Saturday, December 27, 2014

He is here!

In the relative quiet (well, the dishwasher is humming, the fridge is making that weird popping noise, the dryer is spinning and the new baby is stirring), I can see myself. C took our firstborn to breakfast so Baby T and I could hang out and catch up on some rest. As it is common with newborns, his day and nights are confused and nobody gets any rest when T wants to eat every two hours all night. But right now it is quiet and I can see myself.

There were a lot of fears that I had during this pregnancy that went unexpressed. Not here, not to C or a close friend, not to my mom and not even a whisper outloud in an empty house. Doctors kept saying "advanced maternal age". I'm 38. We declined any wasn't going to make us want the baby any less.  Outwardly, I said happy and healthy. It was my mantra. Inwardly, I was scared to death.

We decided to induce a week early. I had been sick for 3 weeks at that point. Just miserable sinus, hacking cough, nobody sleeps kind of sick and as soon as the doctor gave us the go-ahead to induce, we went ahead and set the day.

It all sounded great until the night before and then I panicked. Who am I to decide when he is born?? What if he isn't ready? We had family coming in to care for N. Is not wanting to mess up their plans enough of a reason to literally go in and get my baby boy out? I was a mess of exhausted, sick and gigantically pregnant tears. It all spilled out to C. The same fears we both had all along.

We decided that we needed to have confidence in our doctor, in our own decision and be grateful that we live in a time when we have options. We slept as good as two people who were about to have a new baby could.

It was weird to go to the hospital on induction day. In my head we were driving there in a rush, pulling in to the emergency room. In reality, we had muffins and casually drove to the main entrance. We signed in. Paid the co-pay. Like a routine doctor visit. Weird. With moments of extreme boredom and then pain. The doctor said I had a bag of steel as she struggled to break my water. The contractions grew stronger and they needed to wait for the epidural because I ate that muffin and they didn't want me to throw up.

It was important to me that my doctor deliver both of our babies. Her shift ended at 5. By 4:35, I was finally ready to push. By 4:55, he was here. Perfect. Screaming. Hungry. With the dark hair I always pictured him having. Our fears melted into pure love. Tears of stress melted into tears of gratefulness and exhaustion. I don't think I have ever felt so grateful in my life. Amazed and grateful. To see my body do things that I thought weren't possible without an RE and a syringe. I had a healthier pregnancy, I exercised regularly until those final weeks.

Now, physically things feel like they are breaking down a bit. At least on me. That cold I had before T was born turned into a full blown sinus infection. T is latching and nursing like a champ, something I wasn't able to do with N, which of course comes with its own toe curling pain. That sinus infection made my teeth hurt and my ear hurt which makes me wonder if I'm actually having teeth problems (dentist next week). My tongue feels super weird, all might be part of the sinus infection but food doesn't taste right at all. I need a hair cut and color. I need a pedicure. I need to trim my fingernails, I need to pluck my chin hairs(!) and my eyebrows. I guess I need to focus a bit on me. Having all of this happen right between two major holidays added stress that I probably just pushed down. Maybe all these ailments are psychosomatic? I need to go to the eye doctor. I read Arrowroot as Appalacia on a sign yesterday. I don't feel like I've let myself go like I did after I had N, but there is a feeling of neglect. Going from 1 kid to 2 is a jump. Going from a table for 3 to 4 is a jump. Sharing my bed this morning with a nursing newborn, a snoring husband and a hungry preschooler feels like the jump I always dreamed I would make.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

