burnt toast life

the best $50 I ever spent, and some other updates from this weird new world

Greetings from surreal-ville, the world in which I now live.

Today was my first appointment at the perinatal center. Everything looks perfect (God, I will never get sick of typing that phrase). Baby is still measuring 5 days ahead, 13w3d. Best of all, baby looks like a baby. Arms and legs waving all over the place. It’s just so crazy how much (s)he is moving around because of course I can’t feel anything yet. Everything was so good, in fact, that I don’t have to go back to perinatal until the level 2 scan (GENDER SCAN!) in February, like a normal person. Did you hear that? I’m a normal person.

So now back to that $50. My doppler arrived on Thursday and yeah, it was pretty much like Christmas came early. It is so freakin’ amazing. Anyone out there contemplating a doppler, I’m here to say, “GET ONE. GET ONE RIGHT NOW.” Big shout-out to Jane, Lentil, and Amy for giving me tips on how to find the heartbeat. My biggest challenge was distinguishing between my own pulse (which I found out at today’s ultrasound is the sound of blood flowing to the placenta) and the baby’s, but once I actually found it, I could definitely tell the difference. Baby’s heartbeat is so much faster than my pulse. It’s just incredible. And yes, I have used it every single day since I got it. I’m gonna have to stock up on the gel, because there ain’t no way that little 3 ounce tube is going to last me very long. And side note – with the Sonoline B, I kept getting a read of 125 or so, which is low, but today at the appointment the heart rate was 165. So I wouldn’t put much weight on the actual readout, just the fact that it’s there. The doctor even cautioned me against going into a panic if I ever couldn’t find it because it is rather early, and my tools are mediocre at best. Apparently he doesn’t know me at all because OBVIOUSLY I would freak out if I couldn’t find it. But so far, so good. I’ve found it every time without too much trouble.

TMI paragraph ahead – be warned. Keep reading at your own risk.

Just because I got a doppler doesn’t mean I’ve been drama-free. As you may imagine, Progesterone suppositories come with a fair amount of “leakage,” so the sensation of “stuff coming out” has not been shocking or alarming these past few months. However, Saturday morning I was outside taking the dogs out when suddenly I felt a “whoosh!” of fluid that was like nothing before. A quick check revealed that it wasn’t blood, thank God, but it was clear and was definitely not pee (which message boards all seemed convinced it must be for other women that this has happened to. I find that condescending – like, wouldn’t you know if you peed yourself? But I digress…). Because I’m ready for doomsday at any moment, my mind immediately jumped to the worst: amniotic fluid. I ran upstairs and heard the heartbeat, which was nice, but I know you can lose amniotic fluid and still have a live baby for a little while. Anyway, I spent the next two days Googling it, and from what I found amniotic fluid has a distinct smell, is straw-colored, and is not sticky. None of these things matched what happened to me… but still, weird. The only thing that I can chalk it up to is that Eric and I had sex the night before it happened for the first time in like forever (giggity)… so perhaps we shook something loose? I don’t know. All I know is that they measured the amniotic fluid today at the appointment and it was all good, plus when I mentioned it to the doctor he said it was normal, and not to worry. I just wanted to share this story in case it happens to anyone else and they freak out. It can turn out OK.

Isn’t it funny? I knew that at today’s appointment they would find a heartbeat (because clearly I had just found it hours before), but I was still freaked out. I can’t escape the anxiety. I’m starting to be convinced that there will ALWAYS be something to worry about (as many of you who are further along have warned me about). But at least it’s getting better.

Another reason for my worry over the appointment is that today, December 9th, is historically a bad day for me. It’s the day in 1988 that my grandfather had a heart attack while driving me to a friend’s birthday party. It’s the day my beloved pet prairie dog died (yup, I had one of those! Best pet ever). A boyfriend broke up with me on December 9th and I was appropriately devastated for an overly dramatic, overly attached teenage girl. As my mom says, “December 9th has just never been a good day for you.” She takes great care to not mention its approach, but is always half expecting me to call her on that day with some kind of bad news.

Because of this, I contemplated changing the appointment, but I felt silly. I don’t really believe in superstition. Now I’m glad I didn’t, because today went so well that I’m thinking perhaps the December 9th curse is broken. I can only hope.

