Surreal Moments

Since discovering I was pregnant, there have been a few moments that have been quite surreal. (Not to mention that first HPT). Some of them "big" moments, and some that would be otherwise ordinary or meaningless. Like the other day, I was on the phone with Mister. His company is changing health insurance plans/options (again) in January, and we had to pick our plan for enrollment. We were looking through the three or four plan choices (all with the same mega company) and were settling on one. Then it came up that I had better check with XYZ Hospital to make sure they were a preferred provider with that particular plan. Because that is where Dr. Wunnerful is affiliated, and therefore where I plan to give birth. Give. Birth. I had to stop and say to Mister, "I can't believe we're even having this discussion."

This time last year we were looking at health plan options and trying to see which one had the best (or any) infertility coverage.

Our new plan has NO coverage for infertility, incidentally... of course I had to look, because, you know, I was curious. I pray to God I DO give birth at XYZ Hospital, at the appropriate time, that all is well, and I'll not ever have to worry about Infertility benefits again.

As Seen at the Check Out Stand

So I was waiting in line at Who.le Foo.ds yesterday, and perusing the magazines at the check stand. My eye settled on an issue of The Ec.onomist which had an image of a baby falling through the sky. The headline read: Falling Fertility. The sub-line read: How the Population Problem Is Taking Care of Itself.

I clutched my stomach and suppressed an outburst. All I could think was, "How dare they! How insensitive! How cruel!" I felt somehow personally attacked.

What if the headline had read, "Increase in Cancer--How the Population Problem is Taking Care of Itself"? What would happen then?

Sure, maybe I'm overreacting. Infertility won't kill you. But it sure as hell can destroy your life: Wreck your marriage, damage your friendships, kill your bank account, blast your self-esteem. Make you question your faith, relationships, your entire existence. Not to mention wreak havoc on your body should you choose to pursue fertility treatment. Those struggling with Infertility almost assuredly also struggle with depression, stress, anxiety. Just like cancer, or any other major illness--Infertility is a life-altering experience.

It's not funny. Cute floating baby or no.

I'm just sayin'.

What do you think?

Infertility 'Survivor' Guilt, Part One

I don't have a lot of friends in Real Life who have dealt with infertility issues. But there are a couple. I do, of course, have a lot of 'friends' on the internet who most definitely have, and are, struggling with infertility, loss(es), waiting to adopt, considering child-free living...you name it. And here I am. One absolutely, positively miracle-fast, constructed-right-in-heaven adoption under my belt, and now, pregnant. With, what we might call here in our little Infertility realm, 'a Freebie', no less.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't waste a whole lot of time feeling guilty. After all, I've been pretty much posting pregnancy updates on my INFERTILITY blog, with relish and abandon. (However, I promise all of you out there, that I will never, never put one of those creepy floating fetus calendar thingies on my blog. Uh-uh. No offense to those of you that have them, but as a person who has been pining for pregnancy for over 5 years, that was always one of the hardest things for me to look at. As happy as I might be for my fellow IF bloggers who achieved pregnancy, the floating fetus just made me have to look away. But that's just me.)

But as usual, I digress.

I have a IF 'friend' who became pregnant from an IVF cycle right around the same time as I discovered I was pregnant. Only to miscarry at 8 weeks. Crushing. Another 'friend' on my High FSH support board was due the same exact day as me, and sadly, lost the baby at 12 weeks.

And here I sit. Pregnant. (Though you wouldn't know it by looking at me). Not that I am saying I feel guilty enough to trade it all in. Nooooo. I feel totally justified and smug, after 5 + years to be pregnant. I feel like sending a big "F-You" letter to that first RE that told me I'd never be pregnant (without DE). But, I do feel bad for others' pain, and sometimes feel like just me sitting here being pregnant is somehow smashing it in their faces. It's not, I know. It just Is. I know from being NOT pregnant for so long that other IFers getting pregnant is the least of the problem. Every time you step out your door there's a pregnant woman walking by. Or a whole group of them. Or it's your sister, your younger cousin, your sister in law, or all of them at once announcing they're pregnant. They're everywhere. If it's going to happen for someone else, it might as well be for a fellow IFer. But still...

In a way the thing I feel guilty about is that when I watched these other ladies' dreams unravel in miscarriage, the first thought was, "Oh no! It could happen to me! They are at the same stage in their pregnancy as me, what if it happens to me! What if I miscarry again, too?!" I was so convinced, for those first 10 weeks or so that this stroke of luck I was having was just too good to be true, that the other shoe must drop sooner or later, that I truly was not enjoying being pregnant. I worried at every moment that something would go wrong. I fretted. I stressed. I drove my husband (and probably Dr. Wunnerful) crazy a bit. And when I witnessed others' losses, my heart went out to them, I cried for them, but truly, I panicked for myself as well.

But I just couldn't believe my friends, family (and doctor) when they told me, repeatedly, everything is going fine. Relax, everything is going to BE just fine. Or, at the very least, "there's nothing you can do now to make it happen or not happen. So just relax."

Relax? Bah.

But then, lately, it's changed. After I ran in for an 'emergency' ultrasound in my 10th week because I wasn't having any pregnancy symptoms and I was feeling crampy (and that is just another reason why I love Dr. Wunnerful--he humors me with these things) only to see that little squirrel in there doing somersaults (really--spinning around like crazy. Eee gads. Might I have another hyper boy on my hands?) I just decided to give in and relax. It really is going to be ok. I really. am. pregnant. And, yes, bad shit could still happen. But I choose to believe that it won't. Because, when I thought about it more, I realized something. I have been living under this cloud of suspicion for so long that God or the Universe or whatever had it out for me. That, if Bad Shit was going to happen, it would happen to me. But really, I've had it backwards. Because, a lot of really Good Shit has happened to me. Could our adoption story have been more nearly perfect? We didn't get what we wanted (pregnancy. fertility) so we then declared to the Universe we wanted to adopt. And we got it. Right. Fucking. Then. And what about this whole economic shit storm the whole country is in? Sure, our financial picture has been pretty murky lo these many years. Infertility and adoption expenses didn't help. Sure it'll be a long time now before we move out of our tiny shit box of a house, but. Big break! My husband (God willing) is still gainfully employed! Woo Hoo! And even though we owe more on our little house than it is worth now, we have a house. We are not in immediate peril of foreclosure. So, you know, Good Shit.

And then there's the pregnancy. I spent many a long, sleepless night, out on the couch, crying, and having long talks with God in the months before I became pregnant. Knowing, realistically, IVF was still out of our reach. We could do the medicated IUI's (maybe 3) and that would most likely be it. Things were pretty dark. My marriage was on thin ice. My husband admitted recently, that he figured if I never became pregnant, we might be headed, eventually, for divorce, so unhappy was I. "What," he asked pragmatically, "was the alternative, really?" I couldn't answer. He was right.

