burnt toast life

blip!

I’m pleased to announce that I finally started feeling movement.

It happened more suddenly than I would have thought. Friday morning (19.5 weeks) I had a quick checkup at the OB/GYN, which went just fine (she even found the heartbeat in a timely fashion). But when asked if I had felt movement yet I had to say, “Noooo!” in my most disappointed voice. The doctor explained that it might feel a bit like gas at first, and described the feeling as “little blips” in the lower portion of my abdomen. She added that since all my organs are pushed up to make way for the uterus, any minor twinge that I felt south of the bellybutton was actually the baby somersaulting away.

So it was either her explanation and me paying closer attention, or perhaps just one huge coincidence, but later that night I finally felt my first “blip!” And then I felt another, and another, and yeah it’s been pretty much nonstop since then whenever I’m sitting very still or lying in bed.

So what does it feel like? On my BBT Facebook page, I posted that it was “like my stomach is an aquarium and the fish keep bumping against the sides.” Even a few days later, that’s still my best description. There is bumping, but it’s not sharp, it’s very fluid in nature. I think “blip!” is an accurate way to describe it, too. It’s pretty damn amazing. But also… a little creepy?

This, more than anything, has made it feel real. Like, really real. There’s a person in there, nudging me. It’s just a little bizarre… and yes, creepy! Good creepy, awesome creepy, miraculous creepy, but creepy nonetheless. I’m sure I’ll get used to it. And just when I get used to the “blip!” I’ll start feeling the kid throwing elbows, which will take a whole other adjustment period.

Which brings me to my next point. My husband. My dear, dear husband. I’ve already hinted that he’s keeping a safe distance, not getting his hopes too high, etc., etc… but this latest development in the pregnancy journey has uncovered a whole new issue to contend with. He also thinks I’m creepy. And he wants to keep his distance, both literally and figuratively.

The fact that I’m feeling movement just kind of weirds him out. That along with my rapidly changing body and most likely rapidly changing hormones. My stomach is huge, my boobs are huge, and overall it’s like I’m ripening – like a piece of fruit. It’s not that he’s grossed out, per se… it’s more that he’s shocked and amazed, too, but in a “why don’t you just stand way over there for now while I assess this situation” kind of way.

It’s tough. On one hand I want to pout and stomp my feet because hey, isn’t this what we wanted all along? But on the other, I can’t help but agree with him, since I find it all a little crazy, too. I guess what I’m saying is that I know where he’s coming from, and I don’t necessarily blame him for this type of reaction. Plus I’m confident enough at this point to laugh it off rather than wallow in self-pity over the fact that my husband is just a little bit…well, frightened of me.

This is something I haven’t seen much on the blogs. I cannot be the only one! Please tell me someone else had to go through an adjustment period with their husband/significant other. Or hey, maybe he kept his distance the whole time. At this point, I’m just assuming that’s what will happen, since I’m only going to get bigger/creepier as time goes on.

He actually said to me the other day, “I’m starting to rethink this whole pregnancy thing. Can’t we just… have it dropped off when it’s done growing or something?”

I replied, “You mean…like the stork? Like we have a stork bring us a newborn?”

He agreed to that plan. And during this conversation, on the inside, Baby Crumb went “blip!”

And that’s what’s going on with me.

it’s taco tuesday!

Oh hey, y’all. Is it weird that we only eat tacos on weeknights that start with “T” because I’m that obsessed with alliteration?

Is it also weird that the most interesting thing I have to talk about is what I had for dinner tonight?

And furthermore…is it weird that I looked forward to this aforementioned meal all damn day? This is what my life has become.

Fact is, my food tastes have changed dramatically from what they used to be. I’m operating on some kind of “food craving pendulum,” where one particular meal that’s so amazing right now will be much hated in a week, but then could potentially become essential a week after that. That’s why I had to throw out a whole batch of those peanut butter cookies…because as much as I loved them a couple weeks ago, right now I cannot bear the thought of them. And what’s weirder is that despite my affinity for burnt toast and my conviction that inanimate objects have feelings, I’ve had absolutely no problem throwing away food lately. This is completely out of character for me.

