Blissed Out

I sit here watching my husband try to lull an overtired Chipmunk to sleep.  It's after 7 PM and I'm still in my pajamas... the ones I wore to bed last night.  I have inconveniently placed milk stains on my shirt and my hair makes a rat's nest look like an HGTV worthy abode.  I have never been happier in my whole life.

I find myself in that strange place many members of our community find themselves it.  The infertility journey is different now.  I've found my "resolution."  I will always have infertility and this journey has forever changed me, but I am no longer pursuing a pregnancy.  It's not that there's nothing to talk about, but the focus is different.  No more needles and no more drugs, just us, a baby, and reflections.

When I was in the trenches I remember that there were some blogs I stopped following when they brought their children home.  I also remember why.  They were blogs that went from talking about their treatment to whining about their children, lack of sleep, and sore nipples.  Yes, parenthood is hard, but we all know that.  We've been informed of that fact by fertile people forever.  The blogs I loved following after resolution were the ones who shared their peace and joy.  So that's what I intend to do.

This little goober has taken my heart to a place I didn't know it could go.  Loving my husband comes with an element of choice.  With the Chipmunk, it's primal.  It is the most beautiful and the most terrifying thing I have ever felt.  There is nothing more I want in this world right now than to keep her healthy and put her on a promising life path.  And hug her.  No it's more than a want to hug her, I want to just envelop her and cover her in love.  I'm so grateful and when I look at her and think about what a miracle she is, that thankfulness takes my breath away.

When you are bending over for yet another PIO injection, remember that there will be an end to all of this and it is worth it.  When you are waiting in agony to be chosen by a birth mother, remember that there will be an end and you will find joy.  If you are feeling that you no longer want to pursue treatment and plan to find peace in childless living, remember that there will be an end and you will find that peace.  I've seen it happen countless times in this community.  No matter where your path leads, it will get better.

Birth Story: An Epic Novel

Our little hapa arrived at 2:05 AM on the 23rd, just two hours past her due date.  She weighed a whopping 5 lbs 7 oz and was 18.5 inches long.  We call her A*n*n*i*e.  She's as darling as can be.  Her first name showed up on our name list pretty early in the game.  It means "graced with God's bounty."  We liked that.  When we saw a name meaning description that mentioned it being a combination of Hannah and Elizabeth, two women from the bible who were infertile and eventually blessed with children, we were hooked on it being the perfect name for our Chipmunk.  Her middle name is given by her paternal grandfather in Korean-American tradition.  It means "wisdom" and it pronounced "Gee-Heh" or [ʤi hɛ] for IPA geeks like me.

I started having contractions on my way home from work on Monday.  I was psyched.  They were very manageable, I didn't have to worry about my water breaking in my office chair, and it looked like she was going to be born on her due date.  I looked at the clock in my console and it seemed that they were 10-12 minutes apart.  When I got home, we started loosely timing them while we ate dinner, excited about the rest of the evening.  By 9 PM we figured we should get some sleep, since the contractions were still not all too powerful or close together.  At 2:30 I woke up knowing there was no way I was going to be able to sleep.

I got in the tub and found that contractions were running about 6-7 minutes apart.  The tub felt great and I'm not sure if it was the position I was in or what, but it didn't take long for us to hit the "5 minutes apart lasting 1 minute each for 1 hour."  I called the OB on call and she said we could go in for a labor check.  At that point I noticed that things seemed to slow down.  All the sudden we were back to 6-7 minutes apart.  I leaned over our exercise ball, trying to recreate the position in the tub, and as soon as we got a few more contractions that were 5 minutes apart, we notified our parents, let the dog out, and headed to the hospital.

At the hospital we had a nice long stint in triage.  When we first got there, my blood pressure was high.  This was a first for me.  They had me lay on my left side (you'll find this left side thing will become a theme) and took it again.  Still high.  The OB wanted to draw some labs, have me lay there for a bit, and see if my BP would come back down.  Eventually it did.  My labs were fine and Chipmunk's heart rate was thumping along happily.  Problem was that my cervix was only at a two.  That's right, a two.  80% effaced.  This was more dilated than I was at my doctor's visit a week before, but still disappointing.  They were well aware of our desire for a natural birth and didn't want to admit me before 4 cm in an effort to avoid interventions.  So they had us walk to hospital floor for about an hour.  During our stroll, contractions were coming much stronger and more frequently, but still didn't seem altogether regular.  When I was checked again... still a two.  No movement at all.  The consensus was that I was in early labor, my contractions were real, but my body just wasn't getting into a rhythm for whatever reason.  The OB recommended going home or "going for a walk around the mall" (WTF?).  She said a good way of knowing when to come back was when it was impossible to breathe through my contractions.  This was the dumbest thing I'd heard.  If it was impossible to breathe through contractions, why did I spend so much time learning how to breathe through contractions?  J kept telling her that I have an ungodly high pain tolerance, but she just brushed it off as OBs tend to do.  So home we went, tails between our legs, feeling a little silly.  I had a regularly scheduled OB appt for 3:30 and was told to keep that visit because it would be a good way to check and see if I had progressed.

My 3:30 appointment was with the only doc from the practice I hadn't met before.  I knew I wouldn't meet her until late in the game and was totally anxious that I wouldn't like her and she'd end up being the one delivering our baby.  When we got to the office, I was honest with her that things hadn't seemed to progress much since we'd left the hospital.  She checked me and said, "Well, I think you're doing pretty good!  You're at a solid four.  Head on back to the hospital and I'll meet you there!"  Fist pump!  We were ready to go!

This time our arrival at the hospital was greeted with a immediate placement of wrist bands and a room.  We got all checked in and settled.  They wanted to put the hep lock in and get some labs back before they let me start moving around.  The nurse put me on the monitors for a mandatory one hour check while we waited for the labs.

J was mesmerized by the heart rate monitor and watching my contractions on the screen.  He kept giving me play by plays.  "She's still at 150.  Kid's heart rate has been solid this whole pregnancy.  Crazy.  You're having a contraction?  I can see it.  That's a long one.  Your blood pressure still looks good too."

We'd been awake since 2:30 AM at this point and J and I started dozing off here and there.  I had been listening to the "beep beep beep" of the fetal monitor for so long, that when I suddenly didn't hear it, I noticed.  I yelled out J's name and we could see on the monitor that Chipmunk's heart rate had dropped to zero.  I hit the nurse button and just yelled "Something's wrong."  Within nano seconds there were three nurses in the room followed closely by the OB I'd just met.  (Let's call her Wonder Doc.)  I was on my left side with an oxygen mask on my face and a doctor between my legs before I could blink.  "Lisa I'm just going to break your bag of water so I can put a scalp electrode on her and get a better reading of her heart rate."  Swoosh, I feel my water break and instrument number one is inserted and secured to my inner thigh. There was meconium in the fluid.  Her heart rate still wasn't going up so they flipped to my hands and knees with my butt in the air and my chest pushed to the mattress.  Then we could hear the monitor start "beep beep beeping" again and there was an audible sigh in the room.

We managed to get me back on my left side and all was well with Chippy.  My blood pressure had dropped in the scuffle so they started me on an IV and wanted me to keep the mask on.  Wonder Doc laid it out.  She wasn't ready to give up on natural labor, but wanted us to understand that if this happened repeatedly or if her heart rate dropped for an extended period of time, we'd be looking at an emergency c-section.  We told her that baby is number 1 for us and she said that mom AND baby were number 1 for her. She'd like us to be able to do a vaginal birth if at all possible, but that we might want to think about an epidural.  Her main concern was that we would be looking at an emergency c-section and that without having an epidural placed for a spinal, they'd have to put me under general anesthesia and J wouldn't be able to be there for the birth.  That made a lot of sense, but also, it had been a long freakin' time since I'd slept and I was really feeling like I wasn't going to have the strength to push.

And I was still at four cm.

Wonder Doc wanted to place an intrauterine monitor to see what was going on with my contractions since I still wasn't progressing.  Obviously this would be something that would be best done with an epidural in place.

I agreed to the epidural, while being very nervous about what changing my position to get the darned thing would mean for Chipmunk's heart rate.  The IV fluids were making me shake like crazy too.  The anesthesiologist was there shortly and the nurses and my doc managed to get me into position while keeping Chipmunk happy.  It was an easy and painless placement, but they had to put me back on my back to let the drugs flow properly.  That didn't last long.  Her heart rate started dropping and I was turned back on my left side.  "Beep beep beep" she was happy as a clam again.  The intrauterine electrode (crotch equipment count two) and catheter (make that three) were placed.

