The Digoxin Tattoo

Milestones

2010-07-14T11:00:00.003-05:00

It's been three years since the anencephaly. Almost two years since the birth of Ethan. And the "toddler" from this blog is now 5.

In the land of the knees, things are much better. That said, I'm still cautious.

In the world of the 5-year-old, things are complicated. Over the past year, we've seen one psychologist who specializes in Gifted children, two neurologists, a speech therapist and went through two behavioral analyses from the school district. The result: a "twice exceptional" child who definitely has a language disorder (auditory processing, non-verbal learning disorder) and may also have Asperger's Syndrome. Both neurologists said that if he is, in fact, on the "spectrum," he is very mild. He is so mild, they both believed that he is either barely on the spectrum or just missing it. Helpful. And, because he is so mildly affected, his educational diagnosis is not consistent with autism. Our "gifted" psychologist said that his disorders are masking the giftedness, and the giftedness is masking the disorders. So the result is a child that no one can identify. I'm now attending support groups for gifted children with learning disabilities (sounds like an oxymoron, right?). We're paying out-of-pocket for private therapies that include PT/OT and speech/language. While he's starting public school in the fall, both my husband and I are looking at private schools for 1st through 12th grade. The whole situation has been frustrating, expensive and emotionally draining. But we're on our way to helping our child get the best education for his unique needs. We're also encouraging his interests and his precocious abilities...he started piano lessons this week and loves it!

Baby Ethan, who's now a toddler, is a rambunctious crazy ball of lovey energy. He is so affectionate and such an energetic child. We'll probably be signing him up for soccer as soon as they'll take him.

And me? I'm working full-time from home. Managing corporate charitable events, handling PR for local firms and doing whatever is thrown my way. Thank goodness for my journalism degree...it has been a financial lifeline!

Fight for Preemies...support the March of Dimes

2009-11-17T15:06:00.001-06:00

In support of the March of Dimes and its mission to improve the health of babies (and pregnant women), I am blogging to help fight for preemies. While prematurity has not touched me personally (both boys were term and plump), a fatal fetal defect took the life of my daughter. While the March of Dimes is known primarily for its outreach efforts in regard to infant prematurity, the organization does so much more. Educational outreach efforts also are provided to families whose infants suffer from severe medical conditions and birth defects...including anencephaly.

Today, I am remembering Arella Grace. I don't want another mother to suffer the heavy heart of grim anniversaries. I don't want another mother to know what if feels like to take her child home in an urn instead of her arms. And I don't want another mother to know the pain of watching (of feeling) her baby die.

If you can offer a financial gift to the March of Dimes, I urge you to please be generous. But if you can't, and I know that in these difficult times giving is beyond many of us, please volunteer your time to help your local March of Dimes chapter. I currently volunteer to help support my chapter's social media publicity efforts.

The skull's the limit

2009-10-19T20:55:00.002-05:00

There's something you should know about me. While this blog was originally started as a means to cope with anencephaly and the cruel aftermath, it blossomed into much more. This shrine to Arella has become the place to share my mommy disasters and triumphs, a place to weep through words, and a place to share the joys and fears of pregnancy after anencephaly. But before motherhood, before the losses, there was more to my story.

There was infertility. And there was a condition called craniosynostosis.

Before I became pregnant with the preschooler (wonderful pregnancy, I might add...textbook perfect, if I may gloat), I suffered for a year with infertility. The preschooler was actually the result of Follistim and a turkey baster. I'll always remember his conception! Unlike many of you who might be reading, and who also might be suffering from the heartbreak that is infertility, I never had to venture into the world of IVF (although, I would have had the baster not worked!). My year of barrenness was perhaps one of the loneliest that I could remember (until, of course, anencephaly). I remember hating my body, and being so upset that something so biologically simple was so not simple. I hated that I couldn't control the outcome every month. I hated when my RE put me on Clomid. I hated the feeling of being inseminated artificially every month with only a single pink line being the result. I hated the dildocam. I felt invaded, violated. But, mostly, I hated my body for being broken. And that feeling, that hatred, wasn't new to me.

I was born with a condition called craniosynostosis. But, at birth, no one really knew what was wrong. My mother told me once that after I was born, the doctor kept looking at me, looking at my face and head. She didn't think much of it then. She didn't think much of it until the months passed, and my head and face began to grow abnormally. Lopsided. Craniosynostosis is a condition where the fontanels (or soft spots) close prematurely. It causes the skull to grow abnormally, and, if left untreated, it can cause constricted brain growth, mental retardation and blindness. More than one fontanel can be affected with craniosynostosis, but mine was unilateral coronal craniosynostosis...meaning that the coronal suture of only one side of my skull had closed prematurely. When I was 18 months old, I underwent reconstructive surgery to correct the abnormal growth of my skull. The surgery was only the second of its kind in the United States. That was back in 1980. The first surgery was done on a young boy, and, while the surgeons were able to cosmetically repair the damage to his skull and his facial features, they were unable to save his eyesight. The doctor who performed my surgery waited until they were about to wheel me into the operating room before he told her the what the surgery would completely entail: in addition to cutting my head open from ear to ear to repair my skull, they would also have to open me up beneath my right breast area...to remove a rib. They used the rib as a prosthetic piece to fill in the lopsided structure of my skull. Yes, I have a rib in my head.

Today, the surgery to repair craniosynostosis involves truly amazing prosthetic pieces. The post-surgical results are outstanding, and many children have no asymmetry in their facial structure. Unfortunately, the surgery of 1980 wasn't perfect...and the details of my imperfections are ones that I am still conscious of today. Most people can't tell. But some can. What the surgeons couldn't fix completely was my eye structure. The asymmetrical skull growth set my eyes on two different planes, meaning they are slightly misaligned. If I am tired, it becomes more noticeable. For years, until I was 17, I wore glasses instead of contacts because my ophthalmologist told me that glasses would make the assymmetry less noticeable. Glasses were a mask to cover the imperfections. Ripping off the mask was probably the most liberating thing I ever did for myself.

The craniosynostosis also made me more conscious of my genetics. Before the fertility treatments began, my husband and I consulted with a geneticist about the hereditary factors of craniosynostosis. There are many syndromes that can cause craniosynostosis, and, if I had one of the syndromes, my chances of having a child with craniosynostosis was 50%. The only way to find out if I was had one of the syndromes that caused cranio was through a blood test. That insurance didn't normally cover. And, as a genetic side note, even if the test came back negative, I could still have another undiscovered syndrome that could also have caused the cranio. The geneticist also told me that my condition could also have been just a fluke, which meant that it wasn't likely hereditary. While I went to the geneticist for answers, I came out more confused and frustrated than before I went in. And, in a moment that now stops my breath, the geneticist had the gall to ask us why we wanted to know about our chances of having a baby with cranio...did we plan to terminate the baby if it did have cranio? When I think about that now, I really want to just...well...strip the man of his license to practice medicine. Ass.

Years later, the preschooler was born. At around 3 months old, his head growth started to slow. My pede told us to have it checked out, as it was an indicator of cranio (ummm...it wasn't...and the idiot nurse incorrectly measured his head, which is why the growth was off). Depressed and freaked out, I consulted McDreamy (the medical deity that he is!), who referred me to Dr. SoGladIFoundHim, a pediatric plastic surgeon who, as it turned out, knew more about the genetics of cranio than the asshole geneticist. The preschooler's head was fine, although he did have a mild case of plagiocephaly (meaning that one side of his head was flatter than the other, from sleeping only on one side for months). But the plagio evened out on its own over time. And, thanks to Dr. SoGladIFoundHim, I learned that unilateral coronal craniosynostosis is almost always a fluke occurrence and is not passed down genetically.

I think about the genetics of cranio a lot now especially after the anencephaly. It seems very odd to me that I had a skull abnormality and Arella was born with a fatal anomaly of the skull. I know the two are unrelated. I know that. I do. But. Still. I think about the what ifs and ponder a link between my issues. And her death. I just really hope...that it's just all in my head.

I'm back...

2009-10-17T13:25:00.004-05:00

Whew. Six months in the day of the life! Cannot believe I haven't posted in so long, and, for those of you who still buzz in and out of here, my apologies for leaving you hanging.

Ethan is now a year old. The toddler is now a big boy loving preschool. My knees still suck. I had one more scary incident with Ethan during his babyhood. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt. But the knee braces have stayed on for good since that second scare.

For those of you who have found this blog because of anencephaly searches...thank you for reading, thank you for the notes telling me your stories, and thank you for reminding me that I am not alone in my grief. Even after a healthy pregnancy, resulting in a beautiful and very healthy boy, I still grieve for Arella. I cried for her again today...some days the past just haunts and hurts more than I care to admit.

While my husband doesn't try to remember the 'anniversaries,' I cannot seem to forget them. This summer marked the 2nd anniversary of Arella's diagnosis and death. The date that marked the 2nd anniversary of her death, June 6th, was also the wedding day for one of our oldest and dearest friends. That day was bittersweet for me. My husband was best man, and the preschooler (former toddler) was the ring bearer.

While grief is necessary for healing, I know that I can't let it consume me...Arella is gone, her memory remains. And I have two beautiful children. I survived something horrible, something that many of you have also survived. And I am finding ways to channel my emotions into something positive. Currently, I am using my writing and PR guiles to assist my state's chapter of the March of Dimes. And, of course, I'm officially back to blogging....

Get a leg up

2009-03-16T22:09:00.001-05:00

Last week, I paid a visit to McDreamy's friendly orthopedic surgeon.

Remember the knee dislocation that I suffered post-birth? Remember that? Oh that was fun. But not quite as fun as having your knee dislocate while taking your baby out of the bath. And dropping him. Horrifying doesn't even describe that moment. Just note that I am smart enough to drain the baby tub before ever removing a baby...and I was kneeling, so Ethan didn't fall hard. But he did bump his head on the side of my big tub. He was fine. No bruises, no bumps. I, however, was screaming in pain and horror at the event. My mother was there when it happened, thankfully. She calmed me down and told me that she once dropped me when both of her knees dislocated. Um...yeah....

I've had "bad" knees since I was 14. The first dislocation happened during gym class. I was running back to catch a frisbee and caught my foot in a hole on the playing field. My leg twisted and my knee popped out. Since the school was afraid of litigation, the coach refused to relocate the knee. It sat out of the socket for hours. The pain was excruciating. The recovery took months. That was my left knee. The next time that knee dislocated was during work at Six Flags. I was trying to rescue a kid out of a climbing net (I worked in the kiddie area). I've had problems with my left knee ever since. My right knee (the one that I injured after the birth and after Ethan's bath), was dislocated for the first time when I was 16. I was trying on a skirt at Dillard's and my shoe was caught in the skirt's lining. The knee popped out and then relocated itself...the right one always relocates. The left one has to be manually "set" back into position. Oh, yes, it's great fun.

The orthopedic surgeon told me that I have to begin doing knee strengthening exercises. And I have braces to wear to hold the knees in place when I do strenuous activities with the kids that put me at risk for dislocation. The braces HURT. Badly. So badly that I need to call the doctor back to discuss it. This Friday, I have to go to one session of physical therapy to learn additional strengthening exercises. Now I just need to dig out my ankle weights to begin the process.

Unfortunately, surgery also will be in order. At some point. The muscles and tendons will be tightened to give my knees more support. I'm not looking forward to surgery, but I want to do whatever I need to do to get my knees strong...or, rather, to get my tendons strong.

As for Ethan's bathtime, I'm now much more deliberate with my movements. I know how I probably caused the dislocation, so now I'm making sure my knees are in positions that don't make them vulnerable to dislocation. And I've created a bath schedule, so that if my husband can't help with baths...my mom can.

I don't know about all of you out there in the blogosphere, but my family has had a hell of a nasty winter...as viruses are concerned. The toddler has had a bad cold with a fever, and we all (except Ethan, thankfully) came down with the WORST intestinal virus EVER. The toddler woke up vomiting and completely freaked out (as he has never thrown up before). Minutes before he woke up, I was lying in bed feeling extremely nauseated and wondering what the heck was up with my stomach. The next few days that followed had me and the toddler completely unable to eat anything. I had horrible diarrhea, a fever and just general malaise. The toddler threw up for only one night and then just suffered from a mild fever and general ickiness. Neither of us could eat a thing. My husband came down with the virus a week after us. Now the toddler is getting over a sinus infection. It never ends.

And, of course, Ethan has been teething for the past few weeks. We are eagerly awaiting the top teeth.

Mothering Basics...or how I completely screwed up with #2

2009-02-13T08:48:00.003-06:00

I am an idiot. I. Am. An. Idiot.

Remember how I said that Ethan was teething? And that he was restless with the pain of it all? Like good parents, my husband and I began giving him meds for the pain. We remembered how well Motrin worked for the toddler when he was teething, so we started the dosage. What we forgot was that we alternated Tylenol and Motrin with the toddler...but we didn't introduce Motrin with the Tylenol until he was six months old. Because you cannot give Motrin to an infant under 6 months.

I didn't remember the Motrin issue until Ethan's 4-month well visit yesterday. Our pede noticed he had cut his two bottom teeth and reminded us about how much Tylenol we can use. Noticing that he neglected to update us on the Motrin dose, he looked at me and said "you can't use Motrin before six months....it can cause bloodflow problems to the organs."

I froze. Completely horrified. And then I fessed up that we had used it off and on for the last week and a half.

Thankfully, the pede said that it was probably fine, not to worry, and that the issues were rare...but they tell parents, for safety-sake, to avoid Motrin until the six-month mark.

Obviously, the Motrin is retired from our home. But I still feel like a terrible mother and am now having horrible images about how I could have poisoned my son with my Motrin stupidity.

On a happy note, Ethan now weighs 16 lbs. 13 oz. and is 26 inches long. Head is 16 inches. His weight and height are both in the 90th percentile. His head measures in the 50th percentile. He also had his 4-month vaccines, which didn't go over too well. But he was drugged. With Tylenol. So it was all right.

The green-eyed monster

2009-02-06T20:36:00.004-06:00

The toddler is acting out terribly against Ethan. This afternoon, while on routine errands, the toddler was playing with his LeapFrog Tag Reader system and decided to hit his baby brother on the head with the tag reader. Ethan, who was sleeping at the time, woke up screaming. The tag reader, if you're not familiar, is a hard plastic pen. I freaked out. My husband freaked out. Thank goodness that Ethan was more scared than hurt (i.e. no bruise or bump). We did a time-out, we took away the tag reader, and we cancelled movie night (we rented Madagascar 2).

The toddler seemed unfazed.

I am at a loss as a parent about what more to do. The toddler does not really seem to show any remorse, and time-outs seem to hold no consequence. I am so sick of him hitting his brother, poking his brother, etc. But what worries me most is that he could really hurt Ethan badly in his actions. Once he even tried to kick at Ethan's head...this sent me spinning...especially since he did hit Ethan a bit with his foot. At that point, I just shut him in his room. And yelled. And freaked out. My husband and I have been discussing his behavior issues and are trying to find other methods of discipline. A part of me really just wants to spank when he acts out, but I know this sends the wrong message.

I never, ever thought I would be having this problem. Before Ethan, the toddler was perfectly obedient. Like all kids, he had his moments...but he was really well behaved. Now that Ethan's here, his behavior is really touch-and-go. Some days, he is loving and awesome with his brother. Other days, like today, not so much.

Any supernannies out there? If any of you have any great behavior tips, please send them my way. I will be brimming with gratitude.

Guess who's coming to dinner

2009-01-31T21:07:00.002-06:00

What do you get when you put a three-year old, a four-month old and a six-month old in a dinner party situation? Chaos.

Last Sunday, our friends C. and E. invited us to have dinner at their home. They are newly-married and have a six-month old baby boy. Since we don't get out much (with the exception of the weekend mall trips...easy stroller time), the hubby and I jumped at the chance to have dinner away from a house that wasn't our own. The trip to their home took us about an hour. Both the toddler and the baby do well in the car, so the ride was fairly uneventful. That was probably the nicest hour of the whole night.

When we arrived at C. and E.'s house, we realized something that we didn't think of before we left: there was nothing for the toddler to do. Sure we brought a few toys with us, and some books, but the toddler is a curious one...and while his own toys were fine at home, this was some place new. And it wasn't really exciting. Unless, of course, you were a baby.

I felt bad for the kid. I really did. Both E. and I were comparing our babies, and spending time with them...and it seemed as though it was more of a baby-centric night. If there is one thing that all toddlers have in common, it is that they wish to be the center of the show. The toddler is having a tough time with not being the center, now that baby Ethan has joined us. He has acted out a lot, both with the potty and with other behaviors. He sometimes hits or pinches his brother (especially during car trips at night). The change has been hard on him, as we expected it would be. And his reactions have especially been hard on us as parents. So to put the toddler into a situation that made him ill at ease was probably not so smart.