While I don’t have any cravings per se, I can tell you that all I want is carb loaded items (GF pasta and Annie’s GF macaroni and cheese) and sweets of all kinds (GF cupcakes, granola bars, cookies that aren’t peanut butter, brownies, and the like). If it’s loaded with sugar, sign me up. I don’t want vegetables. I don’t like salmon! It’s so bizarre to still be myself but to not want to eat the foods I usually love most in the world. I feel like my body has been taken over. These particular cravings coupled with how I’m carrying both have my mom convinced it’s a boy… and truthfully, I think she’s right. And that mystery shall be solved on February 3rd (woo hoo)!

14 weeks

14 weeks

Speaking of… I’m overdue, so to speak, for a bump picture. I don’t think it’s that different from the last pic I posted, but this shirt really accentuates it with the stripes. I’m going to add a “bump pictures” tab to the blog simply because it’s something I ALWAYS gravitated towards on other people’s blogs when we were TTC. I think it was part masochism, and part obsession with when I might realistically start to show when I finally got pregnant. I used to bump-stalk people and live vicariously through their photo progressions. So I’m here to satisfy that curiosity for any other bloggers who feel the same, and to record this unlikely journey for myself, too. That said…while I do think my bump is excessive in the grand scheme of bumps, I am only 5’1. There’s not much room for this uterus to expand besides straight out. I accurately predicted that maternity clothes would become necessary sooner rather than later.

And for those of you on symptom watch or disappointed at your lack of symptoms, I’m here to say that I still have very, very few. I get nauseated from my prenatal every morning (which is something that often happens even when I’m not pregnant), but other than that, the weird food aversions, and the bump, I’m just feeling regular. I don’t even pee that much! I scaled back on my impressive 2 gallon/day water consumption, so now I’m back to hitting the bathroom a normal amount.

Yeah, that’s really it. This week is freakin’ dragging…I took off the two days after Christmas so I’ll have a nice 5 day break next week, and I’m really looking forward to it. My husband has off straight through from the 20th – January 2nd (jerkface). Oh, and our next ultrasound is on Monday! Isn’t it funny how I’m not so obsessed with ultrasounds anymore now that I have my handy dandy doppler? I mean, it’ll be great to see the baby on screen again, but I’m no longer counting down the days with bated breath. It’s such a nice feeling…I think it’s called confidence? Weird.

Gotta go, I’m off to stuff my face full of ice cream and cookies! Nom, nom, nom.

chiro-saulted

I wasn’t going to post until tomorrow but something really weird just happened, and it’s not like things can happen without me blogging about them, right? Plus it’s Friday night and I genuinely have nothing better to do than sit here and tell this story. Yup, I’m almost 30, all right!

So. Remember I mentioned that I scheduled an appointment with my mom’s chiropractor because he was having an open house and offering a “free consult, free thermo scan, and free x-rays” for one day only? Well, I did that. It went fine. As expected, I’m way out of alignment according to the thermo scan, with my results skewing awkwardly to the right. After my scan and x-rays, I stood at the front desk trying to figure out what was next. The receptionist asked if I wanted to join in on the doctor’s “Free Advanced Health Class” as it had just started 5 minutes prior. I, anticipating a dinner to cook and blogs to read, politely declined. After about 15 more minutes of bullshitting, the receptionist mentioned that Health Class attendance was required in order for the doctor to go over my x-rays with me. Yeah. Weird. And ummmmm HELLO, receptionist girl, you could have LED with that fact? So I didn’t have to make a whole separate trip back? Sheeeesh.

Not gonna lie, I dreaded the class. Thought it would be stupid. Figured it would be a total waste of time and energy. But then again, I really wanted to see my x-ray results, so I reluctantly showed up one week later as promised. I listened; I learned. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. There was a lot of good information, some things I knew, some things I didn’t know. I can actually see how this whole chiropractic thing could relate to infertility/miscarriage, since the nervous system controls every function of the body and subluxations can throw it all out of whack. Made sense. Maybe a leeetle bit hippy dippy trippy, but in an OK way. And he had a really cool model of the spine that he kept using to demonstrate his points.

