I have been asked this question a lot lately, mostly at work. For reference, my school is in a very wealthy suburb of Boston, and for the most part, women (although we have a couple of stay at home fathers) stay home when they have children. Not to say there aren't any working moms, but even those women usually stayed home for some extended period of time when they had babies. Additionally, there has been a series of teachers at school who quit after their maternity leave. So, I get it. They are asking a logical question. Often, it is even followed by a heartfelt expression of how disappointing it would be if I did stay home. It is meant to be an earnest question and one that is even a compliment.
But, here's the rub.
It's starting to become a painful topic, and one that brings regret and guilt to the surface. For KG and I, it is just not an option for one of us to stay home. Financially, it would be disastrous. I've discussed here before how we have been on our own (money-wise) since we were 18 and each brought some debt to our relationship. In the 11+ years we have been together, our debt grew. We have spent the last several years chipping away at it with moderate success, both working full-time, medium-ish income jobs. But, there is still a long way to go, and that isn't even touching my education debt, which I'm pretty sure I'll have until I'm 80.
We are not lazy, careless, or extravagant people. We rent, we have taken one major vacation in over a decade, KG drives a '97 Camry, and I'm in an '03 CRV. High rollers over here. But, it seems like no matter how conservative we are, we can only get so far. There is no possibility of family help with things like a house, etc. It's just us, trying to make it work. So, living on one income just isn't an option. Do I regret not being more careful with money in my late teens and early/mid twenties? Yes. Do I wish one of us made a lot more money (i.e. went into a more lucrative career path?) Yes. But, we are where we are.
Even when I fantasize about being able to stay home, I get a crushing blow of reality. For example, I was in the car trying to imagine a scenario where it might work, i.e. "What if I never ate out again? What if we rented for another 5 years?" Then, it hit me. ALL of our benefits (medical, dental, retirement) are through my job. KG works for a small company that offers none of these. So, even if we figured out some hypothetical way to make being a stay at home parent work, it would not be me that got that opportunity. That brought a wave of sadness. This is a done deal.
The kicker is that BOTH of us would kill for the CHOICE to be a stay-at-home parent for any significant length of time. I've mentioned how head-over-heels in love with this baby KG is, and I'm pretty sure he would carry the baby and give birth himself if he could. He would be an incredible stay-at-home dad. And I have no idea how I'll feel during my maternity leave. Maybe I'll be dying to go back to work, or maybe I'll feel crushed at the thought. There is no way to predict that now, with no experience in this area. But given the current economy, and the lack of governmental support for new parents, this is the way it is. There is no choice for us.
Sometimes I think people (those I work with, and even some commenters on this blog) assume everyone has this choice. Some have even insinuated that I am selfish or strange for going back to work and leaving The Nugget in daycare (and with my father-in-law 2 days per week) this spring. I get those questions like, "Are you sure you want to do that? I would never leave my baby with strangers," and my heart sinks. They just don't know how lucky they are to be able to make that decision purely based on preference, and not on survival.
Is their perspective skewed? Don't most people have to work when they have kids?
There's another layer to this. The infertile layer. I had to work for
years to have this baby. We went through so much pain and disappointment
to get this far. And yet, because of our financial situation, I am
sacrificing some really important time with the baby. I suppose I am
luckier than most - I get 8 to 10 weeks off in the summer to be with The
Nugget. But still, it feels like after all we've been through, it feels like a
loss to not get to be with him 100% of the time.
These are the times when I wish I had a rewind button and could make different choices at ages 20, 21, 22... which might have left us with more options. But, instead, I've got to come to terms with the place we are in, which compared to many isn't so bad. Right?
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
MIA, Back To School madness, and Dr. Seuss
That's me. Ever since I set foot back in school, I've been completely MIA from the blogosphere. I feel incredibly guilty about this, and I miss you all, but something had to give in September.
Every start of school is stressful - the setting up of the classroom, faculty meetings, lesson planning, parent meetings, Back To School Night, and everything else take an incredibly long time to get under way. I knew that this school year would be tough being pregnant. But, the baby isn't even an issue. It is really all those normal factors, combined with the addition of a brand new math curriculum (nothing like making a teacher with 8 years of experience feel like a rookie) and an iPad pilot project in my classroom that makes me feel like I'm drowning. All I can do is make it from work to home, eat, and go to sleep at night. I've been waking up at 6, arriving at school around 7am, leaving around 5pm, and in bed by 9pm. Trying to squeeze in time to cook, keep our place clean, spend SOME time with KG, and you know, breathe, has been tough. I won't get into how much work I'm bringing home and how my Sundays are spent making Smartboard demonstrations for math class. These are the times that people who criticize teachers for having 8 weeks off in the summer can suck it.
In the middle of all that, I flew home to Los Angeles for my first baby shower.
I was thrilled to go, but missing work this close to the start of school just added to my anxiety. Putting that aside, while I was there, I hit 100 degree weather, saw some friends, spent time with my family, and slept like a baby. My best friend, her partner, and my mom hosted this awesome Dr. Seuss themed brunchy shower and it was wonderful. The BFF and partner did all the decorations, delicious food and drinks, and handled the RSVP details. It was intimate (only about 10 people), mellow, and was sans embarrassing taste-the-baby-food games. Just what I requested.
Then, there was the cake. 10 years ago, my mother made my sister's wedding cake, after taking Wilton classes and practicing for months beforehand. Because I got married in Boston, she couldn't do the same for me. But, guess what she did for the baby shower?
While I was gone, KG spent hours starting the process of physical transformation at our place. He scrubbed, labored, sneezed, and moved Mt. Baby (as we are calling the huge collection of baby gear donated to our cause) into the beginnings of our new office so it doesn't take over our living room. Soon, we'll finish cleaning out the old office (aka the future nursery), move our wireless access to the new office, clean the carpet in the nursery, build the crib, pick up the changing table/glider/ottoman/dresser from SIL, organize Mt. Baby, and make a home for this little guy. I know theoretically we have time for all this, but the weeks seem to be flying by, and the to-do list just seems to grow. Have I mentioned we haven't started looking for a pediatrician yet?
Every time I get overwhelmed with these details, I try to take a breath and remind myself of how fortunate we are. If you told me at the beginning of my infertility treatments in January of 2010 that I would be lucky enough to even HAVE a baby shower, I would have laughed in your face. I can't describe the deep feeling of gratitude I have for every single kick, nudge, and flip The Nugget does in my belly. I also ache for my blogger friends who have experienced a recent loss, have ended their journey, or are still trying for a BFP. Belle, Sometimes, Trisha, Toni, Mo, Sunny, Cristy, Detour, and more. I hold you close ladies and send you whatever support I can.
I leave you with the new Mumford and Sons song that I am obsessed with, "I Will Wait." This song could have been my anthem during treatments. Enjoy.
Every start of school is stressful - the setting up of the classroom, faculty meetings, lesson planning, parent meetings, Back To School Night, and everything else take an incredibly long time to get under way. I knew that this school year would be tough being pregnant. But, the baby isn't even an issue. It is really all those normal factors, combined with the addition of a brand new math curriculum (nothing like making a teacher with 8 years of experience feel like a rookie) and an iPad pilot project in my classroom that makes me feel like I'm drowning. All I can do is make it from work to home, eat, and go to sleep at night. I've been waking up at 6, arriving at school around 7am, leaving around 5pm, and in bed by 9pm. Trying to squeeze in time to cook, keep our place clean, spend SOME time with KG, and you know, breathe, has been tough. I won't get into how much work I'm bringing home and how my Sundays are spent making Smartboard demonstrations for math class. These are the times that people who criticize teachers for having 8 weeks off in the summer can suck it.
In the middle of all that, I flew home to Los Angeles for my first baby shower.
I was thrilled to go, but missing work this close to the start of school just added to my anxiety. Putting that aside, while I was there, I hit 100 degree weather, saw some friends, spent time with my family, and slept like a baby. My best friend, her partner, and my mom hosted this awesome Dr. Seuss themed brunchy shower and it was wonderful. The BFF and partner did all the decorations, delicious food and drinks, and handled the RSVP details. It was intimate (only about 10 people), mellow, and was sans embarrassing taste-the-baby-food games. Just what I requested.
Then, there was the cake. 10 years ago, my mother made my sister's wedding cake, after taking Wilton classes and practicing for months beforehand. Because I got married in Boston, she couldn't do the same for me. But, guess what she did for the baby shower?
 |
| Can you believe it? |
 |
| The Cake Boss would be jealous! |
 |
| Mom, me, and my sister |
While I was gone, KG spent hours starting the process of physical transformation at our place. He scrubbed, labored, sneezed, and moved Mt. Baby (as we are calling the huge collection of baby gear donated to our cause) into the beginnings of our new office so it doesn't take over our living room. Soon, we'll finish cleaning out the old office (aka the future nursery), move our wireless access to the new office, clean the carpet in the nursery, build the crib, pick up the changing table/glider/ottoman/dresser from SIL, organize Mt. Baby, and make a home for this little guy. I know theoretically we have time for all this, but the weeks seem to be flying by, and the to-do list just seems to grow. Have I mentioned we haven't started looking for a pediatrician yet?
Every time I get overwhelmed with these details, I try to take a breath and remind myself of how fortunate we are. If you told me at the beginning of my infertility treatments in January of 2010 that I would be lucky enough to even HAVE a baby shower, I would have laughed in your face. I can't describe the deep feeling of gratitude I have for every single kick, nudge, and flip The Nugget does in my belly. I also ache for my blogger friends who have experienced a recent loss, have ended their journey, or are still trying for a BFP. Belle, Sometimes, Trisha, Toni, Mo, Sunny, Cristy, Detour, and more. I hold you close ladies and send you whatever support I can.
I leave you with the new Mumford and Sons song that I am obsessed with, "I Will Wait." This song could have been my anthem during treatments. Enjoy.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Happy Birthday, My Little Blog
Waiting for Little Feet is officially one year old today.
I don't know if I can accurately articulate the feelings I have about the last year of my life, and how important the blog has become. When I went back to re-read the first post I was trembling, remembering how I felt at that point. By the time I started blogging, we'd been TTC for a year and a half. We had already lost a baby, and I hadn't ovulated in months. My bathroom was filled with ovulation tests. I was ready to throw the stupid basal thermometer out the window, as I figured out how useless it was with PCOS. There were tears, tears, and more tears. I felt lost, worried, and mostly scared. I didn't know if I would ever be pregnant again.
