in our children because that is an extension of their reproductive stories. So, on the advice of the book, I have to say I caved on this issue.

The authors briefly address how to deal with friends. I must admit that my solution to dealing with many of my friends is that those who are not understanding, I just don't really have time for right now. Dealing with infertility as it relates to work has been the most difficult. With the exception of one coworker, no one knows of our infertility and I plan to keep it that way.

The chapter ends with a section title that I want to whole-heartedly embrace "You are coping, even though it may not feel like it."

As you struggle to find your footing, please keep in mind that it's all right to laugh, or cry, or get angry; it's all right to feel all the crazy things you're feeling. Feeling one way in the morning and another in the evening is not only okay, it's to be expected. It's all right to hide when you need to, just as it's all right to reach out to others. You are not alone in this- although it often feels as if you are.

Keep reading about this chapter, here.