At this point I didn't want anyone to move me, period.  I was perfectly happy to attempt to give birth on my left side.  Apparently, you can't lay on one side like that for forever and a day.  They tried moving me to my right, no go.  They tried putting me on my back with the head of the bed elevated and that seemed to be okay.  So I tried hanging out there for awhile, mask still on.

One of the nurses was prattling on, trying to calm us down I think, asking about how we chose our dog's name.  I tried to answer her and promptly threw up.  Heart rate dropped again and came back up as soon as I was on the left side.  They thought the throwing up was good though!  Surely it must mean I was in transition, right?

Nope.  Still at four.

Wonder doc explained that my contractions weren't strong enough to move me past 4 cm.  She wanted to add Pitocin in little bits because if Chipmunk couldn't handle stronger contractions, she wasn't going to be able to handle a vaginal birth.  They were trying to keep the epidural to a minimum to keep from slowing labor down which was fine with me.  I was handling the contractions okay.  Every time I felt one coming on I would breathe and count the "beep beep beeps" from the heart rate monitor while J murmured what the rate was and how strong the contraction was.  Bradley and Hypnobabies it wasn't, but it was all we had.

Several hours later, Pitocin had only moved me to a five.  I vomited again, and when blowing my nose in the aftermath, her heart rate dropped again.  It was completely clear that this child was not going to be down with labor and neither was my cervix.  Wonder Doc was explaining that I couldn't give birth only on my side and I said "If I can't blow my nose, I'm thinking I can't push."  "My thoughts exactly," she answered and we were off for an immediate C-section.

It's amazing how quickly a group of professionals can sweep into your room, shave your lady bits and get you all prepped for surgery once your doctor says the magic words.  Before I knew it, I was being wheeled down the hall, still on my left side with my trusty oxygen mask attached, ready for a quickie C-Section.  J was dropped off at another room and given hasty instructions on how to change.  Luckily, four IVF transfers and three egg retrievals had him well versed in OR dress code.

Once we got into the OR, the tricky part was how to keep me on my left side and keep monitoring Chipmunk's heart rate while they prepped me.  All the staff already knew the issue by the time I arrived.  I carefully moved onto the OR table with help and they quickly put a wedge under my right side to keep me tilted.  I was washed, draped, and drugged in the blink of an eye.  You could hear the heart rate monitor in the background and it was still going, but not all that quickly.  Wonder Doc said, "You know what she's telling us right now? She's telling us we made the right decision."  Once I was prepped I had to be flat on my back.  Scalpel went to belly and she said, "Tell me when you don't feel any sharp poking anymore."  My reply went something like this, "I feel that, I feel that, I feel that, I feel that, NOW!"  "Cutting," she answered and we were off just like that.  J came in shortly after and Wonder Doc told him we'd started.  After what seemed like forever she announced, "She's out!"  We knew that they were purposefully not making her cry because of the meconium, but I heard her whimper and I started sobbing.  The NICU staff whisked her away with a "take a look mom" but all I saw was feet.  They told J he could follow them into the next room.  I heard her cry when they opened the door.  That's when my hallucinations started.

I was shivering uncontrollably, which I know is a really common thing, but it was really awful.  I swore I saw bugs crawling across the floor.  A large group, followed by a solitary straggler.  Then another large group, followed by another solitary straggler.  I don't know why I didn't say something.  There were two anesthesiologists sitting right by my head, but obviously they would have noticed the preponderance of bugs in the OR if they really existed.

I was trying to hear what was going on the next room and had my eyes stuck to the door.  Wonder Doc said she looked good and that she was just a little slip of a thing.  I told her one of the other docs was estimating 7-7.5 lbs.  She laughed and said she might be 6.  There was a lot of laughing going on next door and I heard things like, "No dad, you have to take a picture of that.  She'll want that.  Here, hand me the camera and I take the pictures."

The NICU staff came out with an announcement that she was 5 lbs 7 oz and looking good.  J brought her over so I could look at her for a few minutes.  She took my breath away.  The first thing he said was, "Look!  She has a pointy ear like you!"  I could see myself in her and I wasn't expecting that at all.  She just stared into my eyes in wonder and mouthed the edge of her blanket.  J was beaming from ear to ear.  The NICU staff said they had to take her to the special care nursery just for a few more checks, but that she'd be in recovery waiting for me.  I sent J with them.

Later J told me that when he went into the room, one of the NICU nurses said, "This is an IVF baby, so she's extra special."  That warmed his heart.  He didn't know if Wonder Doc made it a point for them to know that or if they saw it in her chart.  They also informed him that Chipmunk had been using her cord as a pillow, hence the desats.  I just hope she wasn't doing that regularly during my pregnancy.

The sewing up portion lasted a really long time and finally I was able to go to recovery.  They transferred me to a different bed and wheeled me down the hall.  Chipmunk was getting a bath and wailing away.  The charge nurse commented on how strong she was and how surprisingly loud her yell was given her small size.  That made me smile, maybe she'll be a singer like her mama.  She finished up her bath quickly so we could do skin to skin and try nursing.  I held my little bundle in my arms and the whole world changed.  They were pushing on my belly and doing all the crap they needed to do to me, but I didn't care.  She latched on like a champ and I never wanted to let her go.  It was the scariest and most wonderful day of our lives.

She was 30 grams below the threshold of being categorized as "low birth weight" so we've had a lot of follow up at the hospital and apparently we will have more from the state.  A neonatologist would come in to see her and mention that sometimes due dates are off and she could just be small because of that.  We tell them she was an IVF baby born 2 hours after her due date and they change their tune to, "Well, you guys are small people."  We aren't really concerned.  She seems strong and alert and she's already back to her birth weight, plus an ounce.  We've been back to the pediatrician already and she gave her a clean bill of health so far.  The biggest issue is finding clothes to fit her!

Our room in the hospital overlooked the entrance to the Women's Center.  The first day after Chipmunk arrived, James was holding her and looking out the window watching the couples walk into the center for labor class with their pillows and yoga mats.  "They lie to you," he muttered.  I was struck by that.  There were so many things in our labor class that were briefly mentioned as "that never happens" interventions which we, of course, received.  There was no talk of C-sections, even in the generic hospital class.  We planned and prepared for this natural birth, determined to make it happen.  During IVF and even IUIs, we were always learning about the worst case scenario.  We wanted to be prepared for what could happen, but when it came to actual birth, we wanted to make it happen a certain way.  Instead, we like so many others, became that couple that walked in with a birth plan and walked out just feeling grateful for a healthy baby.

She has arrived!

Hi lovelies!

Just wanted to let y'all know that our chipmunk is here! I've gotta get my wits about me before I can handle telling her birth story. We're okay, but my body misbehaved and she was not responding well to my crappy ute. It was a scary night.  For now, I'll leave you with this...

Dear Chipmunk

39 weeks!  We can hardly believe that we're here.  Your father and I had started to believe that parenthood was not in the cards for us, and now here we are, waiting for you to make your appearance.

We are ready, Chipmunk.  Your father checks the carseat positioning almost daily.  Your sleep sack is clean and sitting in your bassinette.  More importantly, so many people have hearts that are ready, open, and waiting to swallow you up.

Your Uncle P is hoping you're born on the 27th.  He predicts that will be Game 4 of the World Series and that the Cards will sweep the Red Sox (you know, he and your Aunt L can have the whole house divided thing).  He's so funny when he talks about what it's going to be like for us to be parents to a newborn.  I'm pretty sure he's never even changed a diaper.  Wait until you get to know him.  You'll see what I mean.

Your grandmother can't wait to be a grandma.  She says she's so excited to get here and take care of your father and me so we can take care of you, but I think she is really just dying to snuggle you and know you are here safe and sound.  She talks about your first baseball game and your first trip to the zoo (all in St. Louis, of course - couldn't have it any other way).  She's got her Skype all set up and a stack of books to read to you.  She's had so many years of pent of grandma energy and she's bursting at the seams with love for you.

Uncle D isn't going to know what hit him.  He thinks there should be no problem with us going to see a movie a few days after you're born.  Don't worry we'll break him in slowly.  He made sure to get his vaccines all up to date so he can come see you as soon as we come home.  He'll be your only family in town so we have to get him up to speed on this baby thing.