Little did I know about what the next 12 months would hold for us. There was the good, (the very good), the bad, and the ugly.
What I really couldn't conceive of (no pun intended) in August of 2011 was how much joy was ahead of us, to balance the pain. There were so many days when I was ready to give up and move on to living a life without the torment of infertility treatment. In many ways, I was more prepared for that outcome than our current successful pregnancy. All of that makes me so intensely grateful for this baby and every day I can still call myself pregnant.
Reading blogs provided constant comfort for me then, and still does. I finally got the nerve (with a lot of encouragement from the best husband on earth) to start my own blog, as an outlet and a way to reach out for support. That's exactly what blogging gives to me - way to process all I think about and feel without losing my mind. Every time I post, the wave of relief I feel after pouring my heart out, and the subsequent smiles I get from comments, makes it all better.
I'm indebted to those of you who continue to stick with me and read my little blog, in the sea of other blogs that are out there. I have been lucky enough to meet some of you, email with many of you, and have received an overwhelming amount of support from you.
Thanks so much for making my blogging life so rich.
Happy Birthday, my little blog.
Friday, August 3, 2012
The Future of Medicine aka My Doctor Left Me for Someone Wealthier
I think I've spoken before about my primary care doctor. We'll call him Dr. Wonderful. I have to tell you - I love this man. Even though he is in a huge practice with tons of patients, he has never once rushed me through my appointments. He asks not only about my physical health, but also about how KG and I are doing on an emotional level. He kept up to date on all my infertility treatments (since they sent him reports on every single procedure) and trusted my judgement and instincts about my own care. He even trusts me to self diagnose my annual sinus infections, and call in meds for me, without dragging me in for an appointment. He calls me back within hours every single time I leave him a message. I completely trust him with the ickiest of medical issues and even KG is willing to see him, and he hates going to the doctor. Truly, he (along with my RE and my psychiatrist) set the bar for all of my medical care.
My warmest memory of Dr. W. was the night he found out about my failed fertilization during IVF #1. The man called me at 7:00 pm and spoke to me for a half hour about everything I was feeling and gave his opinion on next steps. He stayed after a day full of patients, just to comfort me. I cried after that call, simply because I felt so completely safe and cared for as his patient.
Then, on Wednesday, I got a letter from Dr. W. At first, when I saw his name on different letterhead, I just assumed he was switching practices (maybe one closer to my house?!).
Then, came the blow.
He is opening his own practice based on the "concierge" model of care. According to the letter, he would be opening a smaller practice, with much more personalized care, but you had to become a member in order to continue to see him. The annual membership fees would cover such things as longer appointment times, an in-house lab, 24/7 phone access to the doctor, wifi and snacks in the waiting room, and lots of other bells and whistles. Additionally, you also need to continue to pay for regular medical insurance to cover the actual office visits, labs, hospitalizations, etc. The fee is simply to join the practice.
How much could this fee possibly be, you might ask? A few hundred a year? A thousand?
Nope.
We are talking about $5,000 per year for me and KG. $5,000. A number so completely out of reach for us that it isn't even a remote possibility.
When I read the letter, my stomach sank. I immediately searched the internet and got quite the education about this issue. It's becoming more and more popular for PCPs to do this, to avoid pressure from insurance companies to pack in patients, with more and more paperwork. It's a total win for the doctors. Fewer patients, less red tape, appointments that run on time, and better quality of care. Similarly, for those who can afford it, it's a win for the patient too. I mean who wouldn't want all of that?
But I have to tell you, this makes me feel a little sick inside. Simply because I can't afford this extra fee, I am going to lose out on the care of the best doctor I have ever seen. It feels elitist. It feels exclusive. It feels like I am being shut out of an opportunity because I am not among his wealthiest patients. It feels that way, because it's true.
After the sadness, came anger. It just isn't FAIR. I stomped my feet. I pounded my fists. I called my mom to complain (who said her own PCP did this a year ago, but is only charging $300 per year.) Then I called Dr. W. and left a message to please call me back.
And he did. At the end of a long day seeing patients, he did what he always does: called me back promptly to discuss my concerns. He did so with grace and warmth. He explained his point of view (feels like he can't be the doctor he wants to be in his current practice, never sees his family, etc.) and expressed how much he appreciates me as a patient. I couldn't even stay angry. He's just that sweet.
The problem is, I see Dr. Wonderful *maybe* two or three times a year at this point. Other than infertility and the anxiety/depression issues (both covered by insurance), I have no reason to see him, other than physicals and the occasional sicknesses that come with everyday life. So, there is no way I could ever justify the cost to join the practice. So, I made a last ditch effort and asked him about a sliding scale for his fee. He said that I should call and inquire about it in a couple of months, after the new practice is on its feet. In the meantime, he referred me to another doctor and asked about how the pregnancy is going.
Although I can't stay mad at Dr. W. I am thoroughly freaked out by this trend. I know more and more PCPs are going to start following this model, and it scares the shit out of me. Really, it just means the richest people will get the best care, and the rest of us will have to deal with crowded waiting rooms, wait lists, and appointments that never run on time. Maybe this is the way it has been in America on a smaller scale, but it's becoming obvious that the disparity between the haves and the have-nots is going to affect the medical care of more and more people.
For me, it feels personal. It feels like I've been abandoned. It feels like I have one less person in my corner.
So long, Dr. Wonderful.
Anyone else have a PCP who switched to concierge care?
"Mad World," by Tears for Fears
My warmest memory of Dr. W. was the night he found out about my failed fertilization during IVF #1. The man called me at 7:00 pm and spoke to me for a half hour about everything I was feeling and gave his opinion on next steps. He stayed after a day full of patients, just to comfort me. I cried after that call, simply because I felt so completely safe and cared for as his patient.
Then, on Wednesday, I got a letter from Dr. W. At first, when I saw his name on different letterhead, I just assumed he was switching practices (maybe one closer to my house?!).
Then, came the blow.
He is opening his own practice based on the "concierge" model of care. According to the letter, he would be opening a smaller practice, with much more personalized care, but you had to become a member in order to continue to see him. The annual membership fees would cover such things as longer appointment times, an in-house lab, 24/7 phone access to the doctor, wifi and snacks in the waiting room, and lots of other bells and whistles. Additionally, you also need to continue to pay for regular medical insurance to cover the actual office visits, labs, hospitalizations, etc. The fee is simply to join the practice.
How much could this fee possibly be, you might ask? A few hundred a year? A thousand?
Nope.
We are talking about $5,000 per year for me and KG. $5,000. A number so completely out of reach for us that it isn't even a remote possibility.
When I read the letter, my stomach sank. I immediately searched the internet and got quite the education about this issue. It's becoming more and more popular for PCPs to do this, to avoid pressure from insurance companies to pack in patients, with more and more paperwork. It's a total win for the doctors. Fewer patients, less red tape, appointments that run on time, and better quality of care. Similarly, for those who can afford it, it's a win for the patient too. I mean who wouldn't want all of that?
But I have to tell you, this makes me feel a little sick inside. Simply because I can't afford this extra fee, I am going to lose out on the care of the best doctor I have ever seen. It feels elitist. It feels exclusive. It feels like I am being shut out of an opportunity because I am not among his wealthiest patients. It feels that way, because it's true.
After the sadness, came anger. It just isn't FAIR. I stomped my feet. I pounded my fists. I called my mom to complain (who said her own PCP did this a year ago, but is only charging $300 per year.) Then I called Dr. W. and left a message to please call me back.
And he did. At the end of a long day seeing patients, he did what he always does: called me back promptly to discuss my concerns. He did so with grace and warmth. He explained his point of view (feels like he can't be the doctor he wants to be in his current practice, never sees his family, etc.) and expressed how much he appreciates me as a patient. I couldn't even stay angry. He's just that sweet.
The problem is, I see Dr. Wonderful *maybe* two or three times a year at this point. Other than infertility and the anxiety/depression issues (both covered by insurance), I have no reason to see him, other than physicals and the occasional sicknesses that come with everyday life. So, there is no way I could ever justify the cost to join the practice. So, I made a last ditch effort and asked him about a sliding scale for his fee. He said that I should call and inquire about it in a couple of months, after the new practice is on its feet. In the meantime, he referred me to another doctor and asked about how the pregnancy is going.
Although I can't stay mad at Dr. W. I am thoroughly freaked out by this trend. I know more and more PCPs are going to start following this model, and it scares the shit out of me. Really, it just means the richest people will get the best care, and the rest of us will have to deal with crowded waiting rooms, wait lists, and appointments that never run on time. Maybe this is the way it has been in America on a smaller scale, but it's becoming obvious that the disparity between the haves and the have-nots is going to affect the medical care of more and more people.
For me, it feels personal. It feels like I've been abandoned. It feels like I have one less person in my corner.
So long, Dr. Wonderful.
Anyone else have a PCP who switched to concierge care?
"Mad World," by Tears for Fears
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Breakdown
It happened. I had my first official breakdown this morning, in my OBs office. Yup. That was me. The crazy lady crying in front of a stunned OB. This breakdown was several days in the making, and as KG said when I called him after the appointment, "It just sounds like you had a cry inside you needed to let out." Apparently so. This is a long one, so get comfortable.
Let's back up.
Over the last week, I have been feeling tremendous pressure about finding child care for The Nugget. I had 3 people in the span of as many days ask me the dreaded question, "Have you looked into child care yet?" Cue. Panic. Even though, to me, it sounds totally insane to look at day care when you are 15 weeks pregnant, apparently in Boston it is totally necessary. I started googling, talking to friends, and making some phone calls. Indeed, several places said that now is the time to look for September 2013. Yup, over a year in advance. So, I made some appointments to visit a few places in our area. Oh, and guess what else? You need to be ready to cough up nearly as much money per month as our rent for full time infant care. Again, cue panic. Since staying home is not an option for me (or KG) this is the reality. We'll just have to suck it up and eat ramen for a while.
So there's that.
I'll preface the next bit by saying I am a person who likes direct instruction. Don't make me guess what I should do. Just tell me exactly the right thing to do and when to do it. I follow directions like a champ. Teachers tended to love me for this reason. I generally did exactly what they asked, in order to get a good grade. Open ended assignments? That's another story.
On to today's appointment.