Best part of all was after, when he offered to go over my x-ray results right then and there. I was like, sweet! Two birds with one stone. Again, as expected, my spine is slightly, but not severely, out of whack, especially right down by the tailbone (which for some reason felt significant). The weirdest result was my neck. Apparently your neck is supposed to be curved in a very pronounced “C” shape. But my neck is stick straight up and down. This is apparently a classic sign of whiplash. The only thing I can think of is a car accident from 2006 where someone rear-ended me and my car was subsequently pushed into the car in front of me (the only accident I’ve ever been in). It wasn’t a big deal, we weren’t going fast, and I didn’t think I had whiplash at the time. But that must be it. And most alarmingly, he explained that this misalignment at the top of my neck is putting severe pressure on my brain stem. The vertebrae that’s causing trouble is the same one that Christopher Reeve damaged and that made him a quadriplegic. An extreme case, for sure. But if the good doctor was trying to use scare tactics, it was certainly working.

Then he did an adjustment right then and there. After all the build-up, I figured it would take a good amount of time, but it was literally just a crack here, a twist there, and you’re done in 3 minutes. It did feel delightful when he cracked my neck (as I had heard it would). Oh, and I’m supposed to come back three times a week for at least 3 months, then drop to two times a week, then one. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Yeah, my insurance does not cover chiropractic care. Not one red cent. I went for the consult because I strive to live by my mother-in-law’s motto: “If it’s free, it’s for me!” I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do after the appointment. I figured he would want me to come back, but I didn’t plan to go beyond that first (free) adjustment. I figured I’d take advantage of being “fixed” for the day and then ride off into the sunset.

Remember, this doctor has been treating my mom for more than 20 years now. I remember playing pretend with his daughters in his basement (and, oddly, his younger daughter showed up at the office and proclaimed that I “looked exactly the same”…as I did when I was 8, I guess). I wouldn’t call him a close family friend, but I would definitely say he’s more than just a random doctor. He knows my family well. So when I explained that I couldn’t afford three times a week ($49 a pop), he said to just set up the appointments, go home and talk to Eric, and decide what we could afford to pay per week. Then we could just pay that.

I went up to the front desk to talk it out. His receptionist/wife asked what days would work well for me to come in. Again, I explained that I did not have coverage and couldn’t commit, rehashing the whole “talk it out with my husband” plan that the doctor and I had discussed minutes before. She seemed cool with it. I left, assuming I’d probably just conveniently forget to call them back.

This morning I talked to my husband. Some real talk: the budget is tight around here. I mean…seriously tight. As in, budget for chiropractor 3x per week = $0. So then. That was that.

But then it wasn’t. Tonight at around 8, I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was the chiropractor. Calling from a hotel in Connecticut! Calling because he was so concerned I didn’t schedule the appointment. I was so taken aback by the call… I tried to stammer out an excuse about money, but again he shushed my concerns and reiterated that I should just pay what I was able to pay. I didn’t have the heart to tell him my $0 figure. The guy was calling me from a hotel on his day off, because he was that worried about my spine. Maybe creepy… maybe a little. Definitely awkward. But if you would have been on the phone, you would have just made the appointment, too. He was like, “How far is our office from work? OK, so Monday, at 5:30. You’ll be there?” He should leave the medical field and switch over to sales. Start selling ice to eskimos… or selling anything to emotional, sensitive women on the eve of their embryo transfers.

So it would appear I’m starting chiropractic care on Monday, length of treatment to be determined. I also believe that I am the world’s first chiro-sault victim, because in that world “maybe” means “yes” and “I’ll call you” means “please call me.”

Do you think they accept jars of loose change?

random monday mumblings

You’re all too kind.

No, seriously…you guys are too nice to me.

First, no one pointed out the egregious error on my last post pairing an FET with an IUI. I mean, how stupid was that? I have no excuse besides, perhaps, that I’ve never done an IUI and that I was trying to “sound cool.” (Assuming that even fertiles are familiar with the term IVF but may not have heard of IUI, so it made the whole line more obscure in general).