Halmoni and Halapoji are getting impatient!  They call all the time.  Halapoji calls your daddy and reminds him to make sure I'm careful on the stairs and to see if we are playing Mozart for you.  Halmoni wants to make sure I'm healthy.  She's excited about you being a Hapa which is wonderful.  She wants to show you off to her church friends, I think.

Halapoji gave you a great middle name.  It means "wisdom" and it goes well with the first name we chose for you.  That name means "blessed with God's bounty."  It has a little reference to how hard it was to bring you into being and it's German as a nod to my family.  We couldn't squeeze anything Sicilian in there, but don't worry - you'll get that in food.

Even Scout is ready!  She knows her new rules and she's been so good lately.  We know she'll take care of you and protect you.  She is ready for her new pack member.

Most importantly, your father and I are ready.  We think we know you a bit already.  You're a little bit of a drama queen. You hate Braxton Hicks and go berserk whenever mommy has one.  It's really uncomfortable at 2 AM so whenever you want to cut that out would be great.  If I rub your back or pat your hiney, you'll calm down for a bit.  Since you were even smaller your daddy has been able to put his hand on my tummy and it feels like you curl right up into the palm of his hand.  You still do that.  Never for me, only for daddy.  Daddy's girl already and he eats that up.  You like it when we play music with a good bass line and you startle when Scout barks in the middle of the night.  Get used to that, kiddo!  She's the great protector.

We want to hold you in our arms and know you are okay.  We want you here, alive, and healthy.  No matter what, we want you to have a childhood that is full of good memories and joy.  We hope to show you how to be a good, compassionate person.  We hope you laugh a lot, take advantage of every gift life brings you, and find your passion.

Nursery Reveal

Still here, still pregnant.  Totally ready for this little hapa to make her appearance.  Speaking of the word hapa, my in-laws have learned it.  Apparently there are quite a few at their church and they are totally hooked on how "cute" they are.  In fact, if I hear one more thing about the appearance of this child from my MIL, I'm gunna lose it.  Did I tell y'all she got the last ultrasound photo and told us she had a big nose?  Yeah.  She did.  Funny thing is I thought she had J's nose... which is the same as his mother's.  Anywho...

Without further adieu, the nursery is ready!  Here's what it looked like before, when it had no purpose outside of making us sad.

Now, let me take you on a little tour...

When you walk in, a ballerina greets you on the wall.  Now, I was a ballet dancer for a billion years.  It was really hard for me to stomach the fact that a ballet career is not realistic for one who is 4'11".  My mom started embroidering that picture for me when I was a kid.  Like most of her projects, it was put to the side for a long time and finally finished when I was in graduate school.  She hung it in the room I stay in when I visit her and I'd asked her to take it down and told her to give it to me when I had a daughter.  She gave it to me at my shower.

I'm really excited about this crib.  The top part folds down.  It's made with short moms and people with disabilities in mind.  I'm so psyched about being able to reach my kid in the crib.  After 6 years of working in the infant room of a daycare, I know it can be a challenge!

Since we have the birch trees and birds on the wall, J had the idea of putting the video monitor in a bird house.  Really!  He came up with the idea all by himself.  It's sitting on a faux crafty nest.

View from the other side.

We picked an embie photo and decided that was her.  We put it in a little frame to remind us.  We totally lucked out on the fabric for the glider.  We'd found the bedding we liked and then when we went to get the glider, we learned that Little Castle uses the same fabric manufacturer that the bedding people use.  I was also able to buy some of the same fabrics for some projects.

Projects like this one.  A bow holder! :)

We had a blast putting the decals up.  We were worried it would be hard and we would get frustrated with each other, but we had so much fun! There are little pink birdies flying around too.  We are also addicted to the totally ridiculous chandelier.

I made these book slings too.  Little Chimpunk is hooked up with the books!  Thankfully I work with a lot of speech pathologists who know what they are doing.  She even has the whole Harry Potter collection.  Really!

We stuck an extra birdie above the closet door.  I like how you can see the rainbows the chandelier throws in this picture.

Hope you enjoyed the tour!  Oh!  She has a name.  We went with Korean tradition and my father-in-law chose her middle name.  We'll reveal the whole kit and caboodle when she makes her appearance.

Because It Still Won't Be Over

There's a baby coming, which still blows my mind and it so beyond awesome I just can't handle it.  I'm still infertile.  My lady parts still need attention and I have to think about what I'm going to do about all that after our little Hapa Chippy arrives.

Now that I have an actual endo diagnosis, I intend to treat that bitch and not be in pain.  I'm breaking up with narcotics and I'm going to have a damn sex life again.  I am not going to be in pain or afraid of sex.  I'm not.  It's just not an option.  The problem is that treatment means that I won't be ovulating... which means there would be no hope of a surprise pregnancy.

Yes my friends, denial is still alive and well in my head.

We had crap fertilization with traditional IVF, top grade embryos have been known to be less than pleased about the prospect of implanting in my ute, and three months of menopause seems to be necessary to get me knocked up.  Yet, here's that little voice in my head still nagging, "but what if?"  I really do feel like I've come to terms with things.  I'm really okay with having an only child.  I'm really okay with my diagnosis.  I really am happy with my life.  So, WTF?  It all seems so silly.  We do have an embie on ice, but our RE didn't really have a lot of hope for it.  It isn't even from our successful cycle, it's the only extra from the FET and it almost didn't pass the freeze standards.  Our plan is to quietly do a transfer one day and just get closure.  So why on earth is that little voice upset that I have to not ovulate in order to avoid pain and enjoy sex?  I'm okay with not having another baby.  Right?

Then there's the prospect of where to go.  The world is not burgeoning with endo experts.  I haven't even talked with my OB about it, because as much as I like my practice, I sure don't see them as endo experts.  Mine does not seem to be a typical case and I'd really like to see someone who knows what they are doing, can look at MY case, and tell me what the best plan of action would be.  I don't want to just be handed a pack of BCPs and shoved out the door.  It was over 10 years ago that someone told me I probably had endo and not a single doc told me that I should take the active pills consecutively and not have a period until I ended up at an RE's office.  Not one.  I honestly think they didn't know.

My husband keeps reminding me that we still have that pesky cervical dysplasia thing to deal with too.  I keep forgetting about it.   Really, I do.  It seems so common that I think more run-of-the-mill gynes are able to deal with that than they are able to deal with endo.  Besides, I plan to ask my OB to stick a loofa on the Chipmunk's head once she gets to about 0 station so she can scrub that nasty shit off.  That'll totally work, right?

I really just wish I could hug my baby and ignore my ute for the rest of my life.  I've had enough of her drama.

Out From Under A Cloud

Some of the most recent comments on my blog encouraged me to share my joy... so I will!

Last week, I was able to get together with Laura, todayiboughtwaterproofmascara, and our favorite cheerleader and supporter, Monika.  We got to meet Laura's sweet little one and celebrate "today" and me landing safely into the last stretches of our pregnancies.  It was so awesome.  We laughed, ate, and passed the baby.  It was so wonderful to just be full of joy.  There was no pressure to act like "typical" new moms or moms to be.  No one was talking about whether or not to breastfeed, or stay at home, or sleep train, or whatever.  We've all learned the hard way that judging others' family related choices is nothing but hurtful.  Instead we shared our excitement, relief, and remaining anxieties.

I was talking with Laura about how I'm slowly rediscovering the person I was before infertility changed my life.  It's not that I'm leaving behind the lessons I've learned.  Not at all.  It's just that I hadn't realized how sad I had become and how that sadness permeated absolutely everything in my world.  My mom has commented on how she forgot I was funny and she thinks I'd forgotten too.  I find myself spending more time sitting on the floor with my patients and chatting with their parents.  I had gotten so uncomfortable being around young children and I hadn't really realized it.  I've crept back onto Facebook and don't find myself as annoyed by fertile ramblings as I was.  Still annoyed, mind you, just not as much as I was when in the thick of things.

Watching J has been the biggest joy ever.  The way he grins like a complete goof at every milestone, kick, and wiggle.  I can't say it makes up for the pain I saw in his eyes every time the stick was negative, but it is so amazing to watch him fill up with happiness.

The one thing I'm still struggling with is holding other people's babies.  I don't know what it is.  It almost feels like I have all of this pent up love and I'm afraid of what's going to happen if I pick up a little one.  All the crazy might leak out or something.  So I didn't hold Laura's little one.  I guess I'm just saving up the crazy to let it rip on my own kid.