I saw the OB we met last month. Again, she was a bit late (30 mins) but was warm and friendly. All started well, with my uterus measuring just right and The Nugget's heartbeat sounding loud and strong. She said my blood pressure was "on the high end of normal" but that might have been from feeling annoyed that she ran 30 minutes late. Anyway, she told me not to worry about it (then why tell me?). Then, she asked if I had questions. She didn't know what she was in for.
I started off by asking about why my ovaries are still quite large from IVF (they mentioned it at the NT Scan). She kind of brushed it off saying it would go away after the baby and they wouldn't do anything about it now. I'm okay with that I guess, but it did leave me wondering.
Then I asked about exercise. How much should I be doing? For how long? Again, I felt like I got vague answers. It started out okay. She said I should be exercising every day (holy shit!). Then, I got the standard, "Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, breathless, too hot, etc." Okay, that's all fine. But, when I pushed her to tell me how long each day, etc. I got, "Whatever feels right." If I knew what felt right, I wouldn't be asking. It feels awfully right to sit and watch Real Housewives instead of going to the gym.
Next, was the heaviest topic. I've written before about the fact that I am on prescription medication for anxiety and depression. I am on very low doses and have consulted my psychiatrist and two years ago (when we began TTC) I even went to a special clinic that deals exclusively with pregnancy and psychiatric medication. At the time, everyone recommended I stay on my medication, even though they are Class C, because the risk of having a depressive or panic episode was overwhelmingly likely, especially postpartum. The research generally shows that the risk to me outweighs the risk to the baby and that the chemicals that the body of a depressed mother releases can be more damaging to the baby than the meds. They also said the amount passed through breastmilk is less than through the placenta, so it shouldn't be a problem. But, I wanted to make sure this OB is on board and that breastfeeding will not be an issue at the hospital. Now, I know this is a complicated issue and honestly the research sucks in this area because they aren't randomized studies. It may not be a clear cut issue at all. But again, instead of giving me a straight recommendation, she wants me to meet again with the clinic. I asked if she has other patients with this issue (she does - many) but she said it is all dependent on individual circumstances, etc. This is all true. But FUCK, I just wanted her opinion and she just wouldn't give it to me.
Then, it happened. I broke down in tears. I didn't see it coming and still don't really know why I went over the edge. She was stunned and thrown by my reaction, as was I. She babbled a bit and I agreed to make the call to the clinic.
Lastly, I decided to press my luck and ask about nutrition advice. Are there specific food groups I should be focusing on more than others? Protein? Calcium? I have all the books with some of this info, but I wanted to know from her experience if she considers some things more important than others. What did she say? I should go see the nutritionist. Another appointment. Another question unanswered. I think I'll just make a greater effort with leafy greens.
Did I mention I am meeting tomorrow with an endocrinologist because she didn't want to tell me when to go off Metformin (for PCOS, not insulin issues) without his opinion?
No one tells you how scary all this pregnancy stuff is. The thing is, I am petrified that I'll do something wrong with this pregnancy, that I'll personally make a choice that will harm this baby. And it seems that with so many of these pregnancy-related things, there is no one right answer. There is only making "comfortable" choices or doing what "feels right." Apparently this is true from everything from choosing a car seat to the question of getting an epidural. For someone like me, that is just about the worst thing I can hear. How the hell do I know what's right if I've never done this before?
Are all OBs like this? Do they all refer you out for tough questions? Are they only good for listening to a doppler and measuring your uterus?
Hell, I have a doppler at home...
By the way, today didn't start off like this. It's actually a really happy day: KG and I have been married for 7 years as of noon today. We are going to a fab restaurant to celebrate later and shake off this mood. Happy Anniversary, KG. You are the best partner to this batshit crazy lady I could ever ask for.
Let's back up.
Over the last week, I have been feeling tremendous pressure about finding child care for The Nugget. I had 3 people in the span of as many days ask me the dreaded question, "Have you looked into child care yet?" Cue. Panic. Even though, to me, it sounds totally insane to look at day care when you are 15 weeks pregnant, apparently in Boston it is totally necessary. I started googling, talking to friends, and making some phone calls. Indeed, several places said that now is the time to look for September 2013. Yup, over a year in advance. So, I made some appointments to visit a few places in our area. Oh, and guess what else? You need to be ready to cough up nearly as much money per month as our rent for full time infant care. Again, cue panic. Since staying home is not an option for me (or KG) this is the reality. We'll just have to suck it up and eat ramen for a while.
So there's that.
I'll preface the next bit by saying I am a person who likes direct instruction. Don't make me guess what I should do. Just tell me exactly the right thing to do and when to do it. I follow directions like a champ. Teachers tended to love me for this reason. I generally did exactly what they asked, in order to get a good grade. Open ended assignments? That's another story.
On to today's appointment.
I saw the OB we met last month. Again, she was a bit late (30 mins) but was warm and friendly. All started well, with my uterus measuring just right and The Nugget's heartbeat sounding loud and strong. She said my blood pressure was "on the high end of normal" but that might have been from feeling annoyed that she ran 30 minutes late. Anyway, she told me not to worry about it (then why tell me?). Then, she asked if I had questions. She didn't know what she was in for.
I started off by asking about why my ovaries are still quite large from IVF (they mentioned it at the NT Scan). She kind of brushed it off saying it would go away after the baby and they wouldn't do anything about it now. I'm okay with that I guess, but it did leave me wondering.
Then I asked about exercise. How much should I be doing? For how long? Again, I felt like I got vague answers. It started out okay. She said I should be exercising every day (holy shit!). Then, I got the standard, "Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, breathless, too hot, etc." Okay, that's all fine. But, when I pushed her to tell me how long each day, etc. I got, "Whatever feels right." If I knew what felt right, I wouldn't be asking. It feels awfully right to sit and watch Real Housewives instead of going to the gym.
Next, was the heaviest topic. I've written before about the fact that I am on prescription medication for anxiety and depression. I am on very low doses and have consulted my psychiatrist and two years ago (when we began TTC) I even went to a special clinic that deals exclusively with pregnancy and psychiatric medication. At the time, everyone recommended I stay on my medication, even though they are Class C, because the risk of having a depressive or panic episode was overwhelmingly likely, especially postpartum. The research generally shows that the risk to me outweighs the risk to the baby and that the chemicals that the body of a depressed mother releases can be more damaging to the baby than the meds. They also said the amount passed through breastmilk is less than through the placenta, so it shouldn't be a problem. But, I wanted to make sure this OB is on board and that breastfeeding will not be an issue at the hospital. Now, I know this is a complicated issue and honestly the research sucks in this area because they aren't randomized studies. It may not be a clear cut issue at all. But again, instead of giving me a straight recommendation, she wants me to meet again with the clinic. I asked if she has other patients with this issue (she does - many) but she said it is all dependent on individual circumstances, etc. This is all true. But FUCK, I just wanted her opinion and she just wouldn't give it to me.
Then, it happened. I broke down in tears. I didn't see it coming and still don't really know why I went over the edge. She was stunned and thrown by my reaction, as was I. She babbled a bit and I agreed to make the call to the clinic.
Lastly, I decided to press my luck and ask about nutrition advice. Are there specific food groups I should be focusing on more than others? Protein? Calcium? I have all the books with some of this info, but I wanted to know from her experience if she considers some things more important than others. What did she say? I should go see the nutritionist. Another appointment. Another question unanswered. I think I'll just make a greater effort with leafy greens.
Did I mention I am meeting tomorrow with an endocrinologist because she didn't want to tell me when to go off Metformin (for PCOS, not insulin issues) without his opinion?
No one tells you how scary all this pregnancy stuff is. The thing is, I am petrified that I'll do something wrong with this pregnancy, that I'll personally make a choice that will harm this baby. And it seems that with so many of these pregnancy-related things, there is no one right answer. There is only making "comfortable" choices or doing what "feels right." Apparently this is true from everything from choosing a car seat to the question of getting an epidural. For someone like me, that is just about the worst thing I can hear. How the hell do I know what's right if I've never done this before?
Are all OBs like this? Do they all refer you out for tough questions? Are they only good for listening to a doppler and measuring your uterus?
Hell, I have a doppler at home...
By the way, today didn't start off like this. It's actually a really happy day: KG and I have been married for 7 years as of noon today. We are going to a fab restaurant to celebrate later and shake off this mood. Happy Anniversary, KG. You are the best partner to this batshit crazy lady I could ever ask for.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Waiting Room
Apparently, I'm going to be spending a lot of time in my OB's waiting room.
First, the good news: Overall, I liked the doctor. She was warm and friendly. We got to hear the heartbeat on a doppler at 10 weeks 3 days. 155 bpm. She warned us it might take a while to find it, but then it was there right away. Music to our ears. Now of course I want to get a doppler for home use. I'm still debating about that. KG is convinced I'll use it every day if we get one. But, I think I could agree to only do it with him once or twice per week. Thoughts on home doppler use anyone?
We also scheduled the early and second semester integrated screening (NT Scan and the 18w scan). I see the doctor again in a month.We went over a lot of my records, talked about some vaccines His Royal Fabulousness and I need, got a breast exam and a vaginal culture, checked my cervix and uterus, tested protein and sugar in my urine, and discussed some additional genetic testing for Ashkenazi Jewish background that I haven't had. I only had the basic 4 tests for that, and now there are like 20. I need to call my medical insurance to see if those tests are covered. We also talked about my risk for PPD (higher because of my history of depression and anxiety). She supported the rec to stay on my medications for that and said overall everything looked perfect.
The bad news: It was quite the ordeal in the OB's office yesterday. We had a 3:00 appointment and she didn't walk in the room until 3:45. She also quickly saw another patient (one who had come late because she got her appt. time wrong) in the middle of our appointment. She seemed a bit scattered, but I think that might have been because she was running so, so late. I didn't end up getting out of there until 5. I was a little pissed off and even more so when she failed to call me last night with instructions about stopping my progesterone and Metformin. She said she wanted a bit of time to review my chart more before giving me instructions and that she would call after office hours. No call. Sigh. I guess I'll call Monday morning. Do you think this is a bad sign about her reliability, or just a bad day? She comes SO HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
So, I guess this baby is deciding to stick. KG said I looked genuinely shocked when we heard the heartbeat. That's both amusing and sad to me. I'm still working on my promise to think positively, but I'm making headway. My mom and I have been discussing timing for a baby shower in Los Angeles, which makes me happy. I've started to allow myself to look ahead, make plans, and get a little excited. Bit by bit.
This week was a good one: I turned 32, went to a Red Sox game on free tickets, said goodbye to my students for the summer, and heard the sweet sound of my baby's ticker. All in all, not bad.
