burnt toast life

good news!

Nothing but good news today – we saw the heartbeat! Woo hoo!

I did feel slightly reassured last week, so I’m actually glad I had the beta draws. Otherwise I would have been a nervous wreck this morning (not to mention all weekend).

Eric came with me to the appointment this time. I seriously envy his calm. He told me several times that I should stop worrying because everything would be fine. And of course he bragged about being right when everything WAS fine.

As soon as the image popped up on the screen I saw the flicker. Little blobby is measuring 6w6d, so well within range (I’m 7w2d according to LMP). Heart rate was 138.

Now I don’t have another appointment until May 8th! So weird to just be a normal person.

I told myself that if today went well, then I did not need to worry anymore and everything would be OK. So I’m going with that. Did you hear me? I’m not afraid anymore!

Here is little one’s first photo op:

7weekUS

And in case you wanted to absolutely die from cuteness overload… here is a pic my sister snapped a couple weeks ago of Molly taking care of her baby doll.

I have a feeling she’s going to nail this whole big sister thing.

bigsister

it was the best day…

I’m blanking for blog post titles. I’m blanking on a lot of things, actually.

So we went for the ultrasound today and IT WENT PERFECTLY! How am I getting so lucky with this? Is it luck, or something else? I laid in bed last night planning out my outfit. I intentionally did not wear maternity pants or a maternity shirt in case the appointment went badly (because it would be so much harder getting dressed into them and not being pregnant anymore, ya know?). Even though I did a bunch of grocery shopping yesterday, I didn’t buy the gluten-free pumpkin pie because I didn’t want to waste my money if by Thursday I wouldn’t need special food. But everything was fine today. Better yet, Baby Crumb is looking less blob-like and more baby-like. Wow.

babaycrumb

Today I am 10w5d, but I’m measuring ahead at 11w2d. Second trimester is within spitting distance! I will have ultrasounds every 4 weeks with my OB/GYN and the next will be on 12/23. But since I’m kind of high risk with my history, they’re also referring me to a specialist who will be doing another scan on 12/9. I’m happy for that because I really want to actually see the baby at 12 weeks and verify that I made it past that hurdle. Plus, as mentioned, Eric refuses to let me tell the world ‘o Facebook until we hit that day. I agree with him. So there it is.

Speaking of the hubs, he seemed to enjoy the whole ultrasound experience and was impressed with how much the baby was moving all around. I’m glad we got to do this on his birthday. It really has been an amazing day so far.

so much GF goodness!

so much GF goodness!

After the appointment I stopped by the grocery store to get that GF pie and holy. smokes. It was about 12 p.m. on a Monday and the place was mobbed like Thanksgiving was tomorrow. Nowhere to park. Shopping cart traffic jams. Almost every single register was open. So glad I didn’t wait longer! While I was there I kept finding gluten-free goodies and could not help myself (don’t they say to never shop when you’re hungry?). Pumpkin muffins. Spinach ravioli. MAC AND CHEESE. Oh, it was glorious. I think I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: I could not be happier that going gluten-free is so hot right now. All I want to eat is carbs/sweets, and I can safely do that with all the stuff they have. I can even have pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. That’s like my favorite thing ever.

I’ve noticed a trend lately. Most of my posts have more reads, but fewer comments. I’m not complaining… it’s just funny, because posts are becoming harder to write now that things are going well. And I do the same thing – I’m definitely more compelled to comment on sad posts than happy posts. It just seems like people who are going through tough times need you more, right? So I’m not sweating it, though I do appreciate all the comments that I get. But even if you have nothing to say, that’s cool, too. I’m sure eventually I’ll find stuff to complain about again and commenting will be easier.

Well, it’s 2:30 and I have the day off, so I think it’s nap time.