Lastly, I posted the big news on Facebook today. I KNOW. It’s not even that exciting because basically everyone knows anyway, but it still felt like a gigantic milestone. I had written out exactly what I wanted to say weeks ago, something that didn’t go into too much detail but that definitely honored the long road we’ve taken to get here. Not gonna lie, I got a little teary hitting submit, and even more choked up when the comments and likes started flooding in.

facebookpost

Five days from today will mark one year since our very first consult at New Hope. I could never have imagined that this past year would go quite this way… for one thing, it feels like a lifetime ago. I’m a completely different person from that naive girl who fully expected IVF to be the magical solution to all her problems. But I am happy, and I am hopeful, and even a tad bit optimistic that I’ll actually get to take home a baby at the end of all this.

It’s just crazy.

on the eve of the second trimester

Since the day that second line appeared, December 4th has been etched in my brain as “the day.” If I could just make it there, everything would be fine. I pictured having a mini party, posting my announcement on Facebook, maybe even cracking a bottle of bubbly (and you know… having half a sip or something). I figured December 4th would be the best day EVER.

But alas, it is not. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. That’s the kicker, isn’t it? I have no idea what’s going on in there. And I can’t help but assume doom and gloom because… well… that’s all I’ve known so far. I don’t know how to be hopeful and optimistic. I don’t know how to just assume that everything is just as it should be.

Here’s how it goes: the day of my ultrasounds I feel elated, joyous, hopeful, gratified. Those warm fuzzy feelings continue throughout the whole day and into the next, and then gradually start depleting and getting replaced with hopeless anxiety and an overwhelming sense that something could go wrong. Things could be going wrong at any moment, and how would I know? That’s how it happens. It could be over in an instant. So within a week I’m all in a tizzy expecting the worst, and by the day of the next ultrasound I’ve just come to accept my fate of whatever, half expecting there to just be no heartbeat at all. That’s how I’m feeling right now. So damn scared.

Yeah…I need the doppler. I broke down and ordered it today, and even just seeing the little confirmation email pop up to say that it shipped made me feel a tiny bit better. If there would have been a personal pick-up option, I might have driven to Atlanta tonight to get it (and this after a 16 hour round-trip jaunt to Virginia last weekend to visit family). Anyway, estimated delivery time is between Thursday and Saturday. I’m a bit concerned at what might happen if I can’t find the heartbeat myself using it (cue panicked emergency calls to the OB/GYN) especially since at this point I really SHOULD be able to. I was on the verge of going out at lunchtime to get one at Babies ‘R’ Us but the reviews on that one are so terrible that I was sure it wouldn’t work. I ended up going with the Sonoline B, a mere $50 on eBay. Now it just needs to get here. And find me a good, detectable heartbeat so I can stop freaking the hell out.

What else is going on? I love when people ask me that. As if freaking out over assumed tragedies isn’t a full-time occupation. Well, I had a good Thanksgiving, deliciously gluten-free. As mentioned earlier, my whole fam traveled down South to visit my dad’s side of the family, so that was cool. There was a Cracker Barrel at every exit… I’ve never seen that many Cracker Barrels. And yes, we did stop to eat there…twice. Other than that, not much. I have a slew of Christmas parties coming up and this will be the first year that I can’t drink at all. It’s not that I’m some huge drinker, it’s just that a glass of wine here or there really helps to get me nice and sociable, you know? I tend to be shy and reserved at parties and sometimes I have a bitchy look on my face without trying to (ever hear of Resting Bitch Face?) So yeah. I hope I can be fun and have fun while stone cold sober.

Such problems to have, right? To have this go well, I’d gladly give up drinking for the rest of my life. I don’t need liquor to be happy…I need this baby. Come on, doppler… ship faster!

It’s the eve of the second trimester, and all through the house…yeah, I have no rhyme for that. Sorry.

graduation day

**warning: bump and ultrasound pics to follow**

I graduated!

Today was the last of my weekly ultrasounds, and the last time I’ll have to deal with New Hope… ever (when we have our next baby, you can bet your bottom dollar I’m not going all the way to New York to do it. But that’s another conversation for another time). Baby is right on schedule, measuring 8w5d, heartbeat 154 (I had a moment of panic that it’s lower than last week, but the tech pooh poohed my concerns and said it fluctuates a lot during this time). Major milestones: well, no transvaginal ultrasound wand, for starters. This was all done over the belly like a regular pregnant person. The tech even started chatting with me about baby names. Like, wait, I actually get a baby at the end of this? I have to name him/her something other than Baby Crumb?

I almost want to write a letter to the hospital raving about the service I’ve received at their lab. Every tech has been so nice, so understanding, so compassionate. When I mentioned my concerns to the woman today, she quickly scanned and found the heartbeat to reassure me, then went on with her other measurements. Meanwhile, I don’t think she’s even supposed to be telling me details. I’m almost sad to stop going there (and yeah, I’m realllly going to miss these weekly reassurances).