36 weeks and I'm at 1 cm.  The Chipmunk is going to make her appearance before we know it!

33 Weeks

Really.  I'm 33 weeks pregnant, and by all accounts there is a healthy little Chipmunk in there.  We are so incredibly lucky.  Pregnancy is by no means sunshine and rainbows.  Sleep is elusive due to the most insane heartburn I ever thought could happen.  My hips hurt so badly sometimes that I can't even walk.  My asthma has flared and my cervical issues have evolved into actual dysplasia.  But you know what?  None of it matters.  None of it is worth even thinking about in light of how lucky we are to have this little one doing so well.  She can do whatever she wants to my body as long as she stays healthy and cooking.

And that's why I haven't posted.  I feel like pretty much anything I write smacks of insensitivity.  So many of the women who have been so supportive of me are dealing with some real shit.  I don't want to waste your time with bump-dates when you should be reading them and sending good thoughts and support to them.  So please go do that if you haven't already.

An Open Letter

To All The Parents Who've Spotted My Belly,

It's the first question you ask when you recognize my bump as a something more than just too many cookies.  "Is this your first?"  Such a loaded question.

Yes, it's my first pregnancy.  I'm so blessed.  So many women having babies after loss must have a much harder time with this question than I do.  Still, it's a tough question to answer.

My first child?  Well yes, kind of.  She's my only, she's a culmination of years of struggle and pain, she's a gift, she's my everything.

How do I make you understand that without letting you into my private world?  I'm pregnant, but I'm infertile.  I know this may be an oxymoron to you.  Just by virtue of having a disease, I feel like I need to educate you and show you how hurtful your off-handed comments can be.  I know you mean well, and I'm not offended by your question, but it still stings.  Asking if she's my first is expecting that there will be more and my baby collection is just starting.  I know I can't make you understand that this is it for us.  If I tell you she's our only, you'll ask why.  If I tell you how lucky we were to get this one, you'll tell me about your cousin's best friend's sister's hairdresser who got pregnant naturally after IVF.  It's great that you have hope for a miracle, but my husband and I have accepted this life we've been given.  When you insist that other children will come, you're suggesting that what we have isn't good enough.  It's more than good enough for us.  It's wonderful.

I don't want to tell you that my eggs can't be fertilized without having a doctor inject them with a chosen sperm.  I don't want to tell you that my embryos need help to hatch.  I don't want to tell you that my body has to go through three months of menopause before my lining is receptive to implantation.  I don't want to tell you that I have to be on birth control despite my infertility just to avoid constant pain.  I don't want to tell you because I'm tired of telling you.  I've been sticking up for my limping womb for years and I need a break.  I just want to look forward to being a mom.  A mom to one amazing little gift.

So just smile and say that she's our first while I listen to your war stories on birth and parenting, but I wish you really knew.  She's so much more than a first.

Prayers For A Friend

Today, my friend is saying goodbye to a much wanted pregnancy.  They found out that the baby they had tried so hard to conceive is not expected to survive.  At her early ultrasounds, she found she'd lost a twin. Then they learned that there were heart concerns and likely chromosomal abnormalities.  At the last ultrasound, they saw not only major heart malformations, but insurmountable brain and limb issues as well.  The prognosis was grim and they decided to terminate.  She's about 20 weeks at this point.

We all know there is no way to wrap your head around such a thing.  I can't imagine the pain they went through arriving at this decision.  If you pray, please remember J, R, and their baby today.  I know she'd appreciate it.

100 Days... A Post About The Dog

Today marks 100 days until my due date.  We're starting to get things ready and that means... the dog.

When I adopted Scout over 6 years ago, she came with some serious luggage.  With a lot of hard work, she's come from this sick little goober who would hide and refuse to come out...

to this super happy dog who still has some struggles...

I thought she was a Corgi mix.  What I didn't know was that she might not even be a Corgi, but she is for sure Chow and who knows what else.  She's just short... like me.  Her herding instinct is huge as is the Chow protectiveness in her.  She is still rather fearful and since I have become pregnant, she's gotten even more protective of me.  On top of that, she's eight now.  Her vision isn't what it used to be and she has a touch of arthritis.

Over the July 4th holiday, she snapped at my brother-in-law out of the blue and got him on the nose.  Cue panic.

I take our adoption of Scout seriously.  I made a commitment to take care of her for life.  We thought that with the baby coming it might be time to find her a new home, but knowing my dog, that would be very traumatic for her.  She's a smart dog and is good with her commands.  She even has some rally and advanced obedience skills, but it doesn't matter how good she is at sit and stay when she gives no warning and nips someone in the face.  Of course the Chipmunk's safety comes first.  So we made an appointment with our vet to see what our options might be.

Our amazing vet spent about an hour and a half with us.  She did a full workup on Scout and didn't find anything physically that could explain her recent uptick in aggression.  She agreed that we had time to safely gauge the situation with the baby and work with a behaviorist to address her fears.  I'd always known that Scout was tuned in to my pregnancy, but I just thought she knew something was different.  Apparently, my vet says dogs really do know that you are pregnant and that there will be a new pack member.  The problem is, that completely freaks my dog out.

The vet knows our girl well and she thinks that she will see Chipmunk as a member of our pack.  We are going to work with a behaviorist one-on-one in our home to address some specific things she does (like going buck wild at the door when anyone walks by).  We aren't stupid, though.  Scout will be in her crate when the baby is awake.  They will not hang out together... period.  Since James works from home and Chipmunk will be at daycare during the week, this seems completely doable for us.  Scout will still get people time outside her kennel for the vast majority of the day.

After she nipped my BIL, I was a mess until we met with the vet.  I really didn't see much of an option aside from re-homing her.  My mama bear instinct was in high gear and I forgot about the fact that she loves her crate and might even like being in there when the baby is around.  When Chipmunk starts moving around and hits toddlerdom, we'll have to reassess the situation, but for now we're feeling pretty okay about Scout and the baby.

Oh For Pete's Sake!

I switched over to Feedly and became a moron.  I would check it on my phone, and couldn't for the life of me figure out why I wasn't getting new posts.  I would click on "all" and it would always be the same posts.  Turns out that "all" is still sorted by topics and it was just that blogs in my "adoption" folder hadn't been updating.  So, I apologize for my lack of commenting - I still have no idea what's going on in your lives.  I will catch up right after I post this nonsense.

Let me begin the nonsense by saying that I do understand how completely blessed we are.  Our little Hapa seems to be doing great.  She always measures right on the dot.  Her heart rate is perfect, and she has all of her parts in the appropriate location and number.  My immune system, on the other hand, sucks at being pregnant.  

Since I hit the second trimester, I have had two UTIs, a colposcopy because of the sudden appearance of high risk HPV, and my asthma has flared up (it had been so long since I'd had an asthma issue that I didn't even have an active inhaler prescription anymore).  Today I was sure I was going in with no issues.  I was happily sitting on the table, telling the OB I had just met that I was feeling so great.  Then, just before she left I remembered that I needed to show her the sore that I had gotten from my sports bra.  That silly over-protective husband of mine wanted me to bring it up. Well, silly over-protective husband is wiser than I thought.  It wasn't a sore.  I FUCKING HAVE SHINGLES!  

Apparently this is rare in pregnancy.  Lucky me.  I have two areas of blister "chunks" and she could see more forming.  I'm on Valtrex so hopefully that will keep new ones from forming.  Chipmunk is fine and it shouldn't affect her at all.  I'm in some pain, but it's tolerable right now - except for a bra.  They are right where my bra strap hits (which it why I thought it was chub rub from my bra and not FUCKING SHINGLES).  I'm going to try to figure out how I can get by without wearing one because I just can't handle it.  I can work, I just can't see the little bitties who haven't been vaccinated yet.

The OB was playfully teasing me about all the random crap that has snuck up on me during pregnancy.  I said, "Well what other dormant viruses can I have pop back up?"  She said, "Shhh!  Don't say that out loud!" Truth is it does scare me.  I had a REALLY bad case of mono in high school.  Epstein Barr would not be a fun thing to see rear it's ugly head right now.

Like I said, I'm all too well aware of the horrible things that could be going on.  I know that we are so super lucky to have a healthy baby thriving and that anything that has happened to me has been benign as far as she's concerned.  But it's like I told J, "Why couldn't I be one of those people who had a happy-go-lucky pregnancy?"  His reply? "Because people who have happy-go-lucky pregnancies don't walk the kind of roads we walk."

