When all else fails...

New Blog

2008-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

Alright, I'm back in the blogosphere....come visit me at
smartassmom.blogspot.com

Time to Move On...

2008-09-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog, it was really an infertility and IVF blog. Then it turned into a pregnancy after infertility blog. Then it turned into "fucked up pregnancy after infertility" blog. And now, it's time for this blog to stop.

Why? Well, when I was in the depths of infertility, I sought out blogs like mine to comiserate with. It is therapeutic to read and follow the plight of others in the same boat. But far too often, I'd peruse the blogs my friend Google Reader had suggested for me - blogs with descriptions about infertility or IVF, or miscarriage - just to stumble upon a picture like this:

Sweet Jesus, isn't that beautiful and touching? Indeed. However, it's very upsetting when you're coming off a failed cycle and just want to commiserate with those in the same boat. Half the time the so-called infertility blogs had turned into parenting blogs without warning. Kudos for beating infertility, but a little warning for us still struggling perhaps? So I won't do that. Well, besides that picture which was too great to pass up. My Photoshop skilz are pretty bad ass, and my kid is pretty freaking cute, ain't she?

For that reason alone, I don't want this blog to continue as a parenting blog. Then the other issue is, right now I just don't have much to blog about. I guess I could blog about the physical postpartum issues no one talks about, because frankly, someone SHOULD. Like how my bladder may never be the same, or how those stretch marks that were "just a little under my tummy" when I was pregnant turn into your entire tummy when you're not. Or I could be really annoying and blog about how so far, this whole mothering thing has been really easy. And get this: we're doing it all without having read a single parenting book! Can you believe that? It can be done, folks. Sometimes, things just come naturally. Now, I do think we have an easy kid. And she is only 2 1/2 weeks old so clearly things could and likely will change. But so far, eating, sleeping, pooping and peeing is going quite well. We often get a good 3-4 hour stretch of sleeping at night and her fussy times during the day aren't even that bad. I don't have much to say besides how awesome she is and how in love we are, and even in my most egotistical mood I could see how that wouldn't be entertaining to others. For very long, at least.

So for now, it's a blogging break. When I do return, it will be in a different blog and I'll post that blog here when that happens. But until then...thanks to everyone that read this thing, I never really expected anyone to read it, it was really just an outlet for me. I love the comments and feedback and it's why I'll keep it going elsewhere. I just need to wait until she starts doing funny shit.

Holy Shit, I'm a Mom.

2008-08-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

Sabrina Frances

Born August 19th, 2008
2:34 pm
6 lbs., 8 oz
19 1/4 inches

So, I went to bed Monday night with absolutely not a single sign that Sabrina was thinking about making an appearance sooner than later. My contractions were pretty much gone, as they had been. I wasn't overly tired. I wasn't overly energetic. I didn't have a feeling...in fact, I posted that I was sure she wasn't going anywhere just hours before.

At 3:30 am, I woke up to a bit of a trickle. I turned and realized it was going to be a lot more than a trickle so I got my ass out of bed. We have a Sleep Number bed, and those things plug into the wall. It is also a new bed, and it wasn't cheap. The only place I didn't want my water to break was in bed, because I didn't want to ruin the mattress, nor did I want to electrocute us all. Somehow, I managed to avoid getting even one little drop on the mattress. Elsewhere wasn't so lucky, but it wasn't that bad. Most of it ended up in the toilet.

Chris thought I had diarrhea, hence my sprint to the bathroom, so he was just as surprised as I was when I came back to bed and told him my water had broken. He was even more surprised as I calmly told him that we would need to leave within the hour since I was Group B Strep positive and I'd need to get antibiotics, so I was going to jump in the shower and he could go ahead and vacuum while I was doing that.

Hmmmm? Yes, I asked him to vacuum because I was going to do it that morning and I wanted to come home to a vacuumed house. Sadly, this isn't a nesting thing or anything like that, it's totally normal behavior for me. The only thing not normal is that I asked Chris to do it, normally I would do it myself.

I realized when I got out of the shower that my contractions were strong and every 2-5 minutes and I would be in active labor soon. Same thing happened when I miscarried. As soon as my water breaks, it's show time. The hospital is about 45 minutes away, so we got out of here as soon as Chris got his shower.

The whole way to the hospital the contractions were getting stronger and stronger and really freaking painful. I couldn't talk through them, could barely breathe through them. By the time we got to the elevator to the L&D floor, really the only word I could say was "epidural". And I said it over and over.

They attempted to get me admitted and all set up, it took far longer than it should have because I couldn't answer the questions when I was contracting, which was all the time, and I didn't seem to know any words except "epidural", "when", and "pllllleeeeaassseee??".

The midwife checked me and said I was dilated to 2. I called her a liar and threw her right out of the room. OK, not what happened but I wasn't happy because she claimed that I needed to be dilated to 4 before getting an epi. Oh hell no. I requested a MD instead of the midwife (we really didn't connect on any level at all so it was best to get someone else) and the nice doctor felt I shouldn't suffer (as I obviously was) but the epi might slow down the labor. She also said that the number of centimeters dilated wasn't as big an issue for her, as 2 for me may be someone else at 7. Or 10, as I pointed out.

I got that epidural at 7am and lemme tell you, it is the best.thing.ever. I no longer felt any contractions. I could breathe. I could open my eyes. I could converse with people. I was even pleasant to be around. I could do this. This was going to be fun!

They checked me at 9am and any worry about the epi stalling labor were thrown out the window as I was already 7 centimeters. Checked again at 11am and I was fully dilated. We were set to start pushing at noon.

At this point, the epi is still going strong, I'm still a joy to be around and looking forward to meeting our daughter. The nurse gets me started pushing. I'm doing "great" and everything is still wonderful. The epi is starting to wear off just a tad, so just in case I push my handy little "more" button to keep me covered. I'm starting to feel the contractions a bit, and not just the pressure they said the epi won't take care of, but as long as it doesn't get too bad, I'll be fine.

About a half hour of pushing later, the epidural ceased to do a damn thing. The nurses and OB seemed to think this was a good thing, as I would have something to push towards. I strongly disagreed, but it wasn't as if they were taking away my pain meds, it just wasn't working. I pushed for 2 1/2 hours straight. The first hour was pretty unproductive so they added pitocin to my IV to help make the contractions more consistent. It didn't make them stronger, but instead made them more consistent than before. Whatever, it all still hurt like hell. Pushing through the pain is seriously an out of body experience.

If "epidural" was my word for the morning, "vacuum" became my word of the afternoon. At some point, it was suggested that they might have to use the vacuum to get her out, as she just wasn't making the progress she should have. She basically was stuck behind my pelvic bone and with each push she would edge out just a tad, but as soon as I stopped, she sucked back up there.

Now, I'm all for pain meds, natural birth isn't for me, but my rational mind would not ask for the vacuum. I do understand it's a procedure that should only be done when it absolutely must be for the health of the baby. However, I wasn't my rational self so once they mentioned that, I saw it as a way out. A way to get her out, because clearly pushing wasn't working and they weren't aware of this, but I was going to just stop. I was done. I wasn't sure how they were going to get her out, but I figured that was their problem. As a result, after just about every push I asked if the vacuum was next. Or if they had decided to use it. Or if they could just let me know when they thought they might decide, that would be great.

The last half hour of pushing I pretty much shut everyone out, kept my eyes squeezed shut and pushed as hard as I possible could muster. She finally came out and I can't even describe the instant physical relief that provides.

But Sabrina's entrance into the world wasn't going to be easy. Hell, her incubation period was a whole mess of complications, why would birth be any different? She had the cord wrapped around her neck really tightly and she wasn't breathing at all. She was blue and totally unresponsive. The nurses grabbed her and took her to the warming lamp thing and ended up having to bag her to resusitate her, and within 5 minutes she was breathing and turning pink. We didn't get to hold her for a while as she needed to warm up and stay warm.

Once she was breathing it took her a minute to make any noise and once she did, it was amazing. My daughters voice. That's what she sounds like. This is who has been inside of me, wiggling around. Our baby girl is finally here.

Two years of trying. Countless appointments. Miscarriage. In-Vitro Fertilization. Hundreds of injections. 17 weeks of bed rest. A freaking epidural that wore off.

All forgotten in an instant.

Our beautiful daughter is here.

I guess she doesn't read my blog.

2008-08-18T15:42:00.000-07:00

Hmph.

"She" would be the little miss that has taken up residency in my stomach. Because, despite my pleas a couple weeks ago, I had to get a pedicure last week. Someone was supposed to make an appearance before I had to resort to getting outside help for my tootsies.

Fine. Now that she's sticking around, we request she make it to at least Saturday now, which will be one day shy of 39 weeks...who would have thought?

Why Saturday? Well, if she's born after Saturday, she'll be a Virgo instead of a Leo. No offense to the lions out there, but Virgo is just more compatible with Scorpio, which is what Chris and I both are.

Also, Chris has a root canal on Wednesday, and has requested she wait until at least after that. The man can't live on advil.

So here we sit and wait. I feel fine, the usual (I imagine) discomfort of being 9 1/2 months pregnant but my contractions are minimal (figures) and I don't anticipate any progress or changes at my appointment this week.

Happy 3rd Anniversary to US!

2008-08-13T17:11:00.000-07:00

Three years ago today I married my best friend, my partner, and as cheesy as it sounds, the man who truly is my soul mate. He's my favorite. I like him a lot.

How does a very pregnant woman celebrate her anniversary? By eating, of course! Massive amounts of food, actually. We went to a nice dinner over the weekend and let's just say, when your "appetizer" is the cheese and fruit platter (and that was just for me, of course), it sets the tone for the rest of the evening. The tone being gluttony. But it was gooooood.

I got all dressed up, which these days means something other than shorts. I put on my best maternity frock, and figured even though I've had to wear flip flops (due to the excessive swelling) the last several weeks that I would take one for the team and get my feet into some nice heels. I'm a high heel kind of girl and the thought of wearing flip flops to a nice restaurant was horrifying.

I knew the high heel would be tight and uncomfortable, but I was willing.

Um, I couldn't even fit a toe into the shoe. My feet are so swollen, they must be three times their normal size. Have I listened too much to the people that say I am "all belly?" I believed them! But clearly they are lying. I am, best case scenario, all belly and feet.

After the high heel incident, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm being delusional by thinking I can fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans...up to the tummy, of course. Is it possible my pregnant thighs and ass won't fit into them now?? Should I try and see?

Nahhhhhh.

FYI - Celebrities are NOT infertile.

2008-08-11T10:20:00.001-07:00

I think I discovered a cure to infertility...become a celebrity.

Infertility has been in the media quite a bit in the last couple years, primarily because several celebs are suddenly popping out twins in their late 30's and even later, prompting the usual knee-jerk response any time this happens..."Are they natural?"

Now, realistically...hell, statistically, the chances of all these twins popping up without intervention, is slim. While women over 35 have a greater chance of having twins (as you near menopause - and yes, it the process starts that early and goes on for years - your body produces more FSH which in turn can make you release 2 or more mature eggs in one cycle, hence resulting in a greater chance of twins than she would have had in her 20's), it's still statistically about 1% without infertility treatments. So chances are quite good many of the celebs have sought treatment.

Big deal.

Really. I'm not trying to dismiss the magnitude of going through In-Vitro Fertilization. It is a big deal to us that have done it. I'm not dismissing the magnitude of dealing with infertility, it is, to be frank, the shits. But we all have our crosses to bear. I'm just saying, using fertility treatments to conceive really isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. When I watch my daughter run around the playground, how she got here isn't going to matter much. We are very open about IVF, and our daughter will know all about it. But, I won't watch her and think of her early beginnings as an 8-cell embryo in a petri dish. Do fertiles sit and watch their children and think of the night they conceived with their partner? If they do, that's weird and gross. But I digress.

I have no issues with fertility treatments and I do have a hard time grasping why people do, but to each his own. Then again, I'm not religious, I don't care too much what people think, and my morals and ethics, at best, are questionable. So basically I don't relate to any of the usual reasons people cite for fertility treatments to be something to be ashamed of.

Plenty of non-celebs choose to keep their infertility and treatments private. Very private. Some because of the before noted religious/moral stuff that I just don't get, others feel like talking about infertility or fertility treatments is like talking about their sex life (uh, not to dismiss that feeling but I don't know what kind of embryo transfer these people had), others just feel it ain't nobody's business, and it truly isn't. I know when we discussed IVF with our friends and family there were more than a few people who couldn't get past the fact that Chris had to provide a "sample". This was the focus. Not the emotional roller coaster we were on, not the physical pain of the shots and the meds, not the money, not the worry...it was the masturbation. For Christ's Sakes. Seriously, children.

So celebs and non-celebs alike, everyone has the right to keep it private if they choose. I don't begrudge the celebrities that. And I don't want or expect them to become spokespeople for all us infertiles. Because plenty of them have "come out" with their problems, and honestly, no one really cared. Nothing changed. Brooke Sheilds has been very open, it didn't hurt her career and it didn't help our cause. The infertile community's expectation that an infertile celebrity will somehow help us is confusing. And we should not condemn those that choose not to reveal that aspect of their personal life to the media.

But let's condemn those that make it clear they did not use that fertility treatment crap. That they didn't need to...ick. That icky in-vitro, no thanks. Nothing wrong with us! Totally natural. We can condemn them. Because regardless if they used fertility treatments or not, hey, don't make them out to be this horrible thing that you wouldn't consider. I'm totally okay with them not answering or acknowledging the question to protect their privacy. I'd even be okay with lying by saying a simple "no" if they were really pressed in an interview. But to crinkle your nose and look confused when someone mentions in-vitro fertilization, or to throw out the preemptive denial like Rebecca Romijn and Jerry O'Connell recently did when they announced she was pregnant with twins. They felt the need to issue the statement that they were not conceived using the fertility drug Clomid or In-Vitro Fertilization.

Well. Clearly, they used IUI's (intra-uterine insemination) then. Clomid to IVF is a big leap and they left out a huge chunk of other options. But the whole fertility question was more of a focus than anything, because, let's be honest, who cares about Rebecca Romijn and Jerry O'Connell? Anyone?

Ahhhh....the Golden Ring

2008-08-04T10:17:00.000-07:00

Guess who is off of bed rest? (well, kind of).

Me! 17 weeks of bed rest is done (well, mostly), we made it to 36 weeks, the golden ring we thought we would never grasp.

So my OB would prefer I make it to 37 weeks and doesn't want to lift all my restrictions, but I think we're just being greedy at this point. Of course I want her to cook as long as she needs, but it's not like I'm running a marathon.

I don't however, want her to go overdue. I get all wound up about things that could happen. Like if I see one more Discovery Health show where a baby is born with meconium all over it, I might scream. Poo in the amniotic fluid is a concern. A concern that gets greater if you go past your due date. Hence, one of many reasons why I am OK with getting to 40 weeks, but I know my anxiety level will start to sky rocket if we go any further.

Also, I gave myself a pedicure a couple days ago, and at 9 months pregnant, that is no easy feat. (ha!!, feet, feat. get it?). Really, it takes hours. I hate getting pedicures so I've managed to do it myself this whole time. Each time I say, "I think that's the last time I'll be able to do that" but somehow, my bed rest body is able to contort enough to get those toes all purty and painted. However, this last time I think really will be the last. So, ideally, little miss will make an appearance before my toes need attention again. Which is about 2 weeks, give or take a couple days. Are you listening? Mama does not want to go get a pedicure. Don't make me.