In my late night pow-wows with God, I'd finally surrendered. I'd said, "You have a plan. I have no freaking idea what it is, but I'm tired of fighting it. If it is in your plan for us to have another baby, through fertility treatments, donor eggs, or adoption, then please show me the way. I will do what little I can with what little ability I have here on earth to make the pregnancy thing happen, and then, God, it's all up to you. Show me what to do." I secretly imagined asking my 20-something niece if I could merely have a few of her eggs. (Was that God's plan perhaps?) I was moving past the point of hoping it would somehow, just miraculously 'happen' for us.

And then it did.

NT Screen Results

"Screen Negative"!

Risk of Downs: 1 in 1,900

Risk of Trisomy 18: 1 in 44,000

We have an appointment set up already with the genetic counselor but I'll probably cancel it for now. We'll do the second tri screening as well. Assuming all goes well on the second test then I will definitely NOT be doing an amnio. WOOT!!!

Guess my 37-year-old supposedly pre-menopausal, high FSH, tired eggs aren't so shabby after all (well, at least one good one must have slipped through).

Saw Dr. Wunnerful today for regularly scheduled check-up. My appointment was short and sweet: A quick listen to the baby's heartbeat (157) and a little kick!

NT Scan--Lots of pregnancy stuff mentioned

I had my NT scan yesterday! I had been a little nervous leading up to it but it went really well. I had to go to another facility--it was not something that they could do at my regular Gyno's office. It is really amazing to see this little creature that is actually inside of me! I look down at my stomach, and it doesn't really look like I am pregnant--maybe just that I've had a big lunch. Yet, there he or she was, up on the screen, rolling around, waving his hands, even sucking his thumb. And, I experienced a pregnancy 'milestone'. It was the first ultrasound I've had that was the kind where they squeeze the goop on your tummy and use the doppler (no more dildocam!). I had imagined myself in that scenario for years--whenever I would daydream and imagine myself as a pregnant mom-to-be. Then, after the years of infertility, I thought about it less and less often (or didn't allow myself to) because I wasn't sure it would ever actually happen. And there I was.....truly amazing. Also, heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. The best sound ever.

I feel truly amazed and blessed, and grateful. Not only for this miracle-surprise pregnancy, but in a weird way, for the infertility, too. If it weren't for not being able to conceive, if it weren't for being told 'you only have a 1% chance of ever conceiving' then we never would have adopted. And then we wouldn't have Handsome Man. If I'd never experienced the pain of infertility, would I be as in awe of this little creature growing inside of me? I would be in awe of course, but, I just think it's different for me, now, then it might have been if we'd conceived easily.

Results from the scan + bloodwork in about 10 days--but the cute (very gay) Doogie Howser of a doctor that did my scan said the measurements looked nice and normal. Yay! Of course, he encouraged me to make the appointment with the Genetic Counselor after we get our results because, you know, I'm old. 37. Oooold timer.

Perfect Moment Monday

My perfect moment happened yesterday. Despite still being in quite a bit of pain from my car accident (my lower back and left hip, mostly) I got myself and Handsome Man in the car (p.s. I love my new car--but I digress) and schlepped an hour away to go to my friend J's son's 2-year birthday party. The party was held at one of those 'kiddy gyms'. I couldn't really keep up with Handsome Man around the gym floor too well, but luckily it was a safe, fun place for him to run, climb, and explore. (And burn off the sugar from the awesome birthday cupcakes my friend J. made for the party.) Our perfect moment happened when Handsome Man discovered the ball pit. You know, that big vat of lightweight, colorful balls that looks soooo fun. Well, it is fun! I was able to get my sorry butt inside the pit, and could sit down fairly comfortably. After weeks of not really being able to play and roughhouse with my Handsome Man, I finally felt involved in his fun, like I was being the fun mommy he's been missing out on. The look of utter joy on his face as he 'swam' around in the ball pit, and as we 'covered' each other with the balls was so beautiful. And as I sat there, with him, playing and having fun, with the sounds of the other children's' laughs and squeals around the room filling the air, I just felt so happy. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but I swear I felt like I was having one of those Hal.mark Card commercial moments. I almost started crying, but I was laughing too hard. I am so lucky to have this kid. I never could have dreamed up a child as wonderful as my Handsome Man. And even though I am still recovering from my injuries, the pain is, in a way, a reminder of how lucky I am: lucky to be here...to enjoy these moments.

Still Pregnant at 9 weeks

Last Thursday I had my appointment with Dr. Wunnerful. I was exactly 9 weeks. Mister finally got to come to an appointment, and was able to see the heartbeat. What a relief!! I was trying to prepare myself for the worst. My doctor was running behind and we waited almost a whole hour past our appointment time before we got in. Sweaty palms time. Of course, once I saw that beautiful heartbeat (sort of--the doctor had to point it out to me on the screen) I didn't care how long I had had to wait--it was worth it. (After waiting 5 plus years, what's an extra anxiety-filled hour, right?). Baby measured 9w4d and according to Dr. Wunnerful everything looks great. Of course almost a week has gone by and although I originally felt relieved and relaxed, I am starting to be a little nervous again. I wish I could have a scan every week. My next appointment with Dr. Wunnerful isn't for another 4 weeks or so. I will be scheduling the NT scan at another facility before then, though. Hoping that appointment goes well and praying daily that the little, uh, squirrel is continuing to grow. My only consistent pregnancy symptom is that I am really tired. All the time. I've had some queasiness that comes and goes. Sometimes preventing me from getting enough to eat. But, the past few days the queasiness has subsided somewhat. That should make me happy but of course I wonder if it means anything bad.... but in general I'm more relaxed than before. Making it to that 9 week ultrasound was a huge milestone for us.

Work is nuts and of course I'm still behind after being gone for 2 weeks after my accident. I have had a lot of help, though. Between my ongoing recovery from the accident and being preggers, I just can't function at the level I'm used to. And as I said, I'm tired all the time, so I am really looking forward to the "off-season" so that I can relax a bit and hopefully catch up on some stuff around the house and some other projects for the business that I just don't have time to do right now. Oh, and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep....zzzzz

Still Here

Well, I'm alive. And I'm lucky to be alive. Seriously. 2 weeks ago I was involved in a horrible car accident. I have been slowly recuperating--and am going to be ok. I will write more later but right now it is still a little hard to digest. Even after 2 weeks. I've never been in a car accident more serious than being rear-ended at an intersection. I've never even had a speeding ticket. But for some reason, on August 28th, (pregnancy? fatigue? low blood sugar? inner ear infection? all of the above?) I blacked out on the highway and swerved into oncoming traffic at 50 miles per hour. Crash. Thanks to the concussion I remember nothing. The driver of the other car and the passenger are ok but did suffer some minor injuries. I feel awful.

