Alright, I caved.

Someone stopped me at daycare this morning and asked me about my IF journey. I've never been very secretive about it, so someone had told her what I'd shared with them and I'm glad they did. She's been through a few IVFs, and is in a support group of locals also going through IF and apparently I'm the first one they've ever met who's ever been successful via IVF. She threw something out there about maybe me speaking at a meeting or something (it actually should be my ovaries taking the credit) and it made me think about my old IF blog and my old blogger community.

Max is 14 months old now and I still feel like I'm just trying to survive on a day to day basis. I haven't had the luxury of lurking on IF blogs but I'm dipping my toe back in the water again. Apparently I can't quite give this blog up. It's too sentimental to me. It's too much a guilty pleasure to read back through and remember all that I've already forgotten (mostly the pain and worry).

I'm not sure anyone out there is still listening, but I'm whispering in case you are...

checking in with the Universe

So I'm thinking about deleting this blog and bidding it adieu. Is that horrible?

I just can't think of anything to write. Things are going well. I have no angst. No unresolved wishes (besides to lose this stupid 10 pounds). No need to yell at the universe or ask for support. And isn't that what blogging is about? (Unless you're particularly witty and people like to read your random musings about life in general, which I am not).

Max is doing well. Growing like a week - almost double his birth weight at 2 1/2 months (yay for mommy milk and a 2nd time more confident mommy). Danny is doing great, loves being a big brother, and besides the whining, a fantastic kid. Husband is doing well - no fighting for over 6 months now. Doesn't talk as much as I'd like him to and still has some other bad habits, but I guess I'm not perfect either.

We're done with the kids thing, having won the jackpot twice now (hopefully Max will not develop anything dire). I go back to work in 2 weeks and hopefully will not be laid off anytime soon.

There's just nothing to say. I'm open to being facebook friends if you like - just reply with your email and we'll "talk." I've gotten some great support from you all and I appreciate it more than you will ever know. I just feel like I'm at the end of having anything good to say. Some people just stop posting forever and leave us wondering (Kat? you still out there?), but I thought I'd run it by the Universe first before I did anything.

Anyone still listening out there?

schedule

Still alive here. And no longer thinking frantic thoughts about wishing Max back into my womb.

So far the taking it one day at a time thing is working out okay. And being able to take Danny to daycare 5 days out of the week is a godsend. We've settled into a sort of a routine. Mornings Max nurses, Danny and I watch TV and I shuffle him off to daycare. I chat with the daycare director for a few minutes (pretty much my sole human contact for the day), then head home to nurse again and nap off and on again until lunchtime. At which point I try to do a chore or two, or get a quick workout in (nothing crazy, just riding the bike or walking or lifting some light weights). Then shower, pick Danny up and try not to lose my mind between 6 and 9 pm. That time period is when both kids are traditionally crying. Danny goes to bed around 7:30 or 8, and then only Max is crying until he goes to sleep around 9. Then I pop my Ambien and pray for more than 2 hours of sleep in a row.

Fun times, huh?

It's not too bad, though, and for the most part Max is a good baby. He doesn't seem to have the reflux that made early days with Danny pure torture, so that in itself is a blessing. So I've substituted worrying about a kid with worrying about my body image. The mirror is not kind these days, although I've already lost 23 of the 40 pounds I gained while pregnant. Mostly I just try not to look in the mirror and try to concentrate on the one day at a time thing. It'll come off. And Max will sleep more than 2 hours in a row one day. And one day there will be relative peace in my house again.

Max

So.... Max is here!







It's been a bit hectic since he arrived, so sorry for not updating sooner. I went in for a routine check up Friday, April 2 (38 weeks that day) and ended up having a baby. My blood pressure was way up, so they induced me and it went relatively easily. Everything worked out as far as childcare, Danny did okay with the help of neighbors and Uncle Chris, and we're currently settling into our new lives together.