What else? I’m not nauseated anymore. Of course this was cause for concern these past two weeks, but I figure I’m also not coughing/sneezing/sore throat sick and I am still experiencing food aversions pretty hardcore. I made Coconut Curry Stir Fry the other night, thinking that if the chicken was all mixed in and hidden it would be ok… ah, no. Big chunks of chicken = Amanda wants to gag. I’m still subsisting on a handful of different foods that I just constantly rotate. Split pea soup, daily. Rice Chex with almond milk, daily. Rice noodles with organic tomato sauce, daily. Gluten free cookies, multiple times per day.

Oooh and speaking of gluten free… I went on a bit of a baking/cooking kick this weekend, and made a gigantic batch of split pea soup (seriously, my favorite thing ever) and a bunch of different GF cookies. I want to share the one recipe with you because even if you aren’t GF, these are SO EASY and SO YUMMY. Generally I base my recipes on number/obscurity of ingredients (if it requires essence of unicorn horn or anything similar that I can’t find at my local grocer, forget it). Best part about these bad boys is that I literally had all the ingredients on hand (um, that never happens). So here they are: easiest, awesomest peanut butter cookies ever.

Easy, Awesome, Gluten-Free, Dairy-Free Peanut Butter Cookies

1 cup of peanut butter
1 cup of sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg
sea salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350.

Mix all that crap together. Mix it real good. It’ll be goopy and gloppy, but who cares? It’s gluten-free, bitches! Drop it onto a parchment paper lined cookie sheet and try to do the criss cross fork thing. It won’t be perfect (see above: goopy, gloppy mess), but it’s the thought that counts. Sprinkle with sea salt. Bake for 10 minutes. THAT’s IT. Wasn’t that easy??

When the hell did this turn into a recipe blog? God, I’m sorry. We were talking about Baby Crumb. So anyway, I’m not nauseated, I love cookies, not much else to report except one thing. Bump. Yes. I have one, and I’m not even 9 weeks yet.

bumpHere’s the story. I’m a strictly pear-shaped woman, and whenever I gain, it’s all ass/hips/thighs. This past year when I gained a bajillion pounds with all this medication and stress eating, I did notice some extra jiggle in my arms and my knee-high boots don’t zip over my calves as well, but still, my stomach remained pretty flat (and also, ahem, my chest). Well, not anymore. Since going totally gluten-free two months ago, I actually lost ten pounds. BUT, my stomach is protruding more than it ever has before. So I think that qualifies as a very early bump.

Besides that, my knockers are huge (well, for me they are). So despite my lack of nausea or any other real symptoms besides aversions, every morning I wake up with this oversized belly and chest, I feel a little thrill of excitement, like whoa yeah, this might actually be happening. I have physical evidence to prove it. Eric gleefully calls me “fat” on a daily basis (because…he can?)

Speaking of the hubs, he’s still not allowing himself any real excitement until we hit 12 weeks. Oh and how’s this for exciting: he’s actually going to get to come to an ultrasound appointment! Three pregnancies, and this will be his very first! Our first ultrasound with my regular OB/GYN will be on November 25th, which also happens to be his birthday. Ballsy, or smart to schedule it that day? I figure nothing can go wrong because that would just be TOO cruel. I’m happy to share it with him. I’m also planning to buy a bottle of bubbly and pop the cork when we hit that elusive 12 week milestone (plus he said I’m allowed to have a sip once we hit 2nd trimester. Thanks, dear). And because I’m a total crazy pants, I already drafted what the Facebook announcement will say. Yes. I planned this. I also daydream about my baby shower, and the birth, and the afterwards part when I get to hold my baby in my arms. You might say I’m fully invested in this.

This is the most pregnant I’ve ever been. I graduated from New Hope. I graduated to regular, external ultrasounds. My cup(s) and waistline overfloweth.

It’s a good day.

baby crumb!

baby crumb!

starting to look something like hope

Well, today was scheduled ultrasound #2 (but technically my third so far this pregnancy because of my little freak out last week).

Baby is freakishly on time, measuring 7 weeks 5 days. That’s precisely where he/she should be based on my LMP of September 11th, and the fact that last Monday he/she was measuring 6w5d, and Thursday was 7w1d. Like I said… freakishly on time. Heart rate is 172 (That’s high. Is that high? Doesn’t that mean it’s a girl?)

