if you want to be mad at me, feel free to read

So I guess I should just basically shut up. Even if I'm just talking about myself, I somehow manage to offend people. The pain Olympics continue on all fronts, I suppose. If I've made strides myself, that reminds others that they haven't or aren't where they want to be. Or whatever. I don't recall saying I was perfect, especially since I'm the one who was in a bad mood for three days when Nicole Ritchie got pregnant. Again.

Oh well. Pain Olympics is such an adequate term. And if you tune in right now, you can catch them on most local stations.

On IF boards. In IF'ers lives. In my household.

Husband and I are in yet another stupid fight about who does more around the house. Apparently I do absolutely nothing but breathe and take up space. The combination of that plus pregnancy hormones has me just wanting to punch someone. Or yell at the top of my lungs. Or maybe just collapse in a lump of snotty tears and curl up into a ball until I completely disappear.

So I've probably offended again and I honestly am okay with that. Apparently I can't please anyone right now.

crossing over

Still here. Hanging out. I broke down and bought a home doppler thingie and got to hear the heartbeat last week. Husband listened in Sunday night and it was "a moment." Pretty cool.

Feeling McRegret right now as I mistakenly read the side of my Quarter pounder tonight. Didn't stop me from eating all of it, and my fries. And Danny's 4 chicken nuggets that he didn't want. Need. McIntervention. Stat. Feeling McFat and McGrumpy.

So anyway, I hang out on this lovely infertility support site (not happy happy babydust land of FF, but the other one). Mostly I lurk, as I'm not sure where I fit in. There's a lot of hullabaloo over there about who counts as an IF "vet", if you're still a vet once you've "passed over" (their phrase, not mine), whether you should be allowed to speak to someone who hasn't "passed over" yet or not. There is lots of discussion about the bitterness, those who they mock or dismiss. You're dismissed if you've been lucky enough to have a child, because clearly there's no way you remember what it was like before you had your child, and while you're not quite the enemy, you're definitely sitting in the same section as the enemy now. The enemy being the "FERTILES." Because if you conceived on your own, you never have any issues in pregnancy, IF ladies are the only ones who have complications, IVF pregnancies are the only ones who have unexplained bleeding, FERTILES don't ever have these issues. (Gee, do you think that IF ladies maybe have more issues because there are some physical issues that led to the IF, that possibly could contribute to pregnancy complications? duh) I was moved to comment on a discussion about yoga with THE FERTILES. As in, oh my, how on earth could we practice prenatal yoga in the same room as people who couldn't possibly have ever been through something as debilitating as infertility, they'll be all cheerful and happy because they haven't suffered infertility, because I have the magical ability to detect whether someone went through ART or not, and I'm determined to hang on to my INFERTILE status for the rest of my life regardless of whether I've conceived or not, and hey, let me just ignore the fact that I'll be dismissed by my bitter brethren as soon as I give birth because I can't possibly understand. (okay, holy run on sentence there, sorry) I commented that in response to the original question, I'd taken prenatal yoga with my son, found it helpful, enjoyed it, recommend it, never felt different from any other pregnant ladies in the class. My comment was ignored in favor of scathing comments about happy happy joy joy FERTILES and how annoying it would likely be to take a class with them. I feel invisible amongst those ladies, but oh well. Not sure that's a club I want to be a member of.

I probably am not allowed to comment, but I'm just sick of this attitude. Yes I was bitter and jealous and desolate in the time period before I conceived Danny, but I also recognized that my fertility was just one part of who I was. I was not tempted to make it my identity. Or, well, maybe not my entire identity. At least not that I remember. Although, you know, I do have a kid now, so I can't possibly remember clearly. The yoga class thing just has really set me off. While I was an anxious neurotic mess while pregnant, it was because I was afraid something would happen to Danny and I'd lose him. Being pregnant was something I was incredibly grateful for. I felt like I'd joined a club I'd been wanting to join for a long time. And like I really belonged there, because damnit, I'd worked hard to get there. I don't remember (because I have a kid now, and that has caused amnesia) ever feeling a division between me and other people who were pregnant. Who was I to assume that they didn't have difficulties too?

And when I was moaning about all my difficulties getting pregnant again this time, my sister in law got pregnant. I was bitter. Boy was I bitter. Everything happens so easily for Husband's family, for Husband. I was the screw up, the only one who struggled. I was jealous and bitter. And then she got breast cancer. And I felt like I'd been kicked in the head for my selfishness. As if my negativity has somehow caused this very bad thing to happen to her. I was pretty sure that she'd have given anything to trade places with me, to be cancer free, to not be worrying that she was going to die and never see her second child.