A few noteworthy things from the past week:

I was dilated one centimeter at my last appt. Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that I may have cheated a tiny bit last week and gone on some walks.
I believe I lost most of my mucus plug over the weekend. Sadly, I didn't get a picture to post! Ha.
I have less contractions now than I have the entire pregnancy. It's as if this is some kind of cruel joke.
I was re-tested for Group B Strep and it - poof! - seems to have disappeared. Bizarre. But, one less thing to worry about.
My OB proclaimed my weight gain thus far excellent (I'm not ashamed to say I'm up about 25-30 pounds, for those that are wondering) despite 17 weeks of bedrest and a clearly unhealthy obsession with mini Twix bars, and a disturbing disinterest in vegetables.
My laptop stumped the local computer fixers and has been referred to a specialist. Seriously, even my material possessions have to see specialists?

35 weeks...almost there!

2008-07-28T15:15:00.000-07:00

My bed rest buddy, Sara reminds me that I can't just post on and on about my pre term labor issues than disappear from the blogosphere for days on end.

All is well, actually better than usual, on the pregnancy front. My contractions have been better the last week or so than they have been the entire pregnancy. I just know that now that we're almost at the golden ring, 36 weeks, all my PTL issues are going to come to a screeching halt and she's going to stay put for weeks and weeks. She is already screwing with us.

All is not well, however, on the laptop front.

I've been MIA because my laptop is having some trouble. As in freezing all the time, can't do anything, barely got some important files backed up, trouble. He had to go to the doctor today, and I don't expect him back until later this week. Considering I didn't pay much for the laptop, if it's an expensive fix I'm guessing I may never get him back. I really don't have the right to complain too much, we still have a functioning perfectly fine desktop (but it's in the garage and it's hot in there) and I do have my laptop for work that I can use for Internet access (but it's heavy, and it gets hot and it's slow and ugly) so it's not like I'm completely shut off from the world, it's just far more inconvenient.

Less than a week from freedom...at 36 weeks, it's expected that my bed rest will be lifted! I have no idea what I'll do with myself.

A Grumpy Clitoris

2008-07-19T18:59:00.000-07:00

How could I forget to post this gem of the week?

The Pre Term Birth Prevention Program I'm in includes a weekly phone call from my perinatal nurse. It's scheduled for the same day, same time each week. I had my weekly appointment with my OB the same time as my weekly call last week, and if I'm not home to take the call, they consider it a missed appointment. Two or more missed appointments and you're out of the program. So, like a good patient, I called before I left to advise them I wasn't going to be home for the call, but everything was pretty much status quo and I was on my way to my OB anyway.

Unfortunately, I they didn't transfer me to my nurse, but to a trainee who didn't seem to understand why I was calling. To compound the confusion, her accent was very thick and I was having a hard time communicating with her.

The banter started predictably enough.

"Are you having contractions?"
"Uh, yeah...always. But that's normal for me and I'm on my way to my appointment anyway..."
"You're drinking water and laying on your side?"
"Um, no, I'm leaving. But it's not an issue anyway, I always have lots of contractions and there is no-"
"HOW MANY?"
"Oh, well, typically right now it's anywhere from about 5-7 or more, but you see, that's not why I'm calling, like I said that's normal (is she not looking at my chart??) and I've been to L&D enough times for us to know there hasn't really been any real cervical change, sooooo..."
"No cervical change?"
"Nope! Just a really grumpy uterus."
"Hmmm. Grumpy CLITORIS."
Er, what?

Virtually the entire conversation I was straining to understand her, but I'll be damned, that clitoris comment came through loud and clear.

I have no doubt that my clitoris is grumpy at this point, but I certainly wasn't discussing it with the perinatal nurse. I don't think that's contributing to my pre term labor issues.

That Pesky Insurance Coverage for Infertility Argument

2008-07-14T12:04:00.001-07:00

Ahhhh, all is right with the world. A recent post on a message board I frequent regarding whether or not insurance companies should cover infertility or not had me worried. The vast majority of the replies were yes! And this was not a board full of infertiles. Finally, someone said "as long as the world's population continues to explode, I'm not going to change my mind on increasing my premiums to pay for someone else's uncontrollable desire to have a baby with their own DNA." I was getting worried they were all going soft with this bizarre support for us infertiles until that sweet little princess posted that comment.

I've considered posting about insurance coverage and infertility for quite a while, but have always stopped myself for some reason. It is a cause near and dear to my heart. I even created an online petition a while back to send to Congress as they reviewed HR 2892 which would mandate infertility coverage nationally (this bill has been introduced 6 times and never made it to the voting stage...this year was no exception). We had over 2,000 signatures last I looked. Shitty thing is, my Congressperson ignored the petition (all 50 pages I sent her), and the other Congresspeople I sent it to (those on the committees reviewing the bill) didn't give a shit either, since I couldn't vote for them. Gotta love America.

At any rate, it's a volatile argument on both sides and I really wish we could just take the emotion out of it and debate it rationally. That means no "uncontrollable desire to reproduce their DNA" argument from the NO side and no long drawn out stories from our side about how painful it is to go through infertility and all that. No one cares. Let's just talk facts, shall we?

The reason infertility should be covered is because it is not fair to not cover it.

Does that do it for you? Good enough? Because that really is it in a nutshell.

My parents did a good job and didn't overly indulge me as a child. When I said something wasn't fair, they were quick to swing around and growl "LIFE'S NOT FAIR!", something I never really understood since I felt that was just validating my point. But I don't believe infertility should be covered just because it has cost me a shit load of money. I don't think it should be covered because it really sucks to go through it, and then turn around and realize you're going to have to spend your life savings treating it. Talk about adding insult to injury. But still, that isn't reason for me to think that an entire (cough *corrupt* cough) industry should change their policies. I understand they're in it for the money. I understand covering infertility would cost them money. I understand they really don't give a shit that I have to spend my life savings treating my disease even though I have full medical coverage. I get it. And I wouldn't fight it...IF it was fair across the board.

My point has always been this: infertility should be covered because it is a disease. It is specifically excluded from insurance policies for reasons unknown (besides the cost factor). Now, if all diseases were excluded, I wouldn't agrue. Hey, even if all non-life threatening diseases were excluded, sure, I get it. Not covered. Or even all reproductive issues. OK, got it. Or hey, anything that has to do with vaginas, ok, no problem. Or diseases that start with the letter I. See my point? I'm not asking for special treatment. I'm asking for the same treatment as any other disease.

You see, when I reviewed one of my company's insurance policies that was available to me, I thumbed to the "what is not covered" section. In addition to the regular non-medical things that aren't covered with most policies - dental work, vision exams, cosmetic surgery, etc. - there were three other items listed. Inexplicably, these three were singled out:

Infertility
Diagnosis and/or Treatment of HIV/AIDS in excess of $15,000
Prosthetics

Honestly, I couldn't make this shit up.

So I concluded that infertility and the cap put on HIV/AIDS had to do with moral or religious issues. I decided the Catholic church had somehow infiltrated the insurance industry. Infertility treatment could include IVF, which the Vatican has adamantly opposed and they feel it is just soooo wrong. HIV/AIDS - well, it's a gay disease isn't it? Can't be too obvious about discriminating against them, so give them a little bit of coverage. Not too much though, not enough to...oh you know, keep them alive. $15K may sound like a lot to you, but the medications to control HIV/AIDS are beyond expensive and $15K doesn't go very far.

I have yet to figure out how the amputees have offended the religious right or the ultra conservatives. I'd be really interested in hearing anyone's theory about that one.

Once I heard a semi-rational reason for excluding infertility: it was considered experimental, and insurance does not cover experimental treatments. Now, I would have been okay with this since infertility isn't being singled out, it's just part of experimental treatments. But, that's old news and not applicable anymore. The AMA (American Medical Association) has not categorized infertility treatments as experimental since the 1980's. Next. Gotta give me something better than that.

Because I can give you something better. Beyond infertility being a disease and should be covered because it is such, I can also throw a Supreme Court case at you. In case you don't like my disease argument, how about this: In 1998, Bragdon vs. Abbott, the United State Supreme Court rule that reproduction is a "major life activity." Any person with substantial limitations to reproduce meets the definition for disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act and should, therefore, not be denied medical treatment for his or her condition. Excluding coverage for infertility treatment would be a violation of the ADA according to this decision. Ha! I win!

For those of you that don't want to pay for me to choose to treat my disease, I get it. (I won't bore you with the research that shows that it would actually cost as little as $3 per person per year and would actually lower premiums in many respects because it would lower the risk of multiple - especially high order multiple - pregnancies). But I didn't create the system. I don't want to pay for Bob to get his ingrown toenail worked on because I think had he just cut his toenails properly from the start, it wouldn't be an issue and I don't think I should have to pay for that. But that's how insurance works. We all pay in so that when we need it, it's covered. I would be all for a reform where your premium, even in a group health care setting like an employer plan - was reflective of how much you utilize the service. I don't think it's fair that my co-worker that never goes to the doctor - ever - should have to pay the same monthly premium as me, someone who is like Norm from Cheers at my doctor's office, just in case he needs medical care sometime in the future. I don't agree that's fair. But it is the way it is, and I didn't make the rules.

And I really have to giggle when people say coverage for infertility would raise their premiums, blah blah blah. Because the cost of my IVF (that we paid out of pocket for) was a tiny drop in the bucket compared to the amount I've sucked out of the system with my high risk pregnancy. All of my pre-natal care is 100% free with my insurance policy. I don't even pay a co-pay. So do the math. Weekly appointments since I was 4 1/2 months pregnant, all free. Four trips (so far) to Labor & Delivery, all free. My delivery will cost a $500 co-pay, that's it. My pregnancy could raise my company's premiums, but no one complains about maternity coverage.

Incidentally, I should point out that I have tendencies towards hypochondria, so pregnant or not, infertile or not, it's highly probably I can raise any company's premiums just being me. Giggle, giggle.

&@#%!

2008-07-11T14:28:00.000-07:00

Another trip to Labor & Delivery?!

Yeah.

Three days of consistent (every 5-10 minutes), strong contractions will do that to you. Good news is, it's the same false labor I continue to have and I'm not dilating at all. FFN was negative again. Bad news is, this is just how my pregnancy will continue and there's nothing we can do about it.

You see, my uterus is irritable. As am I, these days. So what is an irritable uterus?

For the most part, Braxton Hicks contractions are rarely painful and will remain quite irregular. During periods of heavy activity, however, you may find the contractions become uncomfortable. If so, resting with your feet up will usually lessen your discomfort.

For many women, having Braxton Hicks contractions would be a blessing. For those who have been told they have an "irritable uterus" the onset of mildly uncomfortable contractions during the last weeks and months of the pregnancy would be ideal. Irritable uterus is a term used by doctors to describe painful contractions that do not cause changes in the cervix, like those seen during labor. These contractions can be frighteningly similar to the real deal, only without the regularity of true labor.

Yes, this means I experience labor-like contractions all the freaking time. And that freaking sucks! It's painful, it's tiring, it's annoying and there's really no way of me knowing if I'm having cervical changes without having to go to L&D. Luckily, they've been very nice to us. We're regulars. I'm waiting for them to just point to the room we'll be in and allow me to hook myself up to the monitors, enter my info into the computer ("yes, I feel safe in my home. No, no alcohol or smoking during the pregnancy. Nope, I don't have herpes. No allergies to drugs.") and even administer my own FFN test. If I could only check my own cervix...

The highlight of our trips to L&D is getting to hear her heartbeat the whole time we're there AND see the BPM (which fascinates me). She's a little superstar and always does perfect while on the monitor. Which is interesting, since I've noticed she can be having a very quiet day but strap that monitor on her and she starts doing flips and turns and moving all around. She either a) is a show off or b) doesn't like the monitor and tries to kick it off my stomach. Considering who her parents are, I think it's probably A. Trouble.

32 weeks and counting....

2008-07-09T11:38:00.001-07:00

(ok, so I'm a few days late posting...I hit 32 weeks on Sunday. Sue me, I've been soooo busy on bed rest you know).

Still hanging in there. The contractions have come back full force yet again and I'm trying very hard to avoid L&D today because frankly, So You Think You Can Dance just isn't as enjoyable from a hospital bed as it is from home.

They have calmed down a bit from the every 5 minute pattern my uterus likes to employ.

My weekly internal yesterday is probably the reason the party started in my uterus. My internal where my OB declared my cervix "oooey and gooey" and in the same breath said, "it's the same." Really? My cervix has been oozing this entire time? That's not a comforting thought. What if it just oozes right out of me? I need a cervix, don't I?

FFN = Negative = WOO!

2008-06-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

I knew when I woke up at 2am wondering if I could get away with taking some bleach and a toothbrush to the tile grout in our bathroom that could be considered nesting and not a good sign for someone barely 31 weeks pregnant....

So I had to return to L&D on Saturday. I tracked contractions for about 12 hours, and they were consistently 5 minutes apart...except for about a 1 hour stretch where they were 20 minutes apart, that I was really hoping would last, but of course, it didn't.

I didn't want to go, because I figured it was the same situation as just days before. But at the same time, I couldn't just assume that - what if, God forbid, I was in labor? I couldn't jeopardize my daughter's well being just because I don't want to make a trip that will likely be a waste.

So off we went. A much shorter trip than last time, and we had a great OB that talked to us about everything and really understood my history, so we were in good hands. She decided to do the FFN test, a test that can determine with about 99% accuracy that you are not going to deliver within the next 7-14 days. Basically if that came back positive, I would have been admitted while they watched for changes to my cervix. But if it was negative, we were free to go, despite all the contractions. Even though my contractions have a clear labor pattern, they are considered false labor as long as the contractions don't change the cervix.

Aaannnd, it was negative! So the good - no great - news is that little miss will likely hold on until I hit 32-33 weeks, hopefully longer. The bad news is I get to experience pseudo labor until then, meaning I have contractions constantly now and they freaking hurt. I see women 39 weeks pregnant asking things like, "Is this a contraction" on my message boards and I glare at the screen. Not that it's their fault they've had uncomplicated pregnancies, or haven't had the joy of tracking contractions since they were 4 1/2 months pregnant, but it's just a reminder that we haven't had one ounce of normalcy in this entire process. From infertility, to miscarriage, to pregnancy loss to a high risk pregnancy that at this point is bordering on becoming an episode for Discovery Health's "Mystery Diagnosis" show, we just haven't experienced anything "normal" and sometimes, it's annoying. This is our journey, we accept it and laugh about it as much as possible, but it doesn't mean I don't internally complain once in a while.

On our way home from one of our L&D trips, I told Chris, "You know, I hear some people just get pregnant (I also heard this was achieved from having sex but since I wouldn't know about that first hand I don't want to run around telling tales out of school), have their monthly appointments where they don't even have to take their pants off, then one day when their full term start having contractions, go to the hospital and have a baby. That's it."

He said he didn't believe me.

My Poor Vagina.