Within the first five minutes of arriving at their home, he peed his pants. This was especially uncharacteristic of him now that he's in big kid undies, and he had pottied before we left. I didn't admonish him, and neither did my husband, we simply reminded him to tell us when he needed to potty, quickly changed him, and moved on. But moving on meant keeping him busy. And that was tougher than expected. The house was not childproofed, so I had to keep telling him not to touch things (E. collects snow globes). When dinner was served, E. gave him a glass cup (a real GLASS), and I tried not to freak. You do NOT serve a toddler glassware, you just don't. The toddler picked at his dinner, which was served about an hour after he usually eats. And, in between all the festivities of the evening, there were a few time-outs on the stairs. By the time we left, I was exhausted and just wanted to have a nice ride home.

You can only imagine how the ride home went.

Ethan screamed the whole hour home. And, of course, the toddler decided to poke, hit and pinch him. I would have cried too. And, actually, I think I did. The night, while fun in some respects, was really a lesson in what not to do with a toddler.

That night, no one slept well. We arrived home around nine o'clock, a good hour past the toddler's bedtime. Ethan woke up around 3 a.m. randomly and needed to nurse. And then the toddler began his new routine of waking up at 7 a.m. (he used to sleep to 8:30, then it fell to 8).

The days that followed gave me more wee morning wake-ups, and on Wednesday I discovered the reason why. Ethan has cut his first tooth. And the second is on its way.

As I type this, he is up again. The second time tonight. I don't think sleep is going to go well for us again tonight.

What goes around...

2009-01-24T14:45:00.005-06:00

Apparently a lovely virus is going around here in the Midwest. And, apparently, it has taken up residence in our home. A few weeks ago, the toddler exhibited the always suspect runny nose. The runny nose gave way to congestion and a slight fever. All symptoms vanished within a few days, and the ever-energetic toddler was as good as new. Fast forward to this week. Despite my best attempts to Purell the germs off the toddler, some managed to escape and infect myself and Ethan. Of course, the husband was spared. It hasn't been too terrible, but the congestion has made the reflux a bit more pronounced. And, to make matters worse, Ethan's new bottle of liquid Zantac fell into the toilet (don't ask!), and the cap was not properly screwed on. So, yeah, a whole bottle of Zantac went down the toilet. Fun times, here.

I'm also battling sibling rivalry. The toddler is acting out against Ethan, especially during car rides. He likes to pinch Ethan's cheeks or grab his hands. Yeah, real funny. He also pretends to kick baby brother. It freaks me out, and I tend to freak out when it happens. Time outs don't seem to be working. I know that this sort of behavior is normal, but I don't know what to do when time outs don't curb the bad behavior. I'm sure someone out in the blog universe has dealt with these issues, so, once again, feel free to set me straight! Just don't tell me to spank...while, at times, I might understand why parent's spank, I don't believe in it for my own parenting guidelines.

And, this might sound like a weird request, I am at wits end for meals! Since Ethan's birth, I feel like we've been living on easy take-outish meal options, like frozen pizzas, chicken fingers, etc. I need some real food ideas that are easy and don't take hours to prepare. Suggest away!!!!

Motherhood: Version 2.0

2009-01-17T19:30:00.001-06:00

Life with a toddler and an almost 4-month old has been a balancing act that I've yet to completely master. Up until now, whence the baby has begun to sleep 12 hours at night, my life has been stuck on automatic pilot...and this blog has been obviously neglected.

I'm not working. Freelancing has been put on hold, as I have no free time to write professionally. And, by the time bedtime hits, I'm too exhausted to think...let alone try to make deadlines. I knew two kids would be exhausting, but um...wow. It's done wonders for the baby weight, though. By four weeks postpartum, I was in my skinny, skinny jeans. And recently I had to buy new jeans. Junior's size 5, because my butt is nonexistent and nothing else fits. It's a good problem to have. So I'm going to enjoy it!

The toddler is now in big boy underpants and has mastered peeing on the potty. Pooping,? Not so much. Everyone tells me this is typical--for boys especially--so I'm not stressing about it. That said, the poop issue has forced us to delay preschool a year. The preschool in which we enrolled him requires that the kids be FULLY potty trained. My friend who is a Montessori school early education teacher says that she doesn't agree with such a rule--kids have accidents, and pooping is usually the last task to be mastered in the potty training olympics. I think we might find a new school for next year, not because I'm worried about poop...but I would feel more comfortable to enroll him in a school that doesn't freak out about accidents (of any sort). And the toddler is ahead of the school's curriculum. He's mastered the alphabet, colors, counting and knows all his states and capitals (he learned this via a USA map puzzle...very handy for teaching geography). He's currently working on reading...he has most sight words down and knows how to sound words out.

Baby brother Ethan is growing so quickly. I almost forgot how quickly those little babies grow. He's still HUGE. At his two-month check up, he was in the 97th percentile for weight and the 95th percentile for length. On December 28th, he rolled for the first time--he is really into being mobile, very different from his brother at the same age. The toddler HATED tummy time! Ethan is grinning and cooing all the time, he's quite the happy little man. I am a sucker for those gummy grins! He still has quite the temper...he doesn't hesitate to "unleash the fury" if he doesn't get his way. Acid reflux continues to be an annoyance; we tried to wean him from the Zantac, but it just made him (and us) miserable. Copious amounts of vomit=copious amounts of laundry. We started him back on the Zantac again, and the reflux has abated. Our pediatrician said that most babies outgrow reflux at six months of age...I really hope that is the case for Ethan.

Everyday life with both kids has been stressful. Ethan nurses on demand, which keeps me tied up a lot during the day. Then I feel bad, because I can't give the toddler the attention he seems to need. And it doesn't help that it's been a cold winter here in the Midwest...so socializing the toddler has been difficult at best. Sometimes we can make story times, but we went several weeks without venturing out much...which made me feel so stressed. Things just always seemed to come up...one week we had to wean him from pull-ups, one week he was sick, the next week it snowed, the next was Christmas...craziness. The fact that he should be in preschool stresses me even more, because I want him to socialize. I will have to look into a mother's day out. Or do play dates somehow. My mom has been a lifesaver. She comes over several times a week to play with the toddler and help out. I don't know if it's typical, but I just feel so isolated while the hubby is at work. Like I said, the fact that it's cold out and we can't get out a lot because of the weather doesn't help issues either. If anyone has any recommendations for ways to further socialize a toddler, please TELL ME! =-) Money is tight here, which also hasn't helped. No freelancing=tight pockets. So, yeah, like a lot of people now, money is an issue. If it wasn't, I'd probably be doing gymboree type classes. Or kindermusik. So low-cost socializing tips are helpful. Ass-vice or advice, I don't care which...just send me suggestions!!!!=-)

30 things

2008-11-01T23:28:00.001-05:00

On September 24, I turned 30. And, ummm, I was induced. I know that I'm a month late in updating...so, for that, I'm sorry. As I am sleep-deprived and in need of some serious down-time, I'm going to give you the story in numbers.

1. On September 20, I experienced false labor. At 2 a.m. My parents were called. They politely stayed until 4 a.m., at which time I realized I wasn't really in labor.

2. September 22 was my last ultrasound. Baby brother was measuring 8 lbs 10 oz. McDreamy said that he would see me again on the 24th for my induction...unless I delivered earlier. Yeah. Or not.

3. Monday and Tuesday (the 22nd and 23rd) were spent horizontal in bed with my mom watching the toddler. My husband was out of town until the eve of the 23rd, so I was desperate to keep baby brother in the ute.

4. At 8 a.m. on the 24th, the hospital called to tell me to get my rear to L&D, as they had beds open. I wasn't expecting this call until much later. So much for a lazy b-day. I called my mom and dad and told them to get here asap.

5. At 9 a.m., my parents still hadn't arrived. Even though they only live 20 minutes away.

6. At 9:30 or 10ish, the parents FINALLY arrived. I had the hubby call them to check their status, and we discovered my mom stopped for donuts. Ummm. Yeah. Can we prioritize a bit?

7. At a little past 10, we arrived at L & D and snagged the last bed. Good fortune? Yes, I think so.

8. After taking all my info, I was given an IV and paperwork to fill out for cord blood donation. The nurse checks my cervix, and I am hanging out at 4 cm. Guess all those contractions paid off.

9. At 11:15 a.m., my bloodstream is introduced to a hateful drug called Pitocin.

10. I contract. And contract. And contract some more.

11. At around 1230 or 1 p.m., McDreamy orders for my water to be broken. I freak out, because I know EXACTLY what that's going to do to my contractions. And so did McDreamy.

12. I CONTRACT!!!!! And begin to really lose my patience with my husband.

13. Then I beg for the epidural. The nurse asks me if I want her to check my cervix. At first, I tell her yes. Then, as she's about to insert her hand to check, I tell her not to. Hard contractions and a hand on my cervix is not a good combination for pain.

14. The nurses call anesthesia for my epidural. I wait.

15. The saints arrive and put a large needle into my spine. I wince. But the result was SO WORTH IT! Epidurals are truly gifts of modern medicine.

16. After a few minutes pain-free, I let the nurse check my cervix. I'm now hanging out at 7.

17. About 45 minutes after the cervix check, I realize that I'm feeling an awful lot of pressure. And I have to pee. The nurse says that she wants to check my cervix again, as catheterizing me could cause the baby to move down faster...and speed up delivery. Not a bad thing, but McDreamy was not yet at the hospital...soooo...she said that if I was close to 10, we should call McDreamy about the catheter. Just in case.

18. I am at 9. No catheter for me. Instead, the nurse calls McDreamy to tell him to get his rear to the hospital.

19. McDreamy arrives. I'm at 10. And pushing.

20. I really cannot remember how long I pushed. But McDreamy informs me that the baby's heart-rate is dipping, so he needs to speed things up. Out comes the vacuum.

21. I push some more. The nurses put an oxygen mask on my face, which really freaks me out. McDreamy announces that the baby's head is almost out.

22. I feel the weird sensation, the indescribable sensation, of my baby's head exiting my body.

23. At 4:49 p.m., Ethan is born. He is huge. He is beautiful. And he has a great set of lungs!

24. My husband and the nurse take Ethan to the scale to check his weight. We realize that the ultrasound was about a pound off in estimation. Ethan weighs in at a hefty 9 lbs 9 oz.

25. McDreamy tells me that I had a 2nd degree tear. Not bad for such a big guy. I also lost more blood than normal. So they keep an IV in my arm...just in case I need more drugs to help contract the ute. I nurse Ethan for the first time. However, I fail to listen to the nurse as she tells me to "bring the baby to the breast, don't bring the breast to the baby." I later develop horribly cracked nipples, as Ethan's latch was off. I breastfed the toddler for a year, so how I could forget such basic advice on latching, I cannot even understand.

26. The toddler and the grandparents come in to see me and the baby. The toddler is a bit weary.

27. I'm taken to my room, whereupon I forget that I have very little feeling in my legs from the epidural. I try to get out of the wheelchair without help, and then I dislocate me knee...my knees are prone to dislocation, but this was SO not the time for it to happen.

28. I order dinner and try to keep the epidural shakes at bay. I also fail to request ice for my knee, which haunts me later in my postpartum recovery. Take note, knees need ice. They also need exercise. If you lay immobile, they hurt more. And they don't heal. And they swell. A LOT.

29. Ethan is brought to me. He is 21 inches long (as noted in the nursery) and has dark blonde hair. He has the same big cheeks as the toddler did at birth, and a tiny, perfect mouth.

30. I notice the mural on the wall of my room, which reads: "Miracles. Believe in them." And I can't help but think that I was given the greatest 30th birthday present ever: a living miracle.

Stripped

2008-09-20T15:02:00.002-05:00

Any day now. Any. Day. Now.

My 38-week appointment with McDreamy was on Thursday. I'm up 26 pounds total. And I am extremely uncomfortable. Since I've been having contractions on and off for about two weeks now, my mother has been helping me out during the day with the toddler. Lifting him and pushing myself too much just aggravates my already irritable uterus. So when the Thursday appointment rolled around, I pledged not to leave the office without someone's hand up my cervix. McDreamy did the dirty work.

The cervix is moving along. Madame cervix is 2 cm dilated and 75 percent effaced. And McDreamy did me the most unpleasant favor of stripping my membranes, which has left me more uncomfortable now then ever. Contractions have been on and off for the past two nights, although I thought for sure that yesterday night would be the big trip to L & D. No such luck. In case you're curious, we're not talking nice run-of-the-mill Braxton Hicks. No, no. My contractions mean business. If only I could feel that friendly pop of my amniotic fluid, all would be good.

Since baby brother is assumed to be BIG, McDreamy scheduled for me to be induced on September 24th....which also happens to be my 30th birthday. If this weekend proves to be unproductive in the labor department, my 30th birthday will prove to be one interesting event.

I just hope that baby brother makes his debut before induction. A pitocin cocktail is not what I had in mind for the big 3-0.

37 weeks

2008-09-11T16:17:00.001-05:00

Sorry kids. My PC is majorly screwed up, so I am just now able to update on my hubby's work laptop. Windows sucks. That's all I'm saying.

I realized that, after having endured my 37-week check-up, I never updated on week 36. And oh what a time that was. The night before I officially hit 36 weeks, I was wakened by some major uterine quakes. Every four minutes. And they were bad enough that I had to wake the husband. But, as I'm now a pro at this labor thing (you know, because clearly having one baby makes one a "pro"...ha!), I knew that if I could fall back asleep during the contractions, then I wasn't in true labor. Thankfully, I was able to go back to sleep and the contractions did stop. My appointment with McDreamy was the next afternoon, whence I discovered that I was dilated a whole centimeter...but I was 50 percent effaced. So, yeah, a little cervical action going on.

Today's 37-week appointment was unfulfilling. My Group B Strep test came back negative. And the contractions are still keeping me up. Despite the lovely uterine activity, McDreamy still wants me to wait things out to see if I go into labor on my own (I did with the toddler...my water broke spontaneously 8 days before his due date). But he will induce me at 39 weeks, if I make it that far. So I do know that baby brother will be making his arrival within the next two weeks. I just really hope he shows up sooner. Like tomorrow. Here's hoping....

32 days to go...

2008-08-31T20:43:00.001-05:00

My due date is rapidly approaching, and 36 weeks (a.k.a. the day baby brother becomes term...as in "holy cow, I'm going to be TERM!") is coming up in a matter of days. And on the exact date that I hit 36 weeks, I shall be seeing McDreamy for yet another appointment...and this time my 'roid-inflicted vagina shall be swabbed for Group B Strep. Oh, yeah, I'm excited. What I'm really anticipating at that visit is a cervical check. If McDreamy thinks that I'm leaving his office without a hand up my cervix, he's going to be sadly disappointed.

I'm contracting every day. Every single freaking DAY. A few times a day. Not often enough or severely enough to pick up the damn phone and call McDreamy, but there is enough pain and discomfort to make sleep a difficult endeavor. The only thing I'm counting on is that my daily contractions are prepping my cervix for some delivery action. Because, really, I just want the pregnancy part to end so that the live infant part of the story begins. I don't like him baking in there...I don't like worrying about something going wrong at the end. And worry I do. Always.

And, yes, in case you're curious, the vag-roid continues to annoy. But I have found a lovely solution to pregnancy discomfort...and it lies in Edy's Vanilla Sandwich ice cream. Try it, if you dare...it's like eating mashed up ice-cream sandwiches.

This weekend my husband and I pulled out all old baby stuff. And I did more laundry than I ever thought possible. I'm not sure how many more outfits I'll need for baby brother, as the toddler was a summer baby, but I think we're good to go on the basics. Now we just need the baby....

I didn't even know there was such a thing

2008-08-27T00:26:00.000-05:00

How much fun was this past weekend, you ask? Well, you know, it was your usual fun weekend... tending to a very sick husband who was suffering from a nasty stomach virus all the while trying to simultaneously entertain a three-year-old. And, oh yeah, there was that fun trip to L & D....

It all started off so well. On Thursday night, we rented a movie, ate some popcorn. The hubby was complaining about not feeling too well, but we just brushed it off to poor sleep habits. I mean...he does have to share a bed with a really pregnant woman. On Friday, we knew all bets were off. He could barely function. And let us not mention the bowel issues. That evening, he was burning a nice fever and trying to stay hydrated. The poor toddler didn't know what to think, especially since I was keeping my poor husband quarantined...lest he infect a three-year-old. Recovery carried over into Saturday, but by Saturday evening, the husband was feeling a bit back to normal. The next day, he and our son were set to go to a baseball game. The kiddo couldn't wait.