And that pretty much cured me of my bitterness. I decided that everyone has something that they struggle with, and while I mourned with each RE that told me I'd never have another child, at least I didn't have breast cancer. Suddenly I felt lucky.

So now, no, I can't relate to these vets. I want to yell at them and tell them to get over themselves. But I can't, because my opinions don't count. I've crossed over to the other side.

attitude at 11 weeks

Sorry I've been quiet again. Apparently I've been too busy eating everything not nailed down in my household, along with visiting all of the local fast food restaurants. It seems that Baby likes cheeseburgers. Frequently. And I've been absolutely insatiable. It's really ticking me off because usually I get an intense craving for something that isn't in the house at the moment (like a fast food cheeseburger) and then I end up eating other stuff which doesn't satisfy me. I actually had an intensely erotic dream last night about a divine buffet.

But anyway, I had my first OB visit today and it went quite well. I was quite a bit nervous about it, which I didn't realize until I'd gotten back to work and was exhausted and drained. But the little peanut was there still, heart still beating, although he was taking a nap. He woke up ever so briefly and twitched a few times and then curled back up and ignored us. I could see my finger poking his nest on the ultrasound but he resolutely ignored me. Oh, so it's going to be like that? It's starting already?

Meanwhile I've pulled some maternity clothes out of the closet. And yes, my memory was correct. They are just as ugly as they were when I wore them the first time.

So I'm trudging along. Still feeling like I'm not really pregnant, I'm faking it, this is all a dream.

be vewy quwiet...

So I've been very quiet lately, tiptoeing and trying not to wake The Beast.

We've been back in for two more ultrasounds, and last week I was officially released to my OB, who I see next week. RE has been increasingly pleased each week with my bloodwork and how the little peanut is growing and as he termed it, I'm as "out of the woods" as I can be, without actually being "out of the woods." The baby was measuring almost a week ahead (being on steroids can do that) and the placenta seemed a good size, and the heartbeat was continuing to increase, so everything looked good.

Which means that I should be feeling pretty good around now.

But no. Hence the tiptoeing. Because if I relax and start feeling optimistic, then something bad will happen, right?

RE says that if there were chromosome issues, the baby would most likely have passed by now. And that everything about my uterus looks good. But we all know that doesn't matter. The baby's heart could stop anyway.

So, shhh.... I'll continue tiptoeing until next Thursday, if you don't mind. At that point I'll be 10 1/2 weeks and almost out of the very critical period.

Shhhhh.

121 bpm

Well, that was pretty much one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. It's been roughly 2 1/2 years since I heard that glorious sound coming from within me, and it's just as nice now as then.

Husband and I arrived separately this morning (he came from work) and sat quietly on the couch as we waited. Mercifully he hasn't thrown anything at my head in the past 2 weeks (and I haven't thrown anything at his) as I've grown progressively irritable and evil, I suppose from anxiety. I remember being this evil at this stage in my pregnancy with Danny and it hasn't gotten any better. It's taken all the willpower I have to bite my tongue repeatedly at all the perceived wrongs and slights experienced lately, to remind myself that I'm merely a wee bit cranky and that maybe the other person doesn't deserve to die. Even Husband's breathing lately has bothered me.

He still sucks a lot of the time but is much better in a lot of ways. Stirrups, for example. I think childbirth robbed him of his last bits of fear of them as he had no problems being in the same room as me in them (versus ultrasound #1 with Danny where he sat in a chair far far far away - practically in the next room). Both he and the RE saw the little peanut before me but we all heard it at the same time. RE said "and that's a good strong heartbeat!" and it went from there. And I cried a little bit.

With RE #1 with Danny, he noted the heartbeat, pointed out the blob that was Danny, fiddled with the machine a little bit and that was it. Today we looked at the blob, tracked the heartbeat, looked at the placenta, the lining, the yolk sak, the blood flow of something, and probably a few more things. Mostly I was looking at the ultrasound screen and crying. Husband, with his usual unflappability, almost even smiled.

