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.