The good news: Not exactly the way I wanted to see my baby's heartbeat for the first time, but in the emergency room, they did an ultrasound and at exactly 6 weeks, I saw my baby's heartbeat. I made it through the weekend, and on the following Monday called my OB's office. I was freaked out about the severity of the accident, and my pregnancy symptoms seemed scarce. They got me in the same day--my friend drove me to his office, and I hobbled in there on my crutches. I was relieved to see baby again measuring right on time with a strong heart beat.

Next ultrasound is scheduled for Sept. 17th. My pregnancy symptoms come and go so of course I am neurotic. Last time we found out at our 8 week ultrasound there was no heartbeat. But I'd never seen the heartbeat to begin with, so I'll never know if it was there and then stopped, or if it was just a blighted ovum and it never existed. I try to keep reminding myself that I've seen the heartbeat twice, and the chances are VERY good that every thing will be fine. (But I'd feel better if my pregnancy symptoms were stronger). I am 8 weeks tomorrow.

Betas and Bugs

Leave it to an infertile to panic over good news. But when I called my doctor's office to get my beta results last Thursday, I went absolutely apoplectic because the numbers didn't double. They were:

Tue (4w5d): 6,881

Thu (4w7d): 10,110

The first thing I thought when the nurse read the numbers was, "wow, those sound like high numbers!" But then she said, with what sounded like misgiving, "well, they didn't double, but they did go up." Panic washed over me. They didn't double. I asked her if it made a difference that I took the first test in the afternoon, and the second test in the morning. She said that maybe it would make a difference, but probably hearing in my voice that I was going to be a bit neurotic, she asked if I wanted the doctor to call me back.

YES PLEASE!

Well he did call me back, right away, and insisted that the numbers were very good.

"Yes, but they didn't double!"

He said, "They don't always double."

"Should I come in for another test before my ultrasound?"

Well, he didn't think it was necessary. He assured me that I was indeed very much pregnant, and nothing that I do or don't do between now and my next appointment would make a change, one way or the other. If I were to miscarry, he said, (reiterating that he was not worried that I would, but if I were going to) there wouldn't be anything to change it or stop it from happening. That didn't really make me feel any better, but I understood what he was saying. Then I believe he told me to relax and take it easy, or something like that but I probably couldn't hear him by that point because my ears were ringing and I felt like I was going to pass out.

I immediately consulted with Dr. Google, who actually made me feel a little better. Dr. Google let me know that above 6,000, the doubling time slows, and they may take up to 96 hours to double. Ok. Phew!

Of course I am analyzing every symptom, lack of symptom, possible symptom, or twinge down below. I am in fact, quite crampy right now and it is scaring me but I am trying to remind myself that it is most likely quite normal if my uterus is starting to grow. Right?

Of course, the next day after my phone call, I came down with a horrible bug. I was actually really sick last month, and I swear I just got better, but am thinking that maybe it was not completely out of my system. And, since I've been all worked up and not sleeping well, I relapsed. Then, Friday night I woke up at 1 a.m. with a lovely ear infection. For those of you who have never had one of these, well, think of being stabbed in the side of your head with an ice pick. Yeah. And of course I was too paranoid to take anything, even though I knew Ty.le.nol is supposed to be safe during pregnancy, so I really suffered all through the night.

I saw my regular doc Saturday morning who looked in my ear and said, "Ouch! Let's fix this." I told him I was 5 wks preggers and he assured me the antibiotics he was prescribing were safe for pregnancy. I trust him--and he knows how big of a deal it is that I'm pregnant.

But I worry about being so sick (and I am pretty miserable) while so newly pregnant. I worry about the passenger....

To make matters worse, I woke up this morning with a case of pink eye. Pink eye?!?!? WTF? I am not a teenager, who has been sharing makeup with all her friends in gym class. It's like all of a sudden every single virus or bacteria that could possibly attack my body has been let in with a formal invitation to wreak havoc.

Next ultrasound scheduled for Sept. 3rd--right before Labor Day. I don't know how I'm going to keep my sanity up until then!!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the RE

So a few months ago, I went back to the RE. Did I tell you this already? I was going to, I swear. I just got busy.

I brought him all my new info from the surgery and latest labs. We had a good talk. I explained what our new (miniscule) fertility coverage was, and asked, "What should we do?" He thought we could (with the money we had with our coverage) do either: One IVF (and we still have to pay out of pocket for some of it) or 3-4 IUI's but this time with injectables. Hmmm. I waffled back and forth. Would IUI's be a waste of time? Should we put all our eggs (no pun intended) in one basket and go for it with the IVF? In the end, Mister and I decided to go with his advice and do the 3 or so IUI's. We did our bloodwork. Filled out paperwork, etc.. I was getting geared up to go and then.... the RE decided he wanted me to repeat the HSG. Yes, my gyno (Doctor Wonderful) did an HSG back when I had my lap, but there was some question as to whether the left tube was actually clear or not.

So then I got stuck in the mire of trying to get the insurance company to cover the HSG under 'diagnostic' and not take it out of our paltry IF coverage.

Anyway, I was going to do it last month, but the insurance pre-approval hadn't come through yet. So it got canceled.

So this month, take two. Pre-approval came through, but it was going to come out of our IF coverage. Grrrrrrrr.

I swear I was going to update on all of this when I actually had something interesting to tell you and something was actually happening.

I was waiting for my period to come last week so I could schedule the dreaded HSG.

Only it didn't come. And didn't come.

Oh shit. Menopause. Really? Just as we were finally going to start treatment. Tears were shed.

Until I discovered I was pregnant.

WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!? ME?!? MISS INCONCEIVABILITY?

4w6d today. Ultrasound yesterday revealed a gestational sac and yolk sac measuring 4w3d. Awaiting beta results. I am constantly poking my boobs to make sure they are still sore and doing the TP check every time I go to the bathroom. Obviously, we have a way to go, and we have only told very close family.

Those of you who know me on Facebook or Twitter please don't mention anything about this because we are not ready to tell everyone.

Preggo symptoms come and go and I am very nervous.

The Story With Handsome Man.

At least if I'm up at 3 in the morning I might as well catch up on some blogging. Work has been busy (which is a good thing--considering the economy) with wedding season in full swing. But that means I haven't had any time to my self these days to bloggedy-blog.