Enjoy listening to Fugazi's "Waiting Room." Bonus points to anyone who can sing along.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
The Demise of Rock and Roll and Thoughts on Belly Shots
I'm in the mood for bullets.
• Those of you who have been reading the blog for a while know about my love of music. It's a part of my identity that I cling to. But, I am grieving for a death in the music community this week, hardcore.
My favorite Boston radio station is going under this week, after being sold to Clear Channel. I have been depressed about it all week, probably disproportionately so. WFNX (started in 1983) was one of the last independent, alternative rock stations. It comes on the heels of another major rock station's demise (WBCN) in 2009.
Both of these stations were a major part of Boston's local rock scene. WFNX had entire blocks dedicated to showcasing local bands and sponsored live shows nearly every week. It was where I heard bands like The Raconteurs, The Black Keys, and Alabama Shakes for the first time. They had bands like The Pixies, The Smiths, and The Cure in heavy rotation with newer bands like Bombay Bicycle Club. It kept me in the loop. It kept me current. It kept me from feeling like a total dinosaur. Howard Stern warned me about the evils of Clear Channel years ago when he made the switch to satellite radio. I should have listened to him. Now, where will I hear about tiny bands, about to make it big?
• I saw The Avengers last week. It is AMAZING. Go see it.
• My thoughts on belly shots:
I hate my stomach. I have struggled with body image issues my entire life. I have posted before (I think) about how much I struggled with my weight for most of my life. Then in 2008 I went through a significant weight loss (although it wasn't enough to reach my goal weight), which improved my comfort in my own skin. I was at the gym consistently taking spin classes and I got a trainer for a while. I weighed my food and made pretty good choices. Then, since starting injectables (IUIs, then IVFs) my exercise routine went by the wayside. I just couldn't handle the emotional and physical fatigue. But, I've been okay with the softening of my thighs, butt, and belly. I haven't really gained any actual poundage, I am just...mushier. I am also 100% okay with gaining baby weight. I'll deal with the aftermath post-partum. BUT....then there is the idea of belly shots. My intention is to avoid belly shots until later on, perhaps 12, 14, or 16 weeks. I wouldn't show until then anyway right? No need to make people gross out at the site of my stomach.
But then, I was in a dressing room yesterday in yoga pants, and I noticed it. The beginnings of a bump. I'm 10 weeks tomorrow, so it makes sense. Honestly, I got a little excited at the sight. Then I realized, I was sucking in. I suck in every second I am standing. I always have. When I let go of the breath that was holding my tummy in, I realized the belly was WAY rounder and larger. The perfectionist in me wondered: when women take belly shots, are they sucking in? Or are they letting it all hang out? For those who are or have been pregnant, what do you do?
• Some folks have been asking about my symptoms. In general, I have gotten off very easy so far. I don't have many, and the ones I do have are very subtle. I've been very tired (naps and such) and had some passing queasiness. Also, I suddenly can't eat fish or beef, and want iced drinks instead of my normal room temperature preference. For the first few weeks, I couldn't regulate my temperature very well - I would swing from freezing to sweating a lot. I hadn't heard of that as a symptom before, but what can I say? I'm an original. But all of that seems to be settling down, which my RE says is normal between weeks 9-12.
• My intake appointment with the new OB's nurse is Wednesday. We meet with the actual OB on Friday afternoon. Not sure if that will be too early for a listen to the heartbeat with a doppler, but here's hoping.
• I also turn 32 on Wednesday. I almost forgot I have a birthday coming up, until KG asked what I wanted to do. I'm thinking this will be a quiet one, but the best birthday I've had since my 29th, before we started TTC.
In honor of the demise of WFNX, REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It"
• Those of you who have been reading the blog for a while know about my love of music. It's a part of my identity that I cling to. But, I am grieving for a death in the music community this week, hardcore.
My favorite Boston radio station is going under this week, after being sold to Clear Channel. I have been depressed about it all week, probably disproportionately so. WFNX (started in 1983) was one of the last independent, alternative rock stations. It comes on the heels of another major rock station's demise (WBCN) in 2009.
Both of these stations were a major part of Boston's local rock scene. WFNX had entire blocks dedicated to showcasing local bands and sponsored live shows nearly every week. It was where I heard bands like The Raconteurs, The Black Keys, and Alabama Shakes for the first time. They had bands like The Pixies, The Smiths, and The Cure in heavy rotation with newer bands like Bombay Bicycle Club. It kept me in the loop. It kept me current. It kept me from feeling like a total dinosaur. Howard Stern warned me about the evils of Clear Channel years ago when he made the switch to satellite radio. I should have listened to him. Now, where will I hear about tiny bands, about to make it big?
• I saw The Avengers last week. It is AMAZING. Go see it.
• My thoughts on belly shots:
I hate my stomach. I have struggled with body image issues my entire life. I have posted before (I think) about how much I struggled with my weight for most of my life. Then in 2008 I went through a significant weight loss (although it wasn't enough to reach my goal weight), which improved my comfort in my own skin. I was at the gym consistently taking spin classes and I got a trainer for a while. I weighed my food and made pretty good choices. Then, since starting injectables (IUIs, then IVFs) my exercise routine went by the wayside. I just couldn't handle the emotional and physical fatigue. But, I've been okay with the softening of my thighs, butt, and belly. I haven't really gained any actual poundage, I am just...mushier. I am also 100% okay with gaining baby weight. I'll deal with the aftermath post-partum. BUT....then there is the idea of belly shots. My intention is to avoid belly shots until later on, perhaps 12, 14, or 16 weeks. I wouldn't show until then anyway right? No need to make people gross out at the site of my stomach.
But then, I was in a dressing room yesterday in yoga pants, and I noticed it. The beginnings of a bump. I'm 10 weeks tomorrow, so it makes sense. Honestly, I got a little excited at the sight. Then I realized, I was sucking in. I suck in every second I am standing. I always have. When I let go of the breath that was holding my tummy in, I realized the belly was WAY rounder and larger. The perfectionist in me wondered: when women take belly shots, are they sucking in? Or are they letting it all hang out? For those who are or have been pregnant, what do you do?
• Some folks have been asking about my symptoms. In general, I have gotten off very easy so far. I don't have many, and the ones I do have are very subtle. I've been very tired (naps and such) and had some passing queasiness. Also, I suddenly can't eat fish or beef, and want iced drinks instead of my normal room temperature preference. For the first few weeks, I couldn't regulate my temperature very well - I would swing from freezing to sweating a lot. I hadn't heard of that as a symptom before, but what can I say? I'm an original. But all of that seems to be settling down, which my RE says is normal between weeks 9-12.
• My intake appointment with the new OB's nurse is Wednesday. We meet with the actual OB on Friday afternoon. Not sure if that will be too early for a listen to the heartbeat with a doppler, but here's hoping.
• I also turn 32 on Wednesday. I almost forgot I have a birthday coming up, until KG asked what I wanted to do. I'm thinking this will be a quiet one, but the best birthday I've had since my 29th, before we started TTC.
In honor of the demise of WFNX, REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It"
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Distraction is a Good Thing
May is the absolute busiest time of the school year for me. Right about now, we are squeezing in loads of curriculum, field trips, school events, and various other mandatory items with a very distinct deadline. Need an example? While most of my friends are planning barbeques and picnics for Memorial Day weekend, I'll be writing 13 progress reports, each of which takes 2-3 hours. Yup, it's just me and my laptop this weekend.
Although all of this is exhausting, the distraction is probably a good thing right now. I have been thinking of sweet Belle's loss a lot, but all of this action at work leaves me very little time to think about my own upcoming ultrasound on Wednesday. I'll be a little over 9 weeks then, and am praying I'll see that same healthy heartbeat. I've been having a symptom or two here and there, but nothing remarkable. I'm just trying not to read too much into it.
Work stress has also left me a bit uninspired when it comes to blogging this week. But, I know that as soon as my last report is written and the last day with my students gets a bit closer, I'll start to reclaim some creativity 'round these parts.
In the meantime, I'll close my eyes and visualize summer.
DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, "Summertime"
Although all of this is exhausting, the distraction is probably a good thing right now. I have been thinking of sweet Belle's loss a lot, but all of this action at work leaves me very little time to think about my own upcoming ultrasound on Wednesday. I'll be a little over 9 weeks then, and am praying I'll see that same healthy heartbeat. I've been having a symptom or two here and there, but nothing remarkable. I'm just trying not to read too much into it.
Work stress has also left me a bit uninspired when it comes to blogging this week. But, I know that as soon as my last report is written and the last day with my students gets a bit closer, I'll start to reclaim some creativity 'round these parts.
In the meantime, I'll close my eyes and visualize summer.
DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, "Summertime"
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Countdown
As Belle would say, I have 2 more sleeps before the ultrasound on Monday.
I'll be 7 weeks then. There won't be any ambiguity - either we will see a heartbeat or we will know it is over.
It isn't any secret I've been in a bad place while we wait for that day. In the past, I've written about my scars and the ridges are definitely showing. We haven't been pregnant since 2010 and we know how that ended. I can tell KG has come to the end of his rope with trying to soothe me or make me feel more positively about the outcome this time. He isn't angry with me, but he's frustrated that he can't fix me right now. He can't make me assume the best.
I keep playing 2 different scenarios in my mind. The one that ends in joyous tears, and the one that ends in the other kind. If it isn't good news, how am I supposed to live through that again? I think back to the pain of those days and it just seems unimaginable that I could be forced to go through it for a second time. But, it happens. Unfortunately, when you are a part of this community, you are constantly reminded that it happens over and over again.
One decision I did make is this: if we do see a heartbeat on Monday, I'm making some changes. Although there is nothing I can do to avoid being scared between every ultrasound and chance to check on the baby, I refuse to waste my entire pregnancy feeling as petrified as I do right now. Somehow, I will force myself to try and enjoy this time, because I worked so damn hard to get here.
I have read several blog posts about the huge wave of BFPs lately in the blogosphere. They have had an undercurrent of pain in almost every one. It's understandable. I lived through several of those waves in the last 2 years, and they hurt me every time. Simultaneously, I was happy for and upset by those pregnancies.
In my logical mind, I knew those women had often been through hell and back with infertility and deserved those healthy pregnancies. But, I could never shake the feeling that it wasn't fair because it wasn't me. Now that I am one of those with a pregnancy announcement, it feels strange. Maybe I am so used to being on the other side, that I can't quite compute what it will mean if I do end up one of those lucky ones.