The “most” I’ve ever been pregnant is 8w1d. Or really, I guess 8w0d because 8w1d was the day we found out we lost the twins (and they said we had JUST lost them). But that was my second ultrasound. So I’ve never made it past the second ultrasound. This means that next Monday is my graduation ultrasound from New Hope. As in, if all goes well next week, I get to be a regular patient at my regular OB/GYN. My head is seriously spinning.

I feel amazing. I feel so emotionally invested it’s not even funny, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t get all crazy excited until at least 9, preferably 12 weeks. But you guys. I’m making it to graduation day. My throat doesn’t hurt. I’m intermittently stuffy nosed and clear, but it’s not as bad as it was. I feel like I have a handle on this. And that heart rate? So strong. So beautiful to see in there.

At that wedding this weekend I got a LEETLE resentful when all I could eat (literally, the only thing) was dry salad with the croutons picked off. (To Eric’s credit, he did hunt down a catering person to see if they could make me something special, but everything was pre-cooked and they weren’t very accomodating. Oh well). So I sat there sipping my water, watching everyone else stroll merrily down the path of drunkenness and gobble up the yummy food, and I thought: this sucks. Then today, seeing my perfect little blobby, who Amy has so cleverly dubbed “Baby Crumb,” I thought, damn, this is worth it. Turnips and motor oil. Dry salad. Whatever. If I get a baby out of this, I don’t really care how many sacrifices I need to make.

I’m so confident cocky? that I talked to work about it today. Here’s the reason why. My company is doing a build-out expansion and most of us are moving our seats to the new area in about 2 weeks. Because of this upcoming move and space constraints, I do not currently sit with my department. I’ve been excited to move because I definitely feel like I’m missing out by not sitting with them – on information, on bonding, you know, normal office stuff. It’s nice to be able to talk with the people on your team by twisting around in your chair and giving a holler. As it stands, I’ve bonded more with the department I sit with than the one I’m actually part of. BUT. There’s a huge BUT here. I work for a cigar retailer, remember? And parts of the building are ventilated and allow for cigar smoking. My department is one of those places, and also will be when we move. So essentially I’d be sitting in a smoke-filled room 9 hours a day if I sat with them, because they have to sample cigars and pipes at their desks. It’s part of their job.

I talked to my boss about it because…well…it didn’t seem like such a great idea. As much as I want to sit with them, I don’t know just how smoky it will be and I don’t want to risk it. He agreed, and now (assuming I continue to stay pregnant), I will be sitting with the same people I sit with now, in a non-smoking section. It’s good and bad. I hate that I can’t sit with my team, but I’m glad I don’t have to worry about smoke, or worse, to make the guys feel guilty/weird about lighting up just because I’m around. And when I get back from leave, I can move into the new area with them.

I know; such problems to have, right? I definitely get the feeling that this pregnancy is really happening. Which is super duper scary. Because at this point if things went south, I would be absolutely devastated. I’ve allowed myself the audacity of hope.

It’s freaking frightening. Also exciting. But mostly…yeah, I’m pretty scared.

is there anything more beautiful…

…than the flicker of a fetal heartbeat? No sir, I do not think there is.

Absence of the f-bomb in the title should tell you that today went well. Today went perfectly! But here’s the part that may shock you: I knew it would.

Yes, Ms. Worrywart, Ms. Anxiety, Ms. Worst-Possible-Case Scenario was remarkably calm in the days leading up to this appointment. I even tried to worry, but was met with a resounding voice from the inside that said, “Everything is going to be OK.”

Seriously… I wasn’t even that nervous until I actually arrived at the appointment. The lab makes you arrive with a full bladder, which is stupid, because everyone knows that at 6 or 7 weeks they’ll end up doing an internal anyway. After exclaiming over just how WELL I filled it (I think he said, “Wow! It’s huge!”) the tech did some quick measurements and photos before – you guessed it – telling me that we’d need to do a transvaginal ultrasound. I love when they ask if I’m “familiar with that.” HA! Infertile girls could probably do them on themselves.

Anyway, when he was still using the external doppler thingy, I couldn’t really see anything in the sac, so I did have a brief moment of panic where I was afraid he’d say, “Uh oh, there’s nothing in there.” But really, it turned out to be my enormous bladder in the way, I guess (did I mention I’m up to 2 gallons of water a day?). I had already given a bit of background and pleaded that he tell me anything he saw, to the extent that he could. Two agonizing minutes later, the internal started. There was a baby, measuring exactly where I expected at 6 weeks 5 days (this information he volunteered with no prompting. Incredible!). Then there was the flicker. The beautiful, magical, intoxicating flicker that he pointed out and even complimented. Then there were the tears of relief. It felt so amazing to hear good news for once.