While I wasn't thrilled to be left out of the boys' outing, I was starting to look forward to a little time to myself. I so rarely get any time off anymore...time to just veg out and do what I want to do. The idea of four hours alone started to look pretty nice. That is, until I decided to go to the bathroom. And wiped. And felt a really weird sensation in my netherwoods. A quick glance with a compact mirror revealed something protruding from my "birth canal." Something fleshy. Something that wasn't supposed to be there. And it looked an awful lot like cord. I called my husband in...he saw it too. Then I tailspinned into freak-out mode, called the exchange, and was ordered by the doctor on call to get to L & D for a check-up.

My dear husband cancelled his outing to the ball game, and packed up every toy he could think of to entertain the toddler. It was almost lunch time, so he also had to grab any snacks within reach. I didn't have any idea what we were in for...an emergency delivery was the absolute worst outcome. So we had to be prepared. On a positive note, L & D was not busy when we checked in...I was quickly shown to my room, and then the nurses proceeded to examine me. They quickly ruled out a cord issue, but they told me that they were unsure as to what they were looking at, but perhaps it was a vaginal cyst. A few minutes later, the resident came in to do a full pelvic exam. She immediately told me that my "vaginal protrusion" was absolutely benign and had nothing to do with the baby or the baby's health. Apparently, I was suffering from...a vaginal hemorrhoid. She had a fancier medical name for it, and it is my body's response to the pregnancy. Apparently, the vagina becomes more vascular as pregnancy progresses to prepare for the stretching of delivery, and my vagina just became a bit...overzealous. The growth is harmless, and, the resident assured me, could be pushed back in with a little KY. Uhhhh...yeah...yuck. Thanks for that.

Now this is where the L & D visit becomes interesting. You would think it would all end with the pelvic exam...but no. Because I was laying on my back for quite a bit during the exam, I started to become really light-headed and almost fainted. In response, the baby's heart-rate dipped. If there is anything they hate to see in L & D, it is a dip in fetal heart-rate. I was told to lay on my left side for an hour so they could monitor the baby. I wasn't really surprised, but I was a bit annoyed that I couldn't just make a quick exit. Especially since the toddler needed to play. So on my left I stayed. And then I felt some really uncomfortable tightening in my uterus. Turns out I was contracting. A lot. Not hard, but enough to warrant more attention. There was no way I was going to be discharged in an hour....

Since my contractions were regular, I was given an IV with fluids and monitored for yet another hour. Thankfully, the contractions subsided. And I was, finally, after about 4 hours in L & D, released for home. With strict instructions to stay on pelvic rest...i.e. no sex for me.

The toddler and my husband never made it to the baseball game. But we did watch it on t.v. And our home team won.

And, in case you're wondering, my "vag-roid" (as my husband has so dubbed it) is doing much better.

Since I am full of exciting news today, I feel I should also share that I am carrying a term infant at 34.5 weeks. My ultrasound yesterday revealed that baby brother is now in the 90th percentile for growth and weighs in at a hefty 7 lbs 3 oz. And I still have five weeks to go. McDreamy has ordered yet another growth ultrasound at 38.5 weeks. I really hope I don't make it that long. My vagina can't handle a 10-pounder.

Numbers 1 and 2...potty-training, I hate you!

2008-08-19T23:52:00.000-05:00

Oh cute little tiger, how you mock me! Only Japan could make potty-training look so sweet. Missing from this photo are about five peed-out pull-ups, two pairs of soaked big boy underwear, a urine-soaked play mat, two soiled diapers and one very frustrated and very pregnant mother who pretty much lost her sanity today. And, since were talking shit, today I felt like the ultimate shit mother.

Everyone has given me advice. "Make him lead, you're not the one being potty-trained" and "don't use pull-ups, they're a waste of money." I've also been told that cotton training pants are the only way to go as "he'll feel it when he's wet." Well let me just say that the kiddo has no trouble telling me he's wet. Even in pull-ups. "Mommy," I hear him yelling from his room, "I did pee pee." And then he proceeds to take off whatever soaked garment he happens to be wearing...including the pull-ups. The only time I've had a lot of success (and few soaked pants, pull-ups or big boy) is when I ask him...and keep asking him...if he has to pee. Or I say "you can't watch ___ or play ____ until you try to go pee pee." And then he goes. But according to all sources this is wrong. I shouldn't be leading. I shouldn't be forcing. Teachers don't have time to do what I'm doing...and he can't start preschool this Fall until he is fully potty-trained (and by fully, they mean that he has had a week of no #2 in his pants...and minimal pee-outs). So. Yeah. The kiddo is supposed to start school after the holiday, and I've already told them that I'm delaying his attendance.

I know that potty-training a boy is tough. But I feel bad, because I am just at my wits end. Today I was hungry and moody and he decided that he was going to run into my closet nude and hide from me. I had to literally pull him out...through clothes...and then I felt awful afterwards, even though I know I didn't hurt him...I just felt...like I should have had more patience. And time-outs are starting to get to me too. He won't sit down for me. My husband has no problems. With me, he laughs and hits...and then I yell at him for hitting me during time-out and feel like I'm yelling too much, too loud, blah blah blah. And then he finds it all the more amusing, and I end up having to hold him down in his seat arms wrapped around him just to make him stay in time-out. He's not a bad kid, and I really don't have to do many time outs a day (maybe one or two at most), but for some reason, he has decided that I'm the easy target. I'm really not sure if all of this is just his reaction to pregnancy and baby brother or what.

I know all this will pass. I know it. But days like this make me want to smack any woman, or man, who claims that being a stay-at-home mom isn't a job. I don't ever remember exuding this much brain power, muscle power or emotional endurance in my career in PR and advertising. Ever. EVER!!!

Jelly Belly

2008-08-18T18:21:00.003-05:00

Still in the midst of potty-training, which has kept me preoccupied most of the time. Some days, it feels like I'm the one being potty-trained. I can't tell you how many times I am asking "do you need to go pee pee?" And we've gone through so many Jelly Belly jelly beans that I've lost track. Jelly Bellies are our reward system. The kiddo gets 1 for pee and two for poop. Today was the first day that the two-bean reward was given. From what I've heard, boys tend to have an aversion to having a bowel movement on the potty.

Realized I forgot to post the news on my 32-week appointment with McDreamy. Yeah. That would be important, as I'm about to have my 34-week appointment on Thursday and another ultrasound next Monday to check growth. Baby brother is still doing well. I'm up about 21 pounds, and my uterus is measuring three weeks ahead at 35 weeks (as of 32 weeks). I cannot sleep well at all and have pretty much kicked the body pillow out of my bed. It was just making me sleep worse, which was odd as it was the only thing that helped me sleep when I was pregnant with the toddler. But, yeah, sleep is bad. And my bladder is worse. I feel like I pee every five minutes. Some days, I actually do. Especially if the baby kicks me in the bladder. And, in case you're curious, baby brother is still nameless. So if you have any suggestions, feel free to share.

3/4 of the way there, baby!

2008-07-28T20:52:00.000-05:00

My 30-week appointment with McDreamy was last Thursday, the 24th. All is well, although I'm still not uncrossing my fingers. Weight gain was minimal--less than 1/2 a pound--in two weeks. I think I'm up to a total weight gain of around 19 pounds as of today--I go up and down, so it's hard to tell, especially if the toddler gives me a good workout.

Speaking of the toddler, we're in the midst of serious potty-training. We've actually been working on it since he was around two-and-a-half, but it's been really touch and go. Today, though, I really decided to make some changes...especially since our old "routine" wasn't working. He was beginning to tell me that he wanted to wear diapers instead of going on the potty. Since he just turned three, and since he HAS to be potty-trained to begin preschool in the Fall, I had to figure out how the potty suddenly became public enemy number one. I was able to get him on his potty seat (he has one that fits on our toilet), and then I realized the big problem...and what has probably been hindering us all along: the potty-seat sucked! There is really no way for him to get up on the potty by himself, even with his stool, because the seat adapter was so awkward that even I hated having to adjust him on it. My mother-in-law kept telling me that the adapter was the easiest way to go--cleaner, blah, blah, blah. So I just kept using it. Even though, at almost 31-weeks gestation, it was getting harder and harder for me to hoist the kid onto the toilet. But today I had had enough. So we went to Wal-Mart and picked out this potty chair.

The difference has been incredible. Once I put the potty together, the toddler pulled his pants down, sat on the potty and went pee. All by himself. And he was so happy! I didn't have a wet pair of Pull-Ups the whole night. The only problem has been that he doesn't want to stop sitting on the potty. I kept catching him pulling off his pants and sitting on the potty just for fun, which was, on all accounts, a good problem to have. I really hope his enthusiasm continues. But if it doesn't, I know he will get there eventually. They all do.

Now in 3-D

2008-07-21T21:09:00.000-05:00

Baby brother, as we affectionately call him around here, is doing well. I had an appointment with McDreamy at 28 weeks, and an ultrasound at 28 w 1 d. My weight is up 18 pounds, so not too bad. I passed the glucose test by a fairly large margin...my level was 85, and they like to see anything under 130. The ultrasound did show that baby brother is measuring more than 2 weeks ahead. His weight at 28 weeks was 3 pounds 7 ounces, which is the 78th percentile. McDreamy has ordered another scan at 34 weeks to "check growth." We predict the kiddo is going to be Big. His older brother was 8 lbs 6 oz, so the size issue doesn't really shock me. He is kicking up a storm, very much like his brother did three years ago. I get to visit with McDreamy again this Thursday, when I will be 30 weeks. I cannot believe that I have only 10 weeks to go...and probably less than that (hopefully). Big brother was 8 days early, so I really hope baby brother follows his lead!

Belated

2008-07-02T21:18:00.000-05:00

As I'm nearing my 28-week appointment and the lovely gestation diabetes screening test, I felt that it would only be proper to update on the 25-week visit and ultrasound.

All is still checking out. Baby is now breach, but so was the toddler at that point...so no worries. At 24 weeks, baby brother weighed 1 lb 12 oz, so a bit ahead of the growth curve. My weight gain was around 14.5 pounds at 25 weeks, and I'm really trying to stay away from my late-night weakness...M&Ms peanut. I did have a mild scare in the form of a breast lump, but the nurse practitioner checked things out and said it just felt like normal changes. She did tell me to keep an eye on it, and let her or McDreamy know if anything changed (bigger, firmer, etc). I check it compulsively and have not seen any odd things with it...although, I plan to keep checking. My mom has fibrocystic breast disease and has had a few benign lumps removed, and my sister also has had similar issues, so I am not one to forgo the monthly BSE. Any lump freaks me out, though.

My next appointment (28 weeks) is next Thursday, when I shall swallow a nice cold bottle of orange glucose. Yum!

The scar's a souvenir I'll never lose...the past is never far

2008-06-09T21:00:00.004-05:00

I didn't really realize that it has been almost a month since my last post. My mind has been busily writing entries to post, and yet, nothing. The entries that I needed to write, should have written, went unpublished.

The past three weeks have been...well...drenched in memories. Some good. Most bad. On May 24, my husband, the toddler and I were in Georgia celebrating my husband's grandfather's 80th b-day. May 24th was the day that we discovered Arella would not live. It was the one-year anniversary of that dreadful ultrasound. I thought I would be ok. I was handling it well. Until the car ride over to the party. I just flipped out. Sobbed so hard I almost hyperventilated. There was a pool at the clubhouse where the party was being held, and all I could think about was my toddler falling into that pool. All I could think about was another loss on that horrible day. And the day wasn't without a scare. When we took pictures, someone made a comment as to my son's whereabouts. My husband had been holding him. I looked around and flipped out. He was gone. Thank God that pool had a keypad. And thank goodness for the elderly guest at that party who was with him all along. Little did my paranoid self know, but my husband had seen him go back into the club house...my husband had only lost sight of him for a second when he went looking for him. The kiddo was looking at a car near the front of the club and a guest followed him to make sure he was safe. My husband felt awful. I almost became physically ill with panic. I told my husband to watch him like a hawk, and then I went to the side of the clubhouse and just sobbed. For that ultrasound, and for every failure I have ever made as a mother. It was not the way that I wanted that day to go.

The weeks that followed were just constant reminders of the weeks leading up to last year's termination. Each day seemed to serve as its own marker. Each moment led up to the last. June 6th marked the year anniversary of Arella's death. June 7th was her birth date. In so many ways, I cannot believe that it has been a year. The moments of those days are seared into my mind. And those needle marks are still tattooed on my stomach. Another baby, another pregnancy, and the scars are still there.

Comprehending

2008-05-13T14:30:00.005-05:00

My comprehensive ultrasound was last Friday (May 9th) with Dr. Cupcake, as she and McDreamy switched their times once again at the perinatal center. After hyperventilating a few times while the ultrasound tech spent a little too much time focusing on my child's head (never a good thing), we found out that all is ... normal. All systems are a go. Heart works. Two kidneys are present. And, most importantly, we saw a fully-formed brain. Heart rate was 147. And, oh yeah, the baby still has a penis.

The shock

2008-04-28T21:15:00.000-05:00

My AFP results came in today. Normal. This baby seems to be out of the woods for spina bifida. Since the last two pregnancies taught me to expect the worst, I'm shocked. Normal doesn't seem to be normal to me. I'm used to tears or some sort of horrific discovery. My family still doesn't know that I'm pregnant because of that lingering fear that something might go amiss. I'm really surprised that no one is on to me yet...I think there's only so long that baggy maternity shirts can hide the goods. My mom is going to be pissed at me when she does finally get in on the news. And I'm absolutely dreading that comprehensive ultrasound on the 9th.

17 weeks

2008-04-24T13:52:00.000-05:00

My trip to see McDreamy began with a fender bender in the rain. Before you ask, the hubby was only going about 3 miles an hour, so no one was hurt. Our minivan suffered only a few nicks, and the truck we hit didn't have any damage. It could have been worse. And had it been worse, we were literally right at the turning lane to go into the hospital. This was the first accident with the kiddo in the car, and I am so very glad that it was only just a minor fender bender.

The minor accident did cause some tardiness to see the lovely McDreamy, who was waiting for me. Literally...waiting for me. He had a faculty meeting to attend, so he was trying to breeze through his patient list. I don't remember ever getting in to see him so quickly. The appointment was pretty routine and happily boring. Blood was drawn to check AFP levels. The baby's heartbeat clocked in at 150, and my weight gain was right on the mark at four pounds. Although, I suspect that the weight should have been less as I didn't have time to use the facilities. By my scale, I have gained a total of 6.5 pounds. By McDreamy's scale, I'm up 7. With the toddler, I had gained 7 at this point...so whatever. I'll just keep on keeping on.

My next ultrasound is on May 9. This would be the big anatomy scan.

I'm really hoping that it becomes a seller's market

2008-04-21T21:11:00.003-05:00

My house has never been so clean. The place is officially on the market. Finally. The husband and I had planned for the 'big sale' since I was pregnant with the toddler. You know...THREE YEARS AGO! I'm relieved that we're finally doing it, but I'm also exhausted from the constant cleaning. I am cleaning all the time. Mopping, dusting...swiping the tops of vanities. The list feels never-ending. And it's even harder when you're pushing 17 weeks. Not that 17 weeks is huge...I mean, I know what HUGE feels like. But pregnancy does make the whole home sale prep a bit more challenging.

As for the pregnancy, I've had to really watch my activity levels. I've been having lots of muscle cramps, which seem to be caused by both my rampant cleaning (OCD cleaning, that is) and picking up a 34-pound kiddo. My weight gain is about where it should be...and I'm counting only the pounds that show up in the a.m., before breakfast. Still, though, even at my heaviest (post-dinner) bulge, I'm not freaking. I've lost a few pounds here and there, and then gained them back after a packed weekend of eating out. I'm just trying to be healthy...although, I do obsess about my weight during pregnancy. A LOT. My next appointment is this Thursday, at which point I will be doing the lovely blood draw to measure AFP levels to assess the baby's risk for spina bifida. The next ultrasound is May 9.

I'll spare you all the details of the bladder infection that wouldn't die...except to say that it finally died. Finally. And my lovely medical bills are coming in. Love the medical bills. Or not. I am very thankful, though, that I have insurance. Fairly good insurance. But my deductible still sucks...as meeting any deductible does.

I also need to scribe an entry summing up all those mixed feelings that I've been having as my pregnancy begins to creep past the point where Arella's ended. It's weird the things you remember. And the markers in my mind only serve to enhance the melancholy musings.

And how have you been?