Next – perusing Pinterest, I saw this:

usmachine

There I was, several posts ago, claiming that I’d make my millions with an at-home ultrasound machine when lo and behold one already exists (with an iPhone app, of course)! Well, wouldja look at that. Now I feel stupid (again).

And then while browsing The Berry (I had some spare time this weekend, what of it?), I found some dude who managed to create cotton candy flavored grapes. Anyone who knows Erika from Something Beautiful would understand that she needed to be informed about the existence of these grapes, like, yesterday. As I was frantically emailing her, my dear husband sauntered over to ask what I was doing.

Me: “I have to tell Erika about these grapes!”
He: “Who is Erika?”
Me: “Like, duh, she’s one of my favorite bloggy friends, of which I have many, and who I have most certainly mentioned before!”

I won’t rehash the whole argument, but let’s just say he and I have differing opinions on what consititutes “friendship.” His opinion: never met, not friends. My opinion? Friends come in all forms. True, I haven’t seen any of your smiling faces in real life or even in photos (and some of you I only know by blog name), but many of you gals know me better than people who I know in real life.

And I’m not going to lie – I have a deep and abiding fear that those of you who are pregnant right now will abandon your blogs once the bouncing bambino(s) make an arrival. And rightly so – it’s your blog, it’s your life. Yes, there have been countless posts arguing whether or not a parenting blog has any business existing in the world of IF blogs if the author is technically an IF’er. But still, selfishly, I don’t want it to end. I don’t want you all to leave me. I’ve come to depend on your advice, your encouragement, your commiseration… hell, if that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is. My real life friendships have suffered if those friends are not blog followers (thankfully, most of them are). Because it’s kind of annoying to answer the “What’s new?” question with a laundry list of treatments, failures and lamentations. Better to just say, “Well, besides what you read on the blog…”

Perhaps this is laziness. Really, I think I’d be more guarded and reserved when it came to sharing if I didn’t have a space to write. Mostly because I’m far more eloquent with written words than spoken words, but also because who wants to tell these stories over and over again? How many times can I say the word “miscarriage” out loud before my head explodes?

Psychologically, I’m sure it goes deeper than just missing your blogs if you chose to abandon them. I don’t want to get left behind, period. I don’t want to be the only one left in our group still cycling and failing. On a related note, when confronted with a date in early September that would involve drinking, I immediately thought, “But no, that’s the 2ww and I can’t drink.” Seriously? I am thoroughly convincing myself that this off-cycle is a real try, proving once again that even while taking a break, I can’t actually take a break. There’s always something going on in my baby-scheming mind.

Oh, hello, rambling and nonsensical post. To sum up, in case you have as much trouble following my thought train as I do:

1) I feel stupid re-reading my own posts, because I keep making stupid mistakes that you’re all kind enough to ignore, so thank you
2) I miss you even though you’re not gone yet
3) I think we are friends, even if just bloggily
4) I genuinely care about your welfare and depend on your support and encouragement more than you know (see item 3)
5) I wish we could all have a playdate (technically I didn’t even mention this yet, but it’s a fact); (see item 3)
6) I can’t actually take a break even when I’m supposed to be taking a break

Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I am deliriously tired (emphasis on delirious, heh). We went to my uncle’s house in Massachusetts for the weekend and camped out Woodstock-style in his backyard, and then we didn’t arrive home until after 11 last night. Even the dogs were too tired to go out this morning, which is a first for them. While they spent the day recovering in bed, I went to work and tried to contribute worthwhile, inspiring cigar copy whilst refilling my coffee cup as quickly as I could empty it (and no, I still haven’t given up caffeine. Dammit).

Now I’m a little punch-drunk and completely drained of coherent thought. So why am I blogging right now? No clue. I’m done. Goodnight.

I’m basically like a minor celebrity

Risa took my guest blogging virginity, woo hoo! I can’t help but feel like I’ve really made it now. A book deal should be just around the corner, right?