I don't know if anyone out there is still checking in since it has been over a month since my last post.... but here's what's up:

Handsome Man:

So in early June he was "kicked out" of the daycare that he had been attending since he was 10 months old. I came in to pick him up one day (on a Friday) and was told by the owner of the home-run daycare that she could no longer care for Handsome Man due to his 'behavior issues.' (Insert sound of loud gong going off in my head here). I was in shock but at the same time not totally surprised. (Which is totally contradictory I know). For a few months he'd been having some real problems with temper tantrums. We'd been working on it at home, but it had been even worse while he was in daycare. Now the thing is, my son is a BIG KID. As in, tall, muscle-y, strong. So when he's having a typical two year old tantrum, he can get pretty wild. It's like he doesn't know his own size and strength--so he'll just push over that chair, side table, plant, whatever is close--just to let you know how darn angry he is. I thought it was all just typical two year old stuff, you know. And I was worried about his acting out at daycare, but I had talked to the owner about it and I thought we were working on it together. She asked me how we disciplined him at home and I told her time-outs. She had even said several times herself, that 'oh it's just a phase it will pass' sort of thing. At this time he was also having a hard time sleeping; waking up screaming, crying wanting me to comfort him, as well as a real separation anxiety with me that I had never seen with him before. As I read in all 'The Books'--all normal stuff for his age. Anywhoo--I still had a feeling deep down in my gut that something else might be going on, that maybe it was more than surface deep, and I should have trusted my instincts from the get-go, but again I thought these problems were transitional and he would adapt. But here's what was making me go, hmmmm....

1. The daycare lady had an assistant. (Miss K.). HM was totally bonded to Miss K. She was the one who took care of him when he was a baby, and when he became a toddler she was the one who would tickle him, cuddle and rough house with him. He Looooovved Miss K. Then, Miss K became pregnant (wha) and started spending less and less time with the toddlers as her pregnancy grew, and more time with the infants which was a little easier on her physically, I'm sure.

2. His one friend that was his same age at daycare left the daycare.

3. HM turned 2--opening up another slot in the daycare for an infant. And, with his friend also gone, 2 more infants came into the daycare. So there were all these infants, and then a bunch of 3 and 4 year olds, and no one Handsome Man's own age. So they 'threw him in' with the 3-4 year olds. Then, suddenly, it was: no more crib at nap time, you sleep in a cot, no more bottle, no more highchair, etc. All good things for sure, but probably A LOT for him to adapt to, considering everything else that was going on.

Add to all the above that he was not up to speed verbally next to the 3-4 year olds, but expected to act and behave like they do, well, I can only imagine how FRUSTRATED he must have been on a daily basis--leading to, well, terrible temper tantrums.

It seemed like over the weekend Mister and I would work with him and work with him and his behavior would be much improved by the end of the weekend, through Monday, and then as soon as he went back to daycare on Tuesday it would slide back down hill again.

Of course I doubted myself and thought I was imagining things.

Now, the daycare owner (Miss C.) saw the situation differently. The last conversation I had with her went something like this:

Miss C.: Jennifer I don't know what is causing HM's problems, but the time-outs just aren't working.

Me: What else would you suggest trying?

Miss C: Well, I can't speak to that--I don't want to sound like I am trying to tell you how to raise your child. But, your parenting style is totally unique.

Me: What do you mean by 'unique'?

Miss C.: Well, I just see the way you pet and coddle and cajole him--and the time outs just aren't effective. Placing him on the couch or whatever and leaving him alone for 2 minutes just doesn't do anything. He just thinks it's funny.

Me: Okay, well what would you do differently?

Miss C: Well, I can't speak to that. But the other parents don't have these problems. None of the other children have these problems.

Me: Okay, well, what are these other parents doing that you see that I'm not doing?

(And I was being serious--I really wanted to know! Was there some discipline measure that I had overlooked? My 'unique' parenting style included time outs, but also getting down to his level and trying to talk to him about why certain behaviors were not okay--and trying to urge him to communicate with me when he was upset rather than throwing things or whatever. But I was struggling, for sure, and very open to hearing whatever the other parents were doing! If something else would be the magic bullet to solve the tantrums then by all means, lay it on me!)

Miss C.: Well, I can't say....but the other parents would NOT STAND for that behavior.

(By this point I felt like I was taking crazy pills.) Let me also state that at this point my son is clinging to me, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck with his head buried in my shoulder.

Let me also state as a side note, that in addition to the tantrums, he had recently started *hitting* which seemed to come from nowhere.

At this point in the conversation I can't remember what was said next, but I think my brain was starting to boil. But I seem to recall a bit more condescending about what a terrible parent I was and what an out of control child I was raising. A child that required some sort of mystery discipline technique that the other parents were using, but which I was not privy to.

As I walked away toward my car with my child clinging to me, a thought crept in through the back of my mind: Is she suggesting I should HIT MY CHILD?

And then: ARE THEY HITTING MY CHILD??

I mean, where did all this stem from all of a sudden, especially Handsome Man's hitting behavior?

I will never know. But I feel sick at the thought of the possibility.

Still, I worried that I was being hysterical, and that the problem really did lie with me. I thought-- wow! In two short years I've managed to totally screw up my child! My Parent-of-the- Year Award should be arriving in the mail any day now!!

So--I took Handsome Man home with me. I brought in the help of a good friend to help me juggle work and watching Handsome Man with no daycare. My friend Jess was a total God-send. And Mister and I 'brought down the hammer' with a no-way policy on 1.Hitting, and 2.Throwing (objects). We knew he would still throw tantrums, but he needed to know that hitting and throwing were not okay. And what did we do? Our unique parenting style of time-outs, and I suppose more "coddling and cajoling" with trying to get down to his level and communicate the reasons for the time outs. But the other thing we did--the thing I think he was starved of at his daycare--was give him lots and lots and lots of POSITIVE reinforcement. He did something we liked? We showered him with praise. He got angry but didn't throw his toys? Good Job, Handsome Man! He said "please"? Oh! I really like the way you said 'please'! We were pretty over the top with it. We probably sounded like idiots to anyone who heard us. But you know what? It worked.

Within a week or so the "bad" behaviors had diminished by about 80%.

And I started looking for a new daycare. After all, I couldn't keep up the working (in the middle of my busiest time of year!) and keeping HM home. But I worried: What if he gets kicked out of the new daycare within a couple of weeks? What will I do?

I thought maybe, just maybe if some of my instincts were right, then perhaps a more structured setting, where he would be in a "class" with just kids his own age, might be better for him?

