burnt toast life

…and a happy new year

It’s been forever. I’m blaming technology.

Or should I say, lack thereof. I had to turn in my work laptop which was functioning as my personal laptop for the past two years. No computer = no blog posts. Eric has been valiantly trying to resurrect my old, dead HP but it’s probably a lost cause. Meanwhile, at my new job I’m on the list to get a laptop but I’m not first in line, meaning I’ll have a few months of using this sad excuse for my lack of consistent posting.

When we last left off… it was forever ago. In the interim between then and now, Christmas happened, New Year’s happened, I started my new job and things are moving right along. I have to say it’s pretty weird to once again be a functioning member of the workforce. While technically no time lapsed between my last day worked at Rodale my first day with Altitude (besides the holidays), I had been laid off six weeks prior and let’s just say things had become verrrrrry lax in December. It was really great for things like coming in late due to oil change appointments and leaving early basically every day after taking two hour lunches, but now that I’m once again expected to be in the office and working 40 hours per week, it’s a real shock to the system.

The funny thing is I don’t even miss getting paid to do “nothing.” Having no tasks and no future with the company made me bored and irritated, and as hard as it is adjusting to busyness, it feels good to once again feel like I’m contributing something. Like, if I’m going to haul my ass out of bed at 6AM, shower, dress, drop my kids off, and drive 40 minutes, it might as well be for something of value to someone. I’m very pleased so far with my new company and everyone has been over-the-top welcoming and kind. Really, my only complaint is that I need a laptop so I can blog.

On the baby front, I have my first ultrasound tomorrow. Eep! I truly have no symptoms, besides random waves of nausea that last for no longer than 15 minutes at a time. I am positively dreading telling my new employer that I’m preggo and I don’t know why. I think they will react well – besides asking the obvious question, “Are you intending to come back, or do you have an untapped trust fund which would allow you to put three kids in daycare?”

The truth is I don’t know and I didn’t plan that far ahead. It’s weird for me because I’m a planner, and a control freak, and not planning is the antithesis of everything I stand for. I guess in my mind having this baby (and the others) is way too important and since the problem had no solution, I pushed forward despite it being a crazy idea. At first I stayed calm and believed a solution would just appear. Now as things progress, I’m starting to panic a little. I still have a lot of time… but we all know time flies when you’re having fun.

My sister is having her baby in July and as of then (if not before) she will not be watching my brood anymore. I called earlier this week to price out daycare and promptly threw up in my mouth. Whyyyyy is it so expensive, whyyyyy? I think at this point, the ideal situation would be to find someone reputable who operated an in-home daycare that was accepting more children. Or, to send them to my daycare of choice (which in the grand scheme of daycares, isn’t even that expensive, but still way more than what I’ve been paying all this time) on a part-time basis and somehow finagle our schedules to only have them in 25 hours per week (which would save us something like $300/month). A final option would be to find someone to come to the house, but I can’t imagine a person like that would be cheaper than daycare. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

As for what happens post-September… I’m not even going to think about that right now. One day at a freaking time. In other news, if you know Mary Poppins or anyone similar, please let me know. I’m in the market.

The kids are doing well for the most part. Liam has a cold this week and in typical male fashion is just being super dramatic about it. He just wants to be held and rocked while he moans and complains, which is fine by me to some extent. He’s now walking if not running full time, still getting into everything, and starting to dabble in speaking by mimicking our tones and inflections when he babbles. If we’re in the car and I say, “Liam?” he’ll always respond with,“Mmm?” It’s super cute.

Molly went from absolutely dead-set against potty training to 90% trained in a matter of 4 days. That’s just proof that I needed to be patient and wait until she was ready. Sometimes she wakes up dry, sometimes not, but as for during the day she rarely has accidents and was VERY excited to pick out a new potty seat to go on the big potty last weekend.

Other than that, not much, just trying to survive the bitter cold temps and constantly broken down furnace. I am tackling a Whole30 this month despite being in my first trimester, which I know is pretty ambitious. The Whole30 is completely safe to do while pregnant and I’m eating plenty, don’t worry. My main goal is to feel better, function better, sleep better, and also put off how long it takes me to show so I can delay telling my employer for as long as possible. Which I realize is totally ridiculous since I swear I already have a bump. Dammit.

Ok, wish me luck on that U/S tomorrow! The thing I want most (besides seeing a good strong heartbeat) is to finally be taken off the PIO injections. She’s had me doing oral + injections for 2 weeks as an overlap so I didn’t have a sudden drop in progesterone, but I am anxiously awaiting the day I can stop injections in my poor, sore, lumpy back.

Pray for me, friends.

A girl went in for a routine medical procedure. One week later? You won’t BELIEVE what happened next.

Sorry not sorry for the headline. I am so horrified yet fascinated by clickbait that I had to try it out for myself.

You may be wondering how this morning went.

I had a dream I was taking a pregnancy test. As I always do, I peed, then set the test next to me on the sink face down until I was mentally ready to face the results. That moment stretched on and on. Finally, I stood, and just as I was about to turn it over…

My alarm went off.

Then I remembered I got to do it for real, today.

