Monthly Archives: August 2009

First, thank you all for your reassurances that my picture post didn’t make you hate me, that it’s okay to put up some photos and that this being my blog, I ought to post what I want. With respect to that last item, it’s true, but what makes blogging so fulfilling for me is the connection, interaction and back-and-forth I have with you. I could “document” my days in a private diary, but I wouldn’t have gained anything I that I have as a result of my connection with you all. I treasure what we have and I would not want to hurt that connection for anything. So, thank you.

Now then, a little issue seems to be presenting itself.

According to my nurse practitioner’s first guess, the ancient Chinese gender test, and every other bit of folklore, I’m expecting a baby boy. I can visualize him, as a toddler, with his adorable hair parted on the side. I lick my fingers and smooth it down. He has an adorable little smiling face. Twinkly eyes. An untied shoelace. I love him.

But I don’t know his name. And figuring it out seems to be presenting a wee problem.

My DH and I started tossing around names last weekend. I don’t even know who started it. But there we were. I told him previously that I wanted a name that is normal. A nice, normal name that won’t cause people to ask him, all his life long, “Huh? What’s your name? How do you spell that?” But I don’t want a top 10 name either. Although I absolutely love the name Jack, it’s become too popular lately. I don’t want him to be one of 6 Jack’s in his little first grade class.

My husband, on the other hand, is hell bent on picking the most bizarre, grotesque names I could possibly think up. Now I’m not going to tell you what any of them are, because everyone likes and dislikes different names, and maybe these are names you would think are adorable. But for each of us, there are names that we just automatically associate with horrible traits. The list is different for each of us, but you know what I mean.

I happen to think the name Benjamin is sweet, and Ben suits a man quite well. But maybe you grew up with a horrible nose-picking bully named Benny, and so the thought of naming your beloved child Benjamin turns your stomach.

Or maybe you love the older names, like Edith and Matilda and Gertrude. Maybe not. Maybe you you associate them with wrinkled old women sporting white buns on their heads.

See what I mean?

So just think for a moment about the names you yourself associate with (1) wife beater, belly hanging out, cigar smoking, beer drinking red neck; (2) the kid who will surely get beat up on the playground for his name that rhymes with something disgusting; (3) Nerdy, ears sticking out, buck tooth poindexter; (4) someone who smells like rotten eggs; (5) serial murderers; (6) unpronounceable foreign names; (7) an 80 year old man with burly tufts of hair growing out of his nostrils…..you get the idea. These are the names my DH is suggesting.

I finally said, “Are you screwing with me? You would not seriously name a child that?!” I told him that I’m getting one chance (I hope) in this life to name a child, and I want it to be a name I at least LIKE.

Meanwhile, he didn’t care much for my choices either, for some reason I couldn’t comprehend.

The ironic thing is that we discovered tons of girls names we can agree on. I’m starting to think we ought to start praying for a girl. Otherwise that sweet little boy with his hair parted on the side, with the smiling face and twinkly eyes might have to go quite a while without a name.
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Oh crap. I hope I didn’t hurt any one’s feelings or make you cringe with my last post. I swear that belly ain’t baby. I wish it were. It’s gas and bloat and cookies. I’m pooping less than my 10 pound dog these days. Serious.

I know it can be hard to see a baby belly when you’re not yet pregnant. Every day I still say to my DH, “I hope the baby is still in there” and of course the unspoken word is alive. I adore you all and would never want to make you feel bad.

I was just thinking that this is how I live now. It’s in my face. It’s with me everywhere I go. Trying to find something to wear. Figuring out which clothes I can’t fit into anymore. Trying to do my hair to best hide the squirrely grays. It’s in the mirror, it’s there when I look down, it’s my day and night.

I took that photo on the weekend. I would never wear such clingy clothes out of the house. During the week I wear baggy pants, baggy, untucked shirts and I bring a blazer or sweater to work (cold office). I generally look like a saggy baggy lady. Not fashionable at all. Rather frumpy, in fact.

Certainly none of this is horrible. I don’t mean to sound like a whiner. I could be vomiting my face in a toilet half the day. And I’m not. Of course the changes I am experiencing are expected and part of the daily progress. But I notice them as a change in the way I see my evolving self. As I depart from being the person I was to becoming the person I will be during the next several months. Exciting. Scary. New. Someone I am not familiar with.