2008-06-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

OK, who's cringing at the title? I'm going to guess my brother is probably cringing the most. Chris might be a close second, but don't worry - I'm sure he'll be the number one cringer later on in this post.

But vag deserved a shout out. After 1 colposcopy and 5 internals in about 24 hours, she's traumatized. Perhaps I should back up a bit...

Little Miss tried to make a break for it earlier this week. I had a colposcopy (don't ask, I have the cervix from hell) and of course right after the contractions started full force. Totally expected that. My contractions have been worse lately...more like 2-4 an hour instead of 1-3, but actually a couple days before the colpo they had gone back to the 1-3. Which of course afterwards, that all changed. I monitored like a good Pre Term Birth Prevention Program patient, and called the perinatal nurse later that night after tracking 7 in one hour, 4 in the next. Because we figured the colpo was the culprit, she said to monitor for another hour and call if I had 4 again. I had 3, then fell asleep (whoops, contracting makes me tired!). Every time I woke up during the middle of the night, I was contracting, but I also had a full bladder which causes contractions for me so I didn't think much of it. By morning, it seemed more constant and consistent than is my norm, I tracked for 2 hours and called the perinatal nurse and let them know I was still having 4 an hour. They said to go to L&D so they could stop the contractions since we don't want my cervix shortening any more. Cool, I'll get some drugs and be out of there in an hour.

Not exactly.

So we get checked in and hooked up and start the monitoring. They can tell right away that I'm having some contractions (mmmmkkkk, that's why I'm here) and the OB on-call and nurse we had were getting ready for surgery so they wanted to do an internal to check my cervix and then just monitor me for a couple hours. Oh. Ok. Well, I'm sure when they get back we'll just get our drugs and be on our merry way. When she came back to check later, I was still contracting, she does another internal and apparently - and I say apparently because she didn't tell us anything - she felt the cervix was softer and maybe a little more dialated than the previous check (I'm externally dilated about 1.5cm but not internally) so in her mind, I was in labor. I was having consistent contractions and now she felt they were changing my cervix. Next thing we know we're being whisked down to ultrasound for a cervix length check - and I mean whisked, the transporter had me in a wheel chair and I swear I saw Chris jogging behind us trying to keep up - which, was great - 2.4 cm! That means I've only lost 4 milimeters in my 12 weeks of bedrest. Not bad for a chick who shed a centimeter in 4 weeks early on. Anyway, we got to briefly see the little one, who is (and had been for a few weeks) totally head down and has her head planted firmly on my cervix. She's also using my bladder as a pillow, and has it squished to the point that it looks like a crescent moon (I'll be talking to her about this after she's born). I'd like to be flip and say her fat head is on my cervix, but I can't as it looked like quite the perfect little head to me. She also looks bald, and I love me some bald babies.

So at this point, I feel the contractions aren't doing anything to my cervix and we should just be able to go home. It appears they don't agree. They gave me the first of two of the steriod shot to mature her lungs, and it was at that point I knew they weren't telling us everything because I know they don't give those shots unless they feel delivery is imminent. They give me three separate dosages of nifedipin to stop the contractions, which my uterus laughed at. No response. I got an IV of saline to push fluids, no change. Those contractions kept a'coming. Finally I found a spot on my side where the monitor didn't seem to pick up the contractions so I stayed there hoping they would see I wasn't contracting and let us go home. See, I hadn't planned on being there longer than an hour, I had no toothbrush, nothing, the bed is beyond uncomfortable, I'm pissed that we aren't getting any information which is really what is pissing me off. So if no one is going to tell us what's going on, we might as well leave. This made sense at the time, believe me.

Around 6pm, the OB shift change occurred and we were told the new OB would be in to see us and let us know what was going on. Our nurse was attentive but somewhat mute, so for two hours I layed there while she checked on me but couldn't tell us anything. We told her we were probably going to just go ahead and go, and she told us we'd have to sign out against medical consenst. For some reason, I worried what my normal OB would think of that. I have no idea why that became an issue, I didn't seem to care about the staff that was trying to take care of us at that moment, I was more concerned with disappointing my regular OB. Perhaps I'm too attached to her. Anyway.

New OB finally comes to see us around 8pm, and he doesn't look thrilled with us. Mute nurse told on us and our plan to escape. Good news is, new OB isn't a mute and had plans to actually tell us what was going on. Great news was he was a hottie with a South African accent s0 we'll now refer to new OB as Dr.HotStuff (Chris is starting to cringe). Other good news is the nurse that took over for mute nurse was also a hottie so Chris wasn't totally left out (now he's really cringing, but it will get worse, don't worry). Basically Dr.HotStuff broke it down like this:

I think you should stay overnight for observation (I disagree)
You are and have been contracting every two minutes and have the best labor pattern of any patient on the floor (I have to admit I blushed at that accomplishment, until I realized I am only 30 weeks pregnant and that's not something you strive for amongst a floor of women that are actually full term)
The previous OB felt a change in your cervix which indicates the contractions are changing it and you need to be watched.

This is where the bargaining started. It may sound like I was more concerned with being home than my daughter, which is far from the case. I've been doing everything possible to keep her inside and haven't complained all that much about it (now Chris isn't cringing but instead rolling his eyes. You can stop that, mister.) The thing is, I know my body at this point. If this happened 3 months ago, I would have moved into the hospital. But at this point, while I was having a hell of a lot more contractions than I realized, and they had a pattern which is not normal for me, I knew they weren't changing my cervix so I didn't need to stay. Not to mention, as soon as they actually admitted me my hospital admission co-pay would have kicked in and that was $500 I didn't think we needed to spend. So we bargained. I expressed concern over our pet at home that shouldn't be alone this long and hadn't been fed. Note I used the word pet instead of one specifying what kind of pet. When they asked if it was a dog, I said no, a cat (now Chris is really cringing because he not only had to witness this first hand, but also now see that I am sharing this story outside of the hospital room). I tried to explain that after 3 months of bed rest, my cat and I are very close. It didn't seem to phase them, guess they aren't cat lovers. At any rate, Dr.HotStuff agreed that the cervical ultrasound measurment was encouraging and not concerning. He decided that he was willing to do an internal, then come back in two hours and do another one. If he didn't feel any change, he was willing to let us go. WOOO! At this point, "So You Think You Can Dance" had come on so I had enough distraction for the next two hours. Two hours later - on the dot, mind you - Dr.HotStuff and Nurse Hottie returned for the next internal. No change, and we got to go home! I was still contracting, and continued to do so regularly until around 11 the next morning, but things have calmed down and I'm close to back to my regular patterns. I have my weekly appointment next week, and I think we should do the FFN (fetal fibronectin test) which can help predict if I'll go into labor within the next two weeks. They wanted to do it in the hospital, but having had the colposcopy the day before would have made the results invalid. The next goal is 32 weeks, but I would be a lot more comfortable at 34 weeks, even with her lungs all 'roided out from the shots. Of course ideal would be term, but at this point I need to be more realistic. We can hope for at least 37 weeks, but I can't expect it.

If you've read this entire marathon post, you either:

Are really, really bored
Really, really like me
Were really, really interested in what happened to my vagina.

Thinking Back

2008-06-22T17:18:00.000-07:00

A re-run of Beverly Hills, 90210 (a series I am not ashamed to admit I watch daily in re-runs) got me to thinking recently. It was an episode where Kelly, following a pregnancy scare which turned out to be an early miscarriage was told she had endometriosis and that she probably wouldn't be able to conceive, and if she was able to, probably wouldn't be able to carry to term.

She was devastated. For that episode, only. Seems she got over it rather quickly...but I guess I should cut her some slack since she did get shot in a drive by shooting not long after and did lose some of her short term memory...so perhaps it slipped her mind.

At any rate, I was taken back to when I was just nineteen, sitting in a gynecologist's office, being told the same thing. I hadn't had a pregnancy scare or miscarriage, but after my endo diagnosis, I was told almost verbatim the same thing she was told in that episode. I had only gone to the gyn (for my first time) just to see if I could get some pain pills because my cramps were so bad. Next thing I knew, I was scheduled for surgery, then sitting in the office going over the results and being told, rather non nonchalantly, that I probably couldn't have children.

And my reaction? "Oh. Okay. Aaaannd, those pain pills?"

I wasn't devastated. I don't remember being all that concerned.

It just became part of me. I probably can't have kids. OK. Next. I didn't dwell on it, and I didn't care too much. It was what it was. It was pretty abstract, something far in the future and something I wasn't even sure I wanted, anyway. The internet didn't exist then, so I didn't spend hours researching my endo diagnosis...I (gasp) just took what the doctor said as the truth and figured that was it.

My indifference to this revelation didn't change for many years. I actually thought of my infertility as a back up birth control. I didn't have the best taste in boyfriends and had no desire to reproduce with any of them. I didn't have a biological clock, I didn't long for what I couldn't have, it didn't occur to me to be upset about infertility.

Until I met Chris. Then everything changed.

Suddenly, I was infertile.

I knew nothing about infertility treatment. I knew nothing about options. I naively thought that it was black and white...as in, once we decided to have children, I would be told, "Yes, you can!!" or "Nope, sorry, not gonna happen." None of this trying this, trying that, wait and see roller coaster.

I told Chris early on. I knew he wanted kids and to be fair, he had to know what I knew (which turns out was very little). I didn't have a choice in infertility, but he did. If he needed to have a biological child, I wasn't the woman for him. He stayed.

For the first time since I was diagnosed, infertility became a problem. I realize now it had no impact on me until I met "the one", because I couldn't care less about having a biological child. But, when I met Chris, I wanted his child. I was open to adoption, as was Chris, but it was all still so abstract to both of us. There was nothing for sure, so it didn't seem there was anything to really worry about...until we had to worry about it. Which, turns out, was shortly after we were married.

We jumped head first into treatment, holding each others hand the entire time. But my stance never changed. My motivation wasn't about producing my own spawn. I have never needed to be pregnant. It has always been a means to and end for me. While half the infertile population would burn me at the stake for that comment, it's the truth. Even as arrogant as I can be, I still have no true desire to see a mini me running around. What I wanted, what kept me going through all of the ups and mostly downs of infertility, was Chris' child. I want his mini-me. Not in a foot-stamping, spoiled brat way. Just in a heartbreaking way. I think my husband is one of the most amazing people on the planet. Why wouldn't I want to have his child?

I clearly remember the evening after my D&C. After watching his wife writhe in pain as the "remnants of conception" were removed from my body, we were both traumatized. To the point where when we left, we said, "that's it. Only adoption now." We couldn't go through that again. Instantly, a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I felt so much lighter. No more treatments, no more failures, no more hell. Moving on.

I felt pretty good until we went to bed that night. Chris kissed me good night and gave me his sweet smile. Immediately, I felt my blood run cold. I couldn't give up on having his child. I couldn't give up on seeing his smile in our child, or seeing something and thinking, "Just like his daddy." I couldn't give up on making another Chris. I didn't want to. Was adoption still a possibility, as it had always been? Of course. But I needed to try at least once more. Which we did, and were so fortunate that it worked.

I think my journey from not giving a shit about infertility to really giving a shit is why I'm not offended by statements about not understanding why people would pursue treatment...because I can relate. Not that I cared either way what people did, but I do understand the statement, "If I couldn't have kids, I just wouldn't have kids, or I'd adopt" because that was how I felt. Clearly I did a 180 when I met Chris so I know both sides and I wouldn't crucify anyone for making that comment. Now, talk out of your ass around me about IVF and the perils of pursuing that particular treatment, and I will crucify you. Publicly, if I can. But not understanding the motivation for those of us that do pursue treatment? Yeah, I get it.

My New Favorite Country:

2008-06-17T12:55:00.000-07:00

Portugal.

I know nothing about Portugal. In fact, I'm really hoping Portugal is indeed a country so I don't look terribly stupid here. To say my geography skills are lacking is a gross understatement. I was part of a pull-out program in elementary school and was pulled from geography and social science class to take part in the GATE program curriculum. So, ironically, I'm stupider as a result. I know very little geography but thankfully, I know Blooms Taxonomy. That's what's important, right?

Back to Portugal. They've landed on my list of coolest countries because they recently introduced what appears to be the world's first Infertility Postage Stamp.

We love them for that. "We", includes you, as a reader of this blog. Embrace the stamp.

The stamp itself is beautiful. A fantastic painting that truly epitomizes how infertility can feel. What an awesome way to raise awareness for a disease that affects 1 in 6 couples in the United States, and I imagine the number is about the same in Portugal.

Why can't the United States Postal Service do something like this? Aren't stamps (while we're still using them) a perfect way for our government to raise awareness about social issues, health issues affecting our country, etc? Apparently the USPS doesn't feel that way.

Sure, as I was looking at stamps over the past 10 years, there are a few highlighting diseases: breast cancer, prostate cancer, diabetes. All worthy causes. But that's it? What about Heart Disease, the number one killer in America? What about HIV awareness? What about other cancers, or hey, just cancer in general? Am I missing something in the USPS Stamp Release Archive?

I was happy to see an Adoption Awareness stamp, as well as Organ Donation Awareness. These are great things to bring to America's attention. But there are so many other stamps that simply don't make sense. As in, who gives a rat's ass about bats?
Is that a stamp you want on your Christmas cards? I can't imagine an Infertility stamp being anywhere near as offensive as a stamp of a flying rat.

I won't hold my breath that the USPS will come out with any stamps that raise awareness for infertility. But I might just purchase some of the Portugal stamps and stick them on my mail and see what happens. Because I'm thinking that the postal carrier who races past my house even though the flag is up, then returns realizing he has a package that he walks to the door, then leaves again without addressing, oh, the mailbox, then finally returns a half hour later to pick up and deliver our mail (and it's now past 6pm) probably won't notice that the stamp on my rent check isn't a US stamp. I'm just saying.

Bye, bye engagement ring

2008-06-15T14:06:00.000-07:00

The time has come.

I had to take my engagement ring off this morning. I still have my wedding band, which is a little bigger and I'm hoping I can keep it on for the duration. But my beautiful, sentimental and wonderful engagement ring lies lonely in my jewelry box for now.

Sadly, I thought I wouldn't have to ever take it off. Why, I have no idea...you can't gain over 20 pounds by 29 weeks (I think I'll refrain from saying how many over 20 pounds for now) and not see the effects on your hands and feet. But it's like it happened over night. Suddenly, my feet look like little potatoes, and my rings are way too tight.

Well, here's hoping I don't outgrow my wedding band any time soon.

28 weeks

2008-06-08T12:29:00.000-07:00

The first golden ring. We made it this far.

Kick-ass.

Lullabies for Dummies?

2008-06-07T14:33:00.000-07:00

I realized the other day that I don't know any lullabies. Except "The Itsy Bitsy Spider", which I not only know the lyrics by heart, but also the hand gestures that accompany it. But that's about it. I don't know all the lyrics to one other lullaby, and frankly, that's concerning.

What will I sing to our daughter? Something from my punk collection?

I know parts of some popular songs, but not all. I also have a bad habit of messing up the words to songs, so what few lullaby lyrics I do know, I am not confident are the actual lyrics.