Can you freakin’ believe we made it here?

and now it’s really over

I can’t lie to you guys. This is a safe place, so I’m going to do what I always do and speak freely. Here’s the truth: I did hang onto a shred of hope for my ultrasound today. It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid. But I just couldn’t help it. For one thing, they made me keep taking the medication, which indicated that they could know something that I didn’t. For another, Eric kept his hope alive, too (mostly for the same reason). I’ll never forget on Tuesday morning hearing him say from the hallway, “…and then they’ll say, it’s a MEEEERACLE!” I laughed. But I also hoped. It’s so hard to not hope.

But alas, my child did not become the next Lazarus. The New Hope ultrasound machine was not broken on Monday. All of my PIO shots this week have been a total waste of time, pain and money. It’s so damn depressing to really let go. Oh, and I finally stopped bleeding after 9 days. I guess now I can look forward to bleeding again sometime soon. (Like, Monday-ish).

We decided (me, my mom, my OB/GYN) not to do another D&C. I’m not as far along, and it’s not twins. I just want my body to heal, and for this task at least, I trust my body to do the right thing. Last time one of the reasons I opted for the D&C was that it sped up the process, but since we’re taking a break anyway, I figured this would be a natural way to pace myself. I got a script for some drug to induce the miscarriage, which is pretty cool. I didn’t know they had those. I thought I just had to wait and wait. But really I can time it and it should only take a few hours. Something else that made me feel a little better was that the embryo is gone already. No more sac; no more visible fetal pole. So I don’t have that super creepy feeling of knowing it’s still… you know… in there. All that’s left is tissue and stuff.

As if this evening wasn’t traumatic enough, I went directly from that soul-crushing ultrasound to the viewing for Eric’s friend. He was 31 years old. It’s just so damn unfair sometimes. I truly wish there was some way to make sense of all this tragedy or to see some kind of reason for it, but I just can’t. You know what? There is no reason. Life just sucks today. Oh, and I happened to overhear a conversation between two young-ish moms as we were walking in. I heard one of them say, “It’s just so different now that we have kids, you know? It makes it so much more real.” Oh, thanks, honey. Thanks for insinuating that my childlessness makes me less capable of feeling sorrow over death. That was EXACTLY what I needed today.

To add another layer of depression to this whole shitty situation, I looked into Reproductive Immunology and Dr. Braverman. I gave them a call, only to find that the consult is $900, not covered by insurance. That’s just the consult. The whole point of doing this clinical trial was that we could not afford to do infertility treatments out of pocket, remember? It would be one thing if it was just $900; I could probably come up with that. But that does not include any of the blood work and testing, it’s just a basic appointment to go over history and have an ultrasound. I would gain nothing from just doing that. I know many of you suggested Kwak-Kim (and I thank you as always for your advice), but I’d be willing to bet she’s not covered either. All of these doctors bill as infertility and Pennsylvania does not mandate infertility coverage, so it’s extremely rare to have it. I’m fucked.

Dr. L insisted that Braverman would be covered. I didn’t believe her, but it was still a nice slap in the face when my theory was confirmed. I’ve been finding blogs of people who have gone to Kwak-Kim and they have been gracious enough to write out the protocol she suggests. It sounds like a lot of PIO, Prednisone, baby aspirin, Lovenox and supplements. So… I’m already halfway there. Is it ridiculous to think I can just guess what she would say without actually seeing her? The only other option I can think of is to see a regular old immunologist around here (which would probably be covered) and see if he/she could order the tests or prescribe the same things. Maybe I would get lucky and find someone who has a modicum of interest or experience in immunology as it relates to miscarriage. I’m clutching at straws, I know. I just need to figure out a way to get some answers on my insurance’s dime rather than on my own.