And for those of you just starting your cycle or planning to start it soon or in the future, I promise to be patient and kind to you when you are pregnant and you start complaining about your pants feeling tight.

Love you all.

This is the sequel to yesterday’s post about gray hair and pudge. I thought I’d actually show you some pictures. What the heck.

As for the issue of hair dye, my OB told me after my second m/c that it is their belief that hair dye is safe during pregnancy because very little of the chemical is able to absorb into the scalp, and the dye that does absorb remains local (i.e., isn’t circulated systemically throughout your body). But I know several IVF clinics tell you not to color your hair during the first trimester. My own clinic didn’t say anything one way or the other, I just took it upon myself to quit coloring it. My understanding is that the fetus is most susceptible to toxins and other harm during the first trimester when every part of its body is forming. By the second tri, everything is pretty much in place and just needs to grow and finalize development. I’m not advising anyone to color their hair or not, and of course I would direct you to your own doc or RE for his/her input.

My hair has gotten long. The ends are so dry and full of split ends. Note that I cleverly included my temples in the photo, so you can see the wild gray hairs sproinging this way and that. Well, you can sort of see. Trust me, there are a lot more than you can see.

I haven’t had a haircut or color since April. I used to color it regularly…trying to maintain the auburn color God (and my parents) gave me. Although it’s impossible to actually get it to be my original color.

I’m thinking shoulder length, long layers and deep, rich, golden red for autumn. In the summer I like it to be a little lighter, blondish-red. And in the middle of winter, I try to go bright, Christmas red. What fun hair color is!

So here’s the paunchy belly. At 10 weeks, with only one baby, I shouldn’t be so round. Although you know me, I’m attributing much of it to constipation. But it could also be cookies, I suppose! 🙂

And how will I come out about the pregnancy to my co-workers? I have no idea. I can’t think of a scenario that could possibly play out well. I guess I’m hoping to hide it for as long as I can (please, cool weather, come soon so that I can wear blazers and cardigans and bulky sweaters!) until there’s no denying the truth. If anyone can think of a way that won’t result in fanfare, questions or much attention, I’d love to hear it.
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You know I’ve only been at my new job for 3 weeks. At yesterday’s out of town meeting, 5 or 6 people from my department attended. One of them, K, was a gal who I only met once before. She is quite pregnant. In fact, with her large belly, I was amazed and impressed at how focused she was on work. She’s fairly tall, but quite thin, and so her belly was pure basketball.

Anyway, I don’t really know her that well, but after yesterday’s meeting ended, I wanted to ask her some questions. I didn’t want to be intrusive or nosy, so I said, “K, would you mind if I asked when you are due?” She was quite happy to chat about it.

Her due date is October 4. Just over a month away. So I said something about being at this meeting, 2 hours from home, when she’s due in just a month. She said, “Yeah, I know, I thought about that, but….” anyway, she came to the meeting.

Then I opened my big mouth and told her a story (really, it’s not a horror story, it’s more amusing) about my friend who was 8 hours out of town a month before she was due and ended up having the baby, while out of town, on Christmas Eve! Fortunately the baby, despite coming a month early, was perfectly fine (which I emphasized). It just was completely unexpected and her husband and in-laws had to run out shopping on Christmas Eve to buy a car seat and baby things!

K didn’t seem fazed a bit, and said her family is having a get together for an 80 year old uncle in the middle of September, at a location 3 hours from home. She thought maybe that would be too far. I just gulped.

So this morning we had a telephone conference (we are located in different buildings) to debrief yesterday’s meeting. I presumed K was on the line with everyone else. About 20 minutes into the call, the lead person said, “Oh, I’m going to have to cut this short….I just got a message that K is in the hospital. She’s in labor!”

Yes, it’s true. Her water broke at 2 am and she’s going to have the baby. I said, “Thank God it didn’t happen yesterday!” And I asked the person to please send K my good wishes for a safe arrival of her baby.

Weird.

Later today I was at my desk and a woman I didn’t know walked by. One of my female co-workers called out to the woman, “Wow, look at you…you’ve gained weight!” Well, she said it good naturedly because as it turns out (of course) the woman is pregnant. Since they were right outside my office door (the thoroughfare) I could hear everything. The woman remarked joyfully how she is now 4 months pregnant and due in January.