So I went through all that same steps in actual life, only this time I stood at the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I was shaky and nervous. I want this, I don’t want this. I do want this. Of course I want this.

I flipped the test over.

It was positive.

That’s right, we are four for four on embryo transfers, though to be fair only 5 of the 6 embryos we attempted to implant stuck. I’m so glad to report that lucky number six was one of the sticky ones.

Today was significant because I looked back over my timeline and realized that I always do the HPT on 6dp5dt. (For the non-infertility vets: that’s home pregnancy test on six days past five day transfer). So I knew I had to take the test today for luck or superstition or just because I was sick of waiting.

I have a blood test Thursday, but then I’m not sure what happens after that because I assume the office is closed on Christmas Eve, so I won’t get to know about doubling betas and all that good stuff. We’ve been faithfully doing the injections but my progesterone levels were low last week so I had to increase my dosage from 1mL to 1.5mL daily. As far as symptoms… same as last time. Some cramping/tugging/pulling sensations all weekend that could have been the literal feeling of implantation or my overactive imagination. Interestingly, I’ve been getting up in the middle of the night to pee these past few nights, which is something I never do unless I’m pregnant or hungover. Again, could be my subconscious waking me up, or the anxiety over what the answer would be.

I’ve spent the last few days doing fun things like Googling pregnancy complications from multiple c-sections, and queries such as “How many c-sections are you allowed to have, anyway?” (As one woman on a message board enthusiastically reported, the answer is 9 or more, at least for her, which made me cringe). I’m not too thrilled about having another but I don’t have a choice in the matter. Also, funny how I’m worrying about this when I’m only about 5 minutes pregnant. Anything could happen between now and then, even if I have been avoiding gluten so well.

I became obsessed with the idea of the embryo implanting in the c-section scar, which is a very scary thing that can happen but doesn’t happen often. Not that there’s anything I can do to prevent it anyway, and worrying gets me nowhere. Still, I worry. And lately it’s been worry over the very real problem of my kids needing their mother and what if I die and on and on… you should get inside my head sometimes. It’s quite a place.

Next up… I don’t even know. Blood test I guess, then go from there. Eric was not at all surprised I was pregnant but I kind of was. We are due for a negative and I figured this one would be it. (Not that it works like that. Obviously).

You know the drill… prayers are appreciated as we wait and hope for this little one to burrow deep and grow. I will do my very best to keep you posted on happenings. If all goes well, by the end of August 2017 we will have three kids under 4. Phew.

I hope you all have a beautiful Christmas!

I’m pregnant. AHHHHHH!

round four review

Maybe I just have a lot of significant dates in my life, but it’s oddly creepy how they keep aligning with current life events.

I woke up this morning to the sad reminder that today is the four year anniversary of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. I will always remember that date because it happened on the exact same day that Eric and I began our IVF journey at New Hope. I remember sitting in the waiting room watching the news coverage, feeling helpless and awful and terribly self-absorbed to be worrying so much about my own problems.

Of course, I didn’t remember that today was the anniversary, or that the embryo transfer was happening so close to that date. Yesterday I went in to work normal time, left the office around 10:45, had the procedure, laid flat on my back for one hour, got up, got dressed, and was back at my desk by 1:30. I made the joke to some friends that I was probably – but not definitely – the only person in the building using her lunch break to get pregnant. And then, yes, I joined my coworkers for after-work drinks because why the hell not. Did I partake in a glass of red wine? Maybe. (Yes).

So I’m PUPO. That’s always been one of my favorite acronyms. Dr. L said the embryo thawed perfectly and looked to be of really good quality, so that’s a relief. I’m staggering around from the soreness of the PIO injections…it’s been a few years, I forgot how much those buggers hurt! But it’s all worth it in the end of course. If I can restrain myself, I’m going to wait to test until Tuesday morning. I went back through my timeline to see when I got BFPs with the other 3, and it looks like one week post transfer. I can live with that.

Part of me is optimistic over the fact that so far I’m 3 for 3 on FETs, while another part is nagging that I can’t possibly have a 100% success rate and I’m due for a failure one of these times. At least I know I did everything I possibly could. I gave up gluten two weeks ago and stayed strong, even as the delicious appetizers at happy hour were being waved under my nose.

On the job front, some news: I got one! I actually had two offers, which was exhilarating and honestly a bit of an ego boost. I have never been a great advocate for myself and suck at negotiating, so having those two offers really helped boost my confidence and gave me the courage to ask for what I want. I am really excited about this new role (I start on 1/3) and hope they won’t be too pissed if I’m pregnant. All of the people I talked to seem really nice and accommodating, so I’m betting on they won’t mind too much.

Not too much else going on! I mean, new job and potential pregnancy, plus Christmas craziness is enough excitement for one month, I suppose. The kids are great, we went to see Santa last week and Molly was obsessed with him. She told him what she wants (an Elsa and Anna doll) which is thankfully the same thing she’s been asking for consistently for the past two months, and I have it on good authority that the exact dolls she asked for will land under our tree on Christmas Eve. Liam was terrified of Mr. Claus but I loved every minute of it. The crying Santa photos are always my favorite.