My mom and I had our post-ultrasound pow-wow and talked about what’s next. She insisted that it’s more than just diet… it’s stress. I need to let go of stress and relax for once in my life. I think part of what makes it so hard is that the process itself is so stressful, which is why taking a break can only help me. I need to get right with my emotions and control-freak tendencies. I need to calm the hell down. I’ve committed myself to starting yoga and at the very least trying acupuncture. I stopped at Barnes & Noble on my way to the appointment to pick up a book called “Preventing Miscarriage.” Let me tell you how fun it was when I couldn’t find it and had to ask at the information desk, loud enough for a gum-snapping college student to overhear. Whatever. I picked it up and started flipping through. There was an entire chapter explaining the trauma of miscarriage, a particularly long section on having an incompetent cervix (so not my problem at all) and a brief section on Environmental Factors. They cautioned against using cocaine and methamphetamines, mentioned the dangers of air pollution and advocated a healthy diet. Seriously? If I was snorting lines of coke every night, I would NOT be questioning my miscarriage. Needless to say, I didn’t buy the book.

My mom has been going through old calendars trying to figure out the name of the doctor who she saw back in ’99. At our pow-wow, I mentioned that I was interested in the book “Is Your Body Baby Friendly?” by Dr. Alan Beer. Her eyes lit up at the name. “That’s it! That’s who I went to see!” she said. I remember how much she said she liked him and how nice he was, plus it turns out he was a mentor to Dr. Kwak-Kim (my mom even talked to her briefly, way back then). It seems like some kind of sign. Dr. Beer has since passed away, but at least I can read his book and hopefully it will have better advice in in than “don’t snort coke.” It’s definitely more in the budget than a $900 meeting just to gaze into Braverman’s baby blues.

Well, after a day chock-full of depressing ultrasounds and viewings for friends who were taken from this Earth way too soon, I’m off to bed. We’re heading into the woods this weekend for a family camping trip. And you know what? I can drink alcohol. And you know what else? I plan to.

hello, my name’s Amanda, and I’m addicted to ultrasounds

***Sorry for the long intros lately, but you can always rest assured that any post without the word “fucking” in the title has a semi-happy ending. Don’t worry.

I’ve figured out how I’m going to make my millions. Ready for this? Four little words: At. Home. Ultrasound. Machine. My market would be primarily infertiles wanting the constant reassurance that their little bean was still growing, and also any unlucky ladies who suffer from prolonged first trimester bleeding. It would have a giant, idiot-proof heart rate monitor that would immediately light up and say, “CALM DOWN YOU CRAZY BITCH, YOUR BABY’S HEART IS STILL BEATING.” I mean, really. In this day and age, shouldn’t there be an app for that?

I called my OB/GYN this morning and as usual, they were not as concerned as I was. They didn’t have any appointments but offered to schedule me an ultrasound at the hospital’s outside lab. I thought that was very nice of them. The nurse warned that they would not be able to give me results at the appointment, but would rather call them in to my doctor, who would in turn call me. In my mind I was thinking, “I’ll just cry and scream until they tell me what’s going on. I’ll refuse to leave.” She said sometimes they will point out the heartbeat, but it just depends on who I got. So I spent the entire day hoping I had a compassionate, caring person who wasn’t into the particular torture of not telling me whether or not my baby had a heartbeat.

The doctor’s office called a few minutes later and also requested that I go for blood work, just to make sure that was all OK. I thought that was a little odd (doesn’t the ultrasound show you more than blood can?) Apparently the doctor who I usually see requested it, and I winced at hearing her name. She specifically told me to wait a few months before getting pregnant again (she’s the one who did my D&C). I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m fully expecting a scolding when I do see her again. Especially now with all my issues. I can’t even pull the, “Oops, didn’t mean to!” I suppose I could say, “Oops, I accidentally got this embryo injected into my ute! I thought I was just getting a pap smear, dammit!”

Truth be told, I couldn’t have imagined surviving the weekend without seeing the heartbeat again. I have negative things associated with ultrasounds at New Hope, not to mention it’s particularly awful to hear your babies are dead when you’re two hours away from home.

Furthermore, I am starting to despise the term “spotting.” Spotting sounds so innocent, so light, so carefree. It sounds like a dab here and a pinch there and tra-la-la-la-la. When people ask me if I’m still “spotting,” I want to say, “No actually, I’m flowing. I’m running like the damn Mississippi River. You could go kayaking.”