In the blogging world, there’s bound to be some overlap in followers. Our current “graduating class,” if I may call it that (thank you, Erika, for this brilliant analogy) is overwhelmingly pregnant right now – and to that I say, “YAY! So happy we are overcoming this awful infertility thing!” But there are some of us who are so NOT pregnant right now. And then there are some of us who had miscarriages. And for us, I wrote this post.

Now, I don’t really know the proper etiquette when it comes to plugging my own blog post – I figured I shouldn’t post it here, because you should have to go to the other blog to read it, right? I don’t want to screw this up; it’s my first time! Without further ado (because seriously, this was way too much ado already), here is the link to the guest blog post I wrote for one of my favorites:

My first ever guest blog post – posted on “Who Shot Down My Stork?”

back from the beach

I’m back from the beach! Didja miss me?

I did bring my laptop along, and our condo did have unreliable yet available internet, but I needed a break from it all. Know what I mean? I haven’t gone this long without posting in a loooong time, I’m talking long since back before I blogged about infertility and I only posted like every other month. I’ve been following along with all of you and have been pleased to note some exciting BFP’s and some ongoing positivity. This makes me feel so happy, and so hopeful for the future.

Vacation was good, it truly was. I went with Eric, his mom and my own immediate and extended family including aunts, uncles and cousins. Our unit was just me and Eric and his mom, which we kept referring to as our “adult vacation.” It was nice, but…quiet. I could take a nap whenever I wanted. His mom and I polished off an entire giant bottle of vanilla vodka in the space of a week and didn’t worry about being loud or tipsy. We went for early morning bike rides and late night dips in the hot tub. Yeah, it was a really good time, but I can’t help but hope like hell that next year is so, so different.

view from our condo

view from our condo

It was on this trip that I realized we keep doing something, perhaps intentionally, perhaps inadvertently. I probably noticed it a while ago and have been pretending to do it accidentally for some time now, if it’s possible to pretend to yourself (I don’t think it is). Here’s what we do: we talk about having kids like it’s a definite future occurrence. Eric does it all the time, and I noticed his mom does it, too. It makes me feel safe and secure in my future in ways I can’t even express. He’ll always say things like, “Yeah, but when we have kids we can’t do this…” or, “Cover your mouth when you cough. Are our kids going to have terrible manners like you do?” It’s always an offhand, throwaway comment that most people wouldn’t notice. And yes, I understand that just saying “when we have kids…” isn’t the same as having them. But it’s just that overwhelming confidence, that assured way of describing what’s so obviously part of our future that makes me feel happy inside. It gives me comfort and hope. Yeah, we will have kids. We will one day.

Besides that, there were a few notable fertility-related moments on vacation. Here’s a roundup:

– Joking around one night (and you have to understand, we say all these things with nothing but love), Eric threatened me over something or another with, “Fine, then we can never have sex again. Don’t know how you plan on having that baby you wanted.” And with that, I grinned devilishly and replied, “No problem. I’ll just go to the doctor…” HA. HA. HA.

– Drinking brought out some moments of fun and forgetfulness, but it also unleashed some demons. On one occasion I missed the twins and wanted them back so badly I almost couldn’t breathe. I started to panic that the feeling wouldn’t go away and I would just be miserable for the rest of my life, but of course it faded. I keep trying to recall it because I’m a masochist because it almost felt good to feel the longing that deeply. Sometimes I feel like there’s something wrong with me that I didn’t mourn enough. It’s so weird.

– We went to one of those beach shops that prints up custom t-shirts. I knew vaguely that I wanted to make a shirt but had gone to four or five shops, dashing in and darting out in the pouring rain, before finding a design that I wanted. Eric and his mom were getting understandably frustrated at my indecisiveness. Then Eric noticed a design that said “Where’s Molly?” and joked that we should get that. Two things, in case you were curious – 1) we’ve planned on naming our first daughter Molly since 2003, and 2) I’m sure the shirt was referencing an illicit drug. Whatever. I wasn’t in a bad place at that moment so I laughed, but his mom got so upset by the scene that she had to leave the shop in tears. Needless to say, I picked a different design (I got an anchor that says, “Refuses to sink,” which I thought was poetic, but the more I think about it, the more I realize anchors were designed to sink. So it doesn’t really make sense but it is pretty).