Ah, my wise, over-protective husband.  I'm incredibly lucky to have him too.

Pregnancy Behaviors in the Male of the Human Species

There are anecdotal accounts in the literature of peculiar actions male humans exhibit when their female partners are in the process of gestation.  This case study presents an account of a male human whose partner is expecting a child following infertility and advanced reproductive techniques (ART).

Following confirmation of the pregnancy, the male partner's behaviors were not altered from the typical behaviors exhibited during the stimulation phase of treatment.  He continued to encourage his partner to eat nutritious food, drink plenty of water, and exercise when health allowed.  Following the Level II ultrasound, his habits began to change quite dramatically.

The first level of behavior observed involved mirroring of the symptoms in the female partner.  These may have been sympathetic responses, although most seemed to benefit the male rather than the female of the pair.  For example, the male partner craved chocolate milk and ice cream despite having a significant lactose intolerance.  He felt the need to indulge in these cravings despite the olfactory discomfort it brought his partner.  He also stopped using running as a form of cardiovascular exercise, instead choosing the accompany his wife on walks, citing fatigue as a confounding factor.  His midsection is now growing along with his wife's.  The male partner has also started itching, an ailment not noted prior to the pregnancy.

The second level of behavior was clearly protective.  The following have been noted:

• Changing the wife's sleeping position in the middle of the night, without her consent, in case she is uncomfortable.
• Using his hand as a human seat belt, even in unnecessary situations.
• Following behind her on the stairs at every opportunity.
• Insisting on pushing an empty shopping cart.
• Actually cleaning the bathroom.
• Bringing a night stick on evening walks in case there was a stray dog in the neighborhood.  When the wife noted that the water she carries would likely suffice should such a situation arise, he insisted on bringing the night stick "in case the dog is not a vampire."
• Changing dinner plans because he deemed the menu to be "different" than the wife's typical fare and hence a possible (if not imaginary) threat to the child.
• Refusing sex on the grounds of invading the child's space.  When reminded that the fetus was closed off in the uterus, he stated he saw the birth canal as a "demilitarized zone" and hence and inappropriate spot for his... member.

Since this is likely the only child for the couple and conception was an emotional, expensive, and difficult endeavor, it is the opinion of this author that the behaviors noted above are heightened from that of a typically fertile couple.  Patterns involving same sex couples should be examined in future studies.

Our Chipmunk is...

A Chipette!

The ultrasound was great.  She has all of her parts in the right place, number, and structure, and her parts seem to be functioning well.  She was a squirmy little worm and the tech was chuckling at how wiggly she was.  I do have a low-lying placenta, but they aren't concerned.  I just get to go back for another ultrasound in 10 weeks to make sure it moved up.  No biggie!  My mom and I had an awesome day today.  We would suddenly realize something we'll be able to do with our little Hapa and we would cry.  Or we'd pick up a sweet little piece of clothing and we'd cry.  So much to tell, but right now, I'm going to enjoy my family.

Enlightened or Clueless

Today, I'm trying to keep it together.  Probably about 70% of my patients are on Medicaid, which means I see more than my fair share of rough family situations, but this year has been extreme.  We've had two parents die in motorcycle accidents, numerous kids taken from homes due to parental drug use (the vast majority of these kids have been home when the raids occurred, we've learned), and today we had our second parent murdered.  This is just since 2013 began.  In both situations, the parent was murdered by the child's father and in both situations, the kid was in the house when it happened.  I wish I had some words of deep thought or wisdom in this sort of situation, but I'm still just reeling.  I haven't the slightest idea what to do for this kid, besides making sure the family has all the equipment needed for hearing since the house is a crime scene and they can't go in.  See, this is why I always find out about these situations as they are unfolding.  The kid is ripped from the home, usually from bed in the middle of the night or early morning, and they can't hear because they don't wear their processors while sleeping.  The house is locked up, and no one can effectively communicate with the kid to tell them what's going on, because the stuff that lets them hear is in the house.  We get a phone call asking for loaner equipment from a family member or foster parent.  It's all just too unfathomable to me and really weighing on me.  I just don't know how to help.  I feel so useless.

On another note, one of my coworkers sent around some stupid video.  Maybe you've seen it.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olSyCLJU3O0  Please note, if you not in a good place infertility wise, do NOT watch this video.  Just know that it's one of those, "motherhood is such a joy, cherish every moment, lalalalalala" movies.  First of all, I think I was supposed to feel privileged to have been let in on this email.  The note attached said something about being busy in motherhood, including those who have a little one on the way.  Since I was the only pregnant person in the cc list, I guess that was me.  Um, am I in the club?  I don't want to be in some weird exclusive club.  Everyone mothers and everyone could appreciate something from this movie... maybe.  It also hit me that there is only one person in my office with lady parts who is not a parent/expectant parent and that made it seem particularly shitty to me.  Anywho, so I watched the video, and maybe the exclusivity of begin let in on this wonderful video of wisdom made me a bit jaded while I was watching it, but good Lord what it an eye roller to me.

Yet again I was able to feel thankful for our infertility journey.  Being in the muck of it sucks so horribly badly, but I knew I was learning and still am learning so many valuable lessons.  I just couldn't help watching this and wondering how in the hell this woman and all of her adoring followers holding so intently on her every word, could have possibly gotten this far in life without learning the same lessons.  It took raising children for you to learn how little control you had over others?  You had to watch the kids grow up and leave the house before you figured out what a precious gift each little moment with them was?  I can guarantee you I will not take butterfly kisses, stubbed toes, broken hearts, bedtime stories, or dance recitals for granted.  I think a piece of me will even rejoice when my teenager gives me a big fat "I HATE YOU!"  So thank you, endometriosis, for helping me see so many gifts in life, and for helping to keep my blind stupidity about life to a dull roar.

Did I miss something in that video?  Maybe I missed something.  Please feel free to point it out if I did.  I could always learn some more life lessons.

Knowing Enough To Be Dangerous

My dreams of late have calmed down some.  In the first trimester there was an epic tale every night.  Of course none of my dreams were the "super cool fun sex dreams" my girlfriends told me to expect in pregnancy.  No, mine were more of the miscarriage, infant death variety.  It was 10 weeks of nightmare-ville.

They've slowed down, but when I do get them, they are not at all joyous or fun.  Last night was a prime example.  With our ultrasound coming up, I'm getting anxious.  My anxiety is higher for two reasons.  The first being that I know too much.  I know just enough to be dangerous.  I have over 900 deaf children on my caseload and deafness often comes with a lot of other things.  Things that could be seen on an ultrasound at this point.  You name it, I've seen a kid with it.  When I see a kid with some syndrome or anomaly,  I learn about it. This is backfiring on me.  The second reason for my anxiety is that my mother is flying in and coming with us.  This is great in theory!  Except for the part where she is SO excited about finding out the gender that she can't think of anything else.  I have to keep reminding her that the main point of this ultrasound is to check out ALL of Chipmunk's parts.  Not just the plumbing.  I have to tell her that asking the tech to do something silly to share the gender with us is really not a good plan since she's going to be measuring kidneys and such and I'd rather she concentrate on that.  I feel like a B crushing her little plans for fun, but I have to remind her that this is a Level II ultrasound.  There is this pessimism about me.  So many eggs wouldn't even fertilize.  Only one of nine embryos transferred stuck around.  How can this one possibly be really and truly chromosomally hunky dory?

So last night I had a dream that my baby had holoprosencephaly.

Don't look that up.

Where are those fun sex dreams again?

Other

The inter-racial issue rarely comes into play in our lives.  There is the occasional weird comment, but they are usually just silly.  The only thing that really annoys me is going to our favorite, closed-minded, bigoted  chicken sandwich place.  In every fast food joint in the world it goes something like this:  Husband and I reach the counter, standing side-by-side.  Typically his hand is on the small of my back because he likes to stand that way.  The cashier looks at us expectantly, I look to J, he says, "Go ahead,  babe," and I place my order.  The cashier then looks expectantly at J, he places his order.  They ask, "Is that all for you today?" and we get the total.  Not at Chick-fil-a.  Every freakin' time they give me my total before J has a chance to get a waffle fry in edge-wise.  It's as if the man touching me with a wedding band on can't POSSIBLY be ordering with me what with his Asian-ness and all.  We just don't fit into their neat little box.