As I Sit Here

  As I sit here with acid reflux and a 3 year old in time out for not listening, I am shocked to find myself in the third trimester already.  Typing that last sentence I have belched fire 3 times.  I won't take more than Tums and sometimes that is even hard to get down.
  Went to the doctor yesterday and all is well.  My belly is measuring right on and the little heartbeat is right where it should be.  I'm just so tired.  I wake up tired.  I want to pass out by mid afternoon and by evening I can barely keep my eyes open.  I'm not complaining.  I am frustrated by my body, more than the first time around.  A lot has changed in 3 years.  My body is older, my mind is so full and my husband bit off a bit more than he can chew in the past few months, so I've been trying to help him too.  My mom has been dealing with ongoing medical issues and it is so, so hard to devote what I need to her while not sacrificing my own needs on top of the needs of my son and husband, plus the little man on the inside who just finds my bladder the most comfortable spot ever to hang out.
  Just like I said in my last few posts, when I am a fire-burping, sleep deprived, when was the last time I took a shower(?) 38 year old it feels like I will be pregnant forever.  But then I go to the doctor and she asks me how the third trimester is going and I realize we haven't taken a tour of the (new) hospital yet and I just ordered my last set of maternity tops (I needed long sleeve to get me through December) and I have that urge to beg time to slow down.
  So, I beg of time...please speed up when reflux strikes but please, please slow down when it comes to watching my 3 year old turn into a 4 year old, growing out of shirts, looking for a snack in the middle of eating lunch and heading up to bed with minimal prompting instead of looking for me to lay next to him until he falls asleep.  Please slow down as I feel the kicks from my little man on the inside growing stronger as he runs out of room.  Time doesn't listen.  Neither do 3 year olds.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A Lot of Feelings

  There are a lot of emotions after my 20 week scan today and they go further than just today.  Some family medical drama with my mom (scary stuff but slowly getting better) and some travel and some company at the house.  The roller coaster we have been on hasn't slowed down yet although we are close.  Maybe it was preparing me for a little stress during the scan.
  It wasn't major but it started with my appointment being mis-scheduled and I wasn't in the books for a scan at all.  The nurse was confused and then worked to get me squeezed in.  The ultra-sound tech wasn't unfriendly, but we could tell she wasn't happy about this unscheduled scan and it felt sort of rushed and impersonal.  It's A Boy!  And I thought it was going to be a girl.  Then my heart stuttered a bit when I felt my last chance at having a daughter slip away.  I'm welling up thinking about that.  
  When we got back to the doctor I had been in the office and various waiting rooms for almost 2 hours.  My 3 year old was OVER.  IT.  I felt rushed again talking to the doctor about the heart palpitations I have been having (normal) and then when she explained that the ultrasound tech couldn't see all the baby's heart chambers and we had to go back in 2 weeks and again 2 weeks after that for the glucose test.  I walked out feeling like I needed to process it all out loud but really a hungry 3 year old waits for no one.  
  Things are so different with this pregnancy.  I feel much less in control.  This is a surprise.  A miracle.  And it makes me feel a little lost.  It is moving too quick.  If I had a scan like this with my first, I would have had all the time and energy to worry and obsess and even though those things aren't really control they made me feel a little like I had a say.  Time is pressing on and I'm running to catch up.  Its just that my feet are swollen and my sciatica is acting up and my son is changing right before my eyes.  Wait for me!!

Friday, May 9, 2014

Flashing Back…again

     One of my most popular posts was one I wrote in 2010 called "Flashing Between Two Worlds" where I wrote about the many differences between my RE and my new OB.  It continues to be one of my favorite posts because I can still remember exactly how I felt in the waiting room and then in the stirrups, with a baby in my belly and cherishing it so hard so I didn't forget a second.
     And now, almost 4 years later, I am again comparing experiences.  This time it is between being a woman finally pregnant after years of in-vitro and a woman who went and got pregnant the old fashioned way.  I want to write "I wasn't supposed to be that girl" The one who gets pregnant without the help of doctors and medicine and surgery and hopes and prayers.  In-vitro made me the girl who schedules an attempt, who puts all the money towards a dream, whose legs are in stirrups over Thanksgiving.  But here I sit.  That girl that in-vitro made now sitting in my memories.  I'm someone who…gets pregnant on my own?  Come on!  Is it true?  I've peed on 6 different sticks since my last post.  Its still positive.  I'm already unable to button a few pairs of pants.
     When you go to a fertility clinic and you pay for in-vitro, some of that money buys you important status.  All the monitoring that feels so exhausting and invasive is so key to keeping what little peace of mind you still have hanging on.  At the first possible second, you are back in the stirrups seeing a miracle (or not…its been both ways for me).  But as someone who got pregnant without help, I'm just like all those other women.  And I'm not sure I like it.  In-vitro made me special in the same way it made me stressed, crazy, irritable, crying, angry, frustrated, poor and the happiest I have ever been.  It was all the things.  All the emotions.  This is so different.  I peed on a stick.  It was positive.  I stared in disbelief.  I showed my husband.  He stared in disbelief.  I made a doctor appt.  I wait (still waiting) over 2 weeks from the positive stick.  Life goes on as normal(?).