– I’ve been reading the book State of Wonder, which is actually really good, but the plot centers around a scientist who goes looking for another scientist into the Brazilian jungle to find out her progress on developing a drug promising everlasting fertility. The women of some aborigine tribe never go through menopause and go on reproducing until death because they chew on the bark of some rare tree in the jungle. Yeah, it’s fiction, but I couldn’t help but think how awesome that would be.

So, back to the real world today. We missed our dogs pretty terribly, which only proves that I’ve crossed over into what can be classified as “official dog person.” It’s a strange way to think of myself. I know I’m supposed to be starting my healthy new life this weekend but I dunno… there’s a lot of leftover crap food that needs to be eaten. I’m thinking Monday sounds good for a brand new me. I do plan on going for a run tomorrow morning and I’m telling all of you this so that you hold me accountable if I fail. So please, feel free to ask me how that run went. It’s time to get this ass in gear.

not much to say, but I’m saying it anyway

I came back from vacation and had 61 new blog posts to read. I’m pleased to report that I read each and every one. You ladies have been busy, and it’s only been a week! AND I was reminded that June ICLW starts today, which of course I totally forgot about. So I felt obligated to post even though I don’t have much to say until tomorrow.

To any new visitors, welcome! I just did my second IVF and as of right now, I’m pregs. I have my third beta tomorrow and I’m sort of dreading it. This cycle has fluctuated wildly between borderline cocky confidence and overwhelming frustration and anxiety. I want to get past this part of the unknown. I want to just be happy to be pregnant without the impending sense of doom that something terrible is about to happen.

The beach was great, though Rehoboth in general is ex-pen-SIVE. I’m sunburned and cranky because of it, but I know in a few days I’ll have a healthy-looking tan. Yes, I wore sunscreen. But I’m not really great at re-applying and Thursday was literally the most perfect beach day in the history of perfect beach days. So we sat out from 10 a.m. until about 3, and it was glorious. As nervous as I was to take the time off work, it ended up being just fine. I came back today and got everything done in preparation for the weekend. One sucky thing is that my office sponsored an Ice Cream Social to celebrate the first day of summer and of course all the ice cream and toppings had corn syrup, so I had to abstain. I swear, after all this sacrifice, this kid/these kids better be grateful (but you know he/she/they won’t be).

In other news, Eric was offered and has accepted a new job, which I am so excited about. This new job is closer to our house AND the salary is better, so really it’s a win-win. Oh, and he’ll now be officially making DOUBLE what I make, with an Associate’s Degree to my B.A., because I chose to waste my money on a liberal arts education instead of computer science. Not that I have a clue what I’m doing with computers. Actually, figuring out WordPress was no small accomplishment. But yes, I’m very proud of him and happy that he’ll be home earlier and all that.

I’m rereading what I wrote and even boring myself. I’m sorry guys, I just don’t have a lot going on at this moment. Pregnancy symptoms? Zero. Nothing. My boobs look smaller, if that’s even possible. I’ve been avoiding corn syrup and fructose foods like the plague but I’ll admit that I’ve snuck some bread and pasta, so I haven’t been a very good Paleo girl. Blame it on vacation. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m kind of counting on the Prednisone to block any crazy immune responses when I slip a little bit. I can say that I’ve not touched packaged, preservative-filled food in a long time. But homemade rice pudding at the farmer’s market in Rehoboth? Oh my God, worth cheating and having some sugar and dairy. At least it wasn’t made with evil, evil HFCS.

Ok, time to go apply more aloe. Hopefully I’ll be back tomorrow with some good beta news, then we can all hold our collective breaths until the U/S. And the next one. Basically, you’re allowed to exhale on or around July 22nd. Thank you kindly.

the story so far (a post with three purposes)

As the title suggests, this post has three purposes.

Purpose One: I would like to greet everyone who is visiting for the first time from ICLW. This is my second time participating, and I can’t wait to read all of your blogs and blow up the comments sections. I started out my blogging career as a hardcore lurker and only through ICLW have I embraced the fine art of commenting. If I love getting comments, then I should also go forth and comment. It’s only fair.