For tonight and tomorrow night, we sit in the nebulous place of not knowing. Maybe that isn't such a bad place to be. At least for this weekend, we can still believe in the 50/50 shot at a happy ending.
"So Hard" by the Dixie Chicks
I'll be 7 weeks then. There won't be any ambiguity - either we will see a heartbeat or we will know it is over.
It isn't any secret I've been in a bad place while we wait for that day. In the past, I've written about my scars and the ridges are definitely showing. We haven't been pregnant since 2010 and we know how that ended. I can tell KG has come to the end of his rope with trying to soothe me or make me feel more positively about the outcome this time. He isn't angry with me, but he's frustrated that he can't fix me right now. He can't make me assume the best.
I keep playing 2 different scenarios in my mind. The one that ends in joyous tears, and the one that ends in the other kind. If it isn't good news, how am I supposed to live through that again? I think back to the pain of those days and it just seems unimaginable that I could be forced to go through it for a second time. But, it happens. Unfortunately, when you are a part of this community, you are constantly reminded that it happens over and over again.
One decision I did make is this: if we do see a heartbeat on Monday, I'm making some changes. Although there is nothing I can do to avoid being scared between every ultrasound and chance to check on the baby, I refuse to waste my entire pregnancy feeling as petrified as I do right now. Somehow, I will force myself to try and enjoy this time, because I worked so damn hard to get here.
I have read several blog posts about the huge wave of BFPs lately in the blogosphere. They have had an undercurrent of pain in almost every one. It's understandable. I lived through several of those waves in the last 2 years, and they hurt me every time. Simultaneously, I was happy for and upset by those pregnancies.
In my logical mind, I knew those women had often been through hell and back with infertility and deserved those healthy pregnancies. But, I could never shake the feeling that it wasn't fair because it wasn't me. Now that I am one of those with a pregnancy announcement, it feels strange. Maybe I am so used to being on the other side, that I can't quite compute what it will mean if I do end up one of those lucky ones.
For tonight and tomorrow night, we sit in the nebulous place of not knowing. Maybe that isn't such a bad place to be. At least for this weekend, we can still believe in the 50/50 shot at a happy ending.
"So Hard" by the Dixie Chicks
Saturday, May 5, 2012
"Why can't you just be happy?"
I know I had good reasons for putting off the ultrasound until 7 weeks. I know I did.
What were they again?
This last week felt never ending. It really did. Although work is totally nuts (5 weeks of the school year left and literally over 20 events and deadlines in the meantime) time seemed to slow down enough to let me freak out about 5 times per day.
The thoughts in my head go something like this:
"I have no symptoms. I know this is another missed miscarriage."
"No, you have a hand picked embryo, high betas, and progesterone. Plus, your due date is New Year's Day! That's good luck! You're good."
"But, this has gone badly before. This will be the same."
"It's just too early. You are acting like a crazy person! Some people never get morning sickness."
"I wonder when I should schedule a baby shower in Los Angeles? I have a wedding to attend there in October."
"Don't think too far in the future, you'll jinx it. Don't blog about it, you'll jinx it. Don't be happy, you'll jinx it."
"You'll feel better when you see the heartbeat on the 14th."
"But what if you miscarry after that?"
You get the idea.
I have resorted to stupid, self soothing behavior. For example, I was in CVS looking for a Mother's Day card for my mom, and saw FRERs were on sale. It has been over a week since my betas, confirming I am pregnant. But there they wereon the shelf, three for $11.99 to boot.
Yeah, I bought some. Why?
Even if I did miscarry, I would still have a high enough hcg level right now to give me a BFP. But, it made me feel better for 2 minutes to see a fast, dark test line that came back darker than the control line.
This level of anxiety isn't good. It really isn't. But it feels out of my control, like a primal reaction. I can't seem to get attached, be happy, or focus on the positive. It's almost like an out of body experience. Without any symptoms or additional betas, I have nothing to latch onto. Nothing that makes me feel pregnant.
A friend who is waiting on the results of her recent IUI told me that because several people we know (along with myself) have gotten BFPs, that she feels like she is doomed for a BFN. Like there aren't enough BFPs to go around. I completely understand how she feels.
In the last two weeks, several bloggers (Unaffected, Belle, Miss Conception, Mrs. Rochester, Lanie - did I miss anyone?) have also announced BFPs along with me. I am thrilled for all of us. We all deserve to get our babies after battling infertility and loss for so long. But, that cynical part of my brain kicks in sometimes. Are there enough take-home babies for all of us to be successful?
I really, really hope so.
I also can't help but think of the bloggers whom I know and love that have not yet gotten their BFPs or had a recent loss. It hurts my heart to know my BFP caused them any pain. This blogging community is special, but complicated. I know how it is to feel happy for another blogger and yet to feel disconnected and distant from them at the same time, because the sameness of the shared journey shifted.
I'm really hoping that all of you stick with me anyway.
What were they again?
This last week felt never ending. It really did. Although work is totally nuts (5 weeks of the school year left and literally over 20 events and deadlines in the meantime) time seemed to slow down enough to let me freak out about 5 times per day.
The thoughts in my head go something like this:
"I have no symptoms. I know this is another missed miscarriage."
"No, you have a hand picked embryo, high betas, and progesterone. Plus, your due date is New Year's Day! That's good luck! You're good."
"But, this has gone badly before. This will be the same."
"It's just too early. You are acting like a crazy person! Some people never get morning sickness."
"I wonder when I should schedule a baby shower in Los Angeles? I have a wedding to attend there in October."
"Don't think too far in the future, you'll jinx it. Don't blog about it, you'll jinx it. Don't be happy, you'll jinx it."
"You'll feel better when you see the heartbeat on the 14th."
"But what if you miscarry after that?"
You get the idea.
I have resorted to stupid, self soothing behavior. For example, I was in CVS looking for a Mother's Day card for my mom, and saw FRERs were on sale. It has been over a week since my betas, confirming I am pregnant. But there they wereon the shelf, three for $11.99 to boot.
Yeah, I bought some. Why?
Even if I did miscarry, I would still have a high enough hcg level right now to give me a BFP. But, it made me feel better for 2 minutes to see a fast, dark test line that came back darker than the control line.
This level of anxiety isn't good. It really isn't. But it feels out of my control, like a primal reaction. I can't seem to get attached, be happy, or focus on the positive. It's almost like an out of body experience. Without any symptoms or additional betas, I have nothing to latch onto. Nothing that makes me feel pregnant.
A friend who is waiting on the results of her recent IUI told me that because several people we know (along with myself) have gotten BFPs, that she feels like she is doomed for a BFN. Like there aren't enough BFPs to go around. I completely understand how she feels.
In the last two weeks, several bloggers (Unaffected, Belle, Miss Conception, Mrs. Rochester, Lanie - did I miss anyone?) have also announced BFPs along with me. I am thrilled for all of us. We all deserve to get our babies after battling infertility and loss for so long. But, that cynical part of my brain kicks in sometimes. Are there enough take-home babies for all of us to be successful?
I really, really hope so.
I also can't help but think of the bloggers whom I know and love that have not yet gotten their BFPs or had a recent loss. It hurts my heart to know my BFP caused them any pain. This blogging community is special, but complicated. I know how it is to feel happy for another blogger and yet to feel disconnected and distant from them at the same time, because the sameness of the shared journey shifted.
I'm really hoping that all of you stick with me anyway.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Loving all the love
Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the love, encouragement, support, and general enthusiasm on my last post. I can feel all the positive energy you guys are sending to me and I can't tell you how much it helps. I am incredibly touched that so many people care about what happens to KG and I. Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me.
I just want to address one issue: we only transferred one embryo (Thanks, SKB!). I know the betas are high, but the nurses didn't even blink. Unless some crazy miracle took place, no twins!
Now, we are looking forward to the ultrasound. They first told me to come in next week, but I shocked them when I requested we wait a little while longer. Reason? When we went in for our first ultrasound in 2010, we went in at 6 weeks 2 days. When they couldn't find a heartbeat, they said, "Maybe it is too early. Let's wait a week and see if one develops." I swear to you, there has never been a longer, more painful week.
So, KG and I made the decision to request that we wait until 7 weeks, just to make 100% sure that we will see a heartbeat. No uncertainty this time, please. This is a double edged sword, giving myself yet another long wait, but worth it I think.
Anyway, that you all so much again for all the love coming our way.
I just want to address one issue: we only transferred one embryo (Thanks, SKB!). I know the betas are high, but the nurses didn't even blink. Unless some crazy miracle took place, no twins!
Now, we are looking forward to the ultrasound. They first told me to come in next week, but I shocked them when I requested we wait a little while longer. Reason? When we went in for our first ultrasound in 2010, we went in at 6 weeks 2 days. When they couldn't find a heartbeat, they said, "Maybe it is too early. Let's wait a week and see if one develops." I swear to you, there has never been a longer, more painful week.
So, KG and I made the decision to request that we wait until 7 weeks, just to make 100% sure that we will see a heartbeat. No uncertainty this time, please. This is a double edged sword, giving myself yet another long wait, but worth it I think.
Anyway, that you all so much again for all the love coming our way.
Monday, April 30, 2012
White Knuckles
This post contains very delicate information. If you know me in my non-blogosphere life, please don't share the information below. We will share as we feel ready.
This week, I felt shy about posting. Maybe it's because I'm extremely superstitious about "jinxing" during the two week wait. Maybe it's because I was trying so hard to distract myself from how crazy I was acting. Maybe I was too busy.
Nah.
I wasn't posting because I was ashamed. Consider this post a confession.
As some of you know, because of my PCOS, I never get natural periods anymore. Since my miscarriage in August 2010, I have had exactly one natural period. So, as you can imagine, KG and I have had very few actual two week waits in our experience with TTC. We've had a few weird Clomid cycles, a couple of failed IUIs, and one failed IVF before now. In all those cases, either my period came quickly (short luteal phase) or we had to cancel the cycle.
So, I've had a lot of time to forget what a real, long TWW is like. And boy this was a doozey. All the lessons I learned when we miscarried went out this window. I swore then that I would remember that early BFPs and good betas do not mean you end up with a baby, so I wouldn't torture myself in the future with POAS. I would be patient. I would just wait for things to happen in time.
However, a year and a half later, I forgot all of that. I hang my head in shame as I write this. Last week, I became a testing addict once again. I was out of control and spent more money than I care to admit.