This was the Awesome Santa I mentioned before, where the spots sold out in 3 seconds and we got put on a wait list. I hate to admit it, but he was well worth the hype. The best Santa I’ve ever seen and great with the kids. I’m in love with our photos.

All right, I’ll be back in a week with a pee stick pic! Gross, right?

In the meantime, some Santa photos for those of you who don’t follow me on social media:

best of friends

best of friends

santa-036

santa-016

santa-031

santa-034

the good with the bad

This is a hard post to write, literally and figuratively.

So much has happened over the past few weeks that I feel exhausted just thinking about getting it all out of my brain and onto my blog. Big things – both good and bad – are going on right now, and the longer I wait, the more that happens. So I’m just going to dive right in and finally update this thing with the news of right now.

The first big (bad) thing that happened is that I lost my job. I know… it’s truly awful! You’ll remember that I’m working at my dream company, a place that I actively targeted for five years before finally breaching the seemingly impenetrable walls of the fortress.

This comes as no surprise, however. I started at Rodale as part of the e-commerce team, retail being a new endeavor that they were hoping to grow but which sadly had to be pared down and restructured for a multitude of reasons I won’t bore you with here. Long story short, almost my entire team got laid off (except for 3 survivors who now face the daunting task of doing the work of 12 people), so you know, nothing personal. I’ve never lost a job before so this whole experience has been very enlightening.

One nice thing is that the company gave us six week’s notice, and I am still employed until 12/30. Coming in to work the day after the big announcement was definitely awkward, but as days passed we all just got used to it. It’s not uncommon now to pass by a coworker’s screen and see a draft of her resume blatantly displayed, or overhear conversations about job interviews and LinkedIn connections. It’s all at once funny, sad, and weird.

Mostly I’ll miss the people I’ve been working with every day for the last two years. I always miss the people most of all! We have such a great group of ladies who are all so talented, and while I’d love to believe we’ll stay in touch, the reality is that it’s unlikely. It’s scenarios like this that force me to admit how useful social media can be.

Anyway, I’m remaining surprisingly upbeat despite this setback. Maybe it’s naiveté and maybe it’s just optimism, but something in me is convinced I won’t remain unemployed for long. I had one interview yesterday and have another Monday (for an internal role), and I have a couple other prospects I’m waiting to hear from. I truly believe something will work out for me.

As for the other thing… the baby thing… no, I’m not putting that on hold, even though I probably should. For one thing, I’m about to lose my infertility coverage (unless I get that internal gig) and for another, I’m not going to start planning my life around work. I like working, but I’m never going to be a ladder-climbing career gal, if you know what I mean. Motherhood comes first, work second. I have no idea how this will all play out and I learned long ago that my best-laid plans can all be dashed in an instant. So… it may be crazy… but the transfer is still happening this month.

Part of me is thinking it’s dumb to be posting this on a public personal blog. But again – whatever! If a potential employer somehow sees this and decides not to hire me based on my desire to have more children, then I’m glad to know that up front. Because my intention is to have more kids and there’s no company in existence that would change my mind on that.

I just started my daily Estradiol and my PIO shots are in the mail and should arrive today – yay. I’m picking up the cryo tank from my new fertility clinic Thursday night and heading into Manhattan (with a good friend chauffeuring) early Friday AM. One nice thing about being laid off is that things have become super lax as far as hours are concerned, and literally no one cares about me leaving early or coming in late (hours before were super flexible – now it’s a total free-for-all). I’m very nervous about this whole ‘picking up the embryos’ thing going smoothly. The new clinic required 12 pages of legalese signed, initialed, and witnessed just for me to think about bringing the embryos in the door. Checking them out from NYC only requires a one page form, but it does need to be notorized (to-do list addition: find a notary). I’ve been going nuts trying to coordinate and plan all the bits and pieces of this event, from forms to weekly monitoring appointments and everything in between. I will definitely feel a lot more relaxed on Friday afternoon when embryos are safely where they need to be at the new clinic. I’ll feel even more relaxed mid-month when one of those embryos is all the way where it needs to be – a.k.a., my uterus.

What else? Oh no big deal, it’s December and I haven’t started Christmas shopping, plus did I mention I’m unemployed? We have something going on every night this week, I’m supposed to be relaxing and mentally preparing for this embryo transfer, ALSO I’m frantically job hunting, and we need to put up and decorate the tree, and take Christmas photos, and mail out cards, and continue with the little details of daily life… ahhh! It’s enough to drive any sane person absolutely bananas.

And as if that wasn’t enough, we had a birthday brunch for Liam last Sunday on the day of his first birthday (which I had to plan, shop for, cook for, and clean for). Yes, my son is ONE! What! The party was just for immediate family, but even then the guest list included 15 adults and 13 children who all crammed into my tiny house. It was crowded, noisy, and lovely, and Liam definitely enjoyed himself and smashed his cake in his own good time (5 minutes after everyone stopped taking videos and wandered out of the kitchen).

He’s been getting much better at walking and can do the mummy-esque shuffle across the length of a room. He falls a lot, but gets right back up, and you should see how proud he is of himself. I can’t believe how big he’s getting. I can’t believe how much I’ve forgotten to write down. Oh, the poor, neglected second child.