Purpose Two: I’m “coming out” again on Facebook. I’m also going to start posting my blog on Facebook once again. If you’re here from Facebook, welcome back!

Purpose Three: On a similar note, I’ve created a separate fan page for Facebook. It felt a little bit arrogant at first, but then I convinced myself that it makes sense. Now people who want to follow my blog from Facebook can follow. Even if we aren’t FB friends… follow if you want to. Especially now that they’re getting rid of Google Reader (so, so sad about that). Here is the link to the Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/belovedburnttoast

Phew, OK. Now for some background. Below is the story so far.

On matters of fertility:

  • We began this brilliant dance of trying to conceive in May of 2010.
  • We were diagnosed as infertile on February 28, 2011. We did our first embryo transfer on February 28, 2013. It was a total coincidence.
  • We have zero insurance coverage for ART (assisted reproductive technology).
  • In an amazing stroke of luck, a friend suggested that we research clinical trials. We found one. We got accepted. We somehow finagled free IVF.
  • We got pregnant with twin girls on our first round of IVF.
  • I was pregnant for one incredible month before the worst fucking day of my life, the day we found out neither baby had a heartbeat.
  • I got to hear their little heartbeats at 7 weeks, but those heartbeats were gone at 8 weeks.
  • There is no explanation for the miscarriage. Embryos normal, tissue normal, everything normal.
  • You never know how strong you are until strong is the only choice you have.
  • I never thought I could survive an M/C, but I did, with most of my sanity intact.
  • For our next round of IVF, I’m trying the Paleo Diet because of a strong suspicion that my allergic intolerance to certain foods had something to do with the loss. Justification: it can’t hurt to try.
  • Want more? See it all on the timeline.

On matters non-fertility related:

  • I spend an exorbitant amount of time reminding myself that inanimate objects don’t have feelings
  • I’m a Libertarian-leaning Christian with the bleeding heart of a Liberal
  • I hope I’m as witty as I think I am
  • I’m always thirsty. Always. It’s rare to find me without a beverage close by.
  • I used to not like dogs until I got dogs. Now I cannot imagine my world without my two crazy boys.
  • Some people have drug addictions; I have a coffee addiction. It’s seriously intense.
  • If I could, I would spend hours of my day just listening to people speak French.
  • Want more? Check out my about me section.

Well, that’s all for now. I have a riveting/incredibly sad post about a chicken coming up soon, so stay tuned! There’s always something dramatic going on here at Burnt Toast central.

lovecoffee

It’s February

I keep referencing February and psychics, so I figured I would give a little background on that for anyone who doesn’t know the whole story.

Back when we were diagnosed as infertile and when I was riding the emotional roller coaster of not getting pregnant every month, certain things were tough. Baby showers were tough. Kid’s birthday parties were tough. Any event that may or may not feature children was tough. That’s practically everything, by the way. Kids are everywhere and any little thing was likely to set off a sadness bomb inside of me.

As you may imagine, Mother’s Day was a particularly hard day. On that Sunday in 2011, I awoke in a foul mood. I distinctly remember lying in bed at my apartment, delaying the start of my day and wallowing in self pity. I checked my phone, as I always do first thing in the morning, and discovered the following message from my dear friend:

I would like to offer you this small piece of hope on this special day… I went back to the psychic yesterday. The one who did a group reading for me a couple of months ago and left me with goosebumps after reciting my entire life story. This time we were alone and I asked her about you and Eric. I told her I had friends who are having trouble conceiving. She asked me for your first name only and paused for a while. She said she definitely sees you getting pregnant and the pregnancy surrounds something with a 2. She thinks the 2 is for February. She said to give you 2 pieces of advice. One, be patient because IT WILL HAPPEN, and 2 continue using those fertility sticks. The second they show you’re ovulating you need to find Eric and go to town!
I know it doesn’t take a psychic to know fertility sticks help people conceive, but the specifics of info this women gives about everything else tells me she certainly knows her stuff.
Also, she said sees a beautiful baby girl. (I loved that part because she said it so full of emotion.)
I hope you have a Happy Mothers day, because you are a mommy, even if your baby hasn’t arrived yet.