I thought, wow, I’m due in March, and I haven’t yet told a soul.

It’s like I keep stumbling across these women. Weird.

Each time I go to the ladies’ room at work, I look at myself in the full length mirror and wonder if I look paunchy. I do. The good thing is that since I’ve only worked there for 3 weeks, these people don’t know what I really look like! To them, chubby, paunchy, gray-hair templed me is normal. So nobody questions it. A good thing, I guess. I think I look a fright!

Once I hit the second tri, I’m going for a fantastic hair cut and color. Won’t they be surprised! And once I finally work into real maternity clothes, I hope to look like a beautiful pregnant lady, and no longer the gray haired paunchy woman!
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First of all, today’s out of town trip went just fine and I had no problems taking care of my progesterone needs. There were so many people there that no one much took notice of me leaving the room for 5 minutes.

Second of all, CRAP!!!….Cindyhoo is right!!!!….what have I been thinking???!! I wrote that I really wanted a chocolate bar and she said, “What are DH’s for if not to go on midnight runs to soothe the pregnant wife’s cravings??” I can’t believe I have not yet thought to take advantage of this very time honored tradition! I mean, shit, I’ve suffered countless u/s wand probings, shots in the belly, shots in the ass, a bazillion progesterone suppositories up the hoo-hoo, and iron gut constipation. The least I can do is make him go out at 9:00 pm to get me a pint of my favorite ice cream. I mean, I’ve got to wield the power while I have it! And now I see that I’ve wasted the first 10 weeks of my powers! I’ll have to figure a clever way to make up for the lost time. I’m thinking foot rubs.

September is next week! I love that autumn is coming. Cooler days, the smell of dry leaves, golden afternoon sunlight, crisp apples, butternut squash, chenille sweaters and hot cocoa. Well, it will still be a while until it’s that cool here. But it’s not too far off.

And now I’m going to inquire about that foot rub.
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Just a quick update post (it’s late and I really want to stretch out on the couch).

Work has picked up nicely. I now have several cases to dive into, all interesting matters and I find the hours are ticking by. Yay! I mentioned something to my boss about not knowing what is expected of me, and she quickly assured me that I should be working with others on teams to learn the ropes. I am not expected to know the full job at this point and everyone needs time when they are new to get up to speed. Another yay for a supportive boss!

Tonight I wanted a chocolate bar. I really, really wanted one. My DH and I rummaged through the pantry because we both thought there had been a chocolate bar stashed away in there. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I think I “re-hid” it so that he wouldn’t find it. Except now I can’t remember where I put it! Serves me right!

Thursday I have to go with a small group of people from the office out of town to a presentation. We’ll carpool 2 hours each way. The presentation will take up most of the work day. My only concern is that I have to finagle a way to take my progesterone suppositories around noon. I’m anticipating there will be distinct “breaks” during which we all get up…go to the bathroom….and stretch, before resuming. My procedure takes me a little time, unzipping my bag, opening the ziplock bags, fumbling to load the contraption… I know I’ll find a way. I’ve just been obsessing about it. I can’t wait till Friday is here.

Did I mention how badly I’d like to have a chocolate bar?
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We still haven’t told a soul (except one IRL friend of mine and all of you) about the pregnancy.

I am feeling more confident about its viability. The baby seems to be in there, growing and heart beating each time we look. To my knowledge I don’t have any “carrying” problems, it was just a question of egg quality. My egg donor was a fabulous, youthful 21 at the time of retrieval. So pending disaster or something unexpected (which I know can still happen), everything should be okay.

And yet I have no urge to tell. Zero.

I feel like this is my and my DH’s little secret. For now, we get to talk about it alone, think about it, make decisions, discuss plans, look at U/S images….without anyone knowing about it, bugging us about it or asking questions. Or glancing downward at my belly, checking to see if I have a bump yet. Ugh.

Once we tell, the flood – the tsunami – of unsolicited questions and suggestions will ensue. Of course none of this applies to you guys, with whom I am happy to share every detail and listen to your every bit of advice. I’m talking about people with whom I wouldn’t care to share so much as an elevator ride. Nosy friends. Mere acquaintances. Bossy sister-in-laws.