No kidding - 15 tests between 7dp5dt and 12dp5dt (Friday).
Even worse, I tested using multiple brands, different times of day, and obsessively photographed them, saved them in a Ziplock bag in my bathroom, arranged them in specific ways to analyze them, blah blah blah.
Seriously, it was behavior that was completely beyond me. Some might shake their head and laugh, but until you have been in this position, you don't know how you'll react.
The good news: the reason I kept testing and testing is because I got BFPs all week.
The bad news: the darkness of the lines on the tests were highly variable by time of day, and scared the crap out of me. (I must be the only weirdo in the world who had darker FRER's (supposedly the most sensitive test) in the afternoon than with first morning urine. This issue deserves a whole separate post. Lesson learned? Internet cheapie tests are way more accurate for me.)
Although I was tempted to jump on the blog and post every picture of every positive test, something held me back. Despite seeing 2 lines on all of these tests, and seeing the word "Pregnant" on a digital test, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. If I said it publicly, maybe it would all disappear. Maybe I would get my period within hours of sharing. Maybe it would be my fault.
Then, Friday (12dp5dt) was beta day. I held out hope for a number around 100. I always get my blood drawn in the morning, and wait for an afternoon phone call. However, I checked my phone around lunch time, and saw I had a voicemail. I was shocked because it was so early, and my stomach was in knots because I didn't know if it was a good or a bad sign.
It was a good sign. The nurse enthusiastically said that our number was 859!
I sat at my desk, replaying the voicemail over and over to make sure I heard the number right. I even called her back, to ask her to repeat the number. I was so prepared for bad news, that I didn't know how to process good news.
Since the call, I've felt really stunned. Muted. Cautious. It really hasn't sunk in yet. How could something go right? KG is with me on this one. He's happy and optimistic, but we both have an undercurrent of white knuckles. Despite this, we did celebrate with a dinner out Friday night, and talked about the future. Superstitions be damned.
My mom has been emailing, encouraging me to see this as a totally new, separate experience from our first pregnancy. She says we should expect it to be a healthy, uneventful pregnancy, one that deserves to be enjoyed. I know she's right. I know we can't spend every day petrified and expecting the worst to happen. It's just so hard.
As I said to a fellow IFer the other day, "Once you've taken the pill and seen the Matrix, there's no going back."
But, unless something changes, I really am pregnant.
We went back in this morning to make sure my number is doubling. We got 3,247! Ultrasound in 2 weeks...
Please stick little one.
*********************
I'm sorry I disappeared. Blogging is a funny thing. I wrote about every intimate detail of this cycle, but when it came to the end of the cycle, I hesitated to put it out there. I've felt guilty about this for a few days. You all have
shown me so much support throughout this IVF cycle (and the other
cycles that have come before it), so it feels strange not to share what's
been going on. Additionally, this is my space. I use the blog to write about whatever feelings or issues I am dealing with. Nothing is a bigger issue for me right now than my efforts to be a mother. So, superstitiousness be damned. Here's what's been happening in the last 9 days.
*******************
This week, I felt shy about posting. Maybe it's because I'm extremely superstitious about "jinxing" during the two week wait. Maybe it's because I was trying so hard to distract myself from how crazy I was acting. Maybe I was too busy.
Nah.
I wasn't posting because I was ashamed. Consider this post a confession.
As some of you know, because of my PCOS, I never get natural periods anymore. Since my miscarriage in August 2010, I have had exactly one natural period. So, as you can imagine, KG and I have had very few actual two week waits in our experience with TTC. We've had a few weird Clomid cycles, a couple of failed IUIs, and one failed IVF before now. In all those cases, either my period came quickly (short luteal phase) or we had to cancel the cycle.
So, I've had a lot of time to forget what a real, long TWW is like. And boy this was a doozey. All the lessons I learned when we miscarried went out this window. I swore then that I would remember that early BFPs and good betas do not mean you end up with a baby, so I wouldn't torture myself in the future with POAS. I would be patient. I would just wait for things to happen in time.
However, a year and a half later, I forgot all of that. I hang my head in shame as I write this. Last week, I became a testing addict once again. I was out of control and spent more money than I care to admit.
No kidding - 15 tests between 7dp5dt and 12dp5dt (Friday).
Even worse, I tested using multiple brands, different times of day, and obsessively photographed them, saved them in a Ziplock bag in my bathroom, arranged them in specific ways to analyze them, blah blah blah.
Seriously, it was behavior that was completely beyond me. Some might shake their head and laugh, but until you have been in this position, you don't know how you'll react.
The good news: the reason I kept testing and testing is because I got BFPs all week.
The bad news: the darkness of the lines on the tests were highly variable by time of day, and scared the crap out of me. (I must be the only weirdo in the world who had darker FRER's (supposedly the most sensitive test) in the afternoon than with first morning urine. This issue deserves a whole separate post. Lesson learned? Internet cheapie tests are way more accurate for me.)
Although I was tempted to jump on the blog and post every picture of every positive test, something held me back. Despite seeing 2 lines on all of these tests, and seeing the word "Pregnant" on a digital test, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. If I said it publicly, maybe it would all disappear. Maybe I would get my period within hours of sharing. Maybe it would be my fault.
Then, Friday (12dp5dt) was beta day. I held out hope for a number around 100. I always get my blood drawn in the morning, and wait for an afternoon phone call. However, I checked my phone around lunch time, and saw I had a voicemail. I was shocked because it was so early, and my stomach was in knots because I didn't know if it was a good or a bad sign.
It was a good sign. The nurse enthusiastically said that our number was 859!
I sat at my desk, replaying the voicemail over and over to make sure I heard the number right. I even called her back, to ask her to repeat the number. I was so prepared for bad news, that I didn't know how to process good news.
Since the call, I've felt really stunned. Muted. Cautious. It really hasn't sunk in yet. How could something go right? KG is with me on this one. He's happy and optimistic, but we both have an undercurrent of white knuckles. Despite this, we did celebrate with a dinner out Friday night, and talked about the future. Superstitions be damned.
My mom has been emailing, encouraging me to see this as a totally new, separate experience from our first pregnancy. She says we should expect it to be a healthy, uneventful pregnancy, one that deserves to be enjoyed. I know she's right. I know we can't spend every day petrified and expecting the worst to happen. It's just so hard.
As I said to a fellow IFer the other day, "Once you've taken the pill and seen the Matrix, there's no going back."
But, unless something changes, I really am pregnant.
We went back in this morning to make sure my number is doubling. We got 3,247! Ultrasound in 2 weeks...
Please stick little one.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
In case you were wondering, I also like to torture myself
Why, oh why, do I engage in self-defeating behavior?
Last night, I had a vivid dream about a BFP. I woke up from the dream at about 6:30am and couldn't go back to sleep because I thought it was a sign I should test at 6dp5dt. 6 days. Really, really early. The half-asleep optimistic part of my brain convinced the more logical part of my brain that this was a great idea. I proceeded to get out of bed and POAS.
Results? No shocker. Stark white BFN on a FRER. My chin then dropped to my chest and positivity went in the trash with the test. When KG woke up, I sheepishly confessed my sin and he just shook his head. Was he surprised I did this? Not. One. Bit.
I can't believe I did this to myself. I have one FRER left and a bunch of Wondfos and I feel like someone should remove them from my house. Clearly, I can't be trusted.
So, today KG and I have decided to get out of house and go downtown, near the site of our wedding to the Boston Aquarium. Outside the aquarium, they have a huge seal tank. Every time we feel sad, this is where we head to perk up our spirits. It never fails.
On that note, I leave you with the Alabama Shakes, "Hold On."
Last night, I had a vivid dream about a BFP. I woke up from the dream at about 6:30am and couldn't go back to sleep because I thought it was a sign I should test at 6dp5dt. 6 days. Really, really early. The half-asleep optimistic part of my brain convinced the more logical part of my brain that this was a great idea. I proceeded to get out of bed and POAS.
Results? No shocker. Stark white BFN on a FRER. My chin then dropped to my chest and positivity went in the trash with the test. When KG woke up, I sheepishly confessed my sin and he just shook his head. Was he surprised I did this? Not. One. Bit.
I can't believe I did this to myself. I have one FRER left and a bunch of Wondfos and I feel like someone should remove them from my house. Clearly, I can't be trusted.
So, today KG and I have decided to get out of house and go downtown, near the site of our wedding to the Boston Aquarium. Outside the aquarium, they have a huge seal tank. Every time we feel sad, this is where we head to perk up our spirits. It never fails.
On that note, I leave you with the Alabama Shakes, "Hold On."
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Lucky 100th post
At least I'm hoping it's lucky.
Just got the call from my nurse. Looks like I am in the safe zone with my estrogen levels (2,238 - phew) with lots of follicles on both sides now (still way more on the right - the tech counted 19 on the right and 5 on the left this morning), and "nice, thick lining."
Tonight we trigger.
Tomorrow I channel every positive thought I have.
Retrieval is at 7am Tuesday morning.
Thank you for all your support, comments, and cyber love this week. I really feel all of you holding me up.
Crossing eyes, fingers, and toes.
Just got the call from my nurse. Looks like I am in the safe zone with my estrogen levels (2,238 - phew) with lots of follicles on both sides now (still way more on the right - the tech counted 19 on the right and 5 on the left this morning), and "nice, thick lining."
Tonight we trigger.
Tomorrow I channel every positive thought I have.
Retrieval is at 7am Tuesday morning.
Thank you for all your support, comments, and cyber love this week. I really feel all of you holding me up.
Crossing eyes, fingers, and toes.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Anyone interested in an IVF update?
If you aren't into numbers and nitty-gritty, feel free to skip this post. Sometimes I like analyzing numbers, so you'll have to indulge me.
So last cycle, My med protocol looked like this:
BCP for weeks and weeks
Lupron (10iu to start, then 5iu when stims started)
75iu of Menopur and 150iu of Gonal-F for the first 3 days of stimming
150iu of Menopur and 150iu of Gonal-F for the next 7 days
Pregnyl trigger
23 eggs retrieved, 19 mature
That cycle, my estrogen looked like this:
15 (4th day of stims), 187, 404, 1,085, 1,940 (triggered that night) - 11 days of stims
This cycle, the protocol was nearly identical, except for one thing: she started me at 150/150 of Menopur and Gonal-F right off the bat. As a result, my estrogen rose a bit more quickly.