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

I don't get pregnant on my own, except when I do.

Not 30 minutes before I peed on a stick today I stood in the kitchen with my hands on my hips proclaiming that I was tired of in-vitro deciding what I could do and when I could do it and if I could afford it. I stamped my feet and said maybe it is time to be happy with what we have and stop the madness of it all. Stop the fretting and worrying and frustration that the money only buys us a chance and not a guarantee. Then I put my 3 year old down for a nap and I thought about my day. I remembered that my coffee, that I make the same way every day, sucked. I realized that I only ate 1/2 a granola bar all morning and still wasn't hungry for lunch. I realized that I felt kind of extra motivated today to run all the errands and I thought about the fact that I skipped my second period since The first time back in November (me, who NEVER skips).  I had a test in the closet and I used it. The words "pregnant" popped up before I even finished peeing. HOW?? We don't get pregnant on our own. Except when we do!

Thursday, February 6, 2014

We'll just have to see

The blogging breaks seem to come more frequently.  It happens to all of us and just when I need it, the blank page is there waiting for my heart and soul to spill all over it.  I'm not really feeling quite that dramatic today, but I thought an update would be good.  Especially since my last post I was still talking about skipping my period.  A few major holidays have passed in that time, my cycle kicked back to normal and my almost 3 year old started pre-school(!). Its kind of amazing how quickly things change.  I'm constantly reminded of that.  I need to be reminded of that even more often though, especially when I start to get too far deep into my head worrying about the future.

We are coming up on go-time.  Not quite yet.  The winter will end before I'm back in the stirrups, but by spring I'll be getting a physical done and talking about thawing embryos and asking questions like, "how many?" How many will thaw?  How many will we put in?  How many times will we try?

I know the answer to how many times will we do another fresh IVF cycle?  Zero.  We did two.  The second one was beautifully successful.  I know what an emotional and physical mess I was during it all.  I don't want to be that mess for N.  He's almost 3 and full of love and energy and I will be present for him.

We are fortunate enough to have 5 frozen embryos.  We have talked about one frozen cycle.  We are prepared physically and financially for one.  I can't say definitively about doing a second if it doesn't work.  I can't predict my desires and emotions.  I have general ideas.  I want to say I'm good with trying one more time and if it doesn't work, we will be happy with our family of 3.  I don't know that if it doesn't work, I won't look at N and feel an overwhelming desire to do whatever I have to do to make him an older brother.

So 2014 is the year we do at least one.  That is for sure.  Everything else…well, we'll just have to see.

Saturday, November 16, 2013


This is the first time I ever skipped a period.  It is new territory for me.  It isn't a big deal.  Except that it is.  Hearing the words from my doctor made it ok though.  She simply said, "sometimes you skip one." They took blood anyway to make sure nothing else is going on and I'll get those results back next week.  I appreciate her words because it made me stop looking so hard at symptoms, at the toilet paper, at myself in the mirror.  I backed off.  Sometimes you skip one.
I'll probably still pee on a stick on Monday.  Day 14.  That number sticks in my head.  I feel like I can be official at that point.  Although 3 sticks and blood work coming back negative should be pretty official.  Sometimes you skip one.

12 days.