I interviewed one of those "corporatey-franchise" places that was near my new office. I explained everything to the director of the school, and she seemed very open on working together with me and Handsome Man on any issues. She assured me there would be ongoing, continuous communication between the teacher and me, and I would definitely have warning if it got to the point that Handsome Man would be asked to leave the school.

I asked her how they handled discipline. This was very important to me. Guess what? They stressed getting down to the child's level, explaining why something was not okay, and if necessary, time-outs. They stressed building communication between the kids, too. So if one kid grabbed something from another kid, for instance, they would first tell them no, then explain why, then see if they could get the kids to play together, or share, etc.. WOW! Kind of sounded like what I was already doing at home: me and my 'unique' parenting style. Hmmm....

So he has been in his new "school" for over a month. His behaviors have disappeared. He is happy, smiley, and excited to go to school to see his friends and his teacher. He loves Miss L., his teacher. At first he would cry when I dropped him off in the morning, but his teacher assured me it was only for a few minutes and he was quickly involved in play and activities. Now he runs down the hall to his class, and usually the other kids will run up to him and give him hugs. It is so cute! His teacher says he is doing great. And it's 5 minutes away from my office--between my office and my house! Yay! I love it! He's happy, so I'm happy.

I'd like to go back to the old daycare and punch that lady in the face--but that's just me.

I'm Still Here

Sorry I've been so quiet lately. It's not for lack of things to talk about. June was a very strange/stressful month. I have been putting all my focus on Handsome Man....everything is ok but we had some hard times there where he really needed my full attention. It is a long story and I will write more later but I had to have him out of daycare for a little while (and I still had to work) so it has been a challenging time. Things are getting back on track, but I'm exhausted. Luckily, he is staying at Grandma and Grandpa's for a couple of days because my SIL is visiting from Phoenix with her two little ones and the little cousins are all having a blast. Mister and I will join the fun on Friday and spend the holiday weekend out there. But right now I should be getting to work, but I can't tell you how pleasurable it is to have slept in a little this morning and to be actually catching up on reading blogs!! Wow!! I have been totally and completely off the blogosphere "grid" for a while now. Okay, off to work....

Pointless?

5 years. 1 pregnancy. 1 miscarriage. 

And now, one laperoscopy which resulted in doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for me.

Yes, they found endo. 

But barely any.

They removed what was there. But it hasn't made a difference in my INability to get preggo. (As I sit here on CD1. Again).

And guess what? Apparently, my horrible cramps have not been caused by endo but by some other condition that they can't do A THING about. (Something about the way my uterine lining grows....I dunno). 

So, no answers about what's causing my infertility (we're just back to the drawing board with me having craptastic eggs).

No change in my ability to get preggo. (Even Doctor Wonderful said in our follow-up that I'm no better off. Exactly where I started.)

AND! No pain relief.

Hahahahahahah! 

I'm sick of reading Infertility sites/blogs/articles/message boards where women tell their success stories. Everyone seems to find their silver bullet:

1. I stopped drinking coffee!

2. I took XYZ supplement!

3. After my HSG I got pregnant!

4. Got preggo after a lap!

5. Stopped eating X or ate more Y!

6. Started running!

7. Stopped vigorous exercise!

8. Gained weight!

9. Lost weight!

10. Went on vacation with hubby!

11. Wheat grass!

12. Got thyroid treated!

And my personal favorite....

13. We just "gave up"/were between treatments/started the adoption process/etc.. and....

BOOM! SURPRISE! WE GOT PREGNANT WITHOUT EVEN TRYING!

I can't take it any more. 

Funk It

I am in a funk at the moment about all things fertility. 

Other than that I'm pretty happy.

Well. Mostly. 

I am really loving being a mom. 

I am not so much loving other stuff. 

I can't go into it right now.

And I don't think last month's normal 28 day cycle was luck finally turning my way. I feel like I'm about to get my period again and it's another shortie cycle.  We have not made any headway on fertility treatments. I think we were hoping the surgery/thyroid treatment would turn things around.

But I don't have a lot of time to waste any more on a "wait and see" attitude.

Blechh. Blah. Ugh. Gah!

Coming up on my 3-year anniversary of losing my one and only pregnancy. 

Whatever.

Two.

I can't believe it. My little baby ("little" is not really an apt description for my very tall, burly toddler--but he is still "little" in my eyes) is TWO YEARS OLD TODAY!! Oh my God. Where has the time gone? I am feeling really misty and sentimental, thinking a lot about his birth, those early days when we were trying to figure everything out. How little he was. How it felt to hold him that first time. How I used to be able to carry him in one arm, sort of like a football, when I needed my other hand to say, fill a bottle or grab a nappy. 

I am filled with gratitude--such a wonderful, charming, happy, loving, funny, unique person surely never existed before or will henceforth--right? (I know all moms feel that way about their children, and this is my blog--my world--so in this place I am right. Hee hee). How on earth did we get so lucky?

And for some strange reason yesterday I found myself trolling our old adoption agency website... hmm...

Unfortunately, my plans for a big birthday party in the park this Sunday are being rained-out, so I am trying to figure out what to do. My house is too small for a party, unfortunately (grrrr.). Oh well! As long as Handsome Man has fun and gets some cake (and balloons!!) he'll be happy. And when he's happy, I'm happy. 

TMI POST: Um, Where Is My Period? *UPDATED*

'Kay. I had the hysteroscopy on the 6th. I bled. For about a week. Sort of like a period: 2 days of flow, a few days of spotting. Then it sort of dragged out for a couple of days. Thought I was done, and then I'd spot a little more. Repeat. Ok. Then I was done. And, well. Somewhere between when the spotting dropped off and er, like NOW I should have gotten a period. My real one. So, was that my period? Which would have been really early. Which would be bad. But, today I am spotting again. Just a wee little bit. Is this my period? If it is, well, that could be good... because it would be a normal (for me) cycle length. After the hysteroscopy + ensuing flow, I could understand if my period is extremely light. But how am I to tell if this is the real thing or what? See, I am paranoid. Is it all over? Are my periods disappearing (menopause?). Or, is the synthroid making them go away? Or, am I having a period right now, and it's at an appropriate time but it's just light cuz of the surgery and I should be happy cuz it's at the right time and it may be a sign that something is actually going in the right direction if my cycles are getting longer again? Or, or or or!!!! What? It is impossible to tell where I am in my cycle right now. It is so weird! It is one thing to not know where I am in a cycle, but I don't even know which cycle I am in, and where I am in in it? Ya know? Kinda. Freaking. Out. Want. Answers.

Follow up with Dr. Wonderful next week.