Apparently, Chipmunk doesn't fit into any boxes and s/he doesn't even have a fingerprint yet.  We had to pre-register with hospital for the delivery.  I agree, it seems completely ridiculous to do this so early on, but I'm following the directions from my OB.  I was on the website, plugging through all the boxes.  Mother's name, father's name, mother's maiden name, mother's mother's maiden name, mother's race, father's race.  There it was.  "Ethnicity of newborn."  There weren't many choices.  Asian, Hispanic, Caucasian, African-American... I was stuck.  I'm sure Chipmunk will look Asian, but s/he is Caucasian also.  Do I discount one part of him/her with a click of my mouse?  No way.  I looked at J and we both said the same thing at the same time.

Other.

We chose the last item from the drop down menu.

It left me thinking, why does it matter?  Is this a battle my child will have to face for eternity?  Don't we live in a melting pot?  Isn't there supposed to be some sort of revolution soon where mixed race individuals are becoming the largest minority?  So why doesn't my child get a drop down box?  Why doesn't s/he get to choose how to describe his/her ethnicity?  Why does the birth certificate get to define such an important piece of an identity with limited wiggle room?

Ah, America.  Land of diversity and restrictive little boxes.

Sweet Sixteen

Yowza!  It's been more than a month since I've posted?  I promise I have not turned my back on this community.  I've been reading and keeping up with all of you, it's just been unexpectedly busy around here.  Here's my month in bullet form:

• I went for my colposcopy and the OB saw one spot on my cervix that was concerning.  She ended up doing a biopsy of two different areas.  I had a new kind of two week wait.  The "do I have cancer" kind.  I was freaked out enough that I did not want to blog or talk about it at all.  Happily, everything came back benign! I have a repeat pap at 28 weeks and I'm hoping the ASCUS will be gone.  A girl can hope.
• Something is going on with J's father.  We think.  It's really hard to tell with the language barrier, cultural schism  and distance.  He's been seeing a lot of specialists and we're trying to get a grip on what's going on.  All his tests have come back fine... it's hard to know.
• The tenant moved of out my old house (which we rent out) and we've been scrambling to get it all fixed up and back in shape on as little funds as possible.  I think we're almost done!  We've had to replace a whole floor.  Scratch that.  J had to replace a whole floor.
• We already have a new tenant lined up!  Even better, it's my coworker's very responsible and lovely 26 year old daughter who has always loved my darling little townhouse.  She's starting law school so it's possible we could have her there for 3 whole years.  Her BFF is moving in with her.  We're THRILLED!
• I traveled to see my future sister-in-law try on wedding gowns!  My mom was there too and we had so much fun.  We went to Bridal's By Lori and got to meet Monty and everything.  He is charming, but dumb as a box of rocks.  She did in fact say yes to the dress.
• I was teaching a distance learning course and MAN that was a time sucker!  Grades are in and it's all over until next spring.  
• Knock on something, quick!  I think I'm finished puking!  Woo hoo!  I'm still quite tired and I'm chalking that up to being old and pregnant rather than just pregnant.
• Now that I can eat consistently again, I've gained 10 pounds.  Weight control fail.  I am very disappointed by this and I'm having a hard time figuring out how to get things back under control.  I know I should just be happy about my growing belly, but I also want to be sure Chipmunk stays healthy.  Perhaps that starts with getting off the computer and getting on the treadmill.
• My MaterniT21 results were negative, did I tell y'all that?  Very good news indeed.  We are waiting to find out the gender.  Level II ultrasound is a few weeks away and my mom will be in town then.  It just seemed better to learn then rather than hear it on the phone.  Although I did have some fantasies about going home and telling J, "I know the gender, and I'll tell you if you clean out the garage."

So here we sit, 16 weeks and things are going well.  At this moment, there is no drama going on with my lady parts for the first time in years and I am so grateful for that.

Now, on to some posts that have meaning and catching up on my commenting!

Visit to the OLD

Sorry I've been MIA, but I've been pretty freakin' sick.  I knew I would whine and moan about it here and that just didn't sit right with me.

*This post is about a prenatal visit.  If you aren't in a good place right now, feel free to pass.  If you're in a great place, read on and check out Chipmunk's updated page.*

Today I went to the OLD.  That's Old Lady Doctor for those of you not in the know.  Okay, some people say it's the perinatology group, but I'm calling it the OLD, because that's why I have to go there.  I'm turning 35 in 12 whole days.  That apparently gets the dreaded AMA stamped on your chart.  Advanced Maternal Age. Oooooh.

First we went to the regular OB for a checkup.  There are 5 OBs in this practice.  I liked the first one and today I liked the second one.  She was very grandmotherly and just lovely.  She commented several times on the rough road we've had.  We got to hear the heartbeat for the first time.  I've seen it a few times now, but I've never had the chance to hear it.  It was quite possibly the most beautiful sound I've ever heard in my life.  She let us listen for a good long while.  She did a regular old exam and told me that because of my small stature and small pelvis (which of course seems gigantic to me!) we're aiming for a 6 lb baby.  No bigger than 7.  Not only would I have a hard time with a vaginal birth with a baby bigger than 7 lbs, but there just isn't a lot of room in there for a "big" baby.  I kinda saw that coming.  So the goal is to keep my weight gain to 1/2-3/4 lb a week for the rest of the pregnancy. Wowzers.  I have to behave, people!  I was only 6 lbs and J was 7 lbs so hopefully things will be just fine.

Then I got some not so good news.  My pap showed atypical cells.  This is a first for me.  So they ran an HPV test and I came back positive for high-risk HPV.  At the time the OB seemed really nonchalant about it, so I really wasn't worried.  She said 80% of women have HPV at some point in their lives, but I still felt like a big ho.  She assured me that it Chipmunk isn't at any sort of risk either.  I was okay at the time.  Then I of course started Googling as soon as I got in the car, and found things that bothered me.  Like how high-risk HPV has an increased chance of turning into cervical cancer, and of women who had to abort their pregnancies because they had malignancies.  Thankfully, these women in my OB's office are really awesome, and she called to check in later.  So I asked her if these sorts of things are usually a big deal.  She told me that I could have had it for years and it just laid dormant until now, when my immunity is down.  Most of the time it's either completely benign or there is some mild-dysplasia.  I'm having a colposcopy on 4/16 and they will hopefully decide that nothing looks concerning and they can postpone a biopsy.  They'll do another pap at 28 weeks to see if anything has changed and then another after I deliver (me... delivering... and not pizza... crazy).  We'll decide from there what to do if it's still there.  She also assured me that if there is a cancer risk it typically takes years to develop, so we should have some time to decide what to do.  That call really put my mind at ease.  I'm seriously tired of the drama, however.  Just for the record.

Then we headed off to the OLD.  First we met with the genetic councilor.  She went over my family history and J's in detail.  Nothing stood out for either of us putting us at a higher risk, so that was good to hear.  Then we had our ultrasound.  You guys, Chipmunk actually looked like a baby.  It was amazing.  S/he was wiggling all around, kicking arms and legs.  She took a nuchal fold measurement since Chipmunk was in a good position.  She measured arms and legs (two of each!) and looked at my uterus, ovaries, and cervix.  She said everything looked good.  Then the maternal fetal medicine specialist came in, declared we had a "very cute fetus" which cracked me up, and took a look at things. She too declared that everything looked great.  I'm measuring right on time.  11 weeks 0 days exactly.  I had my blood drawn for the MaterniT21 testing and we were all done!  I'll get the results in 7-10 days.

It's been a good day.  I'm finally starting to feel like I'm bonding with this little one.  That's been hard to explain to J.  I guess I've just been so scared that it's been hard for me to really fall in love with the Chipmunk, but after hearing that heartbeat and seeing that little wiggle worm today, things are certainly changing.

First OB Visit and First Purchase

We had our first OB visit today and it went pretty much exactly like Liz's.  The office was quite nice.  They called me back first for a urine pregnancy test and blood pressure check and had J wait in the waiting room for that.  I'd filled out my history online ahead of time, so the CNA working with me was quite confused by my LMP date.  I haven't had a period since November 8th and yet I'm only 9 weeks pregnant.  I told her it was an IVF pregnancy and that I had been on Lupron.  She took my blood pressure and everything and then asked how long it had taken us and what we had been through. She was just making conversation and I was totally fine with it.  Then she said, "So you were on Letrozole?"  I said, "Um, a long time ago during my IUIs, but we're you talking about the Lupron?" She said, "Now which is IUI and which is IVF?"  I said, "Uh, IVF is when they take the eggs out of you and IUI is the turkey basting?"  She said, "Okay.  That's what I thought."  Hmmmm.  Alrighty.  Thankfully things went up from there.