2008-04-09T23:25:00.002-05:00

I'm a horrible, horrible blogger. But I have an excuse...well...this week at least. The hubby took a week off, and the past five days have been spent pulling all of our furniture into random rooms in preparation for new carpet. The new stuff looks great and smells even better. We also painted and put lots and lots of random useless junk into storage. Our home is going on the market on Tuesday. Unfortunately, my laundry list of prep work is still very long.

In baby news...I'm now 14 w 6 d and feeling movement! Lots and lots of movement. For me, feeling movement is always a reassuring moment in pregnancy. I like having that physical reminder that there is an actual baby residing in my uterus. While movement eases my anxieties a bit, I'm still stressing about that 18-week anatomy scan. I think my husband is trying to ban me from google. I must stop researching fetal heart conditions and anything else that might cause me incessant worry.

I really need to get out my bin of maternity clothes, because, really, the belly is a-popping and my skinny jeans are beginning to expose a muffin top. Can I tell you how I don't want to get out the maternity clothes? Bad reminders, people. Very bad reminders. The last time I unpacked those clothes I was about 14 weeks with Arella. Feeling right as rain. Packing those clothes away a few weeks later was tough. And a few of those damn outfits just remind me of the termination. There is the orange sundress I wore to my consultation with Dr. Weddington. The pink t-shirt I wore in my only (and now lost) belly shot pic...the forced smile on my face trying to hide my complete sadness. Then there was the oxford shirt I vomited on in the ER when I spiked a massive temp from a uterine infection after the termination. Oh, yes. Fun memories. Fun, fun memories. What sucks is that those were the same clothes I wore with the toddler...happy memories. The Weddington sundress was the dress I wore to Mass two days before I went into labor with the toddler. And the oxford shirt that I puked on with the termination was a favorite of mine during the toddler pregnancy. I wish I could just put the sad memories out of my mind and just focus on the happiness that those clothes gave me. Ah, the yin and yang of life.

The next few weeks are going to be tough. Reminders are around the corner...15 w 2 d (which I shall be on Saturday) is the point in pregnancy when I found out Arella's diagnosis. So Saturday, in a way, is going to be a bit of a marker for me. Not an anniversary, just a day for emotional pause. On May 24, we're going to celebrate my husband's grandfather's 80th birthday...and, in my own mind, I'll remember the year-anniversary of that life-changing ultrasound. I can't believe that next month will mark a year since the diagnosis.

In case you want to see the evidence...

2008-03-31T14:30:00.001-05:00

The big one

2008-03-29T12:38:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was the "big" ultrasound. Of course, the baby's head looks fine. No anencephaly. Spine looks good so far, although it's a little early to tell for sure if the baby has spina bifida. Baby is measuring 14 w 2 d at 13w 1 d...so great growth. Heart rate was 157. The nuchal fold was measured, and it was within normal range. I opted not to do the first trimester blood work.

The big shocker came when the tech asked us if we wanted to know the gender. I didn't think gender was distinguishable that early, but we decided to take a look for fun. Turns out, gender was pretty obvious. We're having a boy. McDreamy confirmed the gender, and said he was 80 percent sure. So...I suppose it's going to be a blue nursery. Now the husband and I get to fight about names for the next six months.

My next ultrasound is going to be at 18 weeks. I'm still sort of nervous about things that could go wrong...but I don't think I'm ever going to stop worrying.

A little scare

2008-03-27T18:21:00.003-05:00

Today was my 13-week appointment. My weight is up 3 pounds, which I think is still normal. With the toddler, I gained 2...although the doctor's scale only said I gained one pound (the first time I weighed in with the kiddo, I didn't think to wear lighter clothes...so I weighed about 3 pounds over my normal weight). And, as expected, the MA pulled out the Doppler to check for the baby's hearbeat. Then I waited...scared out of my mind. She pushed it around...nothing. I waited some more, building up for the worst. And she still could only find the placental blood flow. I told my husband to leave the room with the toddler. In came the ultrasound machine.

My mother-in-law (aka McDreamy's nurse) closed the door to the room and said to me, "Let me try to find it. This MA isn't real good at the Doppler." Onto my abdomen went the gel. And then she searched. She found my heartbeat...racing at 100 beats a minute. And then....

"Do you hear that?" And I did. The heartbeat was 165 beats per minute.

When McDreamy came in, he decided to do a quick peek at the baby. What he found was nothing less than complete relief. The skull, he said, was perfect. Even with the low-tech in-office ultrasound machine, he could say with certainty that anencephaly was no longer a concern.

More measurements will be taken tomorrow at the perinatal center. In the meantime, I plan to exhale, at least for the moment, and be thankful that last May is not now.

Things that have kept me busy during "The Big Wait"

2008-03-24T15:01:00.000-05:00

Oh was this past week ever fun! I don't think I ever shared my blood work results with all of you yet...the results being from the five-vial pregnancy panel. It seems that while my blood is all good (no herpes for me!), my urine was...a bit...tainted. No, no, no, I wasn't on some crazy drug binge a la many pregnant celebs. My tainted urine showed a bladder infection. A very bad bladder infection. And here I thought all my peeing was just due to the pregnancy.

Since I am extremely allergic to penicillin, McDreamy could not seem to find a suitably strong medication to wipe out the lovely bacteria. So I was given the only drug that could work--Macrodantin. And, um, it didn't work. Because it seems the Macro isn't too strong. So the infection came back last week. Complete with back pain and crampy ickiness. Oh, it was so much fun.

Now remember if you will that McDreamy was off on vacation last week. Which means that one of his partners had to deal with my bladder issues. Currently I am on 500 mgs of Cephalexin (aka Keflex) four times a day. Now does anyone know what happens when you take 500 mgs of Keflex four times a day? Anyone? Anyone? It not only kills the bad bacteria that causes the infection, but it also kills the good bacteria. And when the good bacteria dies, yeast begins to grow very, very quickly. Yes, currently I am suffering from a yeast infection. Isn't that great to know? Aren't you thrilled that I shared!?!

Besides the fact that I hate having to shove copious amounts of Monistat up my itchy vagina, yeast infections also give me pause for other medical reasons. Say, the fact that I'm overdue for my pap. Guess what was supposed to happen at my next OB appointment on Thursday? Yes, I was supposed to have a pap. And now I cannot, because copious amounts of Monistat will screw up the results. So no pap for me.

I'm counting the days until my next appointment on Thursday. I can hardly wait to step on that scale. I think I'm up 2.5 pounds. I shouldn't complain, but I hate stepping on that office scale. I always feel like a cow. I did discover during my pregnancy with the toddler that you weigh less if you wear a dress or a skirt to appointments. I also discovered that I should never, ever wear jeans with a sweater.

It's all in the details

2008-03-17T15:08:00.000-05:00

There is absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing, new to report. Oh wait. Yes...there was that conversation that I had with McDreamy last Wednesday, mere days before he fled off to some wonderful locale on Spring Break with the fam. Oh, yes. The McDreamy conversation is worth sharing.

Let's rewind the blog back to my 10-week ultrasound. The one in which McDreamy was supposed to be present. And the one where the nuchal fold was to be measured. Instead of answers, I instead received a blase response from McDreamy's partner, Dr. Cupcake, that anencephaly cannot be diagnosed with certainty until 13 weeks. And, oops, no one measured the nuchal. Yes, that ultrasound.

So McDreamy phoned me via his personal cell last Wednesday to discuss the 10-week ultrasound and my intentions for first-trimester screening. It was a fun conversation. Fun in that he told me what I already knew. Had he scanned me that day, he could have, and would have, been able to rule out anencephaly. Yes, the man is that good people. And, oops, yes the nuchal should have been measured. But, unfortunately, he had to switch his time at the perinatal center from afternoons to mornings, which is why he was not present for my ultrasound. And, oops, no one communicated the nuchal measurement instructions to Cupcake. Since my mother-in-law (aka McDreamy's nurse, aka my in-office liaison) was in Florida, no one thought to call me to tell me that McDreamy had switched his times at the perinatal center. So, all in all, it was just one big screw-up. And now I'm left to wait for my 13-week ultrasound (next Friday) to find out if this baby is ok. Yeah, love it. But...

There is light at the end of this sordid tunnel. McDreamy did say that from the pictures Cupcake printed at the 10-week, the baby looked normal. Although, he did think that Arella looked normal at 10-weeks from the print-outs. So who really knows.

Here's to another 11 days of wait-and-see.

The good and the frustrating

2008-03-07T16:41:00.002-06:00

Good news to report. The baby has a calvarium (med speak for a skull). Heart rate was 167, and he or she is measuring five days ahead. Movement was good.

While the news was good it was not completely definitive. The frustrating half of the situation is that, despite the presence of the calvarium, we cannot completely rule out anencephaly at 10 weeks. So one more ultrasound has been ordered at 13 weeks. My peri is on vacation during my 12th week of pregnancy, otherwise we would have scheduled the ultrasound at that point (since anencephaly can be completely ruled out at 12 weeks).

To add to my frustration with the waffle that was my 10-week ultrasound, McDreamy was not at the perinatal center today...and he was scheduled to be. His partner, Dr. Cupcake, did the work-up. I also don't think Cupcake looked at nuchal fold translucency, which McDreamy had planned to view today.

So...on one hand, hurrah for the momentarily good news...but Grrr! to the lack of the definitive that was today's ultrasound.

Searching for serenity

2008-03-05T15:00:00.003-06:00

I have a little more than 48 hours until my next ultrasound. The BIG ultrasound. The one that will either break my heart or ease my mind. Flashbacks of May 24th are haunting me. The abortion has haunted me. And more than ever, I am plagued with the worry of "what the hell do I do if it happens again?!?" I don't know how to answer that question. But I don't think that I can go through another termination again. Complications aside, it was just too awful. I don't think I have the heart or the courage to face that needle full of digoxin again.

My husband has told me that if this pregnancy fails, then he wants to stop trying. For a while, at least. A part of me hated him immensely for making this decision. And the other part of me understood completely. If this pregnancy does indeed go south, I don't know that I have the endurance to do it all again. Especially if this baby also is diagnosed with anencephaly.

So everything is riding on March 7. The wait is killing me. And, yet, I never want that day to come. So:

"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next."
-The Serenity Prayer

The big leap

2008-02-29T16:17:00.001-06:00

I think I'm still pregnant. Hope so anyway...if the bouts of nausea are any indication. And the growing belly. No one has been told any good news yet. Nobody will be told any good news until there is some to actually tell.

Speaking of the 10-week scan, I am dreadfully scared. I have been since the 8-week check-up and ultrasound. Sadly, I know there is nothing I can do to prepare myself for horrible news. Heaven knows I've tried. Twice. Something different always comes up, takes you off guard.

My past two pregnancies before this always seemed to go pear-shaped right after I made the big announcement to family and friends. I always thought I was out of the danger-zone. And, surprise, I never was. This time, this pregnancy, I'm not going to take that leap. I'm not telling. I like to think that people are perceptive. And by 20 weeks, they'll either think I'm doing a LOT of stress-eating...or they will realize that I am, indeed, with child. But that's their call to make. I shall neither confirm nor deny anything. Until, of course, the child makes his or her entry into the world.

Spot on

2008-02-22T16:21:00.000-06:00

The ultrasound on Thursday was reassuring. The baby measured 8w0d at 8w0d and was moving for us. Heartrate was fast, although the poor quality ultrasound machine in McDreamy's office couldn't pull numbers for us. Our next scan is on March 7 at the super-swanky (and technologically-advanced) perinatal center. At that time, I will be a little more than 10 weeks. McDreamy said we will be able to rule out anencephaly at that time. Two more weeks of worries. Hurrah!

A mixed bag

2008-02-19T15:48:00.000-06:00

Signs that things might be ok...

Bloated belly causes size 6 jeans to migrate down to my pelvic bone after a meal.
Nausea keeps me from making chicken nuggets for the toddler.
Insane craving for protein almost forces me to send husband to McDonald's at 10:30 p.m.
Love for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cannot be satiated.
A big glass of milk must proceed breakfast.
Naptime has become more for me than for the toddler.

And yet...
I am still freaking out and analyzing my belly all day. I still fear it isn't big enough. And I am dreading, dreading the 8-week check-up on Thursday. I don't want bad news. Especially since the hubby said that if we lose another one, we might be taking a bit of a break. Not the thing to say to your hormonal wife. Not the right thing, at all.

Control freak

2008-02-16T23:01:00.000-06:00

Wow. I was one deranged lunatic today. Absolute psychotic episode. And I hope, I really hope, it can be attributed to increasing hormones rather than...a dead baby that is causing my hormone levels to drop.

Dead baby thoughts were abound. And I was bawling my eyes out. All day. And freaking the hell out. All day. I was looking at my abdomen, feeling it, analyzing it for any little sign of a baby bump. You see, a few days ago, after eating, I noticed that my belly was becoming rock hard. To me, this was a great sign. The pregnancy was obviously progressing, and any sign that points to good progress makes a former infertile happy. Yesterday, I felt for the hard abdomen and only found a normal flaccid tummy. This morning, after waking, I looked in the mirror...no bump. At least, nothing really noticeable. Then I freaked that I looked way too svelte for 7 weeks.

Unfortunately for me, this is my fourth pregnancy....which means that I have three others with which to compare and obsess. With the baby that was lost to miscarriage, my bump slowly faded to nothing...my tummy went from pregnant to svelte. And I lost all signs of pregnancy. I kind of ignored the warning signs, but I think that I knew that being 12 weeks without a bump was not a good sign. I was in denial, but I wasn't a complete idiot. The news came as no surprise. Now I'm analyzing all my symptoms and comparing them with my pregnancy with Arella and the baby that I lost late in the first trimester. I'm obsessing, and I cannot stop. Yes, I know I had a great ultrasound...but one good ultrasound doesn't always equal a good pregnancy. The baby that I lost measured a few days behind, but was still in normal range. The heartrate was good. Arella's was much better at 160 bpm. This baby's heartrate was 124...which, to me, seems low. Normal, yes. But I always want faster. The faster the better.

I just worry that something is amiss. That I should be more bloated. Sick every day. This is my fourth pregnancy, and I fear that I should be showing already. And I'm not. Beyond the evening bloat.

I hate dead baby thoughts. I hate that I'm doing everything right, and, yet, I know that genetically something could go amiss that could lead to miscarriage. I hate knowing that a good ultrasound in the beginning means shit until you cross that 12-week mark. I hate being so vulnerable. I hate not being in control. And, mostly, I hate that after two traumatic pregnancies, I am waiting for the shoe to drop yet again.

A belated update

2008-02-11T14:13:00.000-06:00

Ultrasound went well. Baby measured 6w3d...two days ahead. Heartbeat was 124. Next ultrasound is in four weeks. First appointment with McDreamy is on February 21.

Dental damn

2008-02-07T15:12:00.000-06:00

Nothing like two days of doctor appointments. This afternoon, I had my six month dental check-up. And, since my doctor tries to force x-rays upon me every six months instead of every year like my insurance likes, I had to confess that I was 6-weeks pregnant. As my poor pregnacy history might suggest, I am not keen on discussing pregnancy until it is absolutely necesary. While I was slightly tickled to be congratulated, I was equally horrified. Nothing like jinxing oneself the day before an ultrasound. I would really like to be optimistic about this one, but I am too scared to let myself become too attached. Although, I can guarantee that I am, indeed, attached. And if that shoe drops, I will be crushed. I know I can't protect myself, even though I try so hard to prepare for the worst.

So now I'm just going to have to try to bear the heavy weight of tomorrow's ultrasound. Less than 24 hours. And I'll know something. I just hope it's good.

Crazy, pregnant

2008-02-04T23:16:00.000-06:00

There's something about pregnancy that really messes with my mind...or, rather, my memory. I have the world's most annoyingly great memory. I don't remember names, I remember life stories. If I've met you for five minutes, and you told me anything about yourself, I could recite it back to you five years later. It's scary creepy. And, usually, I try to dumb it down so I don't freak people out.

When I'm pregnant, my memory shifts backwards into my past, and I remember the details with haunting accuracy. My memory tends to focus on certain events...usually something awkard or embarrasing. Something that I tried to push down. Childhood, teenage years. Anything awkward and angsty, I remember. And dwell. And dwell some more. The details that I remember are just bizarre. I can hear the voices like they were still in my ear. I don't know why, but these details, these sad memories, always come back to my mind when I'm pregnant. Maybe it's the maternal instinct saying: "hey, this is what sucked about your childhood...don't make the same mistake for your kid." My mother was incredibly smothering when I was a child. And I know that I fight against those impulses with my son. Or maybe my mind just likes to mess with me. Whatever the reason, I really wish I that I could just stop my brain from downloading such memories. I'd be much happier.