That’s really it for now. If you could all say a few prayers for me I would truly appreciate it – that the embryo moving day goes smoothly, that the embryo transfer works (looking like right around 12/13 or 12/14, and hopefully I’ll post again before then but with my track record I’m not making any promises), that I find a job, that I find space to relax and breathe, and that I don’t lose my ever-loving mind in the meantime. Thanks, friends.

Here are some party pics of my big man:

he kept the hat on for approx 4 seconds

he kept the hat on for approx 4 seconds

he knows how old he is

he knows how old he is

yay - cake!

yay – cake!

cake = smashed

cake = smashed

need a ride?

need a ride?

three on the move

Hi there.

I’ve been a mess lately trying to work out the logistics of a big situation. It’s still not completely figured out but we’re getting there. I’ve been waiting to share until I was sure it would work out, and even though I’m still not 100% positive, I am fairly confident now that it will happen. Very soon.

I’ve mentioned many times now that no embryos are getting left behind and that we are planning to implant all three of the remaining little frosties at some point. Well…the time has come.

There are several time-related and financial reasons for the rush. First, don’t laugh, but I’m feeling old. As of four days ago I’m 32 and a half which of course is not old, but is kind of old when you’re facing the prospect of three more pregnancies. (Or two more… that’s a whole other issue). Especially considering that every one of those deliveries will be a scheduled c-section, which will be harder and harder to recover from as I get older.

Financially, the time had to be now because of boring insurance reasons. Thanks in large part to Eric’s multiple ER visits in April, we managed to meet our gigantic deductible for 2016. I know, who would have thought? Because we accomplished this feat, all future medical visits and procedures for this year are covered at 90%, and now that we have coverage for ART despite it not being state-mandated (HALLELUJAH), the embryo transfer has become – dare I say – affordable.

Of course, as of January 1st our enchanted carriage turns back into a pumpkin and we’ll need to meet that big scary deductible all over again before we can enjoy that awesome 90/10 coverage. So even though mentally I’d feel better about doing the transfer in 6 months, truly, what’s the difference? December, June, who cares? Going from two kids to three kids is going to be a giant change no matter what. If we wait until we’re truly ready we’ll never do it. At this moment, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and I’d much rather take advantage of all the money I’ve paid into insurance so far this year.

We had our consult last week with the new/old RE. She’s the one who originally diagnosed our infertility issues in 2011. We went to her for all our initial testing and then promptly did nothing about our crappy diagnosis because we didn’t have the money or the coverage. It was pretty funny giving her updates on our situation at our most recent appointment. Five years later things couldn’t be more different.

Considering the fact that New Hope is two hours away, it was an easy decision to leave them. Also, they are not an in-network provider with our insurance, so meeting our deductible for the year would mean diddly squat in terms of out-of-pocket expense. Interestingly, and I believe I’ve mentioned this in a prior post, doing the transfer at New Hope is about half the price as doing it at the local clinic. Yes, bizarre! But yes, I also don’t care, because again I’m only paying 10%. So whatever.

As Dr. L was going over my history she had some matter-of-fact observations, as I knew she would. First she asked that I manage my expectations. “There is very little chance of you bringing home three babies from these remaining three embryos,” she cautioned. She reiterated what I already knew – that these were the worst quality of the bunch. Of course I realized their likelihood of sticking was much less than the first five we tried. She was also alarmed by my history of repeat pregnancy loss and asked if I’d be able to handle another miscarriage. “I’ll handle it. I’ve handled it,” I said, but her words really got me thinking.

I’ve not yet experienced a miscarriage since having my babies and I wonder what the difference would be (if any). I know I would be incredibly sad regardless, but I do think it would be a different kind of sad. When I lost the twins and the next pregnancy I was mourning their loss, obviously, but beyond that I was mourning the potential of never getting to be a mother. I had no consolation in the form of living children because I had no living children. Now, I won’t be mourning both things, because no matter what happens I am a mom and no future miscarriage will change that. It makes the prospect significantly less scary. I hope I’m not making is sound like miscarriage would be totally fine and easy. I would still be an absolute wreck; I know I would. But I also feel like these past three years have given me so much perspective and I do think I’d handle it better. Even though I think I handled it pretty damn well the first two times around, considering.

Sorry, tangent. Back to the topic at hand. We went in for our little discussion, yada yada, and Dr. L wasn’t even that surprised when I mentioned the whole ‘let’s get this in by the end of the year, insurance, deductible, etc.’ song and dance. Apparently we’re not the only ones trying to get the most bang for our buck from insurance companies. I had a quick U/S on the spot to check my ute and c-section scar (man, was it weird to be back in that chair again) and was sent off with instructions to come back in a week for a lining check. The plan is to go forward with my next cycle – the last possible one of the year – which would make the transfer date sometime in mid-December. Cue the cautiously enthusiastic music here.