After I was allowed to disconnect from the ultrasound machine, we all convened in RE's office. Reviewed the plan and his findings. Discussed probabilities and my lab results so far. Basically my lab work looks great, the peanut and his room look great, and the only teeny tiny imperfection so far is that the placenta is measuring 2 or 3 days behind the peanut, but RE says he's not concerned about that at all. Of course, now that he mentions is, I'm concerned about it, but not too much. He says it's only a problem if the peanut continues to grow and the placenta doesn't, which would be bad. But with the protocol that I'm on right now, and how good things look inside, he basically thinks chances of this being a successful pregnancy are in the 90+%. Essentially if the baby doesn't survive, it's because of a genetic or chromosomal abnormality. And he said that babies on his protocol with this issue usually make it a bit longer than those not on it, but that Nature ends up taking care of them either way, which is a blessing.

Husband and I spoke briefly after the appointment, before we went our separate ways. We agreed. It just doesn't feel real yet. It doesn't feel real at all, actually.

I was settling into my role as the bitter barren.

I don't understand how I even had an inkling that I was going to ovulate. I don't understand how I took a few random inocuous symptoms and took the leap to taking a pregnancy test. It's not like I believed I was actually going to ovulate. I'm not even sure the OPK was positive, since I've never even seen a positive one (of my own). It's not like we timed intercourse. He just happened to be home and feeling friendly. I didn't limit exercise and even went running Saturday and Sunday in the 95 degree weather right before I got the first positive pregnancy test.

I've got this tiny living being inside of me, with a teeny tiny heart beat and a teeny tiny body and apparently a really big spirit. This little being apparently really wanted to be created and has worked his way inside my broken and barren body and it's just amazing.

So anyway, I go back next week for another ultrasound and more bloodwork to see how things are going.

****

Just as I was clicking "publish" Husband called. He says that the peanut looked like a boy to him. Considering that all we saw was a teeny tiny little blob and a pulsating little dot of a heart, I'm quite impressed with Husband's ability to discern the genitalia.

argh!

So can I just say that I am going nuts? In 23 hours, give or take a half hour, I'll know. In 24 hours I'll either be hiding underneath a table, sobbing, at my RE's office (scaring the other patients) or I'll be skipping through the halls.

I really really know that I really really need to stop, but I took a few more pregnancy tets. I'd managed to take about a week off from them, but caved and bought some at the grocery store yesterday. They're not quite as dark as the others have been, so naturally I've decided that the baby has died. And that I'm okay with it, since a baby dying this early on means that something seriously was wrong with it, and I'd hate to have a baby suffer with something terminal or untreatable or miserable and have to be born to my dysfunctional self. And of course I'm lying with that. Not only do I not want my baby to die, but I don't want it to be sick and die, be sick, or die, in any combination of those words.

And I certainly feel pregnant, which would be the sickest joke of all if indeed the baby has died. I am peeing all the time, I feel slightly ill from about 11 am until bedtime (but thankfully no throwing up), and the girls feel like they weigh about 25 pounds each. Walking quickly is no longer even an option because OW.

I just looked back at my original post where I found out I was even pregnant, and I'm still amazed. I'm still not sure how this happened.

Please baby, can you be okay? If I had another good luck email to forward, that would be nice. That was the last thing I did before I took the original HPT and it sure worked out nicely then.

boys are weird

 

My beautiful boy and his daddy. Checking out a frog. Boys are so weird. :)


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On an unrelated note, I've been thoughtfully doing science experiments the past week or so. Apparently if you continue taking home pregnancy tests when you're already confirmed pregnant, the line on the left gets progressively darker until it essentially leaches all the color out of the control line on the right. So it's as if the HPT is yelling at you that yes, you're PREGNANT. STOP TAKING HPT'S ALREADY.

I've gone in for more bloodwork the past few days and so far my progesterone levels have dropped a little more and estrogen is holding steady. Progesterone as of today is 34, which I believe is quite okay. My other numbers have gone down so I'm now officially cleared to start Heparin injections on Wednesday (when the pharmacy will have it in). So that's Heparin injections twice a day, HCG injections Wednesdays and Saturdays, baby aspirin every night, Metnx, Fortamet, Dexamethasone and Ultracal Night (magnesium). Oh, and progesterone suppositories nightly, and estrogen patches every other day.

I almost had the American dream - getting pregnant without needles. I got pregnant that way, but clearly did not fully escape the fun. Oh well. Doesn't everyone have their own sharps box in their living room? Just seven more days till we know if it's all been effective...