I also wish I had something to report on the pregnancy end of things, but I really don't. I'm nauseated off and on. Some days are really bad, some are ok. I'm finished with betas...thank goodnes. And I am anxiously awaiting my ultrasound on Friday. Hopefully, hopefully, things will be ok.

96 hours later

2008-01-30T13:57:00.000-06:00

This morning was hard. I was absolutely freaking out and desperate to find out my hcg numbers. To speed things up a bit, I emailed my mother-in-law (who also happens to be one of McDreamy's nurses) at 9 a.m. to see if she could send me something ASAP. And then I waited. And waited. Usually my mother-in-law is good about getting back to me with important numbers. When 11 a.m. rolled around with no word, I began to worry. This couldn't be good. She should have called me by now. I knew something was amiss. So I sent a text message to her cell. Twice. And then waited some more. A half-hour turned into infinity in my mind. I began to fret about low doubling rates and methotrexate-induced miscarriages.

And then the phone rang.

And my mother-in-law sounded surprisingly happy.

My hcg levels went from 534 to 5,260 in four days. A doubling time of about 29 hours.

Not bad. Not bad at all. I'm crossing every toe and every finger for the weeks to come. An ultrasound has been scheduled for February 8th...the day after my husband's birthday.

Like a pincushion

2008-01-28T15:33:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow I have another blood draw to make sure that my hcg is rising appropriately. I hate second blood draws. I always worry that my numbers won't double.

Did I mention that McDreamy didn't give me Prometrium? Sly one that I am, I found a way around the system. I had another refill left over from my last pregnancy, so I filled it...and now I'm taking 100 mgs a day just to ease my mind. I know the extra progesterone won't really hurt anything, and I've taken it with all my pregnancies...except the one that I miscarried. I always wondered if low levels of P4 were to blame. But I'm sure there was just some abnormality that I didn't know about. I just want to do everything in my power to keep this pregnancy healthy.

And remember that issue with my hospital? All cleared up. Their error (as if I didn't know), and no creditors will be calling me. So, yeah, I can sleep tonight without worrying about my hospital and their screwy billing system. And it is VERY screwy. I'm sending my February payment now...so it might be credited before the 15th. I probably still won't sleep tonight, though...all the worries about a second blood draw.

Venting

2008-01-27T13:00:00.000-06:00

On Friday I received a very nasty letter from my hospital. They stated that as they hadn't received my payment (I'm still making payments from last year's very expensive d&c), they would be sending my account to collection...if they didn't hear from me in 10 days from the date of the letter. That letter was dated January 17. I received it a week later. And my payment to the hospital cleared my bank on the 11th. I'm really really frustrated and freaked. Of course, I couldn't call them on Friday as their billing office closed at 4:30 p.m., moments before I checked the mail. And I couldn't access my account info via their phone system, which has me doubly freaked out that they referred my account out. And I'm not sure what happened. I have a cancelled check. So why it wasn't credited to my account is alluding me. I am just so stressed about this...I have NEVER been sent to a creditor in my life. And, obviously, I don't want to start now. I haven't been able to sleep for two nights because of my anxiety over this situation. I just want it straightened out. And I don't want to have the hospital pissed at me...especially since it is the best hospital in the city.

Grrr. This happens with them all the time. Not the creditor thing, but they ALWAYS post my payments like a week after they clear the bank. And it is really frustrating me to no end. Especially since I do pay on time. Wish me luck. My husband thinks that I'm overreacting.

The numbers

2008-01-26T18:24:00.001-06:00

15 dpo
hcg = 534
p4 = 27.4

A quick test

2008-01-23T13:57:00.000-06:00

13 dpo + high bbts + morning nausea = ?

Always assume that the following are true: the patient always presents an 11-12 day luteal phase and two days of low temperatures always proceed the patient's menses. Is the answer to the equation:

A. Not pregnant. The patient obviously ovulated later than suggested.
B. Not pregnant. Low progesterone is causing an extended luteal phase (note that this has happened to the patient in the past).
C. Pregnant.
D. None of the above.

Let the exam begin. But if you would like to cheat...highlight the text below this sentence.
The answer is C. A very positive C.

Impatience is a virtue

2008-01-22T15:01:00.000-06:00

I really, really, really want to test. But I really, really, really don't want to see one line. This is the longest I've held out...I think. I'm assuming I'm 12 dpo, but I can't be sure...which is why I don't want to buy and waste a test. I just don't feel like having a heart-crushing moment again. Not that seeing red blood flow will be any easier, because it won't...but, yeah, I just don't want to see one line. And I'm waffling about whether or not I will see only one line.

Things are weird with the body this month. I've had some PMS symptoms--emotional bursts, sore boobs, etc.--that make me think "one-line" thoughts. So I'm just not sure, and, as my Dollar Tree went belly up, I don't want to waste $$$ to see one line. I'm not in the mood to pee away the green today. My hope worries me though. I hate getting my hopes up every freaking month. It just sucks. Perhaps I'll just hold out until Thursday. If I don't see blood by Thursday morning, then I shall test. Maybe.

The tick tock of the clock

2008-01-21T13:42:00.001-06:00

Nothing major to report. My temps are ok. My period is due any day now. I haven't tested, and I don't think that I will test this month. I'm just going to wait it out.

I hate the two weeks before my period...or, rather, the 11-12 days before my period, as I have never had a 14-day luteal phase. At least my temps are normal this month. Hurray for some good news.

I'm also happy that I got out of a three-hour meeting tomorrow. No babysitter available...my mother has a doctor's appointment. So, yeah, no hour-long commute followed by hours of a dull meeting for me. Although I may still have to conference in on the meeting. Such is the life of freelance.

Then again...

2008-01-15T14:16:00.000-06:00

Maybe my body doesn't totally suck. With yesterday's low mid-day temp, I was a bit in the dumps. But today that p4 must have rallied, as my morning temp was a warm 98.3. Of course, I slept with lots of blankets, but whatever...my temps have been known to be thwarted by even the warmest of blankets. And, best of all, no low temps mid-day or otherwise. So. Yeah. Maybe this cycle is ok after all. Ok in that perhaps there is no luteal failure...please don't read "ok" to mean pregnant. Because I can assure you, the PMS is bad this month. Really bad. I just feel like I always need a kleenex. But I'm ok with PMS. I'm ok as long as I know that my body is not totally broken once again. So I'm going to sit back, chill out, eat some Ding Dongs (the chocolaty Hostess variety) and go with the flow...er, Flo.

And I shall be keeping my pink-tipped thermometer by my side at all times.

Thwarted yet again

2008-01-14T14:44:00.000-06:00

Oh how I love my wonky cycles. How I do love them. I'm guessing the o was day 15, or, in real-time, Thursday. My bbts were high since then. Except today. Oh, yes. Today, as I was sitting at my computer working, I decided that I really needed to temp. Just for giggles. And it was really low. How low, you ask? Try 97.0 low. And it's funny, because I was wearing a thick robe at the time. I have no idea what today's morning temp was, as some idiot called me and I jumped up before I could temp. But I am utterly confused and freaked out about what the hell is going on with my body. My lovely cervical mucus wasn't nearly as prominent in either this cycle or the last, which makes me think that I'm having some wonky ovulation/progesterone issues. I know when my body is working. For several months post-d&e, I knew that my ovaries were chugging along splendidly. Now, mind you, I wasn't getting pregnant, but I think that had more to do with poor timing than poor ovulation. Now it seems that thing aren't working quite as well as they should be. And maybe they never were...meaning maybe my bbt charts during those "good" months weren't as good as I thought they were. I mean, who the hell knows. There's only so much you can understand from temping.

My husband thinks that I'm stressing way too much about all of this. And perhaps he's right. All I know is that I am unable to relax during my cycles now. I just keep thinking how I'm going to fail yet again...and, at some point in every cycle (usually after ovulation or right before), I have a complete freak-out about Arella and the termination. I just cannot seem to let go. I can't seem to relax. And I just can't shake the feeling that I have something to prove to myself--that I can get pregnant naturally and have it turn out ok. And then I think about what an asshole I am, because I have a wonderful toddler who is perfect and wonderful...and I'm pissed off because I can't have another baby.

When I step back from my situation, I just see how stupid and selfish I have become. My need for perfection and my complete lack of patience have me so stressed out that I'm really just becoming bitter and over analytical for no reason. I don't know that I really have the right to call myself infertile yet...I don't know if five failed cycles really can be counted as infertility...especially when I have a husband who has to take business trips mid-cycle, which really limits our odds each month. Maybe I just need to take a break from it all. From the day I was released from the hospital after the termination, all I could think about was when I could begin trying again. I don't think I've really let myself heal...I just keep trying to band-aid the wound with promises of conception. And when a cycle fails, it just rips me apart all over again. It's time to take a step back and just...heal.

So enough of this infertility/low progesterone sad garble. On to something a bit more uplifting...like the toddler.

We're still battling issues with the big-boy bed. I've managed to ease the transition by bringing in a portable crib. My husband and I let him first try falling asleep in his big bed, and if he gets out of bed three times, we move him into the crib. We let him settle a bit before trying the bed again, and then repeat if necessary. What usually happens is that the kiddo falls asleep in the crib, and then we move him to the bed...where he stays and sleeps all night. So now the only hurdle is getting him to fall asleep initially in the bed. We know he wakes up at night and falls back asleep...so I know he can fall asleep in the bed on his own, but I think he is just too wound up at bed-time to settle. So the ability to get out of bed is really keeping him from settling. We face the same issues at nap time...it just seems to be a settling in situation. He just doesn't want to settle. His nap times have been really screwed up lately, and I tried putting him down a bit earlier today (2 p.m.), and he's still babbling in the crib. So I know he won't stay in the bed. I'm not real worried, and I know it's just going to take time for him to adjust. But if anyone has any suggestions...feel free to share.

The toddler also is obsessed with spelling and his ABCs and numbers. He knows his ABCs and can recite them almost completely from memory. He also knows how to count to 10...and knows how to say 11-20, but does not quite have the order down yet. We're also beginning to sit on the potty, although he hasn't actual done his business on the potty yet. At least he's showing interest, though. He's two-and-a-half now, which means that preschool is technically around the corner, but I think that my husband and I are going to wait until he's three-and-a-half to really start school routines. Maybe I'll do one day a week at three...I'll see how we all feel when it gets closer to registration time. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep on socializing him and having fun with him at home.

Spin doctor

2008-01-09T16:56:00.001-06:00

Day 14...aka the stereotypical date of ovulation for normal women. I, being not normal and having some seriously lazy ovaries, have not ovulated yet. At least, not that I can tell. Temp is unimpressive. But there is some spinn. Oh, yes, there is some spinn.

And guess who's out of town until the 'morrow? Story of my life. Hopefully, though, I'll be able to get a little crazy sexy cool before the egg pops. Wish me luck. Or baby dust me. Then again, please don't baby dust me. That term kind of makes me gag. And it makes me think of spirit fingers. You know...the ones cheerleaders have. The little waggly finger move that chearleaders do to show their pep and spirit. Yeah. Gag. Gag. Gag. Or, rather, "ohmigosh...gag me with a spoon!" If you were a cheerleader, I mean no malice. Really. My best friend was a cheerleader. But I have to admit that I myself was not a "hollaback girl." And this infertility shizzit...it's bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

Procrastination

2008-01-08T15:46:00.000-06:00

Remember those introductions that I should be writing for my client? Remember those? Yeah, I should be writing more of those now. The kiddo is napping. My mom is on her way at some point. And me? Well, I'm wasting time writing this and surfing the Internet. Bad me.

Today is day 13, and since yesterday I've been feeling bloated and uncomfortable. I'm not sure if that is because ovulation is impending or if something else is going on (I forever fret about my ovaries), or perhaps it is just something that is disagreeing with me. Whatever the case, ovulation is clearly around the corner. And I'm doing my best not to think too much about it. Yet, I'm constantly thinking about it. So there you have it.

I haven't heard from my friendly RE about those darn blood tests (estradiol, and later progesterone). Normally, I would call them and inquire. But a part of me is just kind of avoiding it all. I'm afraid I have a reproductive issue yet again...and I just don't want to deal with it. I just hate all of this. I hate the fact that I was able to get pregnant so easily. Twice. I mean, I could and would totally write it off had it happened one time. But TWICE? Clearly my ovaries and such do work well at least twice a year. And I'd really like to bank on them working again. Properly. And perhaps they might even be so kind as to give me a live baby this time. Oh, that would be lovely.

And, yes, I'm back to temping. Today was a low figure, which I knew it would be. Ovulation for me always seems to come after day 14...not usually before. So...I'm going to keep on keeping on, and see where the ball lands. It's interesting, though, how I seem to be avoiding the RE situation. I assumed that if I wasn't pregnant by January (and, uh, it's January), then I would go back to treatments. I don't know. I just don't think I'm ready and willing to go there yet. I know there will be a time, a month, where I will finally throw in the towel. But for now, I'd like to believe that sex might actually give me a baby.

Please welcome to the spotlight....

2008-01-06T15:30:00.000-06:00

So I have this big project for my former boss. I have to write introductions for award winners that will be recognized at an upcoming corporate-sponsored ceremony. I wrote five so far. I have lots more to go. I did this same project last year. It isn't difficult, just a bit tedious. And it takes a while to get the lingo down. These introductions mean a LOT to the winners, so I always write a few, step back and then write more. I just want to make these indivicuals sound as good as possible for their big moment up on the stage. Right now, as you can guess, I'm stepping back for a few hours. Or perhaps the day and night. My mom is coming over Monday-Wednesday to watch the kiddo so I can work...so I'm really not too worried about not having an adequate amount of time to write.

Yesterday brought on a bit of depression. Friday, January 4, marked one-year since finding out that my second pregnancy ended in miscarriage. A year ago yesterday, I was laying in the hospital getting ready for the D&C that ended the pregnancy completely. I left the hospital that night with nothing more than a little memorial pillow with moons and stars that now has the baby's first and only ultrasound tucked in the front pocket. I hate these little reminders. My husband is shocked that I could remember such dates. How could I forget? I really really hope that 2008 is a hell of a lot kinder than 2007.

On other, more reproductively fun news, today is day 11. And I'm loving every minute of it. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

Falling off the wagon

2008-01-03T14:49:00.000-06:00

According to my friendly RE, I am not menopausal...or anywhere close. My favorite nurse at the office said that menopause is the last thing on my RE's mind. But there is a concern that I'm either not ovulating well (again!) or else I'm suffering from low progesterone post-o. I believe the next step is to go in for blood draws measuring my estradiol and progesterone levels during this month's cycle. The nurse told me that, as long as I don't get too stressed out, I should probably begin temping around day 13 just to check for ovulation. Today is cycle day 9.

I'm really not excited to go through all the fertility treatments again. And maybe I won't have to...or maybe I'll just keep trying on my own for a few more months just for kicks. Since I have proven that I can get pregnant on my own, I am really concerned about inducing (or, rather, hyperinducing) my ovaries to push out more than one egg. It just seems like I would really be pushing the odds for multiples.

Is it wrong to admit that I am a little bit happy that my RE has given me permission to pick up my thermometer again? Here's to yet another cycle. This time there will be no Dollar Tree tests to absorb my woes.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

2007-12-31T21:47:00.000-06:00

Back from a short but fun trip to Oz. Read: Kansas. Home of my two best friends. The kiddo played with my friend L.'s two kids. While it took him a while to adjust to two rambunctious playmates, he had such a great time with them that he was bawling when my husband and I had to put him in his carseat. L. has been my closest confidant during all my reproductive strife. She was the only friend I entrusted with Arella's story. She has a very charming life...she's quite a fertile myrtle, has a wonderful husband, a great house in the 'burbs and, like me, is fortunate to be able to stay at home with her two kiddos. While she is a devout Christian, she has NEVER judged me, and, through everything, she has always given me and my husband nothing but love and kindness. I can't say enough great things about her. But I will add that she's also cute as a button! And a wonderful, wonderful hostess.