Something else that I got today that no one has ever given me before (officially): a due date. Based on measurements, it’s looking like June 18th. But because I’m banking on this kid being a girl, and because every girl in my entire family is born on a Sunday, I say June 15th. Which is…drum roll, please…Father’s Day. Is there anything more perfect than that? I can’t even express how badly I want to give Eric this gift on that day.

Yes, my friends, I’ve gone from worrying about day-to-day viability to predicting a due date. Am I crazy? I can’t explain it, I just feel… calm. Zen. Like everything is going to work out. And yes, I have a lot of emotional attachment to this little ‘un. I don’t want to say, “This is our baby,” because that would imply that the previous ones weren’t. But I think this IS our time. It’s the right time. I just have a really good feeling about it; I can picture it happening. We still have a ways to go before I’m actually content and out of fear’s way, but today was a huge step in the right direction.

Symptoms, I have few, like pretty much nonstop nausea that’s not reached the point of actual puking yet, but is mildly uncomfortable. The thought of eating is quite repulsive. One particular problem is a sudden and intense aversion to all meat besides bacon. Which is a huuuuge problem because meat is one of my main sources of fuel on this crazy bland diet. But ugh…even the thought of meat of any kind makes me wanna hurl. Well, everything except bacon. Eggs are still tolerable, so at least I’ll have some protein, but I worry a little about proper nutrition here. After 12 weeks, I plan to experiment a teeny tiny bit with adding things back into my diet, like gluten-free snacks and stuff. I’ve never wanted brownies so badly in my life, but those I really can’t have. However, they do make a gluten-free version, so yay! Maybe gluten was my problem this whole time. That really blows my mind.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Technically, we haven’t made it any further than we did before, since my last “bad” ultrasound was at 7w1d, and today is earlier than that. BUT last time I had bad signs leading up to that. Last time at this point, I had the “heartbeat too slow” ultrasound. I know it’s so stupid to get my hopes up here, but I feel like this day is a milestone. Just like next week will be. The week after that? Huge.

One thing that I do know is that positive energy is helpful, so I’m just going with it. I hope I can keep this good attitude going. And survive a whole week until the next go ’round. Please let it go quickly….haha, yeah right.

DRAMAnda

No, not Dr. Amanda…Drama Amanda. Dramanda. Making mountains out of molehills since 1984.

As you may imagine, my beta was good today: 19,963. Not that it was an easy thing to get – I called the lab at 7:30 this morning and had them re-fax the results. Called New Hope at 9 to see if they got them…they didn’t. Called the lab back to re-fax ONCE AGAIN. Called New Hope. Alas, they had them! Not that they could tell me what they said. I begged the receptionist to hand-deliver them to a nurse and tell her to call me, “preferably before midnight.” I finally got an email at 1:30. Not bad. But by then my poor brain was about to explode. I was also experiencing cramps, which of course I talked myself into believing was the big M/C. But now that I have good news, I’ve managed to swing it around to “growing pains.” Hopefully.

So I live to see another day! But you know what this means…Ultrasound. Monday. And not at New Hope this time (because I don’t have any vacation time accrued yet). Instead, I’ll be going to a lab, where they won’t be able to give me results in real time. So I’ll have to wait for New Hope to call with the outcome (if they get the fax, of course). So I could potentially be sitting at my desk in an open cubicle and hear the “no heartbeat” news. What will I do? Get up and leave? Fall to the ground? No, none of these things. Because this baby will have a good, strong heartbeat and that phone call will be happy, happy, happy. Right?!

And in more overreacting for no reason news… I talked with HR this morning (or more accurately, pounced on the poor woman the moment she walked into the building) and confirmed that we do get maternity leave coverage separate from Aflac. So the whole 10 month thing doesn’t matter. Phew! Again, my overreacting caused a bunch of unnecessary freak outs last night. All over nothing. I still need to save up since obviously it won’t be my full salary (did you know that legally they’re not allowed to pay you full salary for maternity leave? That’s so ridiculous!) but at least I won’t have to save the entire amount. And I’ll get more than 2 weeks. Thank God.

I feel a little silly about yesterday. I think the stress of this is really getting to me. We’re reaching a critical juncture here – 7 weeks. Last time that’s when I found out it was over. So even making it past that date will be significant. 9 weeks will be SUPER significant. 12 weeks will allow me to start actually breathing again.