The doc came in and went over our history again.  She was so very sympathetic.  She gave us a stack of info on testing, what to eat, how to battle morning sickness, what constitutes an emergency and who to call, meds that are safe (but try not to take any), a to do list.  WHEW!  She did a pap and a breast exam (J's first witnessing of such things, but let's face it - he's seen much worse!).  I fessed up that I have been too pooped to exercise and eating is pretty much whatever stays down.  I felt better when she said that it was okay and that I'd feel better and could get back on track when the first trimester is over.  Then she asked if we had any more questions.  I asked if she had any tips on how to stay calm.  I said, "We've just been through so much and it's hard to be optimistic..." then of course I teared up.  She said that she wants to get me through the first trimester, but that having seen a heartbeat at this stage was a great thing.  She admitted that she didn't have any other advice, but she asked if we wanted to take a peek.  We weren't scheduled for an ultrasound at this stage, but she did one and didn't charge us.  It was so very sweet of her.

So we will be doing MaterniT21 blood testing and she wants us to do a level II ultrasound in the second trimester because I'm old.  I guess the MaterniT21 test makes the NT screening kind of overkill, right?  Any thoughts on that?

I was very happy with our visit and the clinic as a whole.  We go back next week already!  That will be just some blood tests... thyroid and stuff... and a visit with the nurse practitioner.

So just in time for March Madness, we decided to throw caution to the wind and make our first baby purchase.  We can't wait to see our child wear it proudly.

Still Carrying My Card

***I've added a tab for Chipmunk.  If you're up for ultrasound photos, they will be posted there.***

Every Friday we have a meeting where more people that just my immediate team are in attendance.  Only my immediate coworkers know about Chipmunk.  I had told them that they were the only ones who knew and I wanted to keep it that way.  I sent them a text after my last RE visit because I figured that way they would know about the good news and I could avoid any looks or questions when I came to the meeting late.  Apparently my boss decided to whoop and holler in excitement when she got the text during the meeting and announce what her (group) text said.  So now people who I didn't want to yet know know. Another one of my coworkers reminded her that I didn't want people to know yet, but it was too late.  I appreciate her excitement, but two of the people at this meeting were infertile women who I wanted to tell one-on-one, in my own time.  I hadn't found alone time with them yet.

My boss whooped more when I came in and I shushed her.  My two coworkers (who have since adopted) just looked at me and smiled kindly.  I could see the pain in their eyes, though and I was crushed for them.  I know the rest of the world thinks adoption is a cure for infertility, but I know better.  I'm sure my boss thought there was no need for special sensitivity, but I know better.  And I'm sure that more than anything they were hurt that I didn't tell them in person.

My boss upset me more later in the day.  She shared that another former coworker who was struggling to get pregnant is also expecting.  I said, "Oh good.  I know she was struggling too.  I swear it's like you start working here at your uterus breaks."  She said, "Oh that's not true.  Look at you!"  I felt very defensive.  I said, "It's still good and broken."  She answered with, "You just needed a little help."  I got quiet and said, "I needed about as much help as you can get before moving on to donor gametes.  I will never need birth control and there will not be another pregnancy" and left the room.  She didn't say anything about it.  I'm sure she chalked it up to hormones.

I spent the rest of the day pondering why I was so defensive about her comments.  I think it was a myriad of things.  I'm not in denial about my infertility anymore.  It's become part of my story, and part of who I am.  I'm okay with that.  I'm okay with that because it's made me a stronger person.  I can recognize that I am still a woman with worth and value even if sperm has to be forcefully injected into my eggs for just a shot at fertilization.  Even though eight embryos have failed to implant in my womb, I am just as much of a woman as  the most fertile among us.  I know that.  I went through hell and back to know that.  Achieving a pregnancy doesn't erase all that I have been through.  It takes me on another leg of this journey, but it doesn't discount my pain.  I'm not actively grieving anymore, but there will always be an ache.

I'm keeping my infertile card. I'm pretty sure no one is going to revoke it.

8 Weeks 3 Days

AND THE CHIPMUNK IS MEASURING RIGHT ON TARGET!

Heart rate looks good (he didn't measure it, but said, "Oh it's nice and fast.  With growth like that, there's no way it would be slow."  I'm down with that.)

I swear you guys, it looked like a mouse.  I'll scan the photo in later, but it totally looked like a mouse.

I had a little bleeding scare last night.  After bowing to the porcelain god, a GIANT clump of Crinone came out.  Enough that it clogged the toilet (I know, gross, but there's no such thing as TMI on this blog.)  Anyway, when I was wiping to make sure I got it all, I had some bright red blood on the TP.  The doc thinks  it was just from irritation from the Crinone and nothing to worry about.  I'm not worried about it because it hasn't continued and I'm feeling rather raw and irritated from all that junk.  It's so nasty.

So I stopped meds on Monday and I go to the OB on Tuesday.  Like a regular person.  Who totally doesn't feel like a regular person.

Why can't I stay at my RE forever?

Waiting

Can we just skip to Friday?  Please?

My boobs have stopped hurting.  If you ask me, they feel pretty normal.  I'm only mildly nauseous   I did toss my cookies Friday after a big dinner and I could put my head down and take a nap right now.  I guess I'll hold on to that.

But, seriously.  Can it just be Friday?  Like, now?

So That Wasn't Great

Chipmunk only made two days worth of growth in the last seven days.  The heart rate is still strong at 145, but my RE is concerned.  We didn't graduate today as expected.  I go back next Friday to see if there has been any growth.

I can't stop thinking about what's going on in there and how I can't do anything about it.

So Much To Blog, So Little Time

Ultrasound number 2 is tomorrow.  I'm finally a bit nauseous, so I'm hoping that's a good sign.  I'm still anxious as all get out.  Trying not to dwell.

First, the good stuff.  I MET PEOPLE!!!! J and I went to Dspence's house for a lovely dinner and Oscar watching fun.  Her daughter, Little K, was cracking us up.  It was so fun to watch the hubbys together.  AND I got together last week with two readers who live in the area.  I had so much fun.  We had some good laughs that I REALLY needed.  Send your good vibes to M, she's on her first round of IVF and has a retrieval up and coming!

Now, the not so good stuff.  The in-laws.  Yes we told them, yes they were excited, it was lovely, then all hell broke loose.

See, they live on the other side of the country.  This was their choice.  They moved not long after J finished college.  What's even worse is that despite having lived in the US for 35 years, they speak very little English.  It was full on Korean culture shock this weekend and I could NOT handle it.

The language barrier is huge.  J makes a point of only responding to them in English 1) in hopes of encouraging them to use it more and 2) so that I can at least get the gist of what people are talking about.  It would be exhausting for him to translate the whole time and I don't expect him to.  Let me tell you how much fun 4 days zero English being spoken in your own home is.  So I appreciate the effort he does make.  It doesn't really matter, though, because they keep talking in Korean and he keeps talking in English.  When they do talk to me, it's really basic.  We can't have a real conversation.

Culturally, we are not on the same page.  I am an extremely independent person.  My mother will be the first to tell you that I did not get to where I am in life with any help.  Interestingly, neither did my husband, so I can't figure out how they are they way they are.  As soon as we told them about Chipmunk, it was like I was totally incapable of functioning.  My MIL was taking broccoli from my hands when I tried to carry the bowl to the table.  She wouldn't pass me the vegetables at the table unless someone else carried it to me.  My MIL and FIL said that they didn't want me to go on the road trip to the family wedding that weekend.  It was 6 freakin hours and it was an opportunity to see my brother.  I was going dang it.  Then in the car, she kept talking for me.  "Lisa hot.  She have coat on."  Umm, if I were hot I would take my coat off and I would turn the heat down.  When J was holding on to my shoulder to stretch, she said, "Stop!  She no like that."  What the hell?!?!  When did I say I had a problem with my husband using me to balance?  She bought us some weird genetically modified cucumbers because she doesn't think I should eat cucumber seeds.  My FIL expressed his opinion that I should stay home and not work.  When we said that wasn't an option he said, "Maybe I retire.  Take care of baby."

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!!

Thankfully, J put the kibosh on that one.