The other friend, J.D., is...well...a complicated situation. J.D., L. and I were very tight in the college days. While L. also hung out with another group, we all sort of banded together when it counted. And, through it all, we've all stayed close. This past year, however, has driven a wedge between J.D. and L. About a year and a half ago, J.D. divorced her first husband. And it was very, very messy. Her husband verbally and emotionally abused her, and, through the ordeal, L. encouraged her to leave the situation. L. was very involved and helped and consoled J.D. many, many times. And a few times, J.D. went back to her husband. But in the end, she finally had the courage to leave him. L. and her husband helped J.D. move into an apartment and start a new life. Shortly after moving out, J.D. filed for divorce. And began to confide in a new man, Joe Black, whom she met because he was the apartment maintenance man. You can only guess what happened next....or perhaps you can't. I will say that their first date was the day J.D.'s divorce was finalized. Drama ensued. Verbal abuse began again with the new man. L. tried to help. J.D. went back, then confided in L. that she was trying to get pregnant with Joe the new guy. She eventually did end up pregnant. L. cried. I was shocked. They got engaged, lost the baby, still got married (after 8 months of dating)...and, well, just celebrated their one-year wedding anniversary.

Just before her first marriage crumbled, J.D.'s father and grandfather were killed in a car accident. She's had a LOT of tragedy over the past two years. And, L. and I think, made some bad decisions to try and band-aid her grief. Both L. and I are suspicious of Joe, mainly because J.D. inherited a lot of $$$ from her father's estate. J.D. is very trusting, sometimes too much so. And she told Joe all about the inheritance...while he was fixing up her apartment, before they even knew each other. She was trying to reach out. And I know she was lonely. L. and I both worry that Joe won't stay longer than the money lasts.

After J.D. announced her pregnancy and engagement to Joe, J.D. and L. went months without speaking or having a relationship. Finally, a few months ago, L. made the first step, called J.D. and rekindled the friendship. Unfortunately, J.D. refused to listen to L.'s concerns about their friendship, and the distance between the two of them has grown again.

This weekend I felt like a child from a broken home. My priority was to spend lots of time with L. and her kids, as I wanted my son to socialize more with other children. But I also wanted to see J.D. I didn't balance well, and I still feel kind of badly about it. I think I spent only a few hours with J.D. the whole weekend. I was definitely avoiding the situation. And I really felt caught in the middle. But what really upsets me is how much J.D. has changed. She just isn't the same girl that she used to be. She always refers to "we" or "us," and she's very co-dependent. It doesn't help that no one meshes well with her husband. And, whether J.D. knows it or not, it was me that discovered via court records that her new husband has a criminal record. After he went off on her in a drunken rage and she called me crying, I did some checking. And it wasn't good. Criminal assault and a few other charges. I talked to L. about it, as she was already uncomfortable with Joe being around her kids. So, I suppose, I put myself in the middle.

Right now J.D. is having some issues trying to conceive her first; I believe she's suffered two miscarriages (one after the pre-marital pregnancy) and a chemical pregnancy. I know she wanted to talk to me about my own issues, and now I feel horrible that I didn't make myself available to her this weekend. This whole thing is a soap opera that I should not be participating in, and I know it. I really do. I should have been a better friend to her this weekend. I shouldn't let any man put a wedge between a friendship. Especially a man whom I believe will break her heart. And perhaps her checkbook.

So my resolution for 2008? To be a better friend. To replace the ornament that my son broke on L's Christmas tree. And to not let the distance of miles and men keep the three of us apart.

"If we would build on a sure foundation in friendship, we must love friends for their sake rather than for our own. "-Charlotte Bronte

No resolutions

2007-12-27T23:02:00.000-06:00

I will make no promises about not temping ever ever again. Today I started my period, which would explain the days of low temps. Sort of. Something was going on this cycle, and it wasn't something good. I will guess, though, that my prediction of a day 17 ovulation was off by a few days. My gut (and libido and mucus) said day 15, which, given my 11-12 day luteal phase, would explain today's bloody fanfare.

I think I might also call my RE and ask for day 3 bloodwork. Just to ease my mind. Guess what I'm worrying about today? Premature menopause! Don't laugh. Seriously. I mean, six months ago I was pregnant, and today I'm worrying about menopause. I suppose that does sound a tad silly, but my cycles, and inability to conceive, are beginning to make me think up horrible explanations. And I'm always one to look for the worst-case scenario. Luteal phase dysfunction is probably the real culprit, though.

I just hate starting my period early. I like my typical 28-29 day cycles. 26 days just isn't enough of a break. Although last month was a 30 day cycle, so I guess it evens out...right?

Alas, I need to sleep. I was bad and had a chocolate bar tonight. And, damn, I won't even be able to have sex again for another week. Last week, if you will recall, I was wrestling with a toddler who wouldn't sleep in his big bed. That whole scenario didn't exactly do wonders for my libido. My poor husband is going to have to go weeks without. And, well, so am I.

My body better freaking be working. I better have eggs in there still! And, for the love of all the world, I better freaking have a good ovulation.

What a way to ring in the new year.

Bah humbug

2007-12-26T15:18:00.001-06:00

Wonky post-o temps make me worry. Several days of psycho PMS gave me a bit of a hint. Sore boobs hit me a few days later. And the story ends with two negative tests. Did I mention my Dollar Tree is closing in two weeks. Fuckers.

Christmas was good around here. Santa left the kiddo lots of fun toys. Relatives gave him even more. I think we're going to need a bigger home. Very, very soon.

I'm doing two more cycles alone before I throw in the proverbial towel and get my ass over to my RE. Not sure what's up, not sure if the luteal phase defect has returned, but I'm growing impatient. What sucks is that for the first several months my temp charts looked textbook good. Maybe I shouldn't make any assumptions. But when your body temperature after waking and walking around is still only 96.9 or 97.1, that isn't a good sign. Especially post-ovulation. Then again, maybe I didn't ovulate. I mean, I haven't really been temping at all. Very inconsistently and not after waking...just in the middle of the day. So who the hell knows. Maybe I had an anovulatory cycle this month.

Anyone want to trade ovaries? Do you think I can exchange them at Bed, Bath & Beyond for a nice duvet? I need a new duvet.

My skin is crawling

2007-12-18T14:25:00.000-06:00

Kiddo went down for the night at 7 and woke up at 6:45 when I was in the shower. Glad I dead-bolted the front door. Needless to say, I jumped out as fast as I could...neglecting the overgrown hair on my legs. I'm totally bringing sexy back. It is now almost 2:30 p.m., and the toddler has not and will not nap. I am so screwed tonight. I know he's going to be most unpleasant. And did I mention his pull-ups leaked this morning. Lots of laundry for me. Thank goodness the comforter and pillows were spared. I am so very, very tired.

Oh, and before I forget to mention it, I ovulated. Not sure when, but I temped this morning and it was high. And the cervix is firm. So...whatever. I popped out an egg. Woo freaking hoo.

The bell of a new day has just started ringing

2007-12-17T19:56:00.000-06:00

This past week has been extremely cathartic. I've been able to find more peace than I have in a while. And I wasn't even looking. I wrote a 'thank you' note of sorts to McDreamy. Haven't sent it yet, but it's written. I would post it here, but it's something I think I should post after it's been sent...and, hopefully, read. I cried when I wrote it; there was just something about finally wrapping things up in my mind. Thanking him for all he has done for me. Really, the man went above and beyond for me. He always has...through all three pregnancies. I wanted to thank him. I needed to thank him. And, most importantly, I needed to let go. I'm not so angry anymore. Sad, sometimes still. But not so angry anymore.

And my husband's cousin--the super pro-lifer who made some really nasty comments to us--called my husband to apologize for being such an ass. I'm good with him now, and I'm happy that he realized how much he hurt us. I don't expect anyone to change their views for me, or because of me, but what I expect from any Christian is kindness...and love. Not judgement. Because, let's face it, you don't know and you can't know unless you're in a given situation. And that includes abortion. Despite what anyone thinks or says.

We also packed away our crib this weekend. The toddler was killing it; he was just getting too big. And now he's in a big boy bed with cool big boy linens. Check out his new look. He's doing well at night, so far. But he has totally given up napping, which sucks for me! I tried to put him down for a nap today, but he just kept climbing out of his bed. I thought about continuing to try, but then I realized that I'd rather he be really tired at night and not fight me, then to try to force him to nap, frustrate myself and just waste time. So the little guy who woke up at 7:45 this morning went to bed at 7 tonight...and I haven't heard a peep since. But the last half hour before bed was hell...I had to battle him to get into his nighttime pull ups (he hates them, HATES them) and his pajamas. I wrestled with him for about 10 minutes...we were both crying in the end (I was just so frustrated). I was so upset that I finally gave up, let him snuggle and have his tantrum and he was fine. I guess that teaches me not to fight him...just wait it out. In exchange for the no nap arrangement, I'm getting more time to chill out at night. He used to go to bed at 8 to 9 at night. So while the arrangement isn't great for working during the day, it's great for working or vegging at night. My mom's probably going to get a lot more babysitting time in the future, though. She's always the one I call when I absolutely have to work on a project. It's a great arrangement...she comes over and just hangs out with the kiddo. Everyone wins.

I also have to admit that I checked my cervix. I think ovulation is either today or tomorrow (day 18), but, really, I was assuming that I would ovulate on day 18...so no surprises really.

It's always a day away

2007-12-13T15:02:00.000-06:00

Staying clean is just so damn hard! Still no cervical checks or BBTs this cycle. You have no idea how much that pink-tipped thermometer has been mocking me. I haven't even taken a random temp at night, which I'm prone to do...even though night temps mean nothing. It has been wonderful to not know and to not obsess about ovulation, but as the days tick by (I'm on cycle day 13 now), it's getting harder and harder to not analyze fertility signs. Although, spinnbarkeit is usually pretty tough to miss. I'm just going with it, and taking whatever comes my way. And if that means another Bloodfest, then so be it. There really isn't much I can do, except have some good sex and hope for a positive outcome. And, hot damn, the worry-free sex has been good!

I don't know much

2007-12-11T14:17:00.000-06:00

This cycle, I've completely gone cold turkey. No temping. No checking of the cervix. Nada. And it feels good not to know and not to care. Because, really, I think I'm beginning to just not care. Planned sex is not fun. It just isn't. Now, mind you, I'm still gonna 'get busy' on days that I think are greenlight days, but since I have no proof temp-wise or otherwise, I'm winging it from here on out. We'll see how that works for me. If it works for me.

Saw the pregnant mama at storytime again today. And, you know what, it actually didn't bother me. I think that's a good sign.

In other news, I still have not started my holiday shopping. That doesn't feel good. And the cats have attacked our Christmas tree twice. Now the Elmo ornament has gone missing.

I'm trying desperately to get the kiddo back on a good sleep schedule. He has skipped naps for the past few days, and, because of his sleep deprivation, he has been sleeping in until 9:30 in the morning. Yeah. Not good. Today he woke up at 8:30, which means he only logged about 12 hours....and that still merits a daytime nap. So here's hoping he falls asleep. If he doesn't, I'm screwed. I'll give it about an hour.

The neverending story

2007-12-07T14:29:00.000-06:00

I hate inconsistency. I especially hate inconsistency as it relates to my menstrual cycle. Last month, I had a 5 or 6 day bleed. This month, I'm back to the 7 or 8 day bleed. It sucks. And just when I think it's tapering off, back it comes with a vengeance. I must have had one hell of a lining in there. Or, rather, I wasted one hell of a lining.

I'm seriously freaking out about my lack of shopping drive. I just know I'm going to be that crazy woman in the mall on Christmas Eve. It always happens that way. Always. In the past, it was because my holiday bonus appeared later than expected...now I'm just lazy. And, well, waiting for freelance pay that has just been billed out. Some of my clients tend to pay late, and usually wait for a few invoices to stack up before they write me a check. While I love the freedom that being a work-from-home writer allows, I really dislike the inconsistency in payments.

And I haven't even begun to think about what to buy people. The toddler is easy: TOYS and SEUSS! We are a Seuss-loving family. The husband has requested hardback copies of the first two Harry Potters, which he hasn't read (nor have I...we skipped to the third). My family is fairly easy. But the in-laws?!? Buying for the in-laws sucks. My mother-in-law is very difficult, and she has pretty high-end and VERY conservative taste (think Talbots). My husband's brothers...well, my husband is the designated buyer for them. Not sure if I'm expected to buy gifts for their girlfriends....

I also had a two-hour conversation with the mom-in-law last night about Thanksgiving and how it turned out. The quick story about Thanksgiving is that it was absolutely horrible. Horrible. My mother-in-law hosted a dinner for immediate family only (i.e. her three sons and their significant others). One brother showed up sans girlfriend after already eating at her family's house, which pissed off my mother-in-law. My husband's other brother didn't help appropriately. My father-in-law escaped for a while to take a walk with the dog...and stayed out a little too long. And no one really seemed to want to be there. My mother-in-law is very traditional, having been raised as a proper southern lady. To her, Thanksgiving means bringing out all the fine china, the silver, the crystal and having a nice family meal. My husband and I are the only ones who really share her belief in a formal tradition. The other two brothers would probably prefer to just eat turkey dinner on paper plates in front of the television while playing video games. They just aren't that into tradition--or their mother's version of it. The whole event was pretty anti-climactic. And sort of depressing.

Since Thanksgiving was such a disaster for my mother-in-law, she is choosing to be more laid back about Christmas. Meaning: she isn't going to cook a big dinner and stress herself out. Sooo...it's going to be finger foods for Christmas Eve and a traditional brunch for Christmas Day (and my father-in-law always cooks brunch). Here's hoping for a happy holiday.

And if anyone has any gift ideas for a very conservative mother-in-law...feel free to share. I'm going to need all the help I can get.

I really am a masochist

2007-12-06T14:40:00.000-06:00

Note to self: stop doing google searches about anencephaly. You will find something that will break your heart. It is inevitable. Stop torturing yourself.

I just read a story about a baby with anencephaly who is now 10-months old. I feel like shit. I knew that in rare cases some babies do live; Dr. Weddington told me that, as a resident, she saw some of those children in nursing homes. Life for anencephalics, she told me, means living in a comatose state and being nourished with feeding tubes.

I'm not sure how I feel about this baby's quality of life. On one hand, I think that those parents had balls of steel to carry to term. Sometimes I wish I had grown a bigger pair all those months ago. On the other hand, that child can *sometimes* eat strained food but is mostly nourished via a feeding tube. She can only breathe on her own for two hours at a time and then requires the use of an oxygen mask.

This is a hard one, people. Real hard. This is the scenario that I tried to picture but just couldn't. Now I'm hearing the pro-life words of my husband's cousin echoing in my brain: "what if your baby was the one that survived?"

What if she was? Is that the life I would want for her?

Send a positive thought or a prayer

2007-12-06T14:22:00.000-06:00

Nikole just found out that her quad screen results were abnormal. Her MFP levels were high, which could indicate a neural tube defect. She has an ultrasound scheduled with a maternal-fetal medicine specialist this morning. Please send positive thoughts and prayers her way.

Mulling through the weeks

2007-12-05T15:26:00.000-06:00

Once December arrives, the weeks slip by like seconds. My holiday shopping is yet undone. Haven't even started yet. My house needs cleaning. Again. The laundry seems to be never ending. And, oh yeah, my period is just about over. Thankfully, will all my worries being on the holidays and what I haven't yet purchased, I haven't really had the brainpower to worry about my cycle. Or ovulation. Wanna hear something a wee bit crazy and neurotic? Today when I felt all sad/moody, I began to worry about not being pregnant. Ha Ha! I'm still on my period, and I'm worried about my emotions signalling PMS. Um...memo to Juli...crazy emotions while menstruating is usually pretty normal. You know you're psycho about pregnancy when you forget that you're even bleeding. I'm beginning to think that perhaps I am psyching myself out.

On a holiday note...perhaps I should take a trip to the mall sometime soon. And get those holiday cards made. And mailed. Before New Year's.

What's the story, morning glory?

2007-12-04T14:19:00.000-06:00

Every Tuesday, I take the kiddo to story time at a local bookstore. And every Tuesday, there is the same pregnant mother who attends with her young daughter. A few weeks ago, when we began our story time routine, I wasn't quite sure if pregnant mommy was really pregnant or not. She was sporting a tiny bump, and she was wearing the same grey maternity pants that I wore with the toddler years ago. I kind of just began to assume she was indeed pregnant. I mean, no one really voluntarily wears maternity pants beyond early postpartum months (or lounging at home). Mommy-to-be is getting bigger week to week. And I am growing excessively frustrated with story time.

It would be one thing if the little guy actually enjoyed it. But he doesn't. Not really. He's too young to really interact with the songs, although he tries sometimes. He pays more attention to the Dr. Seuss display, yelling "Hop on Pop" at inappropriate times, when he should be listening to the stories. I'm frustrated by it, because I really want him to socialize with other kids. And there aren't many opportunities for him to socialize beyond parks and organized activities. I know he's young and learning...and don't get me wrong, I love that he loves "Hop on Pop," but I really wish I could get him to sit and interact a bit more. He's fine when we go to story time at the library, as there seems to be lots more kids and less disruption...but one day a week really isn't enough. And, let's face it, we live in the middle of the country...and it's getting hella cold here. So our retreats to the park are getting less frequent as winter approaches. I've looked into playgroups, but I'm coming up dry.