The next big hurdle lies in transporting the embryos from Manhattan to Pennsylvania. I have three frustrating options for this:

Option 1 – Rent a tank from the PA clinic. Pick up the tank in PA, drive to NYC, drive back to PA, drop off embryos + return tank. Tank rental cost: $300 + $1,000 credit card hold that would be refunded with the tanks safe return (are people seriously stealing these things?)
Option 2 – Rent a tank from the NYC clinic. Drive to NYC, pick up the tank & embryos, drive to PA, drop off embryos. Drive back to NYC within 1 day to return the tank. Drive back to PA. Tank rental cost: $100
Option 3 – Pay to have them safely and securely shipped. Shipping cost: $750

Ok, that last one is obviously off the table. I’d be a nervous wreck the whole time and the cost is insane.

Do you see my dilemma, though? Eric said I need to weigh the cost of making the trip back and forth four times vs. paying triple the price for the tank rental – for example, with Option 2 I’d be paying for gas, paying for parking, and paying to go through the Lincoln Tunnel multiple times which was like $12 last time I did it. It’s a big pain in the butt. But $100 vs. $300 rental fee? Come on…

I also need to figure out if I’m driving myself or taking the bus. I know it sounds completely effing insane to be riding a public bus with my embryos in a cooler tank but truly, isn’t the situation just as bizarre no matter how I do it? The alternative is, what, strapping the cooler (and yes I am literally picturing a Coleman camping cooler right now) into Molly’s carseat and driving down the highway? Either way… it’s weird. Totally weird.

The bus sounds pleasant because 1) I wouldn’t have to drive and 2) I wouldn’t have to park. Also, have you ever driven in Manhattan? It’s terrible. I’d much rather zone out with a book, Coleman cooler + embryos safe by my side on a comfortable luxury bus than white knuckle my minivan through midtown traffic and pray a cabbie doesn’t hit me.

So that’s where I am right now – trying to figure out how to get those little embryos from point A to point B. Once they are back in PA I’ll be much happier because the cost of storage will drop from $100/month to $60/month, and then once they’re moved to long-term storage that will further reduce to $40/month. No more paying exorbitant Manhattan rent, hooray!

As we cautiously approach a December FET, we’re managing expectations (haha, not really) and hoping for miracles. If all goes to plan, I’ll be able to test the week of Christmas.

What an amazing gift a double line would be to end this crazy year.

long term storage

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about our embryos in storage.

Right now they’re chillin’ (ha, I’m hilarious) in New York City, at the same clinic where we participated in that clinical trial and got our free IVF. We have three day-5 frozen embryos left. We want future children (according to my husband, he NEEDS a son). The hard, invasive, expensive part is done now… it only makes sense that we continue to store them until the not so distant future day that we choose to expand our family. And now I’m a helluva lot more confident in my ability to do so, too. No gluten. No corn syrup. Lovenox for at least 15 weeks. No sudden or abrupt movements. GOT IT.

Anyway. New Hope gives you six months of free storage from the date of your last monitoring appointment (for me, apparently, that date was 11/11/13). After that they offer long-term storage for the low, low price of $1,200 per year, but as they like to joke, “The rent in Manhattan is so high! If you wish to seek alternative storage, that is your right and we understand.”

Our six months free is up in May, so I figured I’d start calling around to see what my options were. Since I’m not going to be getting a free embryo transfer in the near future, I thought it made more sense to have them sent somewhere in Pennsylvania. But that’s where things get complicated. The clinic near me that we went to originally (where we were formally diagnosed and all that) does not offer long-term storage. They use a facility in Missouri, who I did call, and it turns out the storage fees are $400/year, or $700 for 2 years. Shipping is $215. Oh, and I already got a glimpse of the consent to ship form, which has all kinds of scary language such as “We have been informed that such a transfer may affect the embryos resulting in unknown kinds of injuries or damage that may lead up to their death.” YEAH. I know that’s all just liability stuff, but whoa. Talk about precious cargo. The woman from the place in Missouri said insurance was extra if I was interested, to which I automatically replied yes, but then I sat down and thought about it – insure what, exactly? If they’re lost, there’s no getting them back. No amount of money can replace those specific embryos. How does that even work? What exactly am I “insuring?”

Here’s the weird part, though. So I just kind of assumed that doing an embryo transfer would be cheaper in my neck of the woods (Pennsylvania: land of the Amish!). It has to be, right? Um, no. New Hope quoted me $2,400 for a transfer plus $800 for monitoring, while the place near me gave me a quote of $4,000. What the what?! Even with bus fare and Metro cards, I’m better off at New Hope. Soooo I guess that means I’ll have to keep calling places in my general vicinity, hoping to find someone cheaper. Sheesh.

This whole process has been very frustrating and time-consuming, and I caught myself getting very annoyed that I had to go through this. “Normal” people don’t have to worry about embryo storage. “Normal” people just make more kids when they want more kids. But then I started thinking about some of my favorite women of the blogosphere… women who are still waiting to get pregnant, women who just got terrible news of a failed transfer, women who are waiting patiently to take the next step in their journey. And then I felt crappy for complaining. It’s a good problem to have – too many good embryos. Yeah, it does suck that I have to pay for storage and it’s a huge pain the ass to figure out where to keep them until we’re ready to do this all over again. But I’m one of the lucky ones, and I need to keep that in mind.