Like many people, I thought Credence Clearwater Revival was advising us there was a bathroom on the right, as opposed to a Bad Moon (an innocent mistake considering I don't know what a Bad Moon is), and I thought Johnny Rivers was singing about a Secret Asian Man, not a Secret Agent Man. But it wasn't until the time that I was singing along to a White Stripes song when a racial slur flew melodically out of my mouth. I watched Chris' horrified expression and our near accident as he veered into oncoming traffic and I realized that I quite possibly had many lyrics wrong. VERY wrong.

As a result, I don't sing along to most songs in public for fear that my interpretation is not only wrong, but offensive. I'll mumble the words in question, but I just don't think that's a good example to set for our daughter. "Bah bah black sheep, have you any wool? Mumble, mumble, 3 bags full."

I start thinking I should get some music so I can bone up on my lullaby skills before she's born, so I'm singing actual songs, with actual correct lyrics. But the lullabies I heard as a kid are terrible! Rock a Bye Baby? Uh, the cradle breaks. That's horrid. Humpty Dumpty? All cracked up and on the ground. Hush Little Baby...just feeds into expectations we can't meet. We can't buy her a diamond ring just because her mockingbird won't sing. Besides, I have a bird phobia and we won't be dealing with any birds.

Then I stumbled upon Punk Rock Baby.

This is perfect. Songs I do know the lyrics to (Sheena is a Punk Rocker, Smash it Up, London Calling) "re-worked Lullaby Style."

We can play this CD when she is wearing her uber-baby-punk Vans she got at her shower:

It Rained, It Poured

2008-06-05T18:38:00.000-07:00

I had my baby shower! It was fabulous. I've included a few pictures, you'll note there is only one that really looks like I was actually at a shower...see, for some reason, I have a double chin in the other pictures of me opening presents so I didn't include them. I can only assume it was the angle the picture was taken at, right? So I've included my belly shot from 27 weeks (I had a growth spurt, ok?), my mom and I, Chris and I (he came to help load up the gifts...we had two cars full of stuff!), and my two very best girlfriends.

When I started on bed rest I didn't think we'd have a shower - yet another "normal" pregnancy thing we would not get to do. But I did get to go, and held up pretty well!

Everyone was so very generous, and we got a ton of adorable girl clothes. I'm convinced women like to buy baby clothes for girls. My mom (pictured in one of the pics above), a couple of my aunts and my cousin hosted and did a great job. Decorations were super cute (lots of pink and yellow), food was great, cake was great, even though no one else liked it but me. I requested a Tres Leches cake, ever heard of it? It's a white cake soaked in well, 3 milks. It tastes kind of like when your vanilla ice cream melts and soaks your cake, which is fantastic, in my opinion. But apparently I'm alone in that opinion. One of my cousins whispered to her neighbor, "My cake is wet."

Now it's time to get the nursery ready. This is where bed rest really sucks. I want to do everything NOW, but I can't do a damn thing. I did wash her clothes, including 17 pairs of tiny baby socks...and I'm proud to say, I ended up with 17 pairs of tiny baby socks to put away. Not 16 pairs + 1 sock. All 34 tiny little socks made it from the dryer to the dresser.

This parenting stuff is easy.

Twins?

2008-05-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

I don't get out much. At all, really.

But twice in the last 7 weeks of bed rest, I have been allowed to go to my local drug store after my weekly appointment. This is a big outing for me. I get to pick out cards for people's birthdays coming up, I get to pick out a new nail polish (since painting my nails is a weekly hobby at this point), I get to be around people that aren't my husband or aren't wearing white lab coats. Even if it's just for a few minutes. I look forward to this. I spend time on my hair and make up. I plan my outfit the day before.

Yesterday I was browsing the nail section when a middle aged man walks by, turns and stops and says, "When is the baby due?" I was totally taken aback. I haven't been in public hardly at all since 18 weeks pregnant - where I felt I clearly looked pregnant but strangers probably thought I looked chubby. To me, this was thrilling. A stranger asking about my pregnancy! A normal pregnancy moment, something I miss out on daily. So I responded, "August" with a sweet smile.

Then he says, "TWINS?"

No, dickhead, not twins.

Just one baby, and a mom that's not feeling too great about her bed rest body these days. Thanks for taking my glow away.

I think this might be worse than my co-worker saying, when I was 16 weeks pregnant, "Wow, you're going to be HUGE, aren't you?"

Apparently so, just ask the guy at Rite.Aid.

I should write an acceptance speech...

2008-05-15T14:28:00.000-07:00

Why do I need an acceptance speech, you might ask? Or you might not...which would be rather rude, actually.

Because I was accepted into the Pre Term Birth Prevention Program! I really am a mess!

I'm not officially in the program until I complete the orientation class, where we learn all about pre-term labor and the signs (ooooh, they're gonna love me. "I have that." "That happens to me all the time.") and then I'm in. It's pretty much all done over the phone, I'll have my very own perinatal nurse to talk to 24/7 and they'll continue to monitor me through 36 weeks. This means no more "don't pass Go, go straight to labor and delivery" that I get from the regular advice nurses. These God-sends will know my history, know what's going on with me and know what is a concern and what is not.

Not to mention, the program's rates of births prior to 35 weeks is about 3%, where the average population in my state is about 10%.

I'm positively giddy.

24 weeks

2008-05-13T14:07:00.001-07:00

We made it to 24 weeks this past Sunday, which was our first goal on the road to bringing our daughter home safe and sound.

"After this week your baby is officially considered viable. 36% of babies can survive premature birth at 24 weeks - However, serious complications are still possible."

I realize that blurb sounds far from ideal, but when you're put on bed rest at 18+ weeks and no chance of viability, just having a chance is huge. Of course now we need to get to the next goal, which is 28 weeks...and her chances are much better at that point. Then 30 weeks, then 32...hang in there little girl. You need to keep cooking.

In the meantime my OB is trying to get me into the Pre Term Birth Prevention Program. It's a great program that helps monitor very high risk patients from 24 to 36 weeks. My weekly appointments have been pretty good, cervix is holding stable at about 2.7 cm (give or take a bit) and still 50% effaced but no change in a few weeks. I am borderline for meeting the criteria in the program, so my doctor will have to push them to accept me...and they still will likely say no. But it would be a great thing for me. And for all health care officials that work with me - if accepted, I'd only have one nice perinatal nurse to bother with my constant neurosis. That alone would be a big money saver for them.

Just letting everyone know, I will make a conscious decision to NOT wear a white top in any future belly pictures. I do wear other colors.

Is it any wonder...

2008-05-03T10:43:00.000-07:00

...that I'm confused?

Here's the problem. My pregnancy, as my doctor repeated over and over last week, is not normal. "You're not normal!" she screamed. Ok, that didn't happen but it felt like it did.

I have a shortening cervix. I have contractions daily. I have cramping daily. I've had the feeling of pressure since about 14 weeks (at the time I thought it was the baby moving. Yes, the baby that weighed less than an ounce, I thought I could feel it moving and changing position. Thus the feeling of pressure.). I have a dull ache in my back or sometimes a radiating pain in my lower back. I've been bleeding off and on since I was 10 weeks.

So here are the symptoms of preterm labor to watch out for, according to my medical provider:

Contractions (CALL if you have 4 in under one hour)
Menstrual like cramping
Feeling of pressure
A dull back ache that doesn't go away
Increase in discharge, could be tinged with blood
Leaking or gushing fluid from your vagina

With the exception of the last two, I have every symptom and have had every symptom forever. So when I innocently call my provider because it's Friday and I think I might have a bladder infection and could I just get a quick urine test so I don't end up with a raging infection on a Sunday because I refuse to go to the ER for a bladder infection, I get shuffled to the advice nurse. The advice nurse who asks all of the questions she has to ask a pregnant lady, and when all my answers come back yes (Do you have contractions? Er, yeah but I have for weeks. That's not an issue...yes cramping but that's the same. Uh-huh, well the bleeding is because I have a polyp...) she panics and tells me I need to go to Labor and Delivery. Not only that, but she won't let me get a urinalysis done anywhere else because clearly I'm in labor and need to be seen.

I need a "this is not a normal pregnancy" nurse.

Otherwise I'm going to end up in L&D every day, and it's not a short drive to the hospital.

Needless to say, I'm fine. I wasn't even having contractions except for maybe 1 or 2, and the monitor didn't pick them up anyway. I'm not dilating, cervix is about the same, blah blah. It doesn't look like I have a bladder infection, either. I'd much rather be safe than sorry, but I really don't want to hang out in Labor and Delivery unless I really need to.

Parenting Books Suck.

2008-04-29T17:58:00.000-07:00

There. I said it. No surprise, I have lots of unpopular opinions.

I'm an avid reader...of fiction and have course read a lot on bed rest. It also seemed like a good idea to read some parenting books I hear people rave about. I'm not interested in pregnancy books, as I read one during my last pregnancy and it was fine, but non fiction books have never really been my thing. Plus, my pregnancy is far from normal and I can't relate to those books. If there was a "Hey, you've got one fucked up pregnancy going on" book, I'd probably check it out of the library. But I haven't seen one yet.

So I ventured into the land of parenting books and I regret it. I did like one book, and which book it is will probably give you an idea of why I didn't like the rest of them: Sippy Cups are Not for Chardonnay, by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor. That is my kind of book. The highly recommended bible of sleeping strategies, The Happiest Baby on the Block, is not my kind of book.

Without going into details of why this book bothered me (um, 4th trimester theory? Clearly something only a man could come up with), there are many general reasons why I think parenting books are crap. I'm well aware that I'm not dealing with a newborn yet and I may eat my words...but I don't think so.

What bothers me is the mentality that these methods, whatever they may be, will work for every single baby. Not all babies want to be swaddled. Not all babies will react the same to each method. It's a false sense of security that you'll read this book, know what to do and have an infant sleeping through the night by the time they're a week old. Your baby may respond well, but your baby may not. Then what do you do?

But what bothers me even most is the need for these books, and the fact that they are such money makers, in the first place. What happened to trusting your instincts and asking your friends and family for help or suggestions when you need them? Oh yeah, I forgot. That's not always a good idea, either.

For whatever reason, women are grossly unsupportive of other women who raise their child differently from themselves. Whether it's attachment parenting versus crying it out, formula feeding versus breast feeding, routine versus no routine...somewhere along the line, instead of accepting each other's parenting styles as whatever works for your family, it became a different parenting style equalled a wrong way to raise your child. As a result, many women don't share their tips or advice with new moms for fear of being crucified because Johnny drinks juice before he's 2 years old. Who cares? Really, how does it affect them?

For me, and what works best for my family, is I'll stay away from the books that I think are crap and ask my friends and family for their advice when I need it. By the way, Kyera - I have a question about bottles. So email me, k?

Rooster Hell

2008-04-27T10:38:00.000-07:00

4:00 a.m. - a rooster crows several times and stops.

5:00 a.m. - a rooster crows again several times and eventually stops.

5:55 a.m. - a rooster starts crowing really loudly and incessantly and doesn't stop.

We are victims of a stray, wild rooster that has decided he really likes the area between our house and our neighbors (that is filled with bushes and trees) and this rooster crows all.day.long. We've come to terms with that after numerous attempts to make him leave, and a serious lack of help from animal control. But, the early morning roostering is new and unacceptable.

At just before 6 this morning, we were both wide awake and couldn't take it anymore. We couldn't figure out if he was in the front yard or the back yard but upon further inspection, it was clear he was much louder in the front yard. Chris went out to investigate. At 6 am. In boxers and a t-shirt and bare feet. He comes back in and informs me he must be out front.

"Did you spray him?" (We attempt to spray him with water by shooting it in the general direction of the noise. We can't exactly go into the neighbors yard so this is all we have.)

sigh. "No, I'll go back out there."

I get my robe and slippers on and join my husband in the rooster hunt. By the time I get out there, he's spraying water into the bushes. The rooster has stopped, maybe he got him and he'll shut up for a couple hours.

Suddenly, a bird flies out of the tree (in our front yard) that Chris is standing over. A big bird. A big ass, black and white bird. The fucking rooster was in our tree, watching Chris shoot water into the neighbors yard.

I didn't realize roosters could actually fly. I'm aware they have wings, but all I've seen is a little hop, nothing you would call flying.

In my defense, it didn't look like the rooster had much experience. It was almost as if he was sideways, didn't get a ton of air but did manage to land on the neighbors roof.

Chris is now laughing as I'm screaming, "It was in the tree! It was in the TREE!" I'm really hoping this doesn't end up on You Tube.

The pathetic thing is, it's not like it was hidden inside a massive redwood covered in branches and leaves. The tree he chose is a very Charlie Brown-ish tree, with just a couple bare branches and very few leaves. I don't know what kind of tree it is, but it's little and very much a "how-in-the-fuck-did-you-not-notice-a-big-ass-white-black-
and-red-rooster-in-the-tree" kind of tree.

It really was shocking to see it "fly" out of there, and given that I'm 22 weeks pregnant and bladder control isn't what it used to be, it's amazing I didn't have an accident.

So now it's on the roof. We can't get to it. I try, repeatedly, to get the water to spray onto their roof but it won't come close to reaching. I storm back into the house and head into the back yard to see if I can get it from there.

In the meantime, our poor cat is traumatized by the whole experience. He excitedly thought he was getting breakfast early but instead had to witness mom and dad both storming in and out of the house repeatedly. It was like he was trying to say, "Hey, canned chicken is just fine. You don't need to kill one fresh for me." (a shout out to Chris for that one, that was his line from early this morning during our rooster hunting frenzy. It was too funny to pass up.)

In the back yard, I still can't see it. But I can hear it. Not roostering, though...clucking. Like a chicken. Cluck, cluck, cluck...which shortly turned into laughter. I shit you not, it was laughing. Then I saw it, climbing to the very top of the neighbors roof. Waving the white flag, I went back inside.

He won. Again.

Things I've Learned on Bed Rest

2008-04-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

(Latest update...no change! Still hanging in there.)

I'm not a bed rest kind of gal. I'm your typical Type A, and lemme tell you, Type A plus a baby on the way and not being able to do everything I'd like to get ready for that is a bad combo. But clearly there is no choice in the matter and I have to do this to try and keep her safe and sound, so that's what I'm doing. I'm lucky that I'm not on strict bed rest as in I can get up and move around some, take care of some things around the house here and there - as long as I spend the majority of the time laying down or reclining, and make sure I stay down if I start cramping and having contractions.

I have never not worked for a long period of time, and I've worked since I was 13 years old. I think the longest stretch was when I started college in a new city and it took a couple months to get a job...but at least I was in school full time. This is a huge adjustment for me. But I have learned a few things:

We do not have the same mailman every day.
The free local newspaper is only being delivered to people who pay for the other local newspaper, the free paper's competition. Since we don't pay for the other one, now we don't get the free one. And the guy delivering the free paper drives a Lexus.
Roosters are stupid and will crow at any time during the day.
Daytime television consists almost entirely of soap operas and shows about babies.
Too much television will indeed rot your brain. Since being on bed rest, I am unable to answer hardly any questions on Jeopardy. Frankly, I don't even understand some of the questions these days.
My depression over both Rock of Love 2 and Real Housewives of New York City ending is abnormal and should be concerning to those around me.
My anxiety over Big Brother ending this week is also concerning.
My teenage neighbor and her friend seem to cut class every single day, and they play music really loud and it irritates me.
I think Kelly Ripa and I would get along great and have a lot of fun together.
I've developed a hatred for Elizabeth (the blond) on the View.
I'm suffocating my cat with attention because we don't have anything else to do.
My cat seems jealous of the laptop and I'm concerned about how it's going to affect us.
As appealing as it has sounded in the past (especially when my alarm goes off), I don't think I could just not work. I need some kind of mental stimulation outside the home.