I’m being dramatic (what else is new?). While Tuesday evening and Wednesday were pretty flow-like, by Thursday morning the blood could be classified as spotting, I suppose. It came and went every couple of hours. That’s equally frustrating, however, because every time I felt I was in the clear and dried up, it would suddenly start again. But from now on I insist we call it bleeding when that’s what it is. So I’m here to say that first trimester spotting, first trimester flowing and maybe even first trimester gushing (there were moments) still does not necessarily mean it’s the end of the world.

My ultrasound tech at the hospital was approximately 14 years old. I had to refrain from asking Doogie Howser if she herself was menstruating yet. Whatever. She was very nice and chatty and did offer to point out the heartbeat if and when she saw it. She scanned for what felt months and then pointed out the faint, faint flicker on the screen. I was watching her like a hawk and she typed in the letters HB on the screen… then she erased it. I said, “Why did you do that?” in my best stern voice. She replied, “Oh, because I was done.” I couldn’t help but feel like she was lying. She made me hold my breath several times so she could “verify the heartbeat.” I’m thinking, if you have to look that hard to find it, is it really there? She was so smiley and happily chatting that I couldn’t imagine the news was bad. Wouldn’t somber news require a more somber tone? Or was she just a crazy bubbly person with no empathy? She specifically said, “I can tell you if I see a heartbeat, but I can’t comment on whether it’s too fast or too slow. You’ll have to wait for the doctor for that.”

Next, Doogie promised I would get to speak with my doctor on the phone before leaving the building. Again, very nice of her. She said as she was leaving me in the waiting room, “The heartbeat is there, it just might be too slow. Your doctor can tell you more.” Despite her promise of letting me talk to someone before leaving, the front desk people shooed me out before I got the phone call, so it was all just messing with my emotions. As usual.

I was sitting in the waiting room to get the blood work when Eric called to say that one of his good friends, someone who had been at our wedding, someone who Eric had just seen the day before, was found dead this morning. No one knew how or why. I was in shock and just wanted to get home to him, but was stuck waiting even longer to get a beta after a non-reassuring ultrasound. Did I mention I’m not supposed to be stressing out?

The nurse from my OB/GYN called about 30 minutes later. I felt a bit of relief at hearing her voice, knowing that for positively dire news the doctor would call me personally. She confirmed what Doogie had been hinting at all along – Baby Toast’s heartbeat is slower than they’d like to see. Oh, they also confirmed that I do have a subchorionic bleed (or subchorionic hematoma), so that’s the likely source of the bleeding. Basically with one phone call she got me to stop worrying about the bleeding and start worrying about something completely new and frightening – a slow fetal heart rate.

If you ever get this particular diagnosis, DO NOT GOOGLE IT. My first hits included such gems as “fetal mortality rate of 60%” and the like. There were also plenty of success stories of heart rates that magically went from 87 to 150 (or whatever perfect is) in as short as a week. Sigh. I don’t know. The ultrasound was supposed to be reassurance for the weekend and now I’m more freaked out than ever. Lots of women of the interwebs are quick to point out that 6 weeks is so early to make a call on it, but I’m also remembering how nothing was said at my appointment on Tuesday. So are things getting worse?

I have another ultrasound Monday at New Hope (my third in a week’s time) and then my OB/GYN scheduled a “viability ultrasound” for Thursday. It even has to be in a special room. I think that will officially puts me at ultrasound addict status. On one hand my heart is swelling with pride at how much of a drama queen this little girl is (just like her mama). On the other, I’m effing terrified. As usual.

heartbeats, Easter chicks and Grand Cayman

What do these things have to do with each other, you ask? Nothing, nothing at all except that they are part of what’s been making my life a little more interesting these past few days.