Eric is ready to strangle me. I think it’s because he’s usually the “freak-outer” and I’m usually the “let’s calm-downer.” When I freak out, he freaks out on top of that, and the result it two crazy people yelling at each other over nothing. That pretty much sums up my night last night. What I really needed was for someone to tell me, “Calm down, everything will be OK.” But that’s not his style. He probably fancies himself a pragmatist, but I say he’s more of a pessimist. Always anticipating the worst possible scenario. That is great for managing expectations and not getting hopes up (therefore avoiding disappointment), but not when you have a wife one step away from a nervous breakdown. My neuroses that I work so hard on maintaining manifest themselves as extreme “bitchiness,” as he calls it. I do; I definitely do take it out on him. Because he’s there. But I can’t help it. I just need to make it to December and I swear things will be so much better.

OK, I said the cramps were no longer worrisome but I totally lied. They’re freaking me out. Anyone else cramp up
around 6 weeks?

If anyone needs me, I’ll be hiding out under the covers for about a week. See ya.

no good very bad day

It’s not the worst day, so don’t worry yet. But my head is pounding and I’m feeling like shit and I just want today to end, already!

First, I had my fourth and final beta today. I know, my clinic is all weird and does four. Truthfully, it’s nice to have that peace of mind at the six week mark rather than waiting for the ultrasound at 7 weeks. Well, you know, it would be nice… if I got any answers.

I went to the outside lab I usually go to. I kept my phone on hand – even on bathroom trips – all day long. No call. At 5, I sent an email to the nurses, hoping to get a prompt response. They wrote back at 8:30. The email started off in a negative way, “We are sorry but we only have…” and my heart sank. Thought it was over. But no! After frantically reading it 5 times in a row, I stopped my panic attack in its tracks and figured out that it ACTUALLY said they only have my Progesterone level, not my beta. I’m to continue all medications and call my lab in the morning to have them fax the rest of the results.

Seriously, lab? You had to screw it up? And why couldn’t they have JUST reported the HCG, and not the Progesterone? Who gives a shit about Progesterone? Yes, gross suppositories twice a day. Gotcha. Covered.

Soooo that means I get to wait a whole ‘nother day to get the results. And probably the whooooole day, because God knows they never call in a timely manner. Stress levels are through the roof, which is stupid, because I’m supposed to be calm and serene. But I have more bad news.

Let’s back it up a minute.

Prior to my freak-out email to the nurses, I got to sit in on a benefits meeting at work. I’m eligible for benefits next month, and of course, I was especially interested in their maternity leave details. They offer short term disability through Aflac. OK, cool, sign me up. Except… coverage for maternity leave doesn’t kick in until 10 months after your eligibility date. So… that’s September. Kid is due in June. Shit.

It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t get maternity leave! I’m not an independent contractor; I work for regular companies that should (and always have) had coverage for something simple like having a baby. Right? It’s not like I’m having the kid tomorrow. This is seven months away! What the freaking hell! I couldn’t express my outrage during the meeting because it was a group meeting, but I have a one-on-one with the overly perky and frankly obnoxious Aflac lady on Wednesday to confirm what plan to choose. So I’ll be able to figure out if I was reading it correctly. But can they DO that?

I was already fretting over how to live on 60% of my salary… ain’t no way we can live on 0%. So I called my mom and she was like, “Oh, you only need two weeks to recover. If that.” And then… I started bawling. Two weeks? Three and a half years, two miscarriages, and countless breakdowns over this damn kid, and I can’t even stay home with him/her for longer than two weeks? That’s just not fair.

Well, that’s if I’m even still pregnant. But who knows! Here I am, borrowing problems from the future once again. Freaking out over actually bringing home a child when I’m so far from that point. If that’s my stipulation…that I can only have this baby if I go back to work 2 weeks later…then FINE. BRING IT. I will do that. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.

I have a while to figure it out. Step one: maintain healthy pregnancy. Step two: ramp up the freelance stuff and save up 2 or 3 month’s salary over the course of aforementioned healthy pregnancy. Step three: Have a baby, and stop complaining, because it will all work out.

But seriously. Shitty, shitty day. I’ll let you know about the beta tomorrow (if anyone bothers to tell me the results).

the longest weeks

For some reason, this month is dragging. I mean, obviously I know the reason. It’s because I’m dreading/anticipating my 7 week ultrasound at the end of the month. But seriously… for both other pregnancies, I feel like this time just flew by. For this one it feels like a lifetime. Right now, I’m 5 weeks along (beta today came back at 2,924, which is pretty close to what it was last time at this point). 5 weeks! Wasn’t it eons ago that I got my BFP? Shouldn’t I be, like, delivering this kid by now?