I am not looking forward to it.

Do you get morning sickness?
I have a fabulous midwife I used whose number I’m happy to give you.
Will you breast feed? You should/shouldn’t.
Are you terribly gassy?
Are you eating healthy? Tell me what you ate today.
How did you get pregnant?
You should look into home birthing.
Can I be there for the birth?
I want to be there for the birth.
How much weight have you gained so far?
Didn’t you just start a new job? Do they know?
Does your doctor know how old you are?
I’ve heard cod liver oil helps with stretch marks.
Your boobs do look bigger, in fact.

Oh, brother. I am not terribly patient. I’m likely to attempt a smile, say “Excuse me” and walk away. For now though, I’m enjoying our last few weeks of secrecy. In a way, I’d love to not say anything to anyone until I show and they guess. That would be cruel to our family and friends, though, who I know will be genuinely happy for us.

Mean, selfish pregnant lady.
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I have not posted anything about my garden in a while. But I wanted you to know that we’ve had a mini-harvest!

In a way, I feel like the kindergartner proudly wearing his little paper mortarboard, graduating and receiving a tiny rolled up diploma that the teachers made. I mean, come on now, I’ve seen your blogs. You know who you are. You have enough produce to actually be able to can and store proceeds from your harvest! You are my idols, that’s all I can say.

Nevertheless, I am proud. I purchased seed packets and I grew things! Sometimes success depends on how you choose to measure it.

So here’s a photo of my colorful little mini-harvest:

The hip of my giant bell pepper is just starting to turn color.

And I must tell you, I never thought my cantaloupe was going to ripen. It hung there and hung there.

Yesterday evening I went out to check it, and it simply broke from the stem into my hand! It’s done! I held it up to the sky, and in a deep voice, I announced: “I HAVE CREATED CANTALOUPE!”

This morning I cut it open and we ate it for breakfast. It was gone in 5 minutes flat. My husband said it’s the best cantaloupe he’s ever tasted. I agreed. We finished it, wiped the juice from our lips, sighed, and then I said, “Three and a half months of daily care to grow it….five minutes to eat it!”

Okay, now for the ugly side of things. Well, I started my new job which took away from my garden tending time. Things kind of slipped a bit here and there.

One of my potted tomatoes was not staked well enough and some of the branches bowed over and one actually broke. It looks a mess, but you know what? The fruit on those bowed and broken branches continues to grow! So, okay, it’s not perfect but it still works!

And one tomato plant outgrew its cage and leaned itself right over onto the house. But that plant, and the one next to it never produced a single tomato. Don’t know why. Their leaves were plenty happy to grow, but no fruit.

Next year, I hope to do better. This year I began without an inkling of knowledge and just sort of felt my way along. Next year I have bigger plans! Of course, by next spring I also hope to have a precious new baby snuggled in a sling against my chest, who will go outside with me, into the yard, and be with me as my garden is planted and grows.

Sort of like this year.

Kind of an ironic beauty, isn’t it? Everything coming full circle like that.
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I have been out of the blog loop for a couple of days and have much to catch up on. But today, my heart, thoughts and prayers are with Fran and her husband Mike at Everyone else but me. Fran is having surgery today. They found that her 6 week pregnancy (baby was seen to have a heartbeat) is ectopic. My poor, darling Fran, who is such a gentle soul, is facing her second ectopic loss.

Why should some face devastation after devastation, while others have their wishes granted? How is this fair?

And at the moment, I’m in the second category. I feel a bit guilty. God knows better than anyone that I don’t deserve gifts or miracles. Yet one good thing after another is happening right now. The rug could be pulled a minute or an hour from now, so I continue to hold my breath. But I am most grateful for each blessing, large or small. And at the same time, my heart aches for my dear friends who are now bearing the great weight of sadness.

I had my first OB appointment today. Among other things I had to fill out a health history. One of the questions was “Mother’s occupation.” I began to write “retired” because my Mom is retired. I got to the letter “i” and realized, oh, wait, I think they mean ME! I am the mother! Ha!

I met with a nurse practitioner who did my U/S. She was so sweet and patient and even made me a photo identifying the baby’s parts.

Baby appears to be playing peek-a-boo, and at the moment looks like it will need orthotic braces on it’s crooked little legs, but hey, that’s my kid!