In other news – Eric cleaned out the spare bedroom this weekend! There’s still no paint on the walls and no furniture set up, but at this point the room is 95% empty, which makes me feel a billion times better. We have a ski trip in Vermont this weekend with my whole extended family and some friends (they’ll be skiing, I’ll be reading/napping/visiting the Ben & Jerry’s factory and taking the tour several hundred times, harassing the tour guide about their liberal use of high fructose corn syrup in basically every single blend they make). But next weekend the calendar is clear, so I’m hoping to at least get some painting done. Baby steps here, baby steps! I think the weather has a lot to do with it, actually – I feel more motivated to clean/get moving when it’s sunny and mild than I do when it’s freezing cold. I need spring to hurry the hell up already.

Hope everyone had a good St. Paddy’s Day! Can we talk about how I’m like the only person who came in to work wearing green? And I’m not even Irish! It’s just a sign of respect, I think. And it’s fun.

the butterfly effect

The-Butterfly-Effect-2004-704815The other night I was trying to explain the butterfly effect to my mom. In case you’re unfamiliar, besides being a thought-provoking and highly dramatic 2003 movie starring Ashton Kutcher and Amy Smart, the butterfly effect is (according to Wikipedia): “the sensitive dependency on initial conditions in which a small change at one place in a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state. The name of the effect, coined by Edward Lorenz, is derived from the theoretical example of a hurricane’s formation being contingent on whether or not a distant butterfly had flapped its wings several weeks earlier.”

That seems a little far-fetched, but if you watch the movie, it puts into more practical applications and helps the whole thing to make sense. Basically going back and changing one aspect of your life, even a small one, can impact everything else in ways you can’t even imagine. Our lives are intricately woven tapestries made up of the choices we have made up until this point, and changing one small thread could impact the pattern beyond recognition.

Anyway, when I was discussing it with my mom, she immediately said she’d love to go back and go to college rather than starting her career right out of high school. We talked about how if she had done that, I would not exist, nor would any of my siblings. Each one of us was created at a specific moment, and had anything else been different, it could have so easily gone another way – a topic I can’t think about in too much detail or I end up saying, “Ew, gross.” (we are talking about parent sex here).

But that got me thinking about my journey. I could go on for days about all the major life choices I would have done differently – in high school, in college, in relationships, with money. So many things I wish I could have a redo on.

But here’s the part I find interesting.

A lot of times this whole “butterfly effect” thing is used to justify shitty situations. Like, you needed to go through some tough times to get where you are today, et cetera. So in my case, one might argue that if I hadn’t had those two miscarriages, I wouldn’t be having the baby I’m having right now, so I should be thankful for THIS particular baby.

Except that I would.

Because this is IVF.

All 8 of my children were created at the same time, in a petri dish (ever notice how older people still call them test tube babies? That really annoys me for some reason. But pertri dish is acceptable), and all of my pregnancies have been the result of FETs. So essentially, I could have had this baby – this exact child – right now, or 6 months from now, or a year from now. I could have had this exact child via surrogate. This exact child was literally waiting for me (on ice).

So it feels like I’m “playing God,” so to speak, and in my opinion, I certainly should not have this kind of power. But then again, who knows… who knows. Would we ever have been able to mentally and psychically have all 8 kids if it had worked the first time and I wasn’t miscarriage-prone? What if there’s a fire in the lab and everything is destroyed tomorrow? (This is a worry that keeps me up nights, actually). What if having *this* child 6 months ago would have resulted in SIDS, or a car accident, or some other disaster, so really now is the only time to have him/her? Yup, I do get morbid when I’m hypothesizing. But I’m just trying to believe that despite my meddling, things are still happening the way they’re supposed to.

I don’t really know the answer, if there even is one. It’s just so crazy to think that timing has almost nothing to do with it, and if I choose to have another child in 2 years or 3 years, it doesn’t really matter because I will be getting the exact same child. The butterfly effect may hold sway over other aspects of my life, but for this one thing, it does not.

Science. Damn.

any questions?

Here’s something that’s been bugging me for years – why do people say, “Oh, from behind you couldn’t even tell she was pregnant!”

Who looks pregnant from behind?

I get it. These people are talking about ladies of a small build who have huge baby bumps that are shocking to behold. I have a friend like that – she’s super thin, and while pregnant it looked rather dramatic, like she swallowed a watermelon seed and somehow it sprouted inside her. But come on. Even larger women don’t look PREGNANT from behind – a little fat, maybe, but not pregnant. I’ve never looked at the back of someone and said, “Oh yes, she must be pregnant.”

It drives me crazy. Maybe it’s because I gained back all the weight I lost from going gluten-free (an all-sweets diet does have that effect), and not just in the belly, but in the hips and thighs. Maybe I’m bitter. But you know what’s really cool? I can wear any shirt I want and it all looks good now. Like before I had a pile of shirts that accentuated my stomach fat, so I put those aside for when I got back to my “thin days.” Not anymore! Now, it’s the tighter the better, and all those spandex-y shirts that made me cry hot tears into my bowl of ice cream are back out in their full glory. It’s GOOD for me to have a big fat belly. And even when I gain some weight in my thighs, my stomach is so big by comparison that it doesn’t look as bad. So far, besides the baby itself, this is the best thing about being pregnant.