It was a bit hairy at first, since apparently my body decided to play some tricks on me. I hadn't been sleeping well for at least a month before Max was born - couldn't seem to fall asleep, couldn't seem to stay asleep, and I just chalked it up to pregnancy discomfort. But it continued once he was born, and my OB ended up putting me on Ambien in the hospital. That, along with mega doses of ibuprofin and percoset, as I had a headache that just wouldn't leave. Today is actually the first day that I haven't had to take the ibuprofin, and it's amazing how nice life is without a constant headache. I've been taking the Ambien pretty much since I left the hospital, with the exception of 2 days that I was at home and tried to see if I could sleep without it. I broke down last Tuesday and called my OB's office to ask if the headache and insomnia were normal, so they had me come in to check my blood pressure (apparently they're not), and I left with a prescription for more drugs. Along with the fears, planted by my OB, that somehow my postpartum hormones had kicked up some sort of bipolar thing. My mom has bipolar, and it is pretty much the biggest fear of my life that I end up like her, so I drove home from that appointment crying and very scared. Husband and I talked about it, though, (as much as he and I do talk about things, him not being much of a talker) and he seems to feel that I seem fine and he's not worried about me having a psychotic break anytime soon. And for the most part, emotionally, I do feel fine. Not especially sad, or anxious, or moody, just tired. I go back in tomorrow to see my OB again, so we'll see what she says.

I'm trying to do a lot of things differently this go round than I did with Danny. I'm making the effort to eat right, drink lots of water, I'm making myself take showers and take care of myself, I've started exercising again, and I make myself get out of the house. I'm also trying very hard to just take it one day at a time so that I don't get overwhelmed. The thought of taking care of two kids on my own pretty much scares the crap out of me, and when I allow myself the luxury of contemplating the possible realities of this situation, I freak out a little bit. I know that I wanted desperately to have two, but there are moments when I wonder what I was thinking. I love Max and I'm very grateful that he's here, and am very grateful that so far he's been very sleepy and accommodating and easy, but if he's even the slightest bit as difficult as Danny was in the beginning, I'm toast.

So pretty much I take it day by day. In the mornings I just have to hold it together long enough to take Danny to school. Then I just have to get through the day until it's time to pick Danny up. Then I just have to get through until he goes to bed. And then until I go to bed.

Tonight will be the first night that Husband hasn't been home, but so far the Ambien hasn't done anything to keep me from waking up when I need to. It helps me fall asleep and that's about it. I actually wake up on my own for the night feedings - I think my sense are super alert for the slightest whimper (Max has this whimper he does - kind of like a "5 minute warning" before he starts yelling that he's hungry) and I end up waking up before him.

But what a horrible thought. I feel very guilty to even think it when I wanted so much to have another child, and was so incredibly blessed to have this miracle happen. But it was so easy with just one...

urgh

Still here. As pregnant as I have ever been.

A number of adjectives could accurately describe me at this point.

Lumbering.

Haggard.

Awkward.

Ungainly.

Huge.

Overflowing.

And I don't mean to complain. I don't want to complain. I want to revel in every ounce of discomfort because this is such a freaking miracle. This little boy inside of me. This stubborn little guy who so wanted to be here that he crawled into my bitter uterus and hung on. Who fails NST's every single week just so that he can run up my insurance and flirt with the u/s techs either downstairs or at the hospital. (By the way, I think they're on to me. I don't actually fail the NST's, I just go to the hospital so that I can watch "The Real Housewives" with the antepartum nurses).

And I don't want it to be over. I am truly afraid of the sleep deprivation and crying (mine and his) to come all too soon.

But here come more adjectives...