I haven’t been posting much because honestly, there’s not much going on. That, and the fact that I’ve been uber-busy lately. I picked up a side project freelance writing gig to make a little extra cash, so that’s sucking up some time. Then my friend unexpectedly dropped by on Saturday and stayed the night (our first time having a guest in the guest room…ahem…nursery), which was very fun. We watched a Disney movie and drank seltzer. Because that’s how I like to party, mmmhmmmmm.

Sunday I got up super early for church and then had a few hours to kill before going on a pumpkin patch excursion with the family. I thought twice about setting my alarm before lying down for a quick nap… usually I nap for 60 minutes on the button, no alarm needed. I’ve always been that way. Well, good thing I set that alarm, because 2 hours and 15 minutes later that’s precisely what woke me up. This is what happened during my last pregnancy, too, so I’m taking it as a good sign.

Other signs – and tell me if any of you experience this one – sometimes when I’m lying on my stomach and stretch (in yoga speak, do sort of a cobra type thing) it feels like my lower abdomen is somehow shorter and more tense than it usually is. It’s hard to describe. It’s kind of like a pulling sensation, and it only happens in this early, early stage (which, let’s face it, is as far as I’ve ever been). Besides that and the super-long naps, I got nothin’.

Diet is going well. My unexpected houseguest and I went to the local grocery store and raided the gluten-free section, picking up yummy-licious rice noodles and making a coconut curry stir fry. It was so good, and best of all, it didn’t bother my throat one bit! Woo hoo! Rice noodles are officially my new favorite thing. They make life better when I’m at my grandmother’s house watching everyone else scarf down homemade stuffed shells as I confirm for the third time that there’s nothing but parsley on the turkey. No pie for me. No chocolate eclairs. Just a cup of herbal tea, plain, for dessert. I told my mom that in June, in the hospital, I fully expect a delivery of a dozen bagels slathered in cream cheese and a gigantic chocolate cake. And some cookies, and maybe a loaf of bread. I’m sure it’ll make me puke everywhere, but it will be so worth it.

So the more I do this diet, the more I’m thinking…maybe it was the gluten. That’s the one thing here that I didn’t give up before, and that has been linked to miscarriage in the mainstream. At least, I’m hoping that’s it, because I’m sure as heck not eating it. My digestive seems calm (but hella jealous of everyone eating pumpkin pie). Please let that be it…

I’m sorry. I feel like I’m getting really boring lately, always talking about food and boring crap. I wish I had better stuff going on, but for right now I’m just playing the waiting game. I’m at once praying for the ultrasound and terrified of the ultrasound. I have a good feeling, and a healthy dose of fear. I’m all over the place. I just want it to be December already so I can breathe a huge sigh of relief and be a normal person again.

betas

Hi there. Sorry to leave you hanging.

Here’s what happened: first off, I was legit busy all weekend. I was all go, go, go for two solid days, and you know what, it was wonderfully distracting. Saturday Eric dragged me on a ten mile bike ride with my brand new bike (I know, weird purchase for this juncture of my life, but whatever). It was hard, but when we were done I felt strong and accomplished. Then I came home and fell into an intense sleep for about an hour. I woke up, called my mom, met up with her and my little sibbies and went for a hike. Oh yeah, most active day EVER! Then we all went over to my parent’s house for steak and a campfire. And then…finally… New Hope called at 7:30.

My first beta was 69.

So that was great, but then my old friend worry started creepin’ in. You see, my throat was being all kinds of weird this week, and then this weekend it started leveling off. It started feeling normal. An optimistic person would think, oh, I must have managed to fine-tune my diet to just where it needed to be. But what I thought was, “It got better because something went wrong. This is definitely going to be a chemical pregnancy.”

Sunday, after doing some serious praying at church, I went to a Renaissance Faire with my best friends. It was seriously so much fun, and again, just the right amount of distraction. Plus they had plenty of foods that worked well for me (um, hello, Steak on a Stake). We even got to do grape stomping! I was able to stay in good spirits all day.

This morning, not so much. I woke up miserable and dreading the beta. It all came to a head when I actually got the blood draw. The kind tech had soft, warm hands and could tell I was shaken up. She asked if I was nervous about getting stuck with a needle, and I laughed and said I was a pro at that. When I admitted that I was terrified of the results, she kind of patted my arm and explained in broken English (this is a theme with me, it appears) that her daughter just had a miscarriage and was devastated. She was very compassionate, which really set me over the edge. By the time I left I was openly crying…from nerves, from fear, from the whole stress of this pregnancy in general. I am not calm. I am not peaceful.