Eric and I “officially” announced the impending arrival of our twins at our respective Easter gatherings over the weekend. The whole thing was pretty underwhelming since literally every single person in attendance knew anyway. I am still blown away at how many people in my life follow my blog and care what I have to say. It’s quite humbling. Anyway, it was very cool to finally be the ones doing the announcing, but as I said… underwhelming since it wasn’t a surprise. I might as well have said, “Attention, everyone: the sky is blue and chocolate makes me happy. Also, I’m getting fatter by the day.”

We also got six new chicks to replace the ones we so carelessly allowed to be slaughtered last year (if you missed or forgot that incident, catch up here). They’re very cute. They help me remember that despite the shitty cold temperatures, spring is technically here and pretty soon we can spend time outside again. Just no free range chicken wandering this time.

Allie + chick

Allie + chick

the cuteness

the cuteness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grand Cayman. Ok, so I hate the word “babymoon” and everything it stands for, but I do believe I will be going on one. My aunt goes on a business trip every year to Grand Cayman and has invited me numerous times. Finally this year I said, “You know what? I’ll probably never have this opportunity ever again.” Ok, I guess babymoons make sense.  Kind of. (It’s still a stupid word).

actual photo of where my fat ass will be sitting in 3 weeks

actual photo of where my fat ass will be sitting in 3 weeks

Anyway, she has graciously agreed to let both Eric and me come along (since if I went alone he would be way too jealous to function) and since it’s a business trip, the room is totally covered. And when I say “room” I mean the $1,500/night suite at The Ritz-Carlton, Grand Cayman. So yeah… kind of hard to turn down. I’m pretty sure this is not something we would ever get to do otherwise. Our flight leaves April 20th, so I have to find myself a fat person bathing suit, STAT.

And I saved the best for last – heartbeats! I had my ultrasound today at New Hope and everything looks perfect. Still two babies and best of all, I got to hear both little heartbeats.  I must admit I got a little teary eyed hearing them – they sounded very strong and clear (though no one has given me numbers, which is annoying). I’m measuring 7 weeks 1 day, which is right where I’m supposed to be. Unfortunately, I had to refill my dwindling supply of Progesterone and I am not allowed to stop taking it as I had hoped. I cannot wait to transition to a regular doctor that’s not 90 miles away. But who’s complaining? Not me! Hearing those heartbeats helped me turn the corner from, “Is this happening?” to “Shit… this is happening.”

Guys… this is happening.

 

and maybe two… is better than one

*cue Boys Like Girls featuring Taylor Swift lyrics*

If you’re here from ICLW, welcome to my little space! Quick recap: I just did my first round IVF in February and so far, it was successful. Fingers crossed that it stays that way.

So two days ago I had my paperwork appointment with my regular OB. I figured I would get it all out of the way and hopefully find out when/if they were planning on doing an ultrasound so I could figure out if I had to drag Eric to NYC or if we could just go right around the corner instead. The paperwork went well, I disclosed all my dirty family secrets of heart disease and diabetes and reassured them 14 times that I did not have a cat. At the end of the appointment the nurse said, “Ok, so let’s schedule your first ultrasound… how about Thursday at 10 am?”

Um… come again?

New Hope isn’t doing an ultrasound until next Saturday, and I just assumed this place wouldn’t care to see my insides until 9 weeks. I have no idea why they wanted to do one so early (because I’m IVF?) but I was also excited to finally get to see what was going on in there, so I didn’t question it.