Cumbersome

Enormous

Even my boobs have grown in the past few weeks(even more than they already had). I've all the sudden developed old lady boobs. And the baby has dropped, causing all of my pants to suddenly be low-riders, quite scary for anyone behind me when I have to squat down or bend over. I haven't looked at my rear lately, but it was quite frightening last time I glimpsed it accidentally, and I've elected to not go there again. So while I can now breathe (as baby is not nestled in between my lungs), I can now no longer walk. It has helped me to prioritize at work, consolidating all of my tasks so that I walk down the hallway as little as possible, but the incessant peeing counteracts all of the prioritizing. There are the moments of profound discomfort while walking that have led to the mental image I have of the baby, nestled in between my pubic bones, with a little sharpened spoon, jabbing away, trying to tunnel his way out. And there's the end of the day, when I lay on the bed, and feel all of the aches and protests from my body, tired from carrying all this weight around all day.

But you know what? I'm as happy as I have ever been. I've got what I wanted. Husband and I are doing really well, working as partners, getting along, flirting. And Danny is just a joy. And we're having another one. Our family will be complete. I'm as happy as I've ever been.

34 w 5 d

Another day, another visit to the hospital.

There's been a lot of that lately. So far in the past month I've had two trips to the hospital (Labor & Delivery), 6 non stress tests, 4 biophysical profiles, and I'm getting ready to start my 2nd 24 hour urine test.

The Braxton Hicks contractions started about a month ago. All day. Every day. No big deal as I'm not dilated yet and they're basically just a (slightly painful) exercise in futility for my uterus. Nothing really impacts them - moving, not moving, laying on my left side, laying on my right side, drinking water.

Peanut's fun and games with the fetal monitor started about a month ago. Eerily remiscent of Danny's fun and games with the fetal monitor. I'm not sure how many trips to L&D I made when pregnant with him, but I'm thinking that Baby Brother is giving him a strong run for the money. See, OB visits these days pretty much consist of me getting hooked up to the fetal monitor and Peanut deciding that it's a lovely time to play possum. Apparently within a 20 minute time frame his heart rate is supposed to fluctuate approximately 20 bpm 4 times. Which he doesn't like to do on command. It's only after the hour drive to the hospital that he perks up. Today at least I was calm. Last time I was a little freaked out, wondering about who was going to pick Danny up from school, where was my husband (stuck in a work meeting while his phone was in his car), etc. Little things like that.

Today's visit had extra added fun. Not only was my blood pressure high, but Peanut was non-reactive, my fundal measurement was a little behind where I should be, and I've been feeling really ill and especially exhausted lately. Plus the really impressive swelling in my feet and hands (and forearms). This weekend I decided (in my psychosomatic way of being) that I may have HELLP syndrome, but bloodwork and everything today I guess ruled all of that out. My trip to L&D basically ruled everything out - the u/s was good, Peanut is measuring on track, he was reactive, and I only have a trace amount of protein in my urine. And I got a free lunch. And another bucket to pee in for 24 hours before I go back for another NST on Friday.

I really appreciate how cautious my doctors are being with me. They're very concerned about my risk of getting pre-eclampsia again and I feel like I'm in good hands. But it's a little mentally exhausting, wondering after every OB visit if I'm going to get to go back to work or if we're going to have to amp up our angst about choosing a name for this little bugger.

So I've been a little quiet lately. I haven't wanted to complain as I have a little survivor's guilt at being fortunate enough to be pregnant again, when I know others are still out there struggling.

besides the crushing fatigue, pregnancy is great

I hate it when people preface a post with "this is just a quick check in" and yet I keep doing exactly that.

If I had any brain function at night it would be easier, but I'm pretty much exhausted at this point every night. Lugging around an extra 20+ pounds each day, combined with sleep deprivation, combined with a 34 lb wiggly needy toddler who likes to be held a lot and has days where he changes personalities every 90 seconds... oh yeah, and working and being a single parent during the week, well, you get the picture.

The pregnancy is going by at lightning speed. I'm at the cusp of 29 weeks, 6 weeks behind where Danny was born, and I'm in some serious denial here. I'm just getting used to being pregnant. I'm not at all ready for an actual live baby and all the adjustments and other stuff that I'll have to figure out once he actually arrives. But this creature in my belly keeps poking me and reminding me that I'm going to have to figure out logistics at some point.