Update

2008-04-15T10:24:00.000-07:00

The latest and greatest from the land of bed rest...

We made it to twenty weeks on Sunday! Halfway there, although realistically for us, we're more than halfway there. And Mama is gettin' big. Hence the full panel skirt in the belly pic. Jeez.

The good news is the cervix is holding stable at 2.8. Not a great length for 20 weeks, but no change since last ultrasound a little over a week ago and that's all I could ask for. I'm on bed rest through the duration of the pregnancy, though, but...we ordered a laptop so I'll be back in the land of the living - soon. I have a ton of blog posts in my head but can't spend the time at the desktop to post them, so I'll probably overload the blog once the laptop arrives.

Last week was pretty hairy, I was really wound up about the cervix and then I started realizing that weird feeling wasn't the baby rolling around but actually contractions. I tested positive for Group B Strep, not normally an issue until you deliver, but since I was symptomatic I started antibiotics for it. It's helped the contractions and cramping quite a bit. I still have a lot more than I'm comfortable with, but they are far less frequent (from several an hour to several a day) and much less intense. At this point, there isn't anything that can be done to stop them, medication won't work this early (and my doc won't administer it unless I am dilating, which I am not) and the monitors won't even pick up most contractions. They think I may have an irritable uterus on top of everything else. Polyps, short cervix, irritable uterus...oh, my.

I'm really happy with my doctor and how she has agreed to monitor and treat me, and I feel with my twice weekly appointments, weekly ultrasounds and bed rest, we're doing all we can to keep our little girl safe and inside for as long as possible.

Majority was right!

2008-04-04T12:09:00.000-07:00

It's aGIRL! A perfect, beautiful baby girl. Everything is wonderful with our daughter.

Mom, on the other hand, needs some help. My cervix has shortened a little too much (down to 2.8 cm, from 3.7 six weeks prior...a big jump and not a good number) so I'll be on bedrest for now. We'll evaluate next week. So this may be my last post for a while since I don't have a laptop and I'll be following all instructions to keep pressure of my cervix, which includes sitting at the computer. Gotta do everything I can to keep our little girl safe.

Let's Talk About Sex

2008-03-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

Or gender, I should say.
In just a matter of days, we have our “big”, level II ultrasound. Obviously, first and foremost, we are hoping for a healthy baby so far, and that’s why I’m most anxious about. But as a bonus, we will hopefully find out the sex.

From day 1, the minute we got the positive beta, I have said boy. Hands down, without a doubt, boy. A few weeks ago I would have been absolutely stunned if I was wrong. It was that strong a feeling. But now, and for the last couple weeks…eh, I’m not so sure. Right now, I don’t really know.

So what’s a girl to do? Turn to the Old Wive’s Tales, of course! But even those are hardly clear.

1) If you carry high, it’s a girl. Low, it’s a boy. I think it’s low, so that would be BOY
2) If the heartbeat is under 140 bpm, it’s a boy. If it is over 140 bpm, it’s a girl. Well, we’ve only had it tracked twice. Once was 150 bpm, the other time was 173bpm. So I guess, GIRL.
3) Tie your wedding ring to a string and dangle it over your belly. If it swings back and forth, it’s a boy. If it goes in circles, it’s a girl. You can also do this holding the string over your open palm. I did both and both were circles…GIRL.
4) Chinese Gender Chart (http://parenting.ivillage.com/ttc/ttcsigns/0,,j736,00.html ) Some say this is correct 90% of the time. This one is easy, BOY
5) If you have acne during pregnancy, it’s a girl. If you don’t, it’s a boy. No pimples here, BOY
6) If you have morning sickness, you’re having a girl. If you don’t, you’re having a boy. I had really mild morning sickness at night, nothing I would really even call morning sickness. So I’ll go with BOY on that one.
7) If your breasts have gotten bigger, you’re having a girl! If they’ve stayed the same, it’s a boy. Oh lordy, then it’s definitely a GIRL with the size of these things.
8) If your left breast is bigger than the right, you’re having a girl. If the right breast is bigger than the left, it’s a boy. I think they’re pretty much neck and neck (or boob and boob?) but I was just commenting this week that my left boob seems bigger…GIRL
9) If your urine is neon yellow, it’s a boy. If it’s a dull yellow, it’s a girl. Um, GIRL. And I don’t like talking about my urine.
10) If you’re hair on your legs grows faster, it’s a girl. If it stays the same, it’s a boy. I can’t stand stubble so I shave daily no matter what, but I haven’t noticed any kind of sudden overgrowth on my legs. BOY. Now, if we’re talking about the sudden development of fur on my stomach…that’s a different story.
11) If the dad to be is gaining weight with you, it’s a boy. If he stays the same, it’s a girl. I should check with Chris to be sure, but I’m going to say GIRL.
12) If you have headaches, you’re having a boy. If you don’t, it’s a girl. Huh, I would have thought this would be the other way around. BOY.
13) Girls steal your beauty. If you look better than before, it’s a boy. If you don’t, it’s a girl. All I can say is people say I look good. I however, have already noticed the Tori Spelling pregnancy fat face starting. But since my OB said I looked good and it might be a boy, we’ll say BOY.
14) If your feet are colder than usual, it’s a boy. If they’re the same, it’s a girl. GIRL.

The results? 14 questions. 7 boy. 7 girl. 50% chance of either one. Didn’t help much, did it? What do you think??

Doppler: Friend or Foe?

2008-03-12T14:24:00.001-07:00

Up until yesterday, that was an easy question. FRIEND! All the way! BFF, in fact. Despite the horror stories about dopplers and freaking out if you can't hear the heartbeat, we've been fortunate. We've never looked more than a few seconds, and actually I got so good that I would just place the doppler on my belly where I figured Viver was hanging out and voila! woosh, woosh, woosh.

It was so predictable. I even smugly smirked at my doctor when she used the doppler the first time. She was roaming all over and I wanted to say, "He's right here." And I would be right.

But yesterday, doppler became a temporary foe.

I found the woosh, woosh, woosh right away. We smiled at each other. But then it seemed pretty slow. Like really slow, actually.

Me: "Um, does that seem slow to you?"
Chris: "Ummm, maybe a little bit!"

Neither one of us wanted to over-react but we were both clearly starting to panic on the inside.

Me: "How about you count the beats and we can figure out what the beats per minute is? I mean, it's going to be different, it's not always going to be the same rate."
Chris: "Ok, I got 84."

GULP.

Me: "Well, that must be me, I guess. It's not Viver."
Chris: silence.

I wander all around with the microphone, concentrating on the side where he always is. Nothing but me. On a whim, I try the other side. Now I'm frantically moving the doppler around, too fast to catch anything anyway. Then suddenly, Chris says "Wait, there was something there. Go back".

Low and behold, there he was. Beating away with his normal woosh, woosh, woosh rhythm. But just for a second, then he would roll away. I chased him but could only hear it for a couple seconds at a time. I think he's moving away from the doppler these days. Trouble maker.

Thankfully we were able to find it and got the reassurance we needed, so doppler went back to friend status. I just learned my lesson...I do not rule the doppler. Apparently, Viver is now ruling the doppler.

Oh, and for those of you (you know who you are) that are thinking this confirms your feelings on why we shouldn't have a doppler, don't go there. One brief moment of panic is nothing compared to how many times we've been reassured and been able to sleep because we did hear the heartbeat. I've said it a hundred times...the doppler can't make me any more crazy than I already am. Maybe it's not a good idea for sane people...but I'm not part of that group.

OK, I'll admit it.

2008-03-04T17:46:00.001-08:00

It was time to tell my boss that I'm pregnant.

And I will now admit I probably wasn't fooling quite as many people as I thought I was.

Frankly, if I had it my way I wouldn't tell anyone until, well...I gave birth. It makes me incredibly nervous. Family and friends are one thing, but co-workers are a whole other cup of tea. I hadn't told anyone at work I was pregnant last time, and I was so glad about that when I returned after my miscarriage. So being "out" takes things to a whole new level for me, and it's one I'm not totally comfortable with. But my belly had other ideas and I couldn't hide it much longer. If I was even hiding it at all. I have a feeling some people figured it out already...despite me thinking I was so very sly with my "hunch over and run" move I used if I encountered people in the hall.

Viver's 1st Report Card

2008-02-26T19:20:00.001-08:00

We had the ultrasound part of our NT Scan last week (which is the first trimester screening for chromosomal abnormalities like Down’s Syndrome or other forms of Trisomy) and Viver passed with flying colors. A++++++++

The ultrasound itself was the coolest experience so far. Kaiser isn’t equipped to do NT scans yet, so they pay for members to go to the few places that are certified in our area. The closest place is about an hour away so Chris and I had to take a half day off work, but it was worth it. It was quite the foo-foo place, nicely decorated and up on all the latest technology.

The ultrasound is an abdominal one (what? An appointment where I leave my pants ON? That’s a weird experience) which also meant I needed to have a full bladder. By the time we arrived, it was quite full. Chris, of course, immediately located a restroom when we arrived.

Huh.

Let’s just say, if there is another time where I have to keep my bladder full, he will have to keep his full as well. I don’t for a minute agree with the pregnant women that feel their husbands should be deprived of everything they are deprived of while pregnant (drinking, sushi, whatever), however I think it would help him understand why I was so anxious that they seemed to be running a bit late. Sure, 10 minutes late is nothing in doctor appointments, but when you have to pee and know the ultrasound is going to take about a half hour of someone pressing just about right on your bladder, it’s bound to make you a bit anxious and just a touch pissy.

So we are ushered into a room and I lay down and see that we have our very own screen to look at that’s mounted just over head! What a treat. Half the time we can’t see anything, or if they do tilt the screen towards us we’re both craning to catch a peek. This time we got to see it all. They even took some 3D pictures of Viver, and gave us a CD of images including a little movie showing Viver’s heart beating.

I had to laugh at when the doctor decided Viver wasn’t in the position he wanted him to be in so he jiggled my belly trying to get him to move. He did, but he rolled away and put his back to us. I told the doctor he was mocking him. That’s definitely my kid. All he was lacking was the middle finger thrown up for good measure.

February 18th, 2008

2008-02-18T16:18:00.000-08:00

For many today is a holiday.

For me, it’s the due date of my first pregnancy that I lost at 12 weeks. It’s also not a work holiday for me, but that’s another whine for later.

Chances are slim I would have given birth on this day, but it’s the only day I have to hold on to. Anniversaries and due dates of miscarriages are particularly hard on the moms that would have been. Today is not easy for me.

While being pregnant now makes it much easier than I imagine today would have otherwise been, it still is not easy. I think being pregnant makes me less angry than I would have been, but no less sad. People that haven’t experienced miscarriage often don’t understand that one pregnancy does not replace a lost one. I so often hear people say “you’ll get pregnant again” or notions to that effect to women that have lost a baby…I can’t speak for everyone but for myself, that was far from comforting, and not only because I was infertile and no one knew if I would get pregnant again. I wanted that baby. I miss that baby. I mourn that baby. I love the baby I’m carrying; but it does not make me miss my first any less.

I often wonder what I was doing when my baby’s heart stopped beating. Was I sleeping? Was I at work? Was I eating? How could I possibly not know what had happened? For as long as I live, I will never forget the image on that ultrasound machine and will never forget seeing 8 weeks 3 days show up as the measurement when I should have been 11 weeks, 4 days. I will never forget the image of the too small baby laying on it’s back completely motionless. I wanted to reach through the screen, grab my baby and hold it, apologize for anything ever happening to him or her, tell her I loved her…we loved her.

I will never forget the moment Chris and I both recognized what had happened and how my husband comforted me and held me – as if my body wasn’t responsible for all of the pain and agony we had been through up to and including that horrible day. At that moment, I felt like the luckiest unlucky woman in the world.

To our baby that never was, you’re always in our hearts.

I wanna go back...

2008-02-12T16:23:00.000-08:00

(anyone else hearing that Eddie Money song in their head right about now? No? Anyhow...)

I wanna go back to that time during this pregnancy when I was neurotic for no good reason. When I worried incessantly without due cause. Back when I would cop a feel during the day and realize my boobs weren't at all tender and nearly start crying...even though we had a perfect ultrasound the day before. In a nutshell, I want to go back to being crazy. Just your average infertile with a history of pregnancy loss trying to make her way through the first trimester, crazy.

Because really having something to worry about sucks. It sucks a lot more than just being crazy. Because, FYI, crazy doesn't go away - it just compounds with actual, validated fears to make you one big crazy, scared, bitchy mess.

So the spotting didn't stop. We accomplished a record last week of 3 appointments (if you count the ER as an appointment, which, in this case I am) within 6 days. We were given an explanation for the spotting that thankfully isn't harming Viver or the pregnancy in any way, but it is still incredibly unnerving to spot this consistently for a week and a half now. I now have the honor of sporting a cervical polyp, likely throughout the pregnancy unless it decides to go away on its own. It's basically a benign growth and lucky me, it bleeds. I was in a kind mood and didn't include a picture of one. I stumbled across one on the internet and it was very disturbing. Almost as disturbing as the two doctors that diagnosed me with it offering to show Chris and I what it looked like. No thank you. He's just here for the moral support and ultrasound folks, no need to send him down to that side of the exam table.

Pretty much the polyp just means I'll probably spot for the rest of the pregnancy, and I am on pelvic rest indefinitely. Beyond the obvious things that can't be done on pelvic rest, I've decided the following should be included:

Mopping
Vacuuming
Laundry
Grocery shopping
Cleaning, especially the bathroom
Cooking

I'm sure I'll come up with more later. It's just best for Viver. Really.

Screw the Superbowl...let's go to the ER instead!

2008-02-04T13:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked our first pregnancy trip to the Emergency Room. I say first because somehow I doubt it will be our last. Just a hunch.

Yesterday evening I experienced some very light pink spotting that threw me into a tizzy like you wouldn't believe. I know I'm neurotic with this pregnancy to begin with, but I don't spot. I'm simply not a spotter. The one and only time I've spotted was when I miscarried before. Needless to say, we both feared the worst (feared might be the wrong word. Assumed the worst would be better). In addition to the scary spotting, I had killer back pain all day, my annoying ovary was hurting all day and the entire weekend I was worried because my few symptoms I had disappeared...just like last time.

Thankfully the ER wasn't that crowded and we got in right away. Last time we were at the ER (not pregnancy related) we were there for nearly 4 hours. I guess a threatened miscarriage is a higher priority than a bite from a stray cat. (In my defense, the advice nurse insisted I go to the ER for the cat bite...I was simply looking for her to say something like, "If you wake up and your foaming at the mouth, then you should go to the ER", but instead she made it into a dire situation that needed to be attended to immediately. Did I understand?! Immediately! I will say the cat that bit me was vicious. Oh, I can hear Chris laughing....).