I know they mean well, and that in their culture wives don't generally speak for themselves.  They need to realize that despite their hopes, J married a white girl.  A very independent, liberal, mid-western, feminist, white girl with a doctorate and an opinion or two.

At the wedding, I talked with his aunts and uncles.  In English.  They all speak English.  It was lovely.  They remembered that my bother lived in the area.  They asked how my mom was.  I learned about his aunt's nursing career and how much she misses it.  I felt like I was getting to know these people and that's when it hit me.  The biggest issue with the language barrier is that my in-laws and I can't forge a relationship.  I worry that the same will happen with our child.  Their grandchild.  I know a lot about language acquisition and that it will be pretty much impossible for us to have a fully bilingual child with only one of us being bilingual.  Even then, J isn't really fluent anymore.  I would say that Skype and things like that would help, but they can't even get in a hotel room door.  Technology is not their friend.

I learned so much this weekend about what J's upbringing was like and it broke my heart.  What teenager has to talk to the landlord when his parents can't pay rent or help them figure out their bankruptcy legal woes?

I know this culture clash is only going to get worse and I don't know what to do about it.  Learning Korean is not a reasonable expectation and it doesn't solve everything anyway.  It's probably too late for them to really improve their English.  I guess we'll continue to flounder through the language wall as best as we can and I'll just have to show them that I wear big girl pants and can handle broccoli transport all on my own.

I won't tolerate listening to her call my brother-in-law "fat boy" for a whole weekend again.  That's just straight up mean.  And they wonder why he has no goals or expectations for himself.  Geez.

Happy Dance!

Quick update because my in-laws are in town. We have a heartbeat! The chipmunk is measuring 6 weeks 3 days (a day ahead!) And everything looks great! We're so relieved.
I have so much to write about. I'll fill you all in after my weekend of kimchi.
You guys are the best!

The CMV Part of the Equation

Several months ago I wrote a post about Cytomegalovirus(CMV).  Long story short, it’s a minor virus, but if you contract it for the first time during pregnancy, if can have anywhere from zero to severe implications for your child.  Before we started trying for a baby, I tested negative, meaning I’d never had it.  It was important to me to get tested because I work with children who have congenital CMV every day and many of them are still actively shedding the virus.  I was tested because I thought I’d test positive and then there would be nothing to worry about.  Turns out, I was CMV negative.

As soon as I got my beta results, I asked my RE about it.  He wanted to test me again since it had been a couple of years.  Hopefully just the right kid had sneezed on me and I could go about my merry way.  Sadly, I’m still negative.  I have to stop seeing all of my congenital CMV little ones.

What’s scary is that we don’t always know which kids have the virus when we first see them.  We test their blood spot cards from birth and it often takes about 6 months to get those results.  Plus we know that it’s likely that the congenital CMV kids are shedding the virus, but any kid could walk it with it at any time.  So really, avoiding the kids we know about is just a band-aid on a gaping wound, but it’s better than nothing.

So it means my boss and all of my immediate coworkers know because they have to pick up the slack.  I’m fine with that.  After all, they’ve been there through every transfer and every beta.  What I’m not fine with is the message it’s sending to the families I work with.

Of course we aren't going to come out and say, "Lisa can no longer see your child because of the possibility of contracting CMV," but they’re going to figure it out.  I see these kids several times a year, and all the sudden they’re going to be seeing another clinician for no apparent reason.  They’ll see a growing belly on me in the hallway and it will sink in.  I feel like I’m sending a message that says, “You could’ve avoided your child’s deafness.”  Not only do I not believe that, I don’t want to make anyone feel that way.

It’s just yucky.  Unavoidable, but yucky.

A Hot Mess

February 28th is entirely too far away.

I really wish I had some morning sickness or something to hang my hat on.  My boobs are a little sore and I'm kind of tired.  That's it.

I know I should just be "enjoying every moment," but after 3 failed IUIs and 3 failed transfers I'm having a hard time believing that everything is going just hunky dory in my ute.

I know that there is nothing I can do to avoid the worst case scenario, but I'm not a patient person.

I had a dream last night that we went in for our ultrasound, there was no heartbeat, and our RE just handed us a calendar for a fresh cycle like it was no big deal.  We told him we weren't going to do another cycle and he just kept saying, "But we know we can get you pregnant now.  You just have to keep trying."  J and I kept saying, "We're done trying!  We told you that!" He kept shoving the paper in my face and wouldn't let me cry.

This morning I started crying to J that if God let us get this far only to miscarry on our last attempt, I would never forgive Him.  Then I started crying even harder because I was sure that thinking those thoughts would mean that I would for sure miscarry as punishment.

I found a stash of internet cheapies and I used one today just to make sure the line wasn't light.  I'm pretty sure I would get no info from an HPT at this point, but I did it anyway.  It was as dark as the control line, but I'm still not feeling reassured.

I know, I know.  First world problems, worlds smallest violin, and all that jazz.

Whine, moan, cry, repeat

We Have Doublage!

342!!!!

Thanks and Recap

The Chipmunks

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the prayers and well wishes. I honestly believe that we would not have gotten this far without all of your good vibes out there in the universe. Keep ‘em comin! This beta crap makes me a hot mess.

So since I’ve been MIA, I thought I should update you on how retrieval and transfer went, especially since it was not as expected!

Just to recap, I was doing a three month treatment of Lupron Depot that started in November. Midway through January, I started stimming. So I didn’t use any antagon or additional Lupron, we just let the Depot shot do it’s long acting thing to keep me suppressed. I have not had a period since early November (that’s gunna be fun to explain to an OB… if we get that far).

Things were going great as usual for the stim portion of the IVF entertainment. In fact, I thought things were going better than usual. My estradiol was rising smoothly and we didn’t even have to make changes to my meds. My follies were growing nicely and at a similar rate. I’m not sure how many I had on trigger day, but I know it was enough that they only measured the larger ones. All was well. I was very hopeful.

On the morning of retrieval, I was pretty anxious. I remember portions of my other retrievals. I remember the pain, I remember begging for more meds, I remember being really cold. I was not looking forward to going through that again. Man, this nurse anesthetist was my best friggin’ friend. It was an entirely different cocktail (Yay Propofol!) and I don’t remember a damn thing. I was quite entertaining afterwards too. I’d like to think that I helped calm the nerves of the poor girl set to go after me, but I’m not entirely sure I’m right in that assumption. J I kept loudly proclaiming that the nurse anesthetist was my hero. He was though, seriously.

It took forever for them to come back with an egg count. One of the other docs in the practice even came down to wait for it because he was sure it was going to “at least be in the teens.” He looked disappointed when the lab finally came back with 12. I was totally cool with 12. It’s not like 26 got me anywhere! Quality over quantity! Yay for 12!

I was honestly not that worried about the fertilization report. Since we’ve added ICSI to the mix, things have been better. Not the upwards of 70% it should be, but way better than the 19% we got without it. Most of my eggs are always mature… I was figuring we’d end up with 6 embies and that sounded like a great number. So when she said we only had 3, I was taken aback. Only 6 were mature and only 3 fertilized… with ICSI. As usual, there was no reason why. It just was. We were scheduled for a 3 day transfer and I was petrified that we wouldn’ t have anything to transfer. I was having flashbacks to our first cycle.

But we did have something to transfer! In fact, all three stuck around. We went ahead and transferred all three. A 6 cell, a 7 cell, and an 8 cell. They looked pretty darned good. J dubbed them Alvin, Simon, and Theodore. Transfer went smoothly and my RE was hopeful that one or two of our chipmunks would decide to stick around.

The bloat came back with force on Saturday. Even J said, “I’m afraid you’re going to take this the wrong way, but you look much bigger than you ever have.” Sweet, honey. Thanks. I started having some sharp pains when sneezing or rolling over in bed. I let the little thought creep in that maybe, just maybe, our last round finally worked.

I caved and POAS on Monday. It was positive. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t a squinter either. I dragged J out of bed (I swear he thought there was a fire or something) and we proceeded to fall into complete hysterics. I tested again the morning of my beta to make sure it was darker and it was. Beta #1 was 162 and beta #2 is tomorrow.

I’m feeling so many crazy things right now that I can’t even put them into words. Happiness, shock, anxiety, fear, gratefulness, guilt… That about covers it.

Again, I can’t thank y’all enough for your awesomeness. I hate being in this club, but thank God for the wonderful women in it.

And Aly – I hope your screen recovered.