At my last OB/GYN appointment, the doctor kept asking if I had any questions or concerns. She seemed disappointed that I didn’t, to the point that I found myself racking my brain for something – ANYTHING – to ask about. But the truth is, I got nothin’ (besides the whole ‘pregnant from behind’ thing).

I thought by now I would have devoured What to Expect and would be endlessly poring over nursery idea boards on Pinterest. I’m not. I’m just kind of stuck in the middle, and trying to figure out if my lack of intensity (not enthusiasm, mind you, because I sure as hell am excited) is because I don’t believe it’s actually happening, or if it’s because everything still seems a long way off.

Look, I’m a procrastinator. I work well under pressure. I sincerely doubt that we’ll have the baby’s room done in a timely fashion…I’m picturing nailing up artwork and frantically painting the trim in between contractions. That’s just how we roll. Right now I’m at a weird in-between stage and it seems to be going soooo slowly. Because something weird happened after I spent all that time waiting to get pregnant… now I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. I just want to meet my baby. Maybe I’m destined to always be impatient about something. Last night we were at Eric’s sisters house, the one who is now a week past her due date and eagerly anticipating baby’s arrival. I was super jealous that she gets to meet her baby – this week! I know I need to chill out and just appreciate this time (hey, I slept in super late today and have been a lazy bump on a log for most of it), and of course appreciate being pregnant. And I do. But the more real this baby becomes, the more I want to see him/her.

Realistically, it wouldn’t make sense to start on the baby’s room anyway because we still don’t know if we’re going pink or blue (theoretically). Only a little over a month until we find out. Insanity. Eric is team blue, and yeah, I am totally team pink. Of course I say, “as long as it’s healthy…” but I mean, no duh. I think anyone who has been following along can figure out by now that I’ll take a boy, a girl, an alien, whatever. I just want something. But deep down, I always pictured having a girl first.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about why it’s so important for me to have a girl, and what I came up with is that if I was ONLY able to have one child, I would definitely want a daughter. But I think we will have more than one. We still have three embabies on ice and I’m slowly becoming more confident in my body’s ability to sustain life. So a girl, eventually, would be all right. At the church Christmas service I tried to pay special attention to the message that God sent his only SON to save the world. Then there was a pageant of first graders acting out the nativity story and the wee lad who they had cast as the little drummer boy literally brought tears to my eyes. He was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. A boy would be good. I’m happy; I’m happy either way.

Alert: abrupt topic change! So I’ve been wondering – any bloggers out there have this problem? I’m out and proud and lots of my real life friends and family read this blog. That’s cool. But sometimes I have issues that I simply can’t discuss because I’m not anonymous. Like right now this HUGE thing is going on that I would love to vent, bitch, and moan about, but I can’t because of certain people who read this blog. It sucks! Sometimes I yearn for anonymity. It’s not even that you guys would be able to help with my problem, it’s more that I get so many warm fuzzies from your commiseration that it would really help me out just to have that. I’m sorry for cryptic blog posting, that’s really mean of me. 98% of you can probably know my issue, so if you’re dying of curiosity, shoot me an email and I’ll tell you. It’s not even that interesting, it’s just annoying, and is one of the (few) things going on right now. It feels weird that I can’t blog about it. I’m an open book about boobs and vaginas, but when it comes to personal matters, some things must remain secret.

Related to that, I’ve been thinking a lot about my last post and I’m hoping I didn’t come off sounding like a total bitch. As I said, a lot of the ‘mommy club’ friends read my blog and there I was whining about not being part of their club. Well, the mommies I know are nothing but accepting and understanding, and while I still maintain that I’ll never really be part of the club, that’s not for lack of their trying. I’m the one who feels awkward and inferior, but not because they try to make me feel that way. Just the opposite, in fact. A few have even said things like, “I have no idea what you’re going through, but I want you to know I’m here for you.” Yeah, there’s nothing better than hearing that. So to my mommy friends, I’m really sorry if I sounded ungrateful for your friendship. You’ve all been amazing at making me feel loved, and asking all the right questions. Sometimes I write without thinking, or think I sound a certain way when really I sound like a huge ungrateful jerk. Again, I’m sorry.

I suppose I should do a little bit of year-end recapping. A year ago yesterday I started my Lupron injections. I showed up to a New Year’s Eve party late because I had to swing by my mother-in-law’s to get the shot (the first of how many – hundreds?). I remember that day so well – taking the bus into the city, rushing uptown to the pharmacy to fill the script before it closed, hurrying in to the party and breathlessly explaining what was going on. At the time it felt like things were happening so quickly. How could I possibly know what 2013 had in store for me? So many ups and downs, so many periods of time that dragged and so many that flew by. I can’t help but believe that this year will be so much better, and that when 2014 comes to a close, I’ll be holding my daughter or son and marveling at how it all happened.

Wishing you all a joyous, drama-free new year that’s filled with love and happiness (and babies to everyone who wants them). Yeah, it’s cliche, but I mean it. We all deserve it.

I’ll never be part of the club

Oh, drama. Why must you torment me?

I’ll start off by saying that everything is fine (which of course you already know based on my expletive-free post title). I wasn’t even planning to write about my OB/GYN visit today because I figured it would be very routine, and I had other topics from the weekend to discuss. I’ll get to those in a moment.