Going to ask for referral for Endocrinologist too.

**Edited to add: Got the Real Thing today! Woot woot! Never been so happy to get my period. If I am correct, then I just had a very normal 28-day cycle. Of course I'll need to see if the trend continues in the coming months, especially since I had the whole surgery thing smack dab in the middle of the cyle, but if this means the thyroid meds are doing something right, then I am a very happy camper. So happy. 

Quick Update

Surgery went well! I am feeling pretty good. I'm not even having to take any pain meds today. Just need to keep sort of still. I was pretty groggy when the doctor spoke to me after the surgery, so I may have missed a thing or two, but he also spoke to Mister. So the info I have is that he didn't find a lot of endo but they did remove what they did find, which was mostly on my ovaries. He also removed a cyst from one of my ovaries. They did another HSG (so happy to be asleep for it this time!) and one of my tubes was blocked, but he was able to flush it out, I guess. Ute looked good--no scar tissue from my D&C so that is reassuring. 

It was a little hard being back at the same hospital where I had my D&C but luckily, they have a brand new outpatient surgery center, so I was actually in another building and did not find myself in a miserable dej'a vu. 

I have a follow up appointment scheduled with Dr. Wonderful, so I'm sure I'll get the replay then. 

Thank you to everyone who sent me well-wishes, and thanks a million to all the folks who sent me information and advice about the thyroid stuff. Once again, I am amazed and grateful for this wonderful, supportive community! 

Dr. Google, You're Making Me Crazy

Today's appointment. Ok. I am a little confused. I know I said I wished for a thyroid problem if it would account for my wonky cycles. Here's what I got: Thyroid levels=perfect. However, Anti-thyroid antibodies=elevated. Hashimoto's or Graves disease. I have been Goog.ling them all afternoon, and I am, well, not sure what to think. I do have a lot of the symptoms: fatigue, foggy brain, forgetfulness, low libido, DEPRESSION. But, while it does say it can cause changes in menstrual cycles, I haven't found anything to specifically indicate shortening of cycles. So, I am not sure if having this problem is in some weird Bizarro-IF world actually "good" news, or if it just means it has nothing to do with my wonky cycles and it can't really be fixed, and just adds more problems to my reproductive plate (not to mention over-all health and quality of life). It sounds like there is no cure for this problem and it will get worse over time (according to Dr. Google). My real life doctor seemed pretty non-plussed. (My levels were low). But when I brought up the short cycles he prescribed me a thyroid medication and said to see if this returned my cycles to normal. If not, well, then I may just be f%*ked. Two ways. 

OY!

Lap and hysteroscopy is still on for Friday. The doctor was worried about interfering with any potential pregnancy (based on where I am in my cycle.) I was like, seriously? It's HIGHLY unlikely. But will have to take a pregnancy test before the surgery. Haha.

It's On

Surgery is scheduled for this Friday. I'm going between excited (excited about having your insides scraped out with a laser? Leave it to an Infertile), apathetic (the dark side of my brain telling me it might not make a bit of difference and is a waste of effort and cash), and scared (OMG I'm having SURGERY--Ack!). I'm also dreading a little bit going back to that hospital. The hospital where I had my D&C. It does not hold the best memories for me. But, luckily, this is at least one small step forward and with my new doctor, I feel like I'm in such good hands. Maybe this will be the beginning of something. At the very least, it will hopefully give me some relief from the painful periods and ovulation that I have been experiencing. I know Endo can grow back, but one thing at a time. That is my new mantra. 

Will have my pre-op appointment with Doctor Wonderful tomorrow and I'm sure we'll go over my labwork at that time, too. Eek. 

Wish me luck!

Really?

There is a reason I never pick up the phone. There is a reason I've been a total recluse for the past howevermany years now. Because each time I talk to someone it is another opportunity for the Universe to remind me of just how fertile the rest of the world is. Seriously. 

I spent a large portion of my day yesterday reaching out to anyone and everyone I could think of that might have some work they could possibly throw my way. I left cheery little voice mails all over town. Well today a woman called me back.  A wedding coordinator I've worked with like one time. The first time I met her, it was not too long after my miscarriage (I can't remember exactly when it was...) and she announced that she was pregnant right there in a client meeting with the me, and the client. She wasn't even showing yet. But she was all, "Oh, by the time of the event (the client's event, which we were meeting about) I'll be as big as a house! Hahaha." I just remember feeling like I was on fire and trying not to scream throughout that entire meeting, and then coming home and crying and being a wreck for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, I didn't end up getting hired for that event (gee, I can't imagine why? did I seem like a total weirdo during the meeting despite my best efforts to act normal?), so I didn't get to see her all "as big as a house." The next time I talked to her, it was around this time last year? Maybe a little earlier, like December. Of course by then we had had our whirlwind adoption, and I had a baby. And she had hers, of course. We were supposed to meet with another client together at that time, but Handsome Man had the flu and I had called to cancel. Now, a year later, bless her heart, she was the first person out of all those messages I left yesterday, to call me back. Feeling strong and good enough these days to actually ask people how their babies are doing or pregnancies are going*, I inquired about her baby. She started laughing and told me that she had just had her second baby. Hahaha. So, yes, she's really busy. More laughter, hahha. "Oh congratulations, blah, blah blah," I said, while I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. Two babies in less than 3 years. 

This is why I never answer the phone. But not answering the phone is not a good thing when you are trying to make money running your own business. 

I also love it when I get the announcements from past brides that they are expecting. It's like, ok, I just did your wedding 6 months ago (or whatever) and now you're pregnant. Yippee. 

Meanwhile, I sit here waiting for the phone to ring from the doctor's office to find out about my lap. That lady has still not called me back. I am half-inclined to drive up there (30 minutes away) and walk in and demand to have someone speak to me! Grrr. All so I can pay for the pleasure of having my insides scraped out, so that maybe maybe maybe I'll have a small chance of becoming pregnant? A pregnancy I'll have to shell out big bucks for. While the world goes on around me and people pop out babies like pez candies. 

This is why I don't answer the phone. Or read the magazines in the grocery aisle. Seriously.

*ok, maybe that is an exaggeration. I can ask after people's babies. At least I can relate to caring for and loving a baby. But I am not really in a place where I can ask people about their pregnancies. The lady at my son's daycare is pregnant and I see her belly growing day by day, but I never ask the usual, "So, how are you feeling?" question that everybody always asks pregnant women. I keep it the topics of Handsome Man, work, the weather. So, I guess I am a whimp. Oh well.

One Foot In Front of the Other

Hello everyone, and once again, and as always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the supportive comments. 