First Dr. Sympathy visited us in the exam room. We assumed he would be attending to me, since well, he was in scrubs that said Dr., and he was in our exam room. But alas, he wanted to talk. He had glanced at my chart and saw we had been dealing with infertiilty. He went on to say that he and his wife struggled with infertility, then suffered two 15-week losses back to back. We exchanged the requisite I'm sorrys. "No, I'm sorry for your loss!" Because as pregnancy loss survivors, we all know how fucking rude it is to not say I'm sorry when someone tells you they suffered a miscarriage so we do have a tendency to over compensate. Then he somberly told us that we did understand that there wasn't much he could tell us that night as it's too early to tell if there is a heart beat or not....uh, what? We didn't just pay $100 to exchange stories, buddy. I told him we had already seen the heart beat twice so that shouldn't be a problem. Hell, I'd be happy to perform the ultrasound myself, just log me into the machine sitting next to me and you can go on your merry way! He was very nice and thankfully called an OB into the ER to do the exam.

At this point we already know the baby is gone. We just know it. Another fucking loss. In between Dr. Sympathy leaving and Dr. Doppler arriving, we start talking about quitting our jobs, living off our savings for a while...traveling or doing something, anything but trying to have a baby. Maybe open a bar and become fun-loving alcoholics. Maybe travel the world, except we'd have to bring our cat with us and that was going to pose some logistical problems.

Our pondering was stopped when Dr. Doppler arrived. She got right to the point and started trying to find the heart beat with the doppler. This was new territory for us...we've never had a doppler experience. Now, with an ultrasound, I can tell what is or isn't going on - I can read it myself just fine. But with the doppler, I had no idea what we were listening to. The "whoosh, whoosh" was loud and clear, but what the hell was it? Ah, the placenta. But, she finally found the heart beat! We heard Viver's heart beat loud and clear, it was 150bpm which she said was good. It was the most beautiful sound. We would have wanted to listen longer, but I of course started laughing out of shock and relief and the sound went away. Funny, no one even said nipple.

She said light spotting isn't uncommon and everything else seems fine so it wasn't a concern. I won't feel ok until we see Viver this week and make sure he's measuring on track and there's still a heart beat, but obviously we feel better than we did on our way to the ER. One thing is for sure...if we have a good appointment on Friday, I'm ordering a doppler.

Well, I'll be damned.

2008-01-22T17:51:00.001-08:00

That little survivor (as we affectionately call Viver) is still there!

Not only still there, but has caught up to where I am - even 1 day ahead (and yes, I do know a day or two doesn't matter but I'm no less proud because of that) - with a strong heart beat flickering away.

We're thrilled. We've stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop and are enjoying this...finally. I still don't have many symptoms, and that's still going to continue to piss me off, and I'm sure we'll be a wreck before the next ultrasound in a couple weeks...but for the first time in 21 months and two pregnancies, we actually feel like we might have a baby.

We graduated from our clinic, which is bittersweet since we like our clinic so much, but it will be nice to get back to my OB that I adore as well.

Dr. R also told us that the nipples formed yesterday.

To which I started laughing uncontrollably.

She said nipple. Heh.

We have a blinking tube.

2008-01-14T16:01:00.000-08:00

I'm a little late on this, been pretty busy lately and I wanted to scan our u/s pic (even though the angle she got makes the sack look like a hot dog and you can't see anything except the cross hairs), but I'm starting to think I'm never going to get to that...

I was a complete and utter wreck before the ultrasound. A good 24-48 hours before you couldn't even talk to me. Even though I was anxious and worried with my last pregnancy, I always got a good feeling before the ultrasound that made me think it would be ok. And those two ultrasounds were good. With this one, I didn't have a good feeling. My instinct was definitely going the other way. Because, once again, I don't have symptoms and frankly, it pisses me off.

It was just too much to fathom. We didn't want to see that image, the one of a missed m/c, on a screen again. We didn't want to be ushered out the backdoor after our ultrasound. We didn't to hear the "I'm having trouble finding a heartbeat" conversation again, and I honestly started wondering if I could handle another loss.

Thankfully our clinic runs pretty much right on time so we didn't have to wait long once we got there. Dr. R came in and said she'd been waiting for us...seems she was curious about our upcoming ultrasound. Why? "I've been skeptical about your pregnancy. I mean, your betas were good and everything, but....well, lets see what's going on."

Huh? I'm pretty sure when she asked how we were doing I yelled "Nervous!!" A specialist telling us she was skeptical was hardly calming our nerves.

But at this point, I was defeated and just wanted to know either way. I was so past the anxiety and worry I wasn't sure I would even cry.

At our NT scan with my last pregnancy, the tech decided to take measurements and check my ovaries before doing anything with the pregnancy measurements. Now, I know she saw that sack and the size of the baby and knew we had lost the pregnancy the minute that ultrasound started. But she had to get those other measurements and you can't really say, "Oh, hey, looks like you miscarried but hang on while I get these other measurements."

So when Dr. R started the ultrasound, she said, "There's a sack...but let's check your ovaries first" and I immediately thought, here we go again.

Once she was done with the ovaries, she was frowning at the screen and not saying much. That's not a good sign. Then she said something about finding it and turned the screen towards Chris and I.

An empty sac. Um, thanks, lady - didn't need another visual!

She moved the wand a bit and said, "See it? It's blinking, right there."

OH! There is something there. It was rather ghost-like and disappearing a lot, but at the right spot, there was something there.

I looked at the blinking and said, "So that's the heartbeat?"

Dr. R says, "No, there isn't a heart this early. That's the fetal pole. It's a blinking tube."

Now, really, everyone else in the industry calls it a heartbeat. Even if it's not technically a heart at 6 1/2 weeks, it will be one soon and that blinking tube will hopefully turn into a beating heart. Would it kill her to let us call it a heartbeat? Do we have to be that clinical?

The day of the ultrasound I was 6 weeks, 4 days but just measuring 6 weeks even, which everyone, including computer brain Dr. R, says is on track. I'll of course worry about this.

We go back after the 8 week mark to check and see if our blinking tube turned into a beating heart. That's the big step for us. While our miscarriage wasn't discovered until 12 weeks, the baby stopped developing about 8 weeks.

So again we wait. I still don't have many symptoms and don't have morning sickness (as far as I know...does gagging when I brush my tongue count?) so as long as I feel ok...I'll continue to be neurotic. Just a warning to those who know me in real life.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy.

2008-01-03T12:47:00.000-08:00

Pregnancy after infertility and previous miscarriage sure is a nail biter.

I'm going crazy with doubt and fear. Each morning I wake up and decide if I am pregnant or not. This is how I determine that:
Poke at boobs. Sore? Things are ok. Not sore? Panic.
Did I get up to pee in the middle of the night? Yes? It might be ok. No? Clearly, I've miscarried and don't know it.

With my first pregnancy, I didn't have many symptoms and since I didn't miscarry until 12 weeks I really did have a healthy pregnancy (yes, heartbeat and all) for longer than I had an unhealthy pregnancy. I got sore boobs later in the pregnancy and only for about a week. Here's the thing: my boobs are never sore. I don't get sore boobs pre-period, actually nothing affects my boobs. Sometimes I wonder why I have them. At any rate, I really shouldn't put the future of any pregnancy in my boobs. They're a wild card at best. But I do. I put a lot of emphasis on how they feel during pregnancy. I poke at them so much I wonder if any sensitivity might be from me, well, poking at them. I also poke at them absent-mindedly...which means I've found myself doing it in public. Today I wished I had weighed my enlarged boobs because now I think they are smaller - I really need a reference point. But I didn't, so now I'll just wonder...are they smaller? I can't tell. Clearly I need a boob intervention.

The "getting up in the middle of the night to pee must mean things are progressing well" is another ludicrous thought that I just can't shake. It's ludicrous for a couple reasons. One, the urge to do this started the day I started the progesterone in oil shots. Hello, my embryos were an hour a way, they weren't even in my uterus. Obviously, this isn't a symptom I can put much faith into either way. But I do....

My tummy doesn't feel great and actually a little nauseous at times but I tend to attribute that to my ever increasing nerves. That also doesn't make any sense.

It's impossible to make any sense of any of it. It's funny, when fertiles find out they're pregnant, they're ecstatic. Some of them do cutesy things to tell their husband or significant other that they're expecting. It can range from a Bun in the Oven t-shirt and a big grin, or commonly a little onesie advertising their husband's favorite sports team...it's sometimes a big production. Infertiles think they will scream, cry and make a big deal out of it, but typically, we don't.

Typically, we react much differently. We kind of look at the test (or listen to the nurse tell us our betas are positive) and think "Hmmm. Well, ok. That's cool." But we're scared to get our hopes up. Throw a previous miscarriage in there and you've got a whole ball of "Oh, alright, thanks for letting us know." Back to your regularly scheduled programming. Then the family and friends you've told are excited and you keep saying, "Oh, it's early." They don't understand that to me, this pregnancy will be successful once my child starts kindergarten and not a second earlier.

I know I'm normal. Those that have experienced pregnancy loss and a new pregnancy within 6 months of the loss know what I'm talking about. We all know it's not rational, we all know it's really not healthy, but we also all know it's normal. It just may drive me crazy, though. Or crazier, I should say.

The verdict is in....

2007-12-27T09:04:00.000-08:00

And....I'm pregnant! Okay, so I've known for a while. I caved and tested last week since I just suddenly had a feeling something was up, and to my surprise, my test 8dp3dt was clearly positive. Chris and I didn't fully believe it until we got confirmation from the clinic on Monday, Christmas Eve. Betas have been good, doubling nicely and all that good stuff:
9dp3dt/12dpo - 105
12dp3dt/15dpo - 380
Soooo....we're excited and also cautiously optimistic because we have been here before. Our first ultrasound is in a couple weeks.
Thanks, Santa!

Tick, tock.

2007-12-22T09:36:00.000-08:00

Is it odd that this wait isn't really bothering me? It's the worst part for most IVF'ers - although, I'm going out on a limb and saying most IVF'ers don't have intramuscular stims and PIO and the suppositories...so perhaps my take on this is a touch skewed.

See, since my body has been such a colossal failure in terms of even responding to treatment, that part of any cycle is the worst for me. Waiting to see if I respond. The doctors are always so positive, because the fact is the vast majority of women will respond the drugs. My ovaries have an attitude problem, much like their bodily host I suppose, and have a tendency to rebel against any and all drugs. Even this time, I was on high dosages of different injections...the drugs my RE kept calling "the gooooood drugs", and my ovaries still managed to flip everyone off and run the other way.

Getting to the oh so dreaded "two week wait" is a huge accomplishment for me. In an entire year of treatment, I've really only had two, including this one. I always knew before hand that the cycle was fucked. Really, I could wait like this forever, if it wasn't for my self-imposed clean living that I guarantee will go out the window the very moment a negative beta is hurled at me.

But for now, I guess I'm content in this land of not knowing. Because not knowing means not knowing if it failed just as much as not knowing if I'm pregnant. And frankly, I'm ok with not knowing either right now.

I'm ready to be done.

2007-12-19T10:35:00.000-08:00

I'm ready.

I'm ready to either go back to my pre-IVF life, or start my new pregnancy life. I'm ready for one or the other. I just want this waiting to be over. The not knowing and waiting is simply not healthy for an impatient OCD'er like myself.

I'm currently 7dp3dt. I feel pretty much nothing so I'm not optimistic. I have my weekly acupuncture on Friday, which should be interesting.. She knows too much and no doubt by then she'll have an inkling of which way this is going to go. Last weekend, she teased me by saying how pleased she was with all the activity in my uterus. Well, duh. When isn't it a party my in uterus? But she knows things. She knew my dud ovary was a dud with me not saying a word. She knew righty seemed to be doing her job. All this was confirmed via ultrasound and blood work, but she knew first. So on Friday should be interesting. She knows the progesterone I'm on will mask things but still...the woman knows things. I'm not sure she'll say anything at this point, though. Which will drive me nuts and probably affect her Christmas tip.

I'm a sucker.

2007-12-17T11:16:00.000-08:00

I did it.

I ate two entire pineapples over the course of 4 days. Including the core. The icky, hard, sour and bitter core.

Why? Because there is an Old Wive's tale that the core of the pineapple contains some enzyme, I think it's called Bromelain, that aids in implantation. Since if an IVF fails it's because the embryo(s) didn't implant (they had quite a head start), I felt helping implantation was important. Also, I've noticed quite a few successful IVF'ers note they ate pineapple. So I went for it.

I've never, in the nearly two years we've been trying, fallen prey to the Old Wive's tales. I always figured if a crack whore can have 20 kids, that the things like sitting with your hips elevated after sex isn't necessarily going to help matters...and could very well be detrimental...bladder infection, anyone? Not to mention, I'm smart enough to figure out that standing on your head after sex will not increase your chance of pregnancy any more than jumping up and down after sex will decrease your chances.

But I ate the pineapple anyway. I like pineapple (er, I used to like pineapple). But I can't help but feel a little duped. I can't help but think there is some guy at Del Monte, sitting in his office, laughing his ass off as he tells the story that he made up this enzyme and posted it on the Internet saying it helped implantation and now all these crazy infertiles are eating tons of pineapple...they're making so much money off the desperate infertiles...ha ha ha!!!

Back to the small brown eggs...

2007-12-15T18:18:00.000-08:00

Since I'm now 3dp3dt (this is infertility speak for 3 days past a 3 day transfer, or in fertile terms, means about 6 days past ovulation), and analyzing things...I had to google the small brown egg thing. It's just too odd not to. Now I wish I hadn't. What did google come up with when searching "small brown human female egg oocyte" (gotta cover all bases):

1) cockroaches
2) brown recluse spider
3) mutant

I'm clearly not a cockroach (Kafka? Huh?), nor a brown recluse spider, apparently, I am a mutant.

It just keeps getting better, doesn't it!?

The Grass is Always Greener

2007-12-15T18:14:00.000-08:00

In terms of progesterone supplementation post IVF transfer (pretty much no matter what your protocol is, you'll be on progesterone), the grass seems to always be greener on the other side.

Those that endure the daily PIO shots - progesterone in oil shots which are intramuscular, a big needle and a thick substance that injects oh so very slowly - often would rather they had the suppositories.

Those that endure the suppositories - which are large, vaginal suppositories that have a tendency to leak quite a bit so you're prisoner to the panty liner for the entire time you're on them - often would rather have the shot and just get it over with.

What's my preference. Well. How about just one freaking progesterone supplementation method? I'll take either shots or suppositories. Because at this point, I get both. BOTH.

This year's Christmas Card

2007-12-13T11:17:00.000-08:00

I have always wanted to do the photo-Christmas card. But I feel it's reserved for children. Sure, there's the occasional "Us and Our Pets!" card, but since we have one very camera shy cat, not to mention the very resistant husband, that's not going to happen.

Is this card inappropriate? I think it tells the story of our year and how we've spent the holidays so far.

Then there are the holiday letters. You know the ones, the one full typed page of crap people send? If you send them, I mean no offense, but I do think you're lying. No one's life is that great. No one's kid is that smart and just freaking fantastic. No one's jobs are that grand, and no one is getting a raise every month. And seriously, no one cares what new car you bought. If indeed your life is all sunshine and roses, it's really best to not advertise like that. People don't like braggers. Where are the truthful letters? Where people talk about how Bob lost his job and it nearly caused a divorce, or Jimmy got caught (again!) smoking pot at school and got expelled.