So first of all, I made Eric come along to the appointment because I (wrongly) assumed I’d be getting an ultrasound. We went back into the room and quickly figured out that this wasn’t the case. Apparently “normal” folks don’t get ultrasounds at every visit. Who knew? So I sent him home with a kiss and waited for the doctor to come in.

We chatted, all was great, and then she whipped out the doppler to check the heartbeat. Five minutes of scanning…nothing. I told her I had one at home and sometimes it took me up to ten minutes to find the damn thing. She laughed and said, “Yeah, but I’m not going to spend ten minutes trying. Let’s just give you an ultrasound.”

Yay. I mean…damn. Sent hubby home for nothing.

At this point I was mildly concerned, but not overly concerned, as I had just found the heartbeat yesterday afternoon (once again I say, PRAISE GOD for dopplers). But still… she should be able to find it better than I can, right? Then the nurse popped in and said someone else was in the one and only ultrasound room, so I would have to wait a while until her appointment was done. The doctor came back a few minutes after that and said she would try again with the doppler just so I wouldn’t have to wait.

Scan, scan, scan…nothing.

Seriously?

So I had to sit there, alone, for about 30 minutes waiting for an ultrasound. It was awful. I started having flashbacks. I tried to reassure myself with the fact that I had heard it the day before, but anything can happen in the space of 18 hours. I know that all too well. I was half tempted to hop off the table and try to find it myself, or go down the hall and hustle the other person out of the room through fear and intimidation.

I had mentioned that the brand of prenatal vitamins I was using was making me sick, so at one point during my wait the doctor came back in with a bunch of different samples for me to try to see if any of them worked better. This was also reassuring because I figured if she was truly concerned, she’d wait until the appointment was over before giving them to me. As it was, I was picturing how terrible it would be to have to hand them back at the front desk on the way out. And let’s not even talk about how devastating this news would be to hear two days before Christmas. The thoughts running through my head were pure torture.

Finally, I got to go in the ultrasound room. For one heart-pounding moment I saw a huge dark blob with nothing in it… and I thought, “That cannot be. It cannot be.” But guess what, guys? That big dark blob was my bladder. Which turns out was the root of this whole fiasco. My full bladder had pushed the baby way up high, and the doctor was scanning down near my pubic bone where the heartbeat is normally found. Baby is fine, somersaulting away, heartbeat is at a solid 145. Nothing to fear. Phew.

Panic over, crisis averted, composure restored. Now on to my topic of the day.

It doesn’t matter that I’m pregnant, it doesn’t even matter if one day I actually have a baby. Because the “Normal Mommy Club” is just something I’ll never be a part of.

We went to a Christmas party this weekend. It’s a party that I would have fled from screaming/crying had I not been pregnant right now. There were three pregnant chicks (including me) and the hostess has a three-week-old. Yes, she has a three-week-old and a two-and-a-half year old and managed to plan, coordinate, cook for, and host a Christmas party. Talk about super-mom.

I didn’t get the memo that you’re supposed to get a cute, Christmas-themed maternity shirt to wear around this time of year if you happen to be “with child” (and where do you even buy these)? I went to Walmart and got some oversized, tacky shirt that said something about being naughty in glitter letters. It didn’t occur to me to dress the bump adorably.

It was just so weird. Everyone talking about kids and pregnancy and babies, and for once I got to be included in the conversations. I felt like an imposter. I don’t even know how to answer the questions half the time, or how to reciprocate appropriate questions. I feel like at any moment I’ll be revealed for what I am: so decidedly not part of the club. And pretty much everyone there reads my blog, so it’s not like they don’t know my backstory, but still. I’m pregnant, yet I still cringe every time I hear a cute baby story or see a bump out of the corner of my eye. Will that ever change? Am I scarred for life?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be crawling out of the trenches of infertility. I guess what I’m saying is that no matter what point I get to in life, the scars will still be hiding just beneath the surface. I don’t think I’ll ever freely gush over being pregnant or having kids or any of that. I’ll always be on high alert when it comes to all the stuff that used to make me scream on the inside. You can take the girl out of the infertility war, but you can’t erase what’s already happened. I’m forever changed based on this journey.

Just wondering if anyone else feels the same, and assuming that most of you do… I haven’t seen any of you morph into eternally happy mommy bloggers overnight, even those of you who gave birth recently.

I often think about what this blog will become post-baby, and I hope that it stays real and relevant. I’ll never be crafty and organized and vigilant, pureeing all-organic kale into baby food while simultaneously recording every detail in a handmade baby book. I’ll never be great. But I hope that I do stay honest, and irreverent, and humble, and grateful. So, so, so damn grateful.

hummingbirdAs a P.S. – Today I received a gorgeous hummingbird ornament in the mail from Teresa at “Where the *bleep* is our stork?” She so graciously nominated me for The Stork Award a few weeks back, and I swear it has been on my to-do list to finally answer all her questions and nominate some more lovely ladies as well. Teresa, thank you so much. This community makes me feel so warm and accepted. Talk about being part of a club… yeah, this is it for me. No matter where life takes me, I’ll always be one of you.