As it turns out Eric did not want to waste a vacation day on this and I couldn’t really blame him… especially since I wasn’t sure if we would see anything anyway. So my sister came along instead, at her insistence. The doctor went over a lot of the things I had already covered two days prior, then got a little confused when I mentioned my transfer was on the 28th. She said, “Wait, then you’re not even a month along yet?” with a sort of accusatory tone. Um, hello, I’m not the one who scheduled this! She warned me that we might not be able to see anything at all and that I shouldn’t worry if we don’t. But then… there were 2 sacs.
babies
Two sacs! She actually used the words, “for now…” and did not seem as excited as my sister and me, so I keep saying “for now” every time I tell someone that there are two. I know all about the disappearing twin phenomenon. But you know what? I’m not really surprised that there are two. I was prepared for this. First of all, this whole IVF experience has revolved around the number two. Second, they transferred two embryos into a decently healthy uterus, so… it’s not some huge shock. I know there are more risks and I know it will be more work but you know what? I’m happy. I get a BOGO deal. I get to make up for a couple of years wasted on TTC that just wasn’t working. I get to raise two siblings who will always have that beautiful bond that only twins understand. This is a very good thing.

I’m looking forward to actually hearing the heartbeat(s), but I’m being patient. This couldn’t have come at a better time because on Wednesday morning I had some post-intercourse spotting that sent me into a freaking panic, but clearly everything is still OK and multiple friends/medical professionals have assured me it’s totally normal. Still, I think it’s best to wait for the second trimester to risk it again. Seeing blood at any time during this early time is just not worth the anxiety.

The other day I stumbled across this list of celebrity twins. I had no idea Ashton Kutcher and Giselle Bundchen were twins. Craziness!

Holy crap, I’m gonna get fat. Twins. Whew.

I finally have a symptom! BONUS POINTS: It’s a weird one…

So you know how I’ve been bitching and moaning about not feeling any different? I finally, finally felt something. It’s not pleasant, but at least it can be attributed to pregnancy.

Some background: my mom has severe food allergies. She’s allergic to nuts, any aged cheese, onions, peppers, strawberries and any spice that makes food taste delicious. I grew up eating a lot of bland chicken with sides of plain mashed potatoes. On the flip side, my father has a stomach of steel. I was lucky enough to inherit his lack of allergies with two minor exceptions. First, as I’ve mentioned, I’m lactose intolerant (but I still eat Greek yogurt every day because I freaking love it). Second, I have a weird but minor reaction to high fructose corn syrup, which is why I drink evil Diet Coke instead of evil regular Coke. I’m much more likely to have a reaction if it’s in a beverage than if it’s in a food. What happens is that my throat gets “itchy” and I can’t help but make a low guttural sound that sort of sounds like I’m trying to dislodge a hamster from my esophagus. The sound is not attractive. Just ask my husband. So I try to avoid corn syrup, but if it slips in somehow it’s really no big deal.

Fast forward to Tuesday. I went with coworkers to happy hour and drank whatever the special cocktail was, just sans liquor. So essentially I was drinking some fruity juice concoction. My throat started to tickle as the night went on, but not in a “corn syrup” way, more in a “I’m getting a sore throat” kind of way. By the time I went to bed I was completely miserable. Every time I swallowed it felt like a hundred tiny men were stabbing my throat with little daggers. I was convinced it was strep and made plans to see the doctor in the morning.

But in the morning, my throat was almost back to normal. I still worked from home assuming I was contagious (plus, I was exhausted from being up all night in pain). The next day when a coworker suggested it might be the corn syrup allergy, I brushed her off and said I had never had a reaction that strong before. I figured it was a cold that my immune system fought off in record time. Yay for daily vitamins!

…But then on Saturday night the same thing happened. I texted my mother in law to confirm that the soda I drank at her house did indeed have corn syrup, and lo and behold, it did. So apparently my big tell is intensified allergic reactions to food. Who knew? Has anyone ever heard of this before??

In other news, I went for my third beta on Saturday and got a 6476. Woo hoo! I got confirmation that I will have to go back every week (boo) but I will get to have an ultrasound in 2 weeks, which I did not realize would be happening (double woo hoo). So yeah, things are going pretty well. I’m slightly less angry (slightly…) and not feeling that whole utter exhaustion thing yet. My boobs hurt like crazy one day but then not really since. I keep getting little twinges down in the uterine area, but other than that and the crazy allergies, it’s just regular old me.

why-is-high-fructose-corn-syrup-bad-for-you