If we did a letter, it would be truthful. Who wouldn't want to receive this?

"Happy Holidays, Friends and Family!
We may not have spoken with many of you this year because we have been so gosh-darned busy with our fertility treatments. January started with us in the middle of our first treatment cycle, our first cycle on Clomid! Those hot flashes sure helped with the winter chill. We were so excited and hopeful, but alas, Katie ended up not responding at all to that silly drug! No worries, in February, we tried it again! This time the moodiness, hot flashes and night sweats were especially bad, but we persevered. But once again, Katie's defective body still didn't respond! In March we increased the dosage which meant...you guessed it, twice the side effects! Hey and guess what!? She ovulated for the first time ever! But poo, no pregnancy. Not all was lost though, Katie developed a nice big cyst from the cycle and had to take a break from meds in March. In April she was back on that Clomid horse, suffered through another month of debilitating side effects to find she once again didn't respond. Well, drats. How about a different drug!? OK! In May she tried Femara, and hey...the side effects weren't so bad. Her response was less than thrilling, but shock of shocks...in June we found out Katie was pregnant! June and July marked big milestones for us as we saw our baby's heartbeat twice, once early at 5.5 weeks (such an over-achiever! must take after her mom! ha!) and again at 7.5 weeks. Then August rolled around and WHOOPS! Looks like we spoke too soon! Katie miscarried at 12 weeks. September and October were spent recovering from the D&C with no anesthetic - both Chris and Katie needed recovery time since Chris was in the room the whole time and saw the whole procedure! Talk about a memory he'd like to erase! Katie also needed to seek therapy during this time because the miscarriage made her a little wackier than normal! But in October, we tried Femara one last time...and wouldn't you know it? Katie didn't respond AGAIN! By the end of October, we were meeting with our new clinic and RE and decided it was time for IVF/ICSI - and we were starting in November! November and December were a blur of shots, pills, appointments and well, no surprise to us, quite a few disappointments! By the end of December we were anxiously awaiting the final outcome of our IVF cycle, and....to be continued.

Transfer Complete

2007-12-12T14:18:00.000-08:00

Introducing...our two embies: The one on the left is the 8-cell, grade 2 which had started to compact so that's very good news for us. The one on the right, well...not so pretty for a reason. This one only made it to 6 cells, grade 2 or 3 (thanks Valium, now I don't remember the important details) but the embryologist felt it was worth a shot to transfer it anyway. We have about a 30% chance with the 8-cell and less than a 5% chance with the 6-cell. Poopy.

It went ok. After the retrieval, which was so disappointing, we were prepared to not have a transfer. What many people don't realize, is IVF is not only not a guarantee of pregnancy or a live birth, but there is certainly no guarantee you'll even make it to a retrieval, or a transfer or anything. The cycle truly can stop at any point in the process. While science has come a long way in infertility and it's amazing what they can do, they don't know everything, have no way to diagnose everything in advance, and not everyone is successful.

Which is where I come in.

So we got 5 eggs at retrieval. The expected around 10 or more. Of the 5 they retrieved, one was immature (useless, can't be fertilized). The fact that we only got 5 eggs pissed off Dr.R, and the fact that one of those 5 was immature really seemed to anger her. She's quite the perfectionist and is determined to get everyone pregnant. Now I'm a problem child.

Of the 4 viable eggs, let's just say, they were, uh...weird. "Small and brown" according to the embryologist. I have this vision of the embryologist looking at my eggs through the microscope and crinkling her nose in disgust. Then maybe calling her assistant over and saying, "Eeew, look at these. Aren't they weird?" while my poor eggs cringe in embarrassment.

In one way, this is a sort of vindication. I've been saying for a long time my eggs had "issues", but there's really no way to prove it. Even seeing them in their unattractive state isn't proof of issues. Proof that something ain't right, sure...but what?

Dr. R thinks, and myself and my google MD nodded vigorously in agreement as she said this since it is something I have self diagnosed in the past, and I was on Valium (totally missed my calling as a doctor. I was just the shits in science in school and that seemed to be an important part of the occupation) that I have a follicular problem. As in my follicles grow big quickly and the eggs don't really catch up. That, and my eggs may have problems releasing from the follicles as well. If this cycle doesn't work, there are some other protocols and drugs she can try and see if it makes a difference. It's a research project for her now. If I have the same response, well then...we know a biological child is likely an impossibility. In all honestly, I've been on this roller coaster for nearly two years and we didn't really expect IVF #1 to work. Hope, yes, but expectations, no. IVF is a process. Most people will be successful within 3. I'm assuming they don't have "small brown eggs" though. I'm a touch more optimistic that we may have another chance before throwing in the towel. Dr. R said she's tough and will get us through this if we're tough. I said "We're tough, we're just not rich." To which she said we could make arrangements, she could get us donated meds...basically we may not have to pay for everything again. So next visit we'll probably dress in really ratty clothes and ask for food just to drive that point home.

The transfer itself was nothing, I tend to have a very cooperative cervix and it seriously took a couple minutes. Dr. R explained in detail the security measures they were taking to make sure it was our embryos they were going to transfer - my response was, "Actually, we'd be happy to take someone elses if they're better." Oohh, am I a terrible mom already?

And again, we wait and hope for implantation within the next few days.

Disappointing Egg Retrieval

2007-12-10T10:42:00.000-08:00

Things really were going too well for us.

At the retrieval, they only got 5 eggs. I don't know how many of those were mature, and we don't get fertilization reports so we won't know how many fertilized, how many grew to be embryos...nothing, until the transfer on Wednesday. That is, IF there is a transfer. With a shitty number like 5, there's a good chance there won't be. Out of 10-12 follicles, only 5 eggs were there. That's a terrible prognosis. Really terrible. People can say "it only takes one" until the cows come home...statistically, we're fucked. And not just for this cycle. This affects the possibility of any future cycles, whether or not there could possibly be a future cycle. This is one huge step closer to "You cannot have children." FUCK ME.

The retrieval itself was painless and easy. With the exception of the anesthesiologist digging for a vein for about a half hour, until she finally listened when I told her she'd have much better luck with my left hand and was able to find a vein easily. I know my veins. I've had enough blood taken in the past few years that I know the drill well. If I offer both arms to a phlebotomist, they look at my right arm and scream "NO!". It doesn't appear I have any veins in that arm. But I do, clearly, or I wouldn't have any arm function.

Apparently it only took about 15-20 minutes and I woke up gabbing away. I think the anesthesiologist asked me about the pain or how I felt and I said I was just dandy. Then I went on to say how I had a D&C with no anesthetic whatsoever and if I could survive that, I could survive anything...shortly after she called my husband in and said I was still loopy. I hope she didn't think that I was making up the D&C story. Because that's all true and I wear that fucker like a badge of honor. Anyhow, Chris came in, our medical assistant whom we adore came in and we were all chatting and joking as I slowly became more coherent. Apparently I'm pretty entertaining coming off of anesthesia.

Then Dr. R came in an interrupted my performance.

"We only got 5 eggs."

Utter silence in the room.

Me: "Well, that's poopy."

Poopy?? Where the hell do I get these sayings? Why do I turn into a pollyana/blubbering idiot at our clinic? True to my character would have been, "Well that's fucked up." I would have felt better about that, even if it's not always considered appropriate to curse in settings like this. Better than my goodie-goodie response. Why didn't I just say, "Drats. We surely were hoping for a few more! That's crummy, but we'll make do with what we have!" Then Chris would respond with "Darn tootin'!" and a fist pump.

What I really wanted to communicate instead was that I'm pissed. I'm pissed, I'm confused, and this is not at all helping the bitterness I've embraced over the past year from hell. I want Chris to have jumped over the surgical bed and pinned Dr.R down until she gave us a rational and logical reason for why we only had 5 eggs.

I know this isn't necessarily her fault. If this is a result of Empty Follicle Syndrome, she couldn't have known in advance. IVF is sometimes partly a diagnostic tool, and that's definitely the situation in my case. A $12,000 diagnostic tool. But I do want someone to blame and she's the closest. Because if I don't blame her, I have to blame myself, my body and I'm not sure mentally, I can handle that right now. At least I know I did everything I could to make the cycle successful. No caffeine, no alcohol, no smoking, no running, I ate healthy, did acupuncture and mentally stayed as optimistic and relaxed as possible. I don't feel like I could have done anything different so at least I don't have that regret. Then again, what's worse? Regretting actions you have control over, or realized you have no control and you're just broken? More broken than they thought before?

Now we wait.

It's Official - - - Retrieval is Sunday!

2007-12-07T11:59:00.001-08:00

At 8:30am precisely...Chris won't even have to miss a bit of the football games!

I'm already pondering my post-retrieval meal. Since I've had to cut out all my enjoyable vices for this cycle, I have developed a rather odd obsession with eating. But, since I'm so bloated I can only eat a little bit. It's odd. I day dream about the food and then get a couple bites in before I can't eat any more.

This morning's appointment went well, uterine lining looks great, which is such a nice change. I'm used to the "eh.....well...." response to "how does my lining look?". In fact, Dr. R even commented that my uterus looks great. I blushed. So rare for my reproductive organs to get so many compliments! I've responded well to the meds, and she's thinking she'll get 10-12 eggs on Sunday. Now it's just step by step. Transfer will likely be Wednesday.

Tonight is the trigger at exactly 8:30pm, which will be no big deal for us since all of our other meds have been IM shots. Good news, my ass gets a break for tomorrow - no shots! It's my only day off for the whole month. I should take my ass somewhere nice to celebrate.

He shouldn't know that.

2007-12-06T14:40:00.001-08:00

This struck me a while back when Chris and I were at yet another appointment.

I noticed after I got "undressed from the waist down, please" that my husband tucked my underwear in my pants so that they were out of sight. For whatever reason, and I know I'm not alone in this, having my underwear in full view of the doctor is too intimate and they need to be hidden. Considering what is at the doctor's eye level, I do realize how absurd that sounds, but it's a ritual I've taken part in since my first ob/gyn visit many, many moons ago. I also must wear socks. But that's another story.

Back to the fact that Chris knows to hide my underwear. He shouldn't know this. That should be part of the mystery of gyn appointments men know nothing about. He shouldn't be so familiar with a gynecological exam room. He's seen the stirrups more than most women will in their lifetime. Most men have no idea the stirrups are normally clothed in pot holders. Chris does. Dealing with infertility you quickly learn to accept the absurd and abnormal as your new normal, and more often than not you're going through the motions and not really reflecting on how different your life is than others in terms of getting pregnant. But sometimes, like today, it hits you.

After Chris hid my underwear, we got started with the ultrasound and things are progressing really nicely. I don't have exact numbers, but there were a lot of active follies, good sized, smiling for the camera. Even the dud ovary is producing follicles, which is amazing. So far my response is great and it looks like the retrieval will be Sunday. Which, if my math is correct, means we may find out before Christmas what the results are. I don't want to sound bratty, but Santa really does owe us.

My new best friends:

2007-12-05T13:45:00.000-08:00

Lidocaine Gel
and
Ice

The combination of these two have made the shots tolerable. I feel a little weenie-esq having to resort to numbing action before my shots, but dammit, my ass can only take so much. I am now very jealous of the IVF'ers that do all subcutaneous shots. They were really hurting, my poor husband was developing a complex, something had to be done. I was getting extremely bitchy right before the shot (I attribute some of this to the migraine I have had since Saturday...the feeling of a vice on your head plus shooting pain behind the eye is bound to make the sweetest person cranky, and I'm not the sweetest person to begin with), and as he started the injection, I was beginning to make a scene. A scene that started with me taking a noticeable deep breath in anticipation, then kind of yelling "Fucccckkk" as the injection started, then snapping at him that he needs to put pressure on it right after the shot. I'm laying face down when I get my shots, so I can't see his face but I'm sure it has been a combination of wincing for fear of hurting his wife, and grimacing that his wife hasn't learned to shut up and take it while he's giving a shot. Not like it's fun for him. Well, maybe if I'm uber cranky he gets a touch of satisfaction, but I doubt it.

I have to mention that our cat has now taken an interest in the shots and I personally feel he is concerned about his mom's well being as he watches dad inject a big needle into mom's ass. Chris says he's fascinated by the alcohol pad. I like my theory better.

A weekend full of needles.

2007-12-03T09:21:00.000-08:00

How was my weekend? Pretty prickly.

Friday - morning shots, evening shots
Saturday am - morning shot
Saturday later am - acupuncture
Saturday pm - evening shots
Sunday am - morning shot
Sunday later am - blood draw at the clinic
Sunday pm - evening shots

There are people that do IVF that have a phobia of needles. A real phobia of needles. I don't have a needle phobia (although I might be developing one), but I do have a rather severe bird phobia and I'm not sure if IVF involved the use of birds in any way that I could do it. I think if someone said, "Ok, so in the morning a bird will peck you in a head a couple times, then you're going to sit in a room full of birds flying around for about an hour and a half, then in the evening we'll have the bird peck you a few more times, the following day we'll have you come to our office where we will have the bird peck at you some more, then you'll head home and set up for your evening pecks. You'll repeat this cycle daily for about a month. Sound good?" No.

On a clinical note, my E2 (estradiol) level was checked on Sunday and my level is "great, doing exactly what we want it to" (have I mentioned my clinic doesn't give specifics? Which on one hand I don't like being in the dark, but on the other hand I know this is for the best. Had they given me the actual E2 number I would have logged a few hours on google analyzing that number from every possible angle, then spent another several hours reviewing that data over and over in my head and essentially making myself a stress case over it. Even though they tell me it's good.) so all seems to be going well so far. My acupuncturist said my right ovary has a lot of activity, left ovary, eh - not so much. My left ovary I have for a long time not-so-fondly referred to it as "The Dud." I'm hoping it eventually wakes up since I really could use those follicles. Like really, really need those follicles. Righty can only do so much by herself.

He Shot Me.

2007-11-30T19:11:00.002-08:00

Our very first stim shot was last night, and I’m happy to report, it was successful.

There is good news and bad news.

The good news is the scary looking, dart-like needle that I received about a million of, is NOT used to inject the meds into me. It is a mixing needle. While the injection needle is nothing to laugh at, it’s much thinner and less dart like. This was very good news. As you can see, it’s rather intimidating. The bad news is…they hurt like hell! I have a pretty high pain tolerance (ask anyone that knows me that and they’ll say the opposite, but just because I complain a lot doesn’t mean I don’t have a tolerance. I’m just whiny, that’s all) and I winced through the whole thing. Chris did his job just fine, it’s the actual meds that hurt. Sting, to be exact. Sting like a motherfucker to be completely honest.