Then at one point she said, “Look, the baby is kicking its feet!” I said, “What?!” and turned to see better and she held the wand steady for quite a while so we could watch as the baby kicked and even raised it’s tiny arm and waived!” Yup, I lost it. I started to cry. Just for a moment. Baby is measuring slight ahead at 10w1d.

Good, good baby!

So what else good is happening? Well, I engaged in battle with my old nemesis, the Outpatient Monitoring Clinic (OMC). Remember how awful they were to me? Downright mean at times. They did not consider me to be “their” patient since they were “only” performing monitoring services (U/Ss and b/w). As such, they refused to submit anything to my insurance, told me none of this was covered anyway because it was part of an IVF cycle, and required me to pay everything out of pocket at non-contracted rates. They refused to even negotiate the fee.

I took my paid invoices and submitted them to my insurance company. Why not? Who says nothing is covered? It can’t hurt to try. The insurance wrote to me, saying that they required the doctor to sign the invoices. When I called the OMC to ask that a doctor sign the papers, I was essentially told that they would likely refuse my request because they did not consider me to be “their” patient and therefore required me to pay the higher rates. She further said that they would not communicate with my insurance company because if the insurance company determined that the services were covered, the OMC might be stuck in the position of having to pay back some of the money!

Can you believe the nerve??????!!!!

Oh yeah, I was all over that. I called the insurance company and several calls from them were made to the OMC. My understanding is that legally, they cannot refuse to submit a claim. Well, I think they felt the fire under their feet and finally caved and gave the insurance company confirmation of services provided to me.

The insurance company called me today and said the services provided by the OMC are covered! There is more work to do to straighten this mess out, but those of you who know me, know that I won’t back down from a good fight with the OMC. I may actually end up getting a nice reimbursement. If I find out they were engaging in unethical billing practices, I will rush to report them to the licensing agency.

Other good news? I still feel good. I’ve gained only 2-3 pounds and although I am dead tired at the end of the day and have had a few days of uncomfortable constipation, overall I feel really good.

I am so, so grateful and humbled by these gifts.

Next on the schedule will be an NT scan in a couple of weeks as part of the various first trimester screenings.

And now I need to come visit all your blogs and catch up. Happy weekend, friends!
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You all had such terrific suggestions on telling my friend about the pregnancy. You’ve given me a lot to think about and several possibilities. No matter what I say to her, she will absolutely be gracious because that’s how she is. I just wouldn’t want to hurt her.

Now then, how about that new job?

Oh boy.

Well, I’m trying to get the hang of my new job. Except that I’ve had almost zero direction from anyone. I was assigned a few cases, one actual case file reached my desk…but no one’s said what I should do other than become familiar with the cases.

Um. Okay.

So I read them. I did some legal and medical research on the relevant issues. I made some notes.

Finally today I spoke up. And when I asked, I was told that at the moment they didn’t expect me to do anything but become familiar with the cases. No product is expected of me just now.

Okay. So I’m doing self-directed research. Which isn’t the worst thing.

But it’s not terribly engrossing, and I’m SO tired by 3 pm that my eyes itch and I want to take a 20 minute nap. I’m getting fidgety. My chair is not comfortable after sitting there hour after hour. My belly twinges and feels bloated sometimes and I wish I could lie down and rub it.

Yes, I miss being home. Today I actually unbuttoned my pants while sitting at my desk to ease my belly. Not that I’m showing, and I wear my regular clothes, but it just felt good to release it from the confines of my waistband! Sometimes my belly just feels….weird…and I can’t get comfortable.

I also realized today that when I’m feeling bored or fidgety at work, I look for something to snack on. Dangerous! I don’t want to gain a lot of unnecessary weight. I bring home made trail mix as a snack, but raisins and walnuts are highly caloric. Maybe I should just get up and go for a walk for 5 or 10 minutes.

I just wish I had something really engrossing to focus on so that the hours would pass more quickly. It sucks to look up at the clock and see that it’s only 10 am.

I’m sure things will come together soon, and I don’t mean to whine (I’m grateful to have a job at long last), I’m just having some “adjustment pains” I guess. Trying to find my rhythm in a new place with new people and new expectations.

Sigh.

Thanks for letting me vent.
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