I am doing ok. I have been trying to not think too long or too hard (though it's difficult sometimes) about what my body is or is not doing. At this point, it is somewhat out of my control. Or maybe entirely out of my control. No amount of healthy living and supplements and wheat grass is gonna turn around what already is. Though being healthy is good, it isn't going to make any babies spring forth from this body on its own. So, I am just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. I have two things on the immediate horizon: The lap and hysteroscopy my gyno has planned for me, and also the follow up to my thyroid testing. I have my follow up appointment to go over my blood work scheduled for March 5th, and am trying to get my surgery scheduled for the following day. (I am waiting to hear back from the woman who schedules the surgery for that doc. She was supposed to get back to me by today, so I have already called her and harassed her -nicely- on her voicemail once today). Once I have the surgery, and know what if any the results were (if I have endo, or if there was anything else wonky going on in there) then I will have more information about what to do next. Surely, if I do have bad endo, then having it 'cleared out' can only be a good thing, whether I proceed with IVF with my own eggs, or with DE. Either way, a healthy environment for embryos to grow in can only be a positive, right? And as for the thyroid? Who knows. Maybe something was out of whack and it can be corrected. Then I will have that information and can make a choice about how to move forward. If all is normal with the thyroid, and it can NOT be blamed for my weird cycles, then I will have to move forward and have my FSH et al tested again, and let those results direct me on how to proceed. I can't figure it all out at once, I need to get the information one step at a time. And hopefully the path will become clear. But I am on the path. That is the important thing. I am not going to be sitting out on the sidelines any longer. I know that I had to take myself out of the game for different reasons at different times, and I can't go back into the past and beat my self up for it (though my brain would like to --and I have to keep telling it to shut up, already!). It is what it is. I am moving forward, bit by bit. 

So Many Reasons to Be Happy

...and I am totally despondent. 

Thank you everyone for letting me vent about what is probably just run of the mill raising a toddler. I felt better just getting it out. So, thank you.

There are a lot of things in my life right now that should be making me very very happy. So many things to be grateful for. 

Number one of course is my gorgeous son.

I've been holding out on you guys about a couple of other things, too. The short rundown (I had wanted to do a longer post but I am dog tired right now) is as follows: 

New gyno. I LOVE HIM. Same practice as my old doc, but new doctor. Finally someone is taking me seriously. He is checking things out. He thinks my thyroid might be wonky. So I'm getting it tested. And I am getting scheduled for a lap. Finally someone is taking my endo theory seriously too. Mister and I have been making plans for a possible IVF come this fall. And, most recently, Mister's mom and dad told us, on my birthday, that they are gifting us a nice big chunk of money. Enough money to help us pay down some of our debt, and sock some away to make that IVF a definite and not just a maybe. We still can't go hog wild. It isn't enough to throw at endless IVFs. But still. We get to. Finally. 

So I should be happy? Right?

Right. Except. It might be too late for that IVF to do any good. My cycles have been getting shorter and I have been ovulating very very early. Today I got my period. A 21-day cycle. This is bad, bad news. This may mean the end for my ovaries. That first RE told me this is what would happen. There was just a huge part of me that didn't believe him. I kept thinking eventually, I'd get pregnant. It happened to my mom, right? Even though we went forward with an adoption, I thought one day I'd fall pregnant. Month after month, year after year. At least a tiny piece of me believed. 

Now I think I am turning a corner. I don't go into each new month thinking (at all, not even in the back recesses of my mind) that maybe just maybe this will be the month I'll get my miracle. I have known for sure for a while now that it will take big time Treatment. And now. It looks like if we do do that IVF it will have to be with donor eggs. I am open to it--but I am sad. I'm really really sad and just hate this body of mine. I have been so depressed I feel like I'm on the verge of tears all the time. I fake all my happy feelings. I have gotten very good at faking it. 

I feel lost. 

My only hope right now is that I actually DO have a thyroid problem and it is making my cycles wonky. But that is a long-shot. Only an infertile would actually hope for a thyroid problem. Ha! 

I need to talk to Mister about all of this, but he doesn't like to hear about my feelings about this infertility stuff. It is too frustrating for him, I guess, probably because he feels so powerless to do anything to make it better. And, because it's been going on for so long, he's just exhausted by it. So, I just keep it to myself. 

I've been waking up every morning since my birthday and the first thought in my mind has been that my life is over. WTF? That is fucked up. I don't think that on purpose. It's like the thought just sits there waiting for me in my subconscious,  waiting to pounce on me the moment I open my eyes. 

I think I may be going insane. And into menopause. 

WTF!!!!!

Confession Time

I'm going to complain about parenting stuff in this one.

Ok, I have a confession to make. But first, let me preface everything I'm about to say with this:
1. I love (LOVE!) my son.
2. I am more grateful than you may ever know that he is mine. I still don't know how we wound up with truly, the world's cutest dang kid ever.
3. He is a GOOD kid. Really. I am SURE I have it a lot easier than some moms.

BUT. (Here's the confession part). I really, really HATE the stage he is in right now. That term the terrible two's gets thrown around a lot, and G-d help me, he's only just about to turn two, so maybe things will get even worse before they get better, but boy-oh-boy this stage is kicking my ass. There have been many times over the past several weeks where I have even found myself contemplating whether or not I really and truly do want another baby. Huh? Wha? Hasn't that been my whole raison d'etre for like, I don't know, the past 5 years? Crap.

Here's a little run down of what's got me feeling beat:

He won't take naps anymore. Okay? N-O naps. This means, on the days when he is home with me (and I feel a little guilty even complaining about and of this because I am not a 100% SAHM. He does go to daycare part of the week) he will not take a single nap. Ever since he broke (yes, BROKE) his crib a few months ago, and we switched to the big boy bed, the naps have been a source of dissent and much teeth gnashing (on my part at least). At first, we/I could sometimes get him to nap, if I just read his cues and pretty much locked him in his room when it was nap time. He would fuss for a while, and cry, but eventually, he would succumb to sleep. Sometimes this meant he would fall asleep in his big rocking chair instead of the bed, but as long as he was sleeping, I was ok with it. Now, no matter what I do, no matter how tired he may be, no matter how long I try to let him cry it out, there is no giving in. He. Will. Not. Sleep. That means for me a couple of things: 1. I have no down time in during the day, at all. 2. He is not getting enough sleep therefore he is a cranky monster for about 60% of the day. 3. I am so frustrated after TRYING to get him to take a nap, I'm an emotional wreck.