Here have been my estrogen numbers since Monday:
Mon (4th day of stims): 40, 254, 684, today: 1608
Follicle count: 14 on the right, 4 on the left
Largest follicle today: 16mm
The nurse told me to stop Gonal F tonight (but still do 150u of Menopur - fun!). She thinks tonight will be the last night of stims, trigger tomorrow, and retrieval on Tuesday.
We are nearing the finish line.
So, I'm considering taking off both the day of retrieval and the day after. I have 2 reasons:
1. I was in a lot of pain last time. Seriously, I was not prepared to be in that much pain.
2. If our results are similar to last time, I really, really don't want to have to take that call with children all around me. That was so, so awful in January.
Last thought: Please God, let the ICSI work.
I'm curious for the experts to answer this question: With numbers rising this quickly, how worried should I be about OHSS? I mean, they are reducing my stims tonight, but I went from 684 to 1608 in 24 hours....
Fitting, for the end of a cycle.
So last cycle, My med protocol looked like this:
BCP for weeks and weeks
Lupron (10iu to start, then 5iu when stims started)
75iu of Menopur and 150iu of Gonal-F for the first 3 days of stimming
150iu of Menopur and 150iu of Gonal-F for the next 7 days
Pregnyl trigger
23 eggs retrieved, 19 mature
That cycle, my estrogen looked like this:
15 (4th day of stims), 187, 404, 1,085, 1,940 (triggered that night) - 11 days of stims
This cycle, the protocol was nearly identical, except for one thing: she started me at 150/150 of Menopur and Gonal-F right off the bat. As a result, my estrogen rose a bit more quickly.
Here have been my estrogen numbers since Monday:
Mon (4th day of stims): 40, 254, 684, today: 1608
Follicle count: 14 on the right, 4 on the left
Largest follicle today: 16mm
The nurse told me to stop Gonal F tonight (but still do 150u of Menopur - fun!). She thinks tonight will be the last night of stims, trigger tomorrow, and retrieval on Tuesday.
We are nearing the finish line.
So, I'm considering taking off both the day of retrieval and the day after. I have 2 reasons:
1. I was in a lot of pain last time. Seriously, I was not prepared to be in that much pain.
2. If our results are similar to last time, I really, really don't want to have to take that call with children all around me. That was so, so awful in January.
Last thought: Please God, let the ICSI work.
I'm curious for the experts to answer this question: With numbers rising this quickly, how worried should I be about OHSS? I mean, they are reducing my stims tonight, but I went from 684 to 1608 in 24 hours....
Fitting, for the end of a cycle.
Friday, April 6, 2012
The one thing you aren't doing
I've been a little pissed lately. Actually, this issue has been bothering me since I was diagnosed with PCOS. I actually don't write much about my PCOS, because other than taking Metformin, I haven't treated it as an issue separate from my infertility. But, you'll see where this is going.
To start, the problem with PCOS is that it is a moving target. It is different for every patient and it can change over time. For example, my sister and I both have PCOS. Of the many, many symptoms that can exist with PCOS, she had some of the worst ones: cystic ovaries, irregular periods, hair growth, weight gain, thinning hair, hormone imbalance, and more. For me, my symptoms are much fewer: mainly non-existent periods, cystic ovaries, elevated LH, and very minor acne/hairs on my chin. However, I tend to do very PCOSy things in treatment - like develop huge amounts of follicles and cysts after injectables. (As of this morning, I have 14 follicles on my right and 3 on my left, with several more days until trigger. That means I'll probably have a whole lot more than that. Holy shit. It feels like I'm carrying around a grapefruit on that side.)
Because of the wide spectrum of symptoms, PCOS can be widely misunderstood and difficult to treat. The tension always exists with PCOS - do you treat the symptoms, or try to get at the underlying (unknown) issues that cause it? My sister has spent decades researching this crap. Workshops, conferences, books, doctors, message boards - she's done it all. I've done a bit too, and I have to tell you, I'm frustrated. Every single source I read adds more layers of confusion for me. It gets even worse when you compare Eastern Medicine and Western medicine's different perspectives on the subject. Then, try adding in all the supposed "cures" for infertility in general, and you've got a real clusterfuck. I won't bore you with the list...we all know how many different dietary, supplement, and treatment recommendations that exist out there. But lately, I am getting way more heated on this issue.
I have been reading a lot on Twitter, fertility boards, blogs, and the news about how everything I am doing or not doing is the thing that's holding me back from getting pregnant. Whether it is eating organically, being a vegetarian, cutting dairy (or soy, or gluten, or red meat) or eating more of it, taking fish oil, not taking fish oil, losing weight, gaining weight, loading on antioxidants, eliminating caffeine, or indulging in modest amounts of caffeine, apparently it is my fault I'm not pregnant. My gut reaction is to get angry - angry at the fact that I can't seem to find the magic bullet that is keeping me from getting pregnant. Then, my anger turns to self-hatred and disgust when I read about women successfully making some of these very dramatic changes, ending up with babies. How do I know which one? Do I do all of them and never eat a comfort food again? Do I force KG to make these changes too?
Is it just me? Does everyone find these recommendations completely overwhelming?
The hardest recommendation for me though continues to be, "Have a positive attitude."
Mo summed up my own feelings on this beautifully:
How did I not come up with this on my own? Of course! That’s the magic solution! Think positive thoughts! I’m sure all of the crap that has happened to me is entirely my fault because I didn’t think positively!
Don’t you all just love that little gem of advice? Useless and guilt-inducing all at once! It’s the whole package.
As I near the end of this IVF cycle, I don't know what I'll do if it fails. I feel really lost when I think about it. So for now, I guess I'll try to follow Mo's lead again:
Attempting to “think positively” and the inevitable failure of that attempt will only lead to wallowing and guilt.
So I either think negatively or I don’t think. Period.
____________________________________________
Appropriately, Lost? by Coldplay played on my iPod this morning. This version is gorgeous.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Weary
When people ask me about how infertility has changed my life, I tend to have a pretty standard variety of answers. Off the top of my head? Learning about patience, frustration, and disappointment top the list. But, sometimes it takes me a while to notice more subtle changes.
I was talking to a friend the other night. She recounted the previous evening, when she went out until the wee hours to a bunch of amazing Boston bars with some friends. For half a second, I wished I went with her. But pretty quickly, I realized how unlikely that was. Not because I don't enjoy a fabulous cocktail or her company, but because I am physically unable to sustain that kind of energy these days.
In the not too distant past, I worked out 3-5 days per week. I went directly from a full day of teaching to a spin class or personal training session. Often, I would even go to a friend's house to hang out for a bit after the gym. I also socialized a lot - especially on weekends. In fact, KG was usually the one who was more likely to stay home, happy as a clam. But me? I went places. I did stuff. I was one of the cool kids.
Lately? Not so much. And by lately, I mean the last 9 months or so. These days it is literally all I can do to get myself through the school day, pour myself back into my car,cook some dinner order in, catch up on DVR, and go to sleep. Seriously, my couch and I have an intimate relationship. When I think back, I can not remember how I managed to be such a productive and busy person. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, it's surreal. I look the same. I sound the same. But I feel like a completely different person - wiser? more cynical? More exhausted.
The level of fatigue I feel goes beyond the usual cures. Sleeping in, cat naps, or some extreme cleanse aren't going to cut it. I don't know how to describe this kind of tired. It's more than my body. My whole being is tired.
So when did it all change? I can track it back almost to the minute we decided to pull out the big guns with IF treatment. It seems like within days of starting my first serious treatment cycle, my ability to multi-task began to wane. Any extra energy I had went directly to adjusting to the idea that any baby of ours was not going to come from nature. It took me much longer than expected to get past the initial shock of that fact. A lot longer.
Although we have now completely accepted our relationship with the petri dish, I still feel like I can only put my emotional energy into this pursuit right now. Granted, I have a whole lot of Lupron flowing through my veins right now, which definitely amplifies all of this. But, even when I am not in a treatment cycle, the same is often true. I just don't have it in me to sit on that spin bike or make it to the third bar on a pub crawl. I have no capacity to push myself when I am being pushed to my limit as it is.
Are some weeks better than others? Yes. Do I sometimes leave the house and make the effort to see my friends? Yes. Does it take a lot more motivation and effort than it did a year ago?
You bet your ass it does.
The level of lameness I feel about this is considerable. I am 31 years old and some days I feel much older. I don't want much more time to go by like this. At some point, I have to turn things around and get some of my life force back. The question is: how?
Everyone, including my therapist, tells me to be forgiving of myself and that someday my old self will return. I just hope I'll recognize her when she makes her appearance.
___________________________________________________
Recently, I realized Mo and I have something in common - a deep love of Faith No More. Don't even get me started on how jealous I am of her planned trip to see them at a live festival.
This song, "Last Cup of Sorrow" is probably my favorite. The chorus speaks to me on days like these.
So raise it up and lets propose a toast.
To the thing that hurts you most.
It's your last cup of sorrow.
What can you say?
Finish it today.
I was talking to a friend the other night. She recounted the previous evening, when she went out until the wee hours to a bunch of amazing Boston bars with some friends. For half a second, I wished I went with her. But pretty quickly, I realized how unlikely that was. Not because I don't enjoy a fabulous cocktail or her company, but because I am physically unable to sustain that kind of energy these days.
In the not too distant past, I worked out 3-5 days per week. I went directly from a full day of teaching to a spin class or personal training session. Often, I would even go to a friend's house to hang out for a bit after the gym. I also socialized a lot - especially on weekends. In fact, KG was usually the one who was more likely to stay home, happy as a clam. But me? I went places. I did stuff. I was one of the cool kids.
Lately? Not so much. And by lately, I mean the last 9 months or so. These days it is literally all I can do to get myself through the school day, pour myself back into my car,
The level of fatigue I feel goes beyond the usual cures. Sleeping in, cat naps, or some extreme cleanse aren't going to cut it. I don't know how to describe this kind of tired. It's more than my body. My whole being is tired.
So when did it all change? I can track it back almost to the minute we decided to pull out the big guns with IF treatment. It seems like within days of starting my first serious treatment cycle, my ability to multi-task began to wane. Any extra energy I had went directly to adjusting to the idea that any baby of ours was not going to come from nature. It took me much longer than expected to get past the initial shock of that fact. A lot longer.