If anyone has suggestions about unique and fun indoor ways to socialize a two-year old, I'm all ears.

Methinks I worry way too much.

Confessions of a bad mother...

2007-12-03T15:52:00.000-06:00

There are so many blog entries in cyberspace about letting a baby "cry it out." In my opinion, the whole CIO issue is about as controversial as the stay-at-home versus working mom conundrum. I've read bloggers who claim that working mothers are terrible for leaving their children at daycare. And others who claim that not having a job outside the home is a waste of brainpower. I've read bloggers who claim that it is harmful and cruel to let a child CIO, while others claim that it's the only way to go.

So I have a confession to make. This sort-of-stay-at-home-mom let her kid cry it out. And while I hated every screaming second, I don't regret doing it. I will say that CIO was my LAST resort. Very last. Dead last. So why did I let my child CIO? Am I a cruel, horrible person? Heavens, I hope not.

My toddler was a dream infant. Absolute dream. He slept through the night by six weeks...and he slept for 11 hours at a stretch. It was beautiful. While it lasted. At around 5 months, he started to teethe. That's when the night wakings began. For about a month, I would go into his room and rub his head or back until he fell asleep. This sometimes took hours. And it happened throughout the night. Then after about six weeks of night wakings, he would sleep again without help. A few months would go by, and then again he would regress. When he was about 15 months, I became pregnant again. At 12 weeks, I miscarried (as you all know). For the entire pregnancy, and probably for a month prior to that, he woke up many times during the night. It was pure hell. Morning sickness and a crying toddler. Not fun.

The miscarriage of course led to a D&C, which led to a lot of discomfort and pain. I remember the night after the D&C, he cried in the middle of the night. This was what I remember being my breaking point. I just couldn't do it again. He was a year and a half old and didn't know how to fall asleep on his own. At all. My husband, knowing that I was in pain and was exhausted from the many meds I was on, suggested that we finally just let him cry. So we did. And it sucked. I remember that we had tried other methods prior to CIO...letting him cry for 10 minutes, checking in on him, the extending it to 20 or 30 minutes, etc. Nothing worked...nothing except CIO.

I've read blogs that have really condemned the CIO method, and they make me feel like an absolute monster. Like the world's worst mother. Maybe I am. I'm not sure. I do know that CIO, combined with a sleep routine, worked for us. I never would have used CIO when he was an infant, but as a toddler I felt that he needed to learn to sleep on his own. At what age do you say enough is enough? At some point, the child has to learn how to put himself or herself to sleep.

Good grief...I really hope I didn't scar my child for life. The blogworld scares me.

A Clockwork Red

2007-12-02T22:54:00.000-06:00

Cycle 4 is in full swing. The bloody fun that is my period arrived as predicted on Saturday. The last 24 hours have been spent in cramping pain, popping Advil and eating chocolate. I have to admit that I actually began to imagine that I was pregnant...even despite that nasty negative at 11 dpo. My period arrived a bit spotty Saturday and stayed that way until the late afternoon. I thought for sure I was dealing with some implantation issues, especially since I had the same spotting on Thursday. But, no, the spotting really was just my period. And what a period it is.

This month, I'm going to vow yet again to stay away from the thermometer. Hopefully, I'll be able to kick the habit completely. I will probably still check my cervix for the gooey fun that is spinnbarkeit. A part of me cannot completely give up the need for control. I think I need something that makes me believe that I can control things...if I can't control my body, then I can at least control when I time my luvin'. I'm still looking back at my past two natural pregnancies with the notion that sex on days 11, 14 and 17 must be the magic solution that leads to conception. It worked twice...shouldn't it work again? None of the past three cycles have mimicked that three-day sex gap pattern. Maybe it was just coincidence that both natural pregnancies were conceived using the same timed intercourse patterns. Or maybe the three day gaps boosted the sperm count, which made conception more probable. Or maybe I'm a complete loon who insists on over analyzing the minutia of my cycles in hopes of finding a solution that might lead to the grand goal of a healthy baby.

I really wish there was a nice algebraic solution to the cold equation that is reproduction. I hate randomness. I hate statistical probability. More than that, though, I hate the lack of control I feel every time a new cycle begins.

Happy holidays, honey...now knock me up

2007-11-30T14:12:00.000-06:00

One pink line does not a pregnancy make. Especially at 11 dpo. Proving that my uterus does indeed have a sense of humor, my temperature tanked today. My calculations for Aunt Flo's Saturday arrival are spot on.

I really, really had my hopes up last night. I thought for sure the bleeding meant something good. Now I'm not sure what caused it, although I suspect that I might have jabbed my cervix a bit too hard whilst injecting a lovely applicator full of yeast-killing Miconazole. And I wish I had listened to my instinct about waiting until today to test. I would have saved myself a few tears and a lot of time looking for a line that didn't exist.

Cycle 4...oh what fun the holiday season will bring. Ovulation is going is scheduled to hit a week before Christmas. My gift to my husband will be cheap indeed!

So stay tuned for "Bloodfest 4: Flo's Holiday Special."

Clueless

2007-11-29T15:19:00.000-06:00

Today I woke up, went to the bathroom and discovered light pink spotting. My period isn't due until tomorrow or Saturday, but, suspecting that I might have miscalculated ovulation (since I didn't really temp), I padded up and went on my merry way.

My period isn't the kind of visitor that stops and returns. Once spotting is seen, a full river of bloody fun is usually right behind.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the spotting didn't linger long. It also didn't get heavier. And my temperature this morning? A balmy 97.7.

I don't know what this is. I don't know if I'm pregnant or not, and I'm going to try not to get my hopes up...just in case bleeding ensues.

I can tell you that I'm in a very bitchy mood today, which usually signifies PMS. And my breasts are about to explode.

So who the hell knows. Maybe I'll venture off to buy a lovely little test. Or maybe I'll just wait it out.

The floodgates

2007-11-28T14:54:00.000-06:00

I just read Julia's post about the five-year anniversary of losing her son, Thomas. Needless to say, I had to hold back the tears. A few nights ago, I once again reflected on losing Arella. I'm not quite sure what triggered it. Perhaps it was all the thoughts of being, or not being, pregnant. While time heals, nothing will ever make the loss go away. Nothing really can. Time brings anniversaries that make you remember. And then it all comes flooding back.

I'm beginning to wonder if my friend was right. Maybe I'm not quite ready to go through another pregnancy right now. The fears, the reminders, really are digging deep.

On the fertility front

2007-11-27T15:56:00.000-06:00

I resisted buying a pregnancy test today. Although, I might be tempted again when I pick up more Children's Tylenol tonight.

The low temp yesterday morning has me convinced that I'm not pregnant. Things just seem to be following the same bad pattern. Plus, I had several emotional bouts last week...and my boobs hurt. I don't care that sore boobies mean good progesterone, to me they just indicate PMS and a missed conception. Soooo...the crimson flow should start either Friday or Saturday, I think.

I really kind of hoped this month would be different. I really thought I timed things right this time. Of course, my body did decide to ovulate later than normal...day 18, which kind of threw me off.

To make things even more fun, I am dealing with yeast...and not in a baking bread kind of way.

The phantom fever

2007-11-27T15:45:00.000-06:00

Last night was hell. Pure hell. At 3 a.m., the kiddo spiked a 102.9 degree fever. I took him to the doctor today only to be told that his nose, ears and throat looked great. The only explanation my friendly pediatrician could come up with was roseola.

I can't say that I agree with the good doc. The toddler's fever started yesterday and stayed pretty low throughout the day...by low, I mean a range between 99-101 degrees. Roseola, from what I know of it, is characterized by a sudden high fever that lasts for several days followed by a rash. Maybe, though, I've just done a good job at keeping the temp at bay. I find it curious, though, that my husband was really sick two weeks ago. Of course, the toddler also had a runny nose at that time (which coincidentally appeared days after his flumist vaccine)...so maybe he and my husband shared the same illness and this really is just roseola. Or maybe the kiddo's "cold" really was just a reaction to his vaccine, and this is the beginning of a viral infection. I just hate it when a doctor cannot give me a definitive. I would assume, though, that if there was something going on, that the pediatrician would have figured it out. Of course, I don't have the greatest confidence in my doctor...I think that if I don't see the lovely roseola rash in a few days, then I am going to shop around for another doc.

And I really hope that I can keep the temp at bay tonight. Because last night was just scary and awful. I hate seeing the little guy sick.

Implantation Dip? Oh, fertilityfriend, I think not.

2007-11-26T14:29:00.000-06:00

I temped early this a.m. I couldn't help it, I had to know. It is 8 dpo, and, like clockwork, my temp did what I had hoped it wouldn't do. It dipped. Very very low. 97.1. Every month since I began charting post-D&E, my temp has dipped at 8 or 9 dpo. I don't know why. I never had this happen before whilst TTC. Fertilityfriend would call this mid-luteal phase temp drop an implantation dip, but, oops, every month that has seen such a dip has resulted in bloody failure. I would normally suspect low progesterone, but the dip reared its ugly head even when I popped prometrium. I never had a dip with my luteal phase defect/low progesterone issues, nor did I observe one while shooting up with follistim or popping clomid. My pregnancy BBT chart with Arella also did not indicate a dip. So, I'm totally stumped. Annoyed and stumped. And a little depressed. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means something. Ignorance has been very blissful this cycle, and I really wish I hadn't pulled out that damn thermometer this morning.

The World's Worst Mother: Lori Drew

2007-11-24T14:56:00.000-06:00

If you haven't heard of Megan Meier, if you aren't familiar with her story, please read it. The actions of Lori Drew, the woman behind the myspace scheme that contributed to Megan's suicide, are so despicable that I am officially nominating Lori Drew as the World's Worst Mother. She's worse than Britney, y'all.

Congratulations, Lori Drew. You took advantage of a 13-year-old girl's confidence to the point that she killed herself. Because you wanted to find out what she thought about your daughter. Good job. You are the worst mother, the worst person, EVER.

You don't say

2007-11-20T14:38:00.000-06:00

I called my RE today. I just couldn't help it. My obsessions and freak-outs about my emotions were getting to me. My RE's nurse, whom I adore more than words can say, just eased my mind considerably and without needles. I've been worrying non-stop about the luteal phase defect's return, and worrying that the LPD is why I'm not getting pregnant. I've been worrying about the sore boobs, which I never experienced without a gestating baby, the sadness...and, well, everything else. Turns out the sore boobies are a good thing. A very good thing...and a sign of a good progesterone level. The sadness, well, the sadness is what it is.

My nurse reminded me, however, that I am a control freak and I tend to talk myself into believing that a cycle has failed. And, um, she's totally right. Did I ever tell you that my RE had to lie to me to get me pregnant? I was obsessed with my egg count for IUI, and I believed that if I had three eggs then I would surely get pregnant. Because two obviously wasn't enough. My RE is fairly conservative, and does not allow more than 3 follies for IUI. Wonder why not...I mean a triplet pregnancy certainly is no big deal, right?!? On my final IUI, he told me I had four mature follies. I remember thinking with that cycle that getting pregnant was pretty much a sure thing. How couldn't I get pregnant with four eggs? And if I didn't get pregnant, then something was definitely wrong. That cycle was the first time that I saw two lines. Perhaps my RE figured me out.

My state-of-mind really does affect my outcome when it comes to pregnancy. While I don't believe that 'relaxing' is a solution, I don't think it really hurts things either. I also don't think obsessing and worrying has done anything for my quest for a second child. That said, I am not really sure how to let go of the worries that come with the two-week wait. I don't know how to turn off my mind, how to turn off the power of suggestion. Today was a great day emotion-wise, until I started thinking about how great it was...then my emotions went pear-shaped. My mind is my own worst enemy when it comes to reproduction.

Kid 'n play

2007-11-19T15:51:00.000-06:00

Took the kiddo to the park for a good hour and a half today. Not sure what the holy heck is going on with the weather here in the midwest, but it is crazy nice out. I think it's in the 70s today. We met twin boys today who were around the same age as the toddler. I have to say, though, that socializing my child has been one of the more difficult tasks of parenthood. I always find myself comparing him to other kids, and I know that's all kids develop differently...but I still tend to compare. And it always fuels worries. The twins were a few months older than my child, and they talked really well. I would say my toddler is pretty average with speech (he says two to three word sentences), but his pronunciation isn't the greatest. He also doesn't talk much in public...at home, it's a whole other ballgame. So, of course, hearing the twins made me worry that something is amiss with my child.

I really worry about socialization a lot. My child isn't aggressive, and he tends to be intimidated by older kids. It doesn't help that he's pretty big for his age (90th percentile for height), so most kids think he is older than he is and that can cause some confusion. Everytime I take him to the playground, I just feel a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Knowing is half the battle

2007-11-18T19:23:00.000-06:00

Remember the '80s cartoon GI Joe? As with all '80s 'toons and sitcoms, the main characters always learned some major lesson at the end. Except GI Joe had a catch-phrase to make apparent when that lesson was learned: "knowing is half the battle."

In case you're keeping track, because I am, today is day 18. I must confess that I temped mid-day yesterday, and that temp was really, really low. So low post-activity that I can pretty much guarantee that yesterday was the big o. But...oopsie...in the grand tradition of my psychotic need for a definitive, I decided to check my cervix this morning. If you don't want to know the logistics, then please stop reading.

For those of you who aren't squeamish about cervical mucus, I will tell you that I found some stringy, sticky goop. It might have been spinnbarkeit, but I'm really hoping that it wasn't. To add insult to injury, my cervix was neither firm nor soft...just kind of rubbery. Seriously, I have no idea what the heck my ovaries are doing. Maybe I shouldn't care. I'm trying not to care.

I know what will be, will be. But this whole not knowing is really messing with my mind. I think GI Joe got it all wrong...at least you can fight what you know. The unknown is a much more difficult battle to fight.

Day 16...

2007-11-16T15:22:00.000-06:00

I HATE this whole not temping thing. Hate it. I have no idea if I've ovulated or not. I'm going to guess not. But, really, who knows? I sure don't.

I'm relaxed, I am. Really. Relaxed. I'm totally not worrying about not getting pregnant or getting pregnant and then having another baby with anencephaly. I'm certainly not sitting around daydreaming about the 12-week ultrasound revealing no cranium and brain tissue. No, no, no. Not me. Nope. Totally sane around here. Yup. Totally sane. No worries. None at all. Just plain old business as usual.

I really really hope it's normal to just completely freak out about things every once in a while. Because the anencephaly has been on my mind A LOT. And, while I know that statistically I have a very small chance of having another baby with an NTD, I also know that someone is always on the other end of those stats. I'm just hoping that the next go round, it isn't me. Again.

Can you tell that I'm relaxed? Can you? And may I also mention that I've completely been avoiding friends since TTC again? I have no idea why. I am, or was, just so damn fixated on the light at the end of the tunnel that I became stuck in the tunnel. It just always feels like something is keeping me locked up tight in my shell. First, it was the infertility. Then I was focused on a newborn, which was a great reason to be MIA...please don't think I'm complaining about motherhood. But then, then came all the heartache. The miscarriage, the anencephaly. The termination. It just felt like one stab after the next. I just feel so disconnected from people. And it sucks. Especially since my friends were so supportive through it all. Maybe I just feel like I need some good news to tell. Heaven knows that I'm sick of the bad news.

How do you pull yourself back into the world when you feel so far from it?

The day after

2007-11-14T14:51:00.000-06:00

I survived yesterday without tears; I think I cried them all out on Monday night. The due date is officially behind me, and I'm just trying to...don't hate me for saying this...RELAX! As a former infertile (hopefully 'former'), I know better than to say that one needs only to relax in order to conceive. However, I was in need of some serious chilling. My 'type a' personality doesn't handle back-to-back failures too well.

The thermometer has continued to remain unused. No fertilityfriend for me this month. And it feels good to not stress out about every little dip, every rise. I think I'm happy not knowing when I ovulated. Or if I ovulated well. Life has been crazy enough around here lately...and I don't need temps on my mind.

