New Blog

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smartassmom.blogspot.com

Time to Move On...

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.

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.

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!

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.

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

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?