Although we have now completely accepted our relationship with the petri dish, I still feel like I can only put my emotional energy into this pursuit right now. Granted, I have a whole lot of Lupron flowing through my veins right now, which definitely amplifies all of this. But, even when I am not in a treatment cycle, the same is often true. I just don't have it in me to sit on that spin bike or make it to the third bar on a pub crawl. I have no capacity to push myself when I am being pushed to my limit as it is.
Are some weeks better than others? Yes. Do I sometimes leave the house and make the effort to see my friends? Yes. Does it take a lot more motivation and effort than it did a year ago?
You bet your ass it does.
The level of lameness I feel about this is considerable. I am 31 years old and some days I feel much older. I don't want much more time to go by like this. At some point, I have to turn things around and get some of my life force back. The question is: how?
Everyone, including my therapist, tells me to be forgiving of myself and that someday my old self will return. I just hope I'll recognize her when she makes her appearance.
___________________________________________________
Recently, I realized Mo and I have something in common - a deep love of Faith No More. Don't even get me started on how jealous I am of her planned trip to see them at a live festival.
This song, "Last Cup of Sorrow" is probably my favorite. The chorus speaks to me on days like these.
So raise it up and lets propose a toast.
To the thing that hurts you most.
It's your last cup of sorrow.
What can you say?
Finish it today.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Keep 'em Close
Well, it's official. Redux is officially underway. I've done two Lupron shots so far. It's always right about now that the cycle in front of me seems exceedingly long and drawn out, despite retrieval only being a few weeks away.
Needless to say, I am no stranger to fear regarding treatment cycles. This one is no different. I'm pretty nervous all around: nervous about success, nervous about failure, and nervous about the in-between. It is really this time of limbo, between meds and procedure, that these fears bubble up the most. I keep trying to close my eyes and picture a baby bump. Sometimes that vision is clear, and others times I can't seem to conjure the image.
As I mentioned, when I get into a bad place, worrying about our TTC future, I always go back to planning for life beyond TTC. When His Royal Fabulousness and I have these discussions, this is the mental picture I create:
Not bad, huh?
I haven't been shy about expressing my love and appreciation for KG on this blog. I am a lucky girl. I'm not saying we don't occasionally bicker or get on each other's nerves. We have even had rocky times in the past. But I will say that we try to live by the rule of never going to bed angry and we make a concerted effort not to take each other for granted.
This past week, while visiting my parents and friends in Los Angeles, I was reminded of how important it is not to let a day go by (or even leave the house or end a phone call) without telling loved ones how much you care for them.
On Monday, we got some terrible news. A close friend of my father's died while on a biking trip in Death Valley. George and his wife were close with my parents for over 40 years, and this was a very unexpected and tragic death. He was a very kind, loving, and generous person who will sorely be missed.
His death really got me thinking. We do not know the reasons why, but George and his wife never had children. My parents speculated over the years, but respected their privacy and never asked. Of course, as an infertile woman, I have to wonder whether they tried to have children and failed, or whether they made an independent decision to live child-free. Either way, they had a wonderful, solid marriage and lived happily together.
I can't get his wife out of my mind. Although she has many friends surrounding her right now, in essence, she is alone. She wrote to my folks saying that she has lost her sweetheart, her best friend, her partner. I can't imagine her pain. I wonder whether her grief is compounded by the fact that she has no children to lean on during this time. Is she regretting their decision/fate? Is she wishing there were children to hold her up right now?
This is hitting a little close to home. The thought of being left alone, if anything happened to KG, is just too overwhelming to bear. Although our TTC efforts are far from over, it is easy to see myself in her shoes.
When chatting with a friend today, she summed it up. She said that all you can do is enjoy every minute together that you can, and never forget to say, "I love you." Well said.
I think I'll call KG right now.
Needless to say, I am no stranger to fear regarding treatment cycles. This one is no different. I'm pretty nervous all around: nervous about success, nervous about failure, and nervous about the in-between. It is really this time of limbo, between meds and procedure, that these fears bubble up the most. I keep trying to close my eyes and picture a baby bump. Sometimes that vision is clear, and others times I can't seem to conjure the image.
As I mentioned, when I get into a bad place, worrying about our TTC future, I always go back to planning for life beyond TTC. When His Royal Fabulousness and I have these discussions, this is the mental picture I create:
I haven't been shy about expressing my love and appreciation for KG on this blog. I am a lucky girl. I'm not saying we don't occasionally bicker or get on each other's nerves. We have even had rocky times in the past. But I will say that we try to live by the rule of never going to bed angry and we make a concerted effort not to take each other for granted.
This past week, while visiting my parents and friends in Los Angeles, I was reminded of how important it is not to let a day go by (or even leave the house or end a phone call) without telling loved ones how much you care for them.
On Monday, we got some terrible news. A close friend of my father's died while on a biking trip in Death Valley. George and his wife were close with my parents for over 40 years, and this was a very unexpected and tragic death. He was a very kind, loving, and generous person who will sorely be missed.
His death really got me thinking. We do not know the reasons why, but George and his wife never had children. My parents speculated over the years, but respected their privacy and never asked. Of course, as an infertile woman, I have to wonder whether they tried to have children and failed, or whether they made an independent decision to live child-free. Either way, they had a wonderful, solid marriage and lived happily together.
I can't get his wife out of my mind. Although she has many friends surrounding her right now, in essence, she is alone. She wrote to my folks saying that she has lost her sweetheart, her best friend, her partner. I can't imagine her pain. I wonder whether her grief is compounded by the fact that she has no children to lean on during this time. Is she regretting their decision/fate? Is she wishing there were children to hold her up right now?
This is hitting a little close to home. The thought of being left alone, if anything happened to KG, is just too overwhelming to bear. Although our TTC efforts are far from over, it is easy to see myself in her shoes.
When chatting with a friend today, she summed it up. She said that all you can do is enjoy every minute together that you can, and never forget to say, "I love you." Well said.
I think I'll call KG right now.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Leaving on a Jet Plane!
My spring break has been utterly divine so far. My days have been filled with sleeping, blogging, running errands, cleaning my house, and playing Just Dance 3. Exciting? No. Deliciously lazy? Yes. Hey, after 26 conferences, I have no guilt.
Tonight I head to Los Angeles to see my family and my BFF from high school for 5 days. When I say a BFF I mean it. This is a friend so close to me that in 2008 we traveled together, cross country, for weeks and still love each other madly. That's friendship. Someday I'll blog about that trip. It was a truly amazing, life changing experience.
Since my parents live in the dark ages technology wise, I won't be able to blog. This is making me especially sad, because it is supposed to rain the whole time! The weather gods fucking hate me. Well, at least I'll have time to finally watch Downton Abbey on On Demand.
KG can't go with me on this trip, which makes me sad. I know I have said it before, but I am a lucky girl and I get pretty homesick without him. He swears after about a day of gaming and drinking beer, bachelorhood loses its luster and he gets lonely too. He swears the kitties are sad when I'm gone too. On the upside, he usually does an outstanding cleaning job for me when I go on trips. <hint, hint>
In TTC news, my pre-Lupron ultrasound came back "perfect." I don't know if that word has ever been used to describe my ovaries before. We have the green light to begin Lupron the day after I get back from L.A. IVF #2 will be underway next week!
I am really trying to swallow my fears about this cycle, and focus on it as a fresh start. That is a really hard goal to meet though. Although I know many people who needed multiple IVFs to succeed, I don't know any who had failed fertilization, who went on to have babies. Here's hoping that ICSI is the answer.
By the way, if you haven't headed over to Stirrup Queens for Mel's Toasts, do it now. It will make someone's day and is just the burst of positivity this community needs.
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I haven't attached a song to a post for a little bit.
Today's choice is the newest single from Jack White, "Love Interruption."
When the White Stripes first emerged, I didn't like Jack White at all. But, over the years, he has really proved himself to be a musical genius. He plays tons of instruments (a la Prince) and is a chameleon style wise. If you have never listened to his other bands, especially The Raconteurs, you are really missing something incredible.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Sequels
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| courtesy of Warner Brothers |
The thing about sequels is that most of the time, they are a pale version of the original. Yes, occasionally, a sophomore effort can outshine its predecessor. But, it's rare. So much more often, you realize you are watching someones desperate attempt to hang onto the credibility they garnered with their original hit.
Evidence (in no particular order):
Back to the Future vs. Back to the Future II
The Matrix vs. The Matrix Reloaded
The Karate Kid vs. The Next Karate Kid (okay, The Karate Kid II was pretty good)
Teen Wolf vs. Teen Wolf Too
Look Who's Talking vs. Look Who's Talking Too
Ocean's Eleven vs. Ocean's Twelve
Jaws vs. Jaws The Revenge
28 Days Later vs. 28 Weeks Later
Grease vs. Grease II
Psycho vs. Psycho II
The Wizard of Oz vs. Return to Oz
Gremlins vs. Gremlins II
Scream vs. all sequels
Neverending Story vs. Neverending Story II
Mannequin vs. Mannequin: On the Move
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure vs. Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
City Slickers vs. City Slickers II
Lost Boys vs. Lost Boys: The Tribe
original Star Wars franchise vs. new Phantom Menace franchise
Sex and the City vs. Sex and the City II
Cars vs. Cars II
Dirty Dancing vs. Dirty Dancing Havana Nights
On the other hand, here are some rare sequels that matched or exceeded the quality of the original:
Star Wars vs. Empire Strikes Back
Tim Burton Batman movies vs. Christopher Nolan Batman movies
Ghostbusters vs. Ghostbusters II
National Lampoon's Vacation vs. National Lampoon's European Vacation
Evil Dead vs. Evil Dead II
Terminator vs. Terminator 2
House of 1000 Corpses vs. Devil's Rejects
Why am I bringing this up? I keep thinking of our upcoming IVF cycle. While you might be wondering how it could get any worse than the first attempt, as we know, it is always possible. I keep having the same recurring thoughts:
Will it be an amazing follow-up that blows the first attempt out of the water, with a successful ending instead of disaster? Or will it somehow be worse?
Perhaps instead of thinking of this as IVF: The Sequel, we should be thinking of it as IVF: Redux.
At first, I thought redux was a synonym of sequel. But, then KG reminded me of when Apocalypse Now was re-released as Apocalypse Now: Redux. That wasn't a sequel! It was an enhanced, improved version. (Okay, it was also way longer.)
When I googled the meaning of each, I realized how different the meanings are.
Sequel: an event or circumstance following something; subsequent course of affairs.
Redux: remastered, redone, restored.
I'm sticking with redux, because what I really need right now is to have my faith and attitude remastered, redone, and restored.
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