It appeared to be any other Thursday night. But we knew the injection was looming. You could see it in our eyes, hear it in our nervous laughter. We had a job to do. My window of injections is 6-9pm (since my morning injection window is 7:30-10:30am, I thought I’d mix it up a little. I’m wacky like that) so I decided to just get it over with. Right after Rachel Ray finished her 30 Minute Meal, I was at the kitchen table with my science experiment, the instructions from our clinic and of course, the paper work that came with all the drugs. It’s quite involved. I have felt I deserve my own white lab coat with my name monogrammed on the front for so long, and now I really, truly feel I’ve earned it. We received great instructions from our clinic and it seemed pretty easy. Well, if you consider mixing powder vials with sodium chloride and then adding the FSH medication into that vial, withdrawing all of that out into the mixing syringe (make sure you get it all! There is about $300 of meds in there, it ALL needs to get in your ass!) and changing needles easy, then it was easy. We went step by step, slowly, making sure we didn’t make any mistakes. Did I mention our clinic said, “The first 3 days of stims are the most important, so don’t mess up! No pressure!”? We read each step out loud in that slow, drawn out way you do when you’re concentrating, doing, and reading at the same time. “Noooowww, inject the soodiummmm chloride into the powder viallllll….mmmmkkkkkkkk”. Finally, it was all mixed and ready to go. Chris took the dart needle off the syringe and replaced it with the one that looks like, well, a needle. I took my position, and braced for the shot. He then walked me through each step, “OK, I’m going to start” and did a great job starting the injection, pulling it out a little to make sure there was no blood (“No blood!” “Ok, good!”) and then proceeding with injecting all the meds. Then the stinging began.

Since they are intramuscular, the injection site is sore for a couple days. I clearly remember this from all my trigger shots in the last year. It’s sore. It hurts. And I get to have these shots every day for about 10 days, THEN we move on to the even more atrocious progesterone in oil shots for another two weeks. Basically my ass is getting brutalised for a month.

While I’m open about IVF in my personal life, I’m not in my professional life with the exception of my boss. So while I limp around the office because my ass hurts, I have to lie and say it’s a pulled muscle instead of the truth. They can’t handle the truth. “Oh, it’s nothing, my husband shot nun pee into my ass last night and it’s a little sore now.”

You know, I have to giggle at the moms that only have “I was in labor for 24 hours with you!” to their children. We have so much more to make them feel guilty about. “Your father had to shoot me in the ass for weeks!” is a good start. I’m not sure how or if we’ll even approach the money aspect. Telling them we spent $12,000 (if this one works, otherwise that amount goes disgustingly higher) to even conceive him/her would probably result in some ungrateful, whiny response about that must be why they don’t have the coolest clothes or best toys.

I can’t wait.

"OH! Hiiiiiiiii"

2007-11-27T12:57:00.000-08:00

Isn't it awkward to run into someone you know at the RE's office?

This morning hubby and I were on the couch in the waiting room when the door opened. Following standard infertility clinic waiting room protocol, I did not look up. For whatever reason, this seems to be how you are supposed to behave, so that's what I do. Well, the person walking in did not follow the rule.

Her: "Katie?"
Me: [frozen] silence. A little too long goes by and I realize I wasn't hearing things. I look up. "OH! Hiiiiiiiiii" - a really awkward, drawn out hi.

It was my old boss, one I had a very volatile personal and professional relationship with and haven't seen or spoken to in over 5 years. Back then she wasn't exactly lucky in love, so I was surprised to see her in an infertility clinic...and automatically thought she was doing IUI's with donor sperm (I'm so bad) until I saw the blinding flash of light from her hand and realized she's now married. She went on to tell me her brother and his wife conceived twins at this clinic via IUI, at which point our names were called and it was time for us to head in to our appointment. She said something else about twins and in my awkwardness I think I crossed my fingers and wagged them in front of my face as I walked through the door. I have no idea what possessed me to do that. I'm hoping for one, not twins! Of course we'd be thrilled, blah blah, but I have no idea why I made that gesture. The last gesture she saw from me.

So on to our regularly scheduled programming. Our baseline ultrasound was good, we're set to start stims on Thursday. Hubby got his lesson on the shots since these are all going to be intramuscular, which was news to me. I assumed they'd be subcutaneous like my easy peasy Lupron, but it's not. Hubs will be fine, I'm sure. I have a pretty big tattoo of a carousel horse on my uh, hip area, that will serve as a great guide for hubs to use for injections. The medical assistant said "Perfect! Just inject it into the horse's head!" Which, when you think about it, it better than her telling him to inject it into the horse's ass. 'Cause that could be taken a couple different ways. Har har har....

Hit me with your best shot

2007-11-25T18:28:00.000-08:00

(I guess I'd be talking to myself by saying "Hit me with your best shot" since I have to give myself these injections).
November 18th marked my very first shot of Lupron. Easy, easy, easy. The Lupron shots are with little insulin syringes, they're like the starter syringe for the whole process. Nothing like the what seem like hundreds of the other syringes I have for the other meds that really do resemble a dart. I shit you not, a dart. Like the ones you throw at a dart board, dart. Anyhow, these little Lupron shots are nothing. I'm quite used to them now. Although I did have a panic moment a few days after I started...things like "Why am I not getting any headaches? Why don't I feel any side effects? Oh my gawd, I'll bet I'm not even getting any liquid in the needle! I'm just injecting air! I've ruined this cycle, I've ruined our lives, I've ruined everything!" IVF can make you a little crazy. So now each time after I give myself a shot, I make sure I squeeze out the tiny little droplet that's left after the injection so that I feel better knowing there definitely was liquid in there. This prevents me from trying to get the old syringes out of my bio-hazard storage container like I did a few days ago. FYI, that top doesn't come off. Easily, anyway.

Why is my RE so big on urine??

2007-11-25T18:09:00.000-08:00

I'm just curious. Why does my RE seem so incredibly partial to meds derived from urine? I know there are laboratory created versions of these drugs so I don't understand her preference for the ones she prescribed me.

Are you a confused fertile? There, there, I'll fill you in. There are several different drugs prescribed for an IVF protocol. Some are older, some are newer...and the newer ones are mainly created in laboratories. They are the man-made version of the older drugs. The older drugs, a couple of them, are made from urine. Yes, I'm serious. Urine. Oh, it gets better.
Repronex, one of my drugs, is made from the urine of post menopausal nuns. You heard me. Post-menopausal nuns! The post menopausal part has a good explanation - post menopausal women secrete higher quantities of the particular hormone needed for this drug. I don't understand the nun part, though, as in why their urine is specially used for this drug. Maybe because it's a place where a large group of post menopausal women hang out together - easier to get 'em all at once. Then again, they could go to any Curves gym in the country and end up with the same demographic.

Anyhow, there is another drug that works just like Repronex, called Menopur, except Menopur is not made from urine. And I want to know why I got the urine prescription.

So this was bothering me. Then I realized my trigger shot (Pregnyl) is also the older urine method. Except this time it's the urine of pregnant women. So obviously, not nuns. But the same thing - urine. And again, there is an alternative, newer drug that is not made from urine that would serve the same purpose. But I got the pee.

As if I don't have enough to think about.

Here Come the Drugs

2007-11-25T17:56:00.001-08:00

The arrival of the meds is such a weird moment in the first IVF process. There's so much anticipation...this is really starting. It's exciting, it's nerve-wracking, it's a small fortune of liquids, needles and pills...and it's our best chance yet. If you've been on this journey for a while, you've no doubt seen the requisite picture of meds laid out on a table for all to see (see left). It's not a big surprise to us going through this, but it is entertaining to show the pictures to friends and family that have never dealt with infertility and have no clue what we're going through. There's an odd sense of satisfaction in seeing their shocked responses. "WOW! That's a lot of needles! Do you have to inject yourself???" To which we get to nod smugly and say yes, it is a lot of needles and yes, we have to do them ourselves. All the while we continue to nod and smirk as if it's nothing. Just another day.

I could not wait to get to my box of drugs. I tracked the shipment on the web, watching step by step as they arrived safely at my parent's house (no need to leave several thousand dollars of drugs on my unattended door step, and certainly no need for my nosy warehouse person at work to "accidentally" open my box before delivering it to my desk), and finally getting that email from my mom, "They're here, honey." Ooooh, I couldn't wait to see them. "Is it a biiiigggg box??" I asked. "Um, yeah, it's kind of big" (very nonchalant in her reply, I might add).

Now I'm worried. Oddly worried that my box of drugs isn't going to be as big as I thought, thus leaving less of an impact on all involved, including myself. For as much money as I just spent, I really needed that box to be impressive. What if my supply of drugs is unimpressive? Just a handful of vials and some syringes? It would be such a let down.

Annnd, it kind of was. It wasn't a huge box. The pharmacy was quite efficient in their use of space. It wasn't a small box, and obviously to the regular people out there it was a massive box for drugs, but for me, it was a little disappointing. Then I got it home and we took everything out, laid it all out on the table, and I felt a little better. There were more than enough needles there to make an impact on even the most jaded fertile.

How about a discount?

2007-11-10T19:46:00.000-08:00

While sitting in our clinic's office, we came upon a flier for Infertility Counseling. Which, is actually great because counselors and therapists that specialize in infertility are rather rare, and it is something that not many people understand. Like, oh, my grief counselor I saw after our miscarriage. I remember saying, "Well, we've been in treatment for a year" and her immediately saying (this from a woman that did a whole lotta nodding and nothing else, so for her to suddenly pipe up at this moment, with something totally inappropriate, let's just say...pissed me off) "I've heard that's quite normal. That it takes a couple up to a year to conceive." Yes, lady, that can be quite normal. But we've been in treatment for a year, trying for much longer than that. Which I made clear. Then I cried about something else and all my toughness was shot to shit.
Anyhow, hubby and I looked at this pamphlet and the list of things someone dealing with infertility might experience. Shock of all shocks, it was as if it was describing me personally. Hubby even asked "Huh. If you have all of them, do you think you get a discount?" I wish it worked that way. Then it would be free!
But even looking at the "symptoms" now, I still wonder how valid it is. I mean, there are some damn good reasons we feel these things. Like...
Jealousy of people who are pregnant or have children Ok, people, let's be honest. How is that weird or uncommon, or even unexpected? How often do we see people buy things just because someone else has them? Even cars (typically big SUV's, I'm just sayin'...), houses, definitely clothes...we're a society full of gloriously green monsters. So how would infertility be any different? When you're the childless couple at an age when everyone else has children, you're excluded. No one wants the weird childless couple that can sit and drink while everyone else takes (god, hopefully) care of their own kids. Sure, the pregnancy thing is an example of the bitterness the infertiles tend to go through. Until our miscarriage, I didn't have that jealousy towards pregnant women. Thankfully, my instinct to hiss like a cobra as one passes seems to have subsided, and I'm working on my instinct to slap a woman's hand from resting on her pregnant belly. Give me time, people.
Guilt at time and anger at other times Well, how is this different than life in general? I feel guilty that my body is why my hubby and I are spending a small fortune on a chance to have a baby. I also feel guilty when I take that parking spot that I knew someone else was trying to take, but damn, it's raining and I don't want to walk further in the rain! Sure, I'm pissed that we can have what everyone else has or jeez, that no one else we know has to pay to try and have a baby...but I'm also angry in general and that was far, far before I even met hubby, let alone jumped into fertility treatments.
Feelings of intense preoccupation with infertility - Um, yeah. Let's think about this. Let's look at an infertilies calendar. Even without doing IVF, you're spending so much time at the doctor's getting ultrasounds (yay! good follicles! or boo! sorry, not responding, see you next cycle), or blood work (Hi, I'm George, and I'm an intern. Can I take your blood today?), or even taking your temperature every morning, or peeing on an ovulation predictor test, or once you get past that point, analyzing every.single.damn.symptom in hopes that it's not PMS and it is indeed pregnancy symptoms. Or when you do IVF and you're shooting yourself up every morning and every evening, and you can't go to social function that go past 8 o'clock because you have to do your injection...how in the fuck does any sane person not have an intense preoccuptation with it?? It would be insane to not be preoccupied by it.
Difficulty Concentrating and Completing Tasks - I attribute most of this to the drugs. The fertility drugs, that is. Sure, the pot in college might be a contributing factor, but I....wait, where was I?
Feelings of resentment towards family because they don't "get it" - In all seriousness, I've struggled with this. Most infertiles have. No one gets it. Nor can we expect them to. We can just hope we have people that support us during this really difficult time.
Feelings out of control. Frustrated at the unanswered questions. Duh. Infertilty/fertility is hardly a perfect science. There is only so much they know, and so much more that really is left to chance. That's frustrating.
Anxiousness and fear of becoming pregnant, especially after a loss. Oh, yes. Oh so very anxious. I mean, who wouldn't be? Losing a baby after trying for so long, taking so many drugs, getting almost through the 1st (and oh so scary) 1st trimester is going to screw up even the most rational and solid person you know. I know, because it happened to me. (Yes, I once was very rational and put together.)
Mood shifts over the slightest things - yes, this is quite possible as well. Infertiles are often on many different drugs that will possibly induce PMS like symptoms with no warning. Hey, YOU take drugs that give you hot flashes during a meeting or night sweats all night or moods that change on a dime and tell me how you feel.
Crying at unexpected times - Again, drugs. Again, depression. Again, anxiety. Again, [sobbing]....

We go through a lot and counseling can help if you find someone that specializes in infertility. But, damn - there really are a lot of reasons why we feel this way. And they really are justified.

Aaaannnd, We're Off!

2007-11-10T19:31:00.000-08:00

After 21 months, a year of fertility treatments and a miscarriage, we're finally embarking on our first IVF cycle. Considering we have no insurance coverage, this is a big step. A big, atrociously expensive, step. But unfortunately, necessary. So we're off to our first "interview" with the clinic closest to us.

We've had more than a few disappointments with appointments and our (ok, my) expectations, and since we're now paying completely out of pocket and we're basically paying $200 to interview our RE and clinic, I'm coming out with guns a-blazing. No fucking around. $200 for one hour? Oh, we're gonna talk about what I want to talk about, what I want to know, and nothing else. No need for a biology lesson, here. We've been through the ringer, we know what we need to do to try and have a successful pregnancy, and we don't need the formalities. Period.

Here's hubby's and my conversation driving to the clinic:
Me: We're paying $200 bucks for this appointment and we will discuss what I want to talk about.
Hubby: Uh-huh.
Me: No biology lesson, no detailed explanation of IVF - I know what it's all about.
Hubby: MmmmmmK.
Me: Yeah - I have no problem telling her that we aren't going to sit there and listen to her whole shpeel. We're not her average patient. We're not new. Right?
Hubby: Right...

This is the gist of what happened:

Dr. R: - OK, so here is a diagram of the female reproductive system, and here are your ovaries...
Me: [silence and some head nods]

Yeah, I talk a pretty good game. But this woman was intimidating, even for me! I went in with my guard up - big time - and even crossed my arms across my chest and smirked a few times, until I realized, uh...I think she really knows what she's talking about. Aside from her comment that I should lose weight (I am ONE good stomach flu away from an ideal weight - I'm not a skinny minny, but c'mon - a couple days of intense diarrhea and vomiting and I would so be at an ideal weight) to which I again smirked and thought "You are so fired before you were even hired", but eventually, she did get my attention in a good way. I also started to relent that maybe, just maybe, my Google MD might be no competition for her actual MD, or PhD, or certification in Reproductive Endocrinology. That maybe, just maybe, her competence and great statistics and overall computer mind when it comes to infertility, might finally be our answer. So after a little over an hour (score! we totally got free minutes), we both decided this would be our home for our very first IVF cycle. And so the journey begins.