Then I got to wait allllll dammnnnnn dayyyyy for my phone call. I finally broke down at 4 and emailed them, asking nicely for the results. No reply. I came home from work, changed into yoga pants, and pulled the covers over my head (I told you that was my coping mechanism). I woke up around 6:30 and heard my email “ding!” It was New Hope.

Second beta is 188.

Instantly, relief washed over me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this freaked out over betas, so now I’m really dreading ultrasounds. Here’s the worst part. At my old job I was able to work from home, so on ultrasound days I just worked from the road. At my clinic they make you do ultrasounds after 10 a.m., so there’s no possible way I can be back in town and working by noon. Working from home is not an option. And I’m not taking 3 (unpaid) days off work. So. I’m going to have to do outside monitoring for ultrasounds, which is fine, but it means I won’t get the results until they call me since the techs aren’t allowed to tell you. THOSE days are going to be absolute torture. Plus, if I do get that call at work? Sorry, no heartbeat? Ugh. I can’t imagine. I guess I’ll just deal with it when I get there.

I hate the guessing game. I hate not knowing. It’s funny how everyone says to me, “Oh that diet sounds so difficult! How do you do it?” It’s really not hard. The truth is that I’d gladly eat nothing but turnips and motor oil for nine months if it guaranteed a baby, and I’d do it with a huge smile. The hard part is not even knowing if what I’m doing is working. The hard part is being so terrified to lose something I want so much…again. The hard part is getting my hopes up all over again. The diet? Easy. Not having any semblance of control? Nope, not easy.

Have to go now. My covers are beckoning.

a big ouchie

Up until yesterday, I might have considered myself the queen of injections. I’ve gotten cocky with it…I went from a girl who got queasy even looking at needles and who almost passed out giving blood far more times than I care to mention to someone who is nonchalant about the whole thing. I’ve certainly come a long way in a short time. I still can’t look when they draw my blood, but it doesn’t phase me one bit to roll up my sleeve and offer up a vein. I’m a pro.

But first I should tell this story, because for the first time ever my insurance did come through for me. My friend has a clotting disorder and once had to be on Lovenox. I was chatting with her about my situation and she warned that the first time she went to get the script filled, they wanted to charge her $800. She got her doctor to deem it medically necessary, and that dropped the cost down to $100. Even Dr. L mentioned that it was an “expensive” solution. So I was prepared for a ridiculous price.

I stopped by the pharmacy to pick up my Estrace refill and just for fun, I asked the pharmacist how much it would cost to fill my Lovenox script. I even joked that it would “probably be, like, a billion dollars.” But after she typed in a few things, she looked me right in the eyes and said, “$10.”

$10? TEN DOLLARS? I made her check several times to make sure she didn’t mess up. And lo and behold, it was true! Hooray for this new crappy insurance, for the first time ever the news was good! Plus, the syringes are pre-filled and spring loaded. The pharmacist made them sound like fun! Woo!

But then it wasn’t good. Because the next day, after my nightly PIO shot, Eric said, “Flip over!” and did the Lovenox shot in the belly. Well… HOLY SHIT. I am not an injection queen. I am not an expert shot taker. I am a sniveling, crying little baby. Because that. shit. hurts. It burns! It burns going in and for at least 15 minutes afterwards. It burns, it hurts, it stings, IT SUCKS. The injection site is sore a full 24 hours later. When I was lying in bed later last night, I could almost feel my blood rushing weirdly through my body. (strange side effect, or the power of suggestion? hmmmm…)

And the worst part is, it’s not even guaranteed to help. I did get the results back from the clotting disorder tests, but I don’t know how to read them and my doctor hasn’t had a chance to go over them yet. Even if I don’t have anything that came up abnormal, I’m thinking New Hope wants me to keep doing the shots anyway as a precaution. But honestly…it’s so awful. The thought of doing it for the next 3 months or (God forbid) 9 month is simply horrifying. I would, of course, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to!

Sorry, bitch ‘n’ moan fest over. I truly hope none of you have to take this horrible shot. And for all concerned parties, I went to the chiropractor on Monday and firmly explained my $0 offer. He said he was willing to negotiate, but would not do it for free. So I got one last gratis adjustment and breezed on out of there, promising to come back… eventually. It was fun while it lasted, I guess.

Sorry to dash, but I must go mentally prepare for The Cruelest Injection Ever Invented. This kid better be grateful.