Ok, let me premise with this: I didn’t know if I believed in psychics. It certainly never occured to me that I should go to one for this issue. And given the choice, I’m not sure I would want to know. What if the psychic said I would never have kids? How could I live with that every day, true or untrue? So this scenario was perfect. I had not asked my friend to ask for me, so I wasn’t worried about getting an answer. Plus, the answer was so full of hope on a day that I desperately needed it.

Remember, this was May. I manipulated that psychic prediction every way I possibly could all year long to fit my needs at the time and justify a pregnancy. In late May and June, I said the baby would be due in February. In the summer, I said the baby could be premature. In the winter, I said February would be the month we found out the gender. So no, I did not sit by patiently waiting for February to arrive.

February 2012 was a fantastically stressful month. It was, not coincidentally, the time of my first panic attack. I was driving home from work and had to pull over because I got myself so worked up that I could not breathe. To say that I had become obsessed with the prediction would be an understatement. I spoke to people about it as though it was a fact, not a prediction. The friend who sent the message was probably ready to disown me. I begged her for more details, nuances, anything she may have left out. She’s probably happy to live 300 miles away or I would have been at her house every night dissecting something that may have been literal, symbolic, or who knows, may have just been a big hoax.

February came and went. We did not get pregnant. It was almost a relief to have it over with, even if relief was quickly replaced with despair. I went through the rest of 2012 with a lack of enthusiasm compared to the year before. I don’t know if I believed it anymore.

As soon as we got our appointment with New Hope last year, I began thinking about February again. I started getting really excited. Without trying, all of the scheduling lined up for February of this year. Our first tentative embryo transfer (ET) was supposed to be Feb 1, but with my high estrogen was delayed to Feb 24-27. It’s still February. It’s still all about February.

I’m definitely less worked up and anxious than I was last year at this time. This is our first real, honest-to-goodness try, and that’s incredible. But tell someone you’re undergoing IVF and they’ll tell you about their friend’s neighbors cousin who tried 5 times or 6 times or 12 times and was unsuccessful. It rarely works on the first round; I know that. But I do have my determination, my hope, and a very promising psychic prediction on my side. Take THAT, universe!

what mood swings?

Last night I cried inconsolably for fifteen minutes. The culprit? A slightly emotional (but not devastating) scene on the show Parenthood.

For some reason when I heard that these injections could cause mood swings, I pictured a pendulum. I figured that I would either be on one end of the spectrum – happy – or the other end – sad. What I was not prepared for was a myriad of confusing, specific emotions that may be drug side effects or may just be my inner psyche manifesting the intensity of the situation. I will never know.

Since I started the injections almost a week ago, I have felt extreme joy, irritation, confusion, instability, excitement, fear, impatience, apprehension, gratitude and above all, anxiety. I feel anxious that the moment of truth is quickly approaching. Months ago, before we knew that any of this would be happening, we planned a short trip to Denver to sight see,  snowboard and visit with Eric’s cousin. We are leaving this Thursday. So on top of worrying about what’s to come and getting my next, incredibly expensive prescription in time, I have to plan on and pack for a vacation. I’m excited, but stressed. Very, very stressed.

The injections are going well. Eric’s mom did the first two and Eric has done all subsequent shots. The first night he had to do one I had already angered him by parking in his spot (accidentally), so he may have enjoyed doing it a little too much.

I have a whole other post planned addressing this, but I just want to take a moment to thank you all for the support and well wishes. I didn’t expect so many likes, comments, private messages, texts, in-person conversations and genuine concern. It means so much to have all of you surrounding us and encouraging us through this frightening yet exciting time. I know now that I made the right choice sharing this journey rather than keeping it all inside. I probably would have had a breakdown without a proper place to vent it all out.

Like I said, we’re headed to Denver next week. Hopefully I can relax and enjoy myself and just take my mind off it all for a little while. Ha. Ha. Ha.