The hubby and I are still preparing to sell our home. Of course, I've been saying that for...well...a year now. Since my second pregnancy (i.e. the miscarriage). We cleaned our carpets this week, although we have carpet that will be replacing the old stuff. The old stuff had to be cleaned in the interim (new stuff will be installed closer to the new year when we plan to sell). We own cats. We have a toddler. 'Nuf said. Of course, once we cleaned the carpet, disaster ensued. The toddler decided that, as he had finished eating, his spaghetti o's must be vacated from his tray. And so a bowl full of spaghetti o's sailed through the room, hitting the couch and finally crash-landing on the clean carpet. And then yesterday, the toddler once again inflicted his vengeance upon the carpet by throwing a ball at my hand that held...yes...another bowlful of spaghetti. The bowl flew from my hand...landing all over the clean carpet. Thank goodness for that Oxy stuff.

My sister goes in for her surgery today...goodbye, gall bladder. Hopefully, all will go well for her...I'm not too worried, as the surgery is pretty routine.

A date to remember

2007-11-12T22:02:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is, or was, my due date with Arella. I can't believe it's here already...I can't believe that it's been five months since it all happened. I'm not sure how I'm going to be tomorrow. Maybe it will just feel like another day. But probably not.

I thought I would be pregnant before my due date. But maybe it's best that I'm not. Maybe it's better to face my due date with an empty womb. Tomorrow I need to remember what it was like to be her mother. However brief the journey was, hers was the last kick I felt. And, really, that's everything to me.

You'd be proud

2007-11-08T14:29:00.000-06:00

It's been a week since a thermometer has rested beneath my tongue. This must be some sort of record. And, for the first time since my first period post-loss, I am not freaking out about conceiving. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, then, well, what can I do. My body isn't a machine that I can fine-tune. I cannot will myself to become pregnant, although that power would be quite useful. So I'm just going to go with it. I'm sick of freaking out over every temperature, and I'm really sick of trying to plan intercourse. Obviously, my planning hasn't led to a baby...taking my temps has just left me freaked out, and timed intercourse always (or mostly) sucks.

Juli is going to have some good lovin' this month! And, hopefully, it will lead to a baby. But if it doesn't, then at least I had fun trying!

It is what it is

2007-11-05T14:23:00.000-06:00

Periods suck, especially when your due date is rapidly approaching. How silly of me to have assumed that another pregnancy would happen as easily as the last two.

Arella's due date is next week...November 13. I was emotional last night. Really emotional. I hate how it all keeps coming back. The flashbacks, the hurt. The blame. Dear, heaven, the blame. I'm still holding onto so much anger. I'm still angry at my mother-in-law for telling me to terminate and the dozens of other asinine things she said to me. I'm angry at her for being McDreamy's nurse, as if it's her fault. I'm angry at McDreamy for turning into McCrankypants the times I needed his compassion. I'm angry at myself for terminating. I'm angry at myself not starting prenates before getting pregnant.

And I'm angry, so angry, that my baby, my daughter, had to suffer the way she did. And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself.

Day 1...A day early

2007-11-01T10:02:00.000-05:00

Grrr. I knew I wasn't pregnant, but did my period have to mock me by arriving a day early? I think this cycle's ovulation was a bust; I mean, obviously it was a bust, but I don't think I had a very good ovulation (which I have a history of). Not going to freak out about it, though. And, seriously, this month the BBTs have to go bye-bye. It's stressing me out too muchly!

Lots of caffeine today, because I can.

It takes gall

2007-10-31T15:27:00.000-05:00

My mother just called me to tell me about my sister's ultrasound results. There was something wrong, but I'm happy to report that it's nothing life-threatening. Her gall bladder is inflamed and has many many stones, so she had to make an appointment to see a surgeon. The gall bladder is going bye-bye. The doctor told my sister that this would explain all her terrible symptoms. My sister suffered from painful 'episodes,' and it seemed that her episodes usually came after a meal. Hopefully, removing her gall bladder will clear things up. I'm also hoping that if there had been something else wrong, then it would have shown up on the ultrasound.

I must sound like such a worry-wart brooding over reproductive cancer issues, but my family has the worst gynecological history. My mother suffered from severe endemetriosis and had a partial hysterectomy when she was 32. She also had several benign cysts removed from her breasts. My aunt recently had one of her ovaries removed because of a large (benign) cyst. My mother's cousin also had issues with ovarian cysts. My great-aunt suffered from infertility...the list goes on and on. You can imagine why I worry.

But my worrying has definitely subsided after hearing the sort-of-good news.

Worried

2007-10-30T16:22:00.000-05:00

For the past month, my sister has been having weird gastrointestinal problems: bloating, stomach pain, back pain. Her doctors originally diagnosed her with irritable bowel syndrome, but the medicine only worked for a few days until the pain and other discomfort returned. On Friday, she had an abdominal ultrasound. Today the office called to tell her that the results are in, and they need to see her in the office tomorrow morning...at 9 a.m. I'm fearing the worst. While there is no family history of gynecological cancers, I'm fearing ovarian cancer. This doesn't sound good.

My sister is only 33. She has two kids.

Let the games begin

2007-10-30T00:14:00.001-05:00

I'm crampy. My boobs hurt. And I ate way too much of the mom-in-law's fudge marshmallow dessert. Actually, I ate all of it. Seriously.

Methinks the period is on its way.

A perfect trifecta

2007-10-29T15:24:00.000-05:00

Wanna know something a bit pathetic? I'm 9 dpo today, and I've already taken three pregnancy tests. Because yesterday's first negative wasn't enough for me, I took a second yesterday evening and a third late this morning. I keep thinking that if I'm pregnant, then I should have a second line by now...as my first pregnancy test with Arella came back + at 8dpo. I know that it's still super early, but I think there should be something there if something is there. Although, I have been psyching myself out with the evap lines.

To add insult to injury, my car battery was dead again today. My dear dad came to my rescue once again. I did, however, discover that my battery keeps dying because the kiddo has been popping my trunk with my remote. I was unaware that there was a light in my trunk, and that light has been draining my battery when the trunk is ajar. Good to know.

I'm a bit sad today about the negatives, but not overly so. Mostly, I've been having flashbacks about my last pregnancy and the loss of Arella. Some days, it just seems like yesterday. Maybe my emotions are tripped up, because my hormones are kicking in before the flow. Or maybe, I just need to be sad. Whatever the case, I'm going to assume that I shall bleed on Friday...and I'm ok with that. Not thrilled about it, but I'm ok.

The good news is that the hubby will NOT be out of reach during my peak days next cycle. He has been the last two...his travels have not boded well for TTC. I've noticed that my peak day, in the past (by past, I mean the two times I got pregnant via sex), has been day 14. I seem to ovulate on days 15-17, every month. Day 14 was the magic day for both natural pregnancies. But, still, you'd think that day 15 would be just as good (this month I ovulated on day 17). I thought day 15 would be fine for a late ovulation, but, apparently, it wasn't. For some reason, my body just doesn't feel as, ummm, ripe after day 14. Weird. Really weird. Maybe I should just stick with what works...when I can.

At least it was only $1

2007-10-28T14:50:00.001-05:00

Dollar Tree has ensured that I will no longer be peeing away $10. Now I'm just out $1. Thanks, Dollar Tree. That was fun.

And thank you to my mother-in-law who made the lovely chocolate fudge marshmallow dessert that helped ease the frustration caused from seeing that single pink line.

Cycle 3, here I come.

Down and out

2007-10-26T15:17:00.000-05:00

My boobies hurt. Badly. Worse than last month. I hate that my body's symptoms have become so ambiguous.

On a lighter note, I'm not temping twice a morning. I have managed to stop temping when I wake up early for bathroom breaks...I've just had enough of the stress and doubt. I will admit that I have been temping when I wake up at my normal time. There just hasn't been enough willpower to give up the thermometer.

It' s rainy here. Rainy and cold. Quite perfect weather for a two-week wait.

Dreams and reality

2007-10-25T15:44:00.000-05:00

My subconscious is nudging me. A few nights ago, I dreamed about a pregnancy test that gave me a 'maybe' answer...I couldn't tell if a line existed or not. Last night, I dreamed I had a baby in June. In the dream, I forgot that I had a baby and apparently left her at a mall until mid-August. I found her again, and she was so tiny (apparently malnourished...according to my mother-in-law in the dream). My abandonement of my daughter made headlines, and I had to think of ways to tell my parents that I left my baby in a mall. What I remember most about the dream is how grateful I felt that I found her...that she was back with me again. It was all kind of a knife-in-the-heart experience.

I've been emotional for days. Weird emotional. Maybe PMS emotional. I have been fighting the urge to test, but, really, I don't think I can bear to see that naked white space again. Not sure if I'm masochistic enough this month.

And my breasts hurt, which is really just weirding me out. What the hell has happened to my body that has made my boobs PMS alerts? They never hurt before my pregnancy with Arella. Never...except during pregnancy...especially pregnancies that were supported with progesterone.

I'm not taking prometrium this month. I'm just kind of letting my body do its thing...I didn't begin the prometrium until after I had a positive pregnancy test with Arella, so I'm really not so worried.

I am, however, worried about making it through the next week without losing my sanity.

A day in the life of a crazy woman

2007-10-23T14:32:00.000-05:00

I have a definite ovulatory pattern on my lovely fertilityfriend chart. Hooray. I did, however, commit the sin of temping again. Multiple temperatures just equal confusion. Both temps were high, but I'm just not sure how high. I went with the lower of the two, just to be conservative. Honestly, though, I don't know what's going on with my temps any more. Back in the TTC fertility treatment days, it never mattered when I took my temps in the morning. Nothing ever changed; I knew if I temped at 5 a.m., it would be pretty much the same at 8 a.m. Now my readings are all over the place, which makes me wonder how accurate my last preganancy chart really was in comparison. I used to wake up later back then (then being last February). So my readings may have been higher for that reason. Who really knows.

I can say that I don't really feel pregnant. I just feel too emotional again. And, today, I washed my cell phone by accident (it was in my coat pocket). There were so many pics of my toddler on that stupid phone, and my only belly shots of Arella were there too. I think the phone is pretty much f.u.b.a.r.ed (i.e. fucked up beyond all recognition). So that little incident combined with extreme hunger (which always brings out the best in me) left me feeling pretty down and out.

To save my sanity, and my emotions, I"m going to try to hide the thermometer. All those readings are just making me feel worse about my body. I just can't really believe that PMS is hitting me this early...unless I'm farther into the luteal phase than I think. I shouldn't be feeling PMS at 1 dpo, which I did this cycle...I really do think part of all of this is my mind effing with me. Never underestimate the power of suggestion.

Perhaps I was wrong

2007-10-22T13:37:00.000-05:00

Apparently I ovulated on Saturday. My temp shot back down, so I'm going to assume that those ambiguous temperatures were just off for some reason. I don't know how much optimism I have for this cycle. I keep feeling emotional, and I'm not sure if it's just all in my head or if it means something bad. And I keep worrying that my luteal phase defect has resurfaced, because of all those weird temps. I'm just so frustrated. I conceived twice without issue...and pretty quickly. I don't know what's going on. I feel like I did when I was undergoing fertility treatments; I feel stressed and anxious. And just out of control. I don't know whether I should call my RE or not. One failed cycle does not an infertile make, and I know that. Still, I hate going through this. All the obsessing about PMS symptoms just makes me think that every emotion, every worry is a sign of failure.

And I think that I should have kept my word and stopped taking my temperature.

Absolute ambiguity

2007-10-19T14:33:00.000-05:00

Today's temp: 97.5. This must be a freaking joke! I'm going to assume that I ovulated yesterday. My cervix is pretty firm, so I think that yesterday's 97.5 was a fluke. I hope. I still had a bit of spin yesterday, and my cervix was fairly soft...so, yeah, assuming that ovulation was yesterday. Not that it matters...I did what I could in the 'good luvin' department without trying too much. I'm always more successful when I go a few days between "attempts."

So there you have it. I was hoping for a big rise, per my usual pattern, but my body doesn't seem to be complying.

Question for any BBT addicts out there

2007-10-18T14:11:00.000-05:00

Fertilityfriend issue...and I need some help. What do you do if you have two very different temperature readings in the a.m.? I know that you shouldn't take your temperature more than once. Trust me, I know. But the damage has already been done. This morning my temperature was a superambiguous 97.5 (97.5 is my lowest post-O temp and my highest pre-O temp...it could go either way). So, of course, I retemped. The second reading was 97.1 (and that was after going to the bathroom and being a little active). I'm not sure if I've ovulated or not...I'm thinking not...as my temp (post-O) doesn't really ever drop like that after waking.

If anyone cares to delurk...feel free to give me any insight. This is why I swore not to temp this month! Maybe I'll just wait to see what tomorrow holds.

Cheating

2007-10-16T22:02:00.000-05:00

I'm a cheater. I took my temperature today.

I had to. I just couldn't take it anymore. Darn you fertilityfriend! Darn you to heck with a spoon for making me want to connect the dots!

In case you're wondering, I haven't ovulated yet. By the way things are going downstairs, though, I'm going to put my money on lucky number 15...Thursday.

Here's to another cycle of "gettin' jiggy wit' it" big willie style!

Adios, BBTs

2007-10-15T16:43:00.000-05:00

I haven't really been taking my BBTs this cycle. And it's sort of freaking me out, not knowing. I know I haven't ovulated, it's way too early for me to have ovulated. As my RE would say, I'm a "slow grower"...my eggs take their time in ripening. Last month, the temping just drove me nuts. I analyzed every little dip and rise. I'm not sure that I want to deal with that stress this month. I mean, there's only so much control I have. And I'm either going to get pregnant, or I'm not. Temping really doesn't help much...except to ease the worry of a luteal phase defect. And I'm fairly confident that the luteal phase defect is behind me. I hope so anyway.

The only grand plan that I have is to just keep on keeping on. If I don't get pregnant by December (or in the December cycle), my tushie is going to haul its way over to my friendly RE. Now I know that 29 isn't old, but my mother had a hysterectomy at 32...and reproductive issues run in my family. At 29, I'm not going to wait too long to try to conceive baby #2. I'm not that patient.

My ovaries hurt today. And yesterday, I spotted some spinnbarkeit. The Big O can't be too far off.

Something to sum it up

2007-10-14T18:43:00.001-05:00

Music always has a way of comforting me, although, by my own admission, I am quite tone deaf. In the Sun by Joseph Arthur speaks to me in ways I can't even express, and I felt compelled to share it with all of you.

Going foward

2007-10-14T18:43:00.000-05:00

For some reason, I still feel premenstrual, which sucks for my husband since my period ended about four days ago. Maybe I'm just a bitch! The M & M's are almost gone...not sure what that says about my state of mind exactly. All I know is that I cannot believe I'm in another cycle, and nearing ovulation. Again.

Our friends, Bud & SAS, had their baby this week. She's teeny...about a pound and half lighter than my toddler was at birth. It was crazy seeing a newborn, crazy in that I couldn't really recall my child being that tiny. I always thought I would remember. It was strange seeing that tiny little face, with her tiny little knit cap, and her tiny little feet. Ten tiny little toes. I had to fight back tears at one point.

Sometimes the memories come back at exactly the wrong point. Or maybe it was exactly the right point. Because, I can honestly say, that after seeing that little face and those perfect little toes, I know that I have to keep trying for another baby. As much as it hurts to lose, as hard as it will be every time I have to lay on that table in the Perinatal Center and face the ultrasound screen, I know that I just can't stop trying. I just can't. No matter what the outcome, I am going to keep trying.

Mars & Murrie...didn't you always wonder about the other 'M'

2007-10-09T22:27:00.000-05:00

A 56-oz bag of M & M's combined with too much free time at night = hours on the Internet doing absolutely nothing productive. Even though I have like three news releases that need to be written for clients this week. Procrastination: it's not just for college kids.

I had to staff a news conference this morning. Media showed up, which was fortunate for me. Especially since a major pervert criminal was dominating today's headlines.

Can you tell that I have nothing productive to report on the reproductive end of things. By the way, I'm still bleeding. Yea for me!

Excuse me while I help myself to another handful of M & M's plain.

Implantation bleeding (i.e. How I create fictitious scenarios of a nonexistant pregnancy)

2007-10-05T14:26:00.000-05:00

My mother and my sister both had implantation bleeding with their pregnancies. With her second baby, my sister's bleeding was apparently so pronounced that she thought it was her period. She didn't know she was pregnant until near the end of her first trimester. How's that for denial?

Knowing this story, and also knowing my mother's history with implantation spotting, when my period started off on the light side, I began to get my hopes up. Maybe I too was experiencing implantation bleeding. Forget the fact that my temperature tanked two days in a row. Forget the PMS. No, I was pregnant. So, in my pregnant state, I decided to take out the barely used tampon.

It didn't take long for reality to sink in that this was, indeed, my period. And Flo was back with a vengeance.

Let's just say the tampon was returned to its rightful spot. Oh well. At least I didn't pee on another stick. Now THAT would have sucked!