2. Whining. He has suddenly taken to whining/fake crying to get whatever he wants. 24/7. This does not make any sense to me because he has always been a very pleasant kid, has not, prior to this time, been whiny at all, and we've always been able to communicate very well. I taught him some basic baby sign language early on, so he's pretty much always been able to communicate his needs/wants to me without the whining. And now, his language skills are coming on line too, so along with the sign language there's really no reason for the whining. Other than to drive me berserk. Seriously. I have to keep saying, "How do we ask without whining?" "Can you tell/show Mommy what you want without whining, please?" And he can. But after a full day of this (and without the naps, you can only imagine the fever pitch of his crankitude by, say, dinner time) I am ready to start drinking. The hard stuff.

3. Throwing. He has suddenly decided that it is really cool to throw stuff. Especially his food, off the high chair tray or table. Why? I don't know! Because he knows it's a no-no. He will do it, and I'll say, "Handsome Man, we don't throw our food. If you do that again, there will be no more dinner/snack/lunch." Then he will look me dead in the eyes, hold a piece of food out over the edge of his tray, wait a second, and then....drop. Gaaahhh! Then of course he throws a fit when I then say, "Ok. Dinner/lunch/snack is over." and remove him from the high chair.

4. Speaking of fits. Yes, he likes to throw them. Kicking, screaming, bucking tantrums. (And I have the dental work to prove it, remember?) I honestly think that he is not as bad as other kids around his age. I have seen some doozies out in public with other people's kids, and I can only pray that the worst is NOT yet to come. But, on top of the other stuff I am ill-equipped to handle the tantrums when they do happen. And they are happening more frequently.

5. Messes. The kid enjoys making messes. If there is something in a drawer or on a shelf that he can reach, he will pull everything out/off. Again, and again and again. As many times as I can put stuff away in a given day, he can pull it out. So now his room looks like a cell, with just a bed, and empty shelves. Oh well.

6. General button-pushing and boundary-checking. I know this is normal. I know this is exactly what he is supposed to be doing at this stage, but folks, I'm beat. All I hear myself saying all day long is "HM, what did I JUST say? No!" "No, we don't do that." "HM, get down off there right now, you know that is not allowed." "HM get off of there right now you are going to get hurt." "That's daddy's/mommy's please put that back." "Give that to mommy please." "HM, I said, give that to me, please!" "Do you want a time out?" I sound like a freaking caricature of a crazed mom.

7. Potty training. I am so proud of him, and he is doing a great job. But some days it takes A LOT of coaxing and prodding to get him to use the potty when I know he needs to. Even just getting him to let me change his diaper/pull-ups when I know it's necessary requires a lot of strength. Sometimes physical as well as emotional. (Have I ever mentioned how strong this kid is?) I also have had to clean up a lot of near misses and messes. (Comes with the territory, I know). I am proud as heck, but I hate it. I really hate it. It is just adding another layer to the stress that I am already dealing with (see #1-6).

8. Not sleeping through the night/early waking. I'm also sleep deprived because despite the fact that my kid was one of those amazing kids that slept through the night by like 3 months old, he is now often waking up (crying, screaming, etc) in the middle of the night. Mister has done some research and is convinced that it is because, paradoxically, he is not getting enough sleep (see #1). I know this is most likely true, but WTF? It means that yours truly is getting up in the night and spending anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours awake with him trying to find a way to soothe him back to sleep. On the "good" nights when he sleeps all the way through, he's been waking up too early. The past few days its been earlier and earlier.

For the past several weeks I have had a headache at the top of my neck, base of my skull, which goes between stabbing/throbbing/burning. I am exhausted all the time. I have been experiencing terrible mood swings.

As many of you know, my husband has a sucky commute (and we were going to try to move to make that better but we're staying put for the meantime, more on that later). So he often does not get home until after 8pm. I can tell you that by the time he gets home, I am spent. I am totally done. I have nothing left to give. I am a cranky bitch, or I'm just a dial tone. One or the other. Even on the days when HM is in daycare, there is the fact that I have a shitload of work to usually get done in the time that I have, so it's not like I'm going back to bed (even though Mister says I should). And, I am responsible for getting him from daycare, (at which point, he's happy to see me, but by the time we get to the car, he is already throwing a screaming fit because he doesn't want to get into his car seat), drive home, feed him, bathe him, get teeth brushed, use the potty, jammies, and bed time ritual. I also have to deal with the dog, the cats, and figure out what Mister and I will have for dinner. So, even though I get a "break" during the day, the time in the evening is pretty exhausting.

p.s. I know this is just a phase and yes, I do want another child. But the upshot of this experience is that 1.I'm actually GLAD in a weird way that the treatments didn't work last year because I would have an INFANT right now on top of all of this (how do people DO that?) and 2. I can tell you (at least for now) that I will be totally satisfied with just 2 kids. (I hope we will succeed in that). After #2 comes along I will not be wistfully thinking about trying to find a way for a third. We will be finished. Ahhh. And we can move on with our lives without the family building conundrum looming over us any more. Won't that be nice? See? There's always a silver lining.

p.s.s The really BIG confession that I should be making here is that I am a TERRIBLE parent. The other day, after an ill-fated attempt at getting HM to nap, and after having spent many hours cleaning throughout the day, I went into his room to find a monstrous mess (I had left him in there with a bottle--in a crazed attempt to try to get him to quiet down for a nap) and he had sprayed milk everywhere. He had pulled out all of his diapers, his clothes out of the hampers, and he had gotten his own diaper off and had peed. He'd pulled all his books out and his blankets off the bed, and you couldn't even walk any where. Well, I totally lost it. I yelled at him. I mean really yelled. I am sure I had the look of a crazed maniac on my face, too, and it really scared him. I am not proud. In fact, I had a grapefruit sized pit in my stomach for about two days after. I think Mister is still mad at me about it, too. I am not very impressed with myself and have even wondered if there is some bigger reason why I am unable to procreate? Am I just not cut out for the task of parenting? Yeah, I'm thinking I really suck right now.

Hellloooo 37.

Today is my birthday. I am 37. I never imagined that I would be here, where I am, now. But how could I? First of all, my mom conceived me at 37. SIXTEEN years after my sister, with no other kids in between (although she had 2 miscarriages). I was a "miracle" pregnancy. My parents were sure their baby-maker was busted and had stopped thinking about the remote possibility of having another child. My sister was a senior in high school. My mom had plans to go back and finish her college degree. Life was moving in another direction. Oops. There I was. But, I always felt, growing up that my parents were so OOOLLDD!! My mom was 38 when I was born and my dad was 40. Granted, by today's standards that is nothing out of the ordinary. But when I was growing up it was sort of odd. And, my dad was one of those people (and unfortunately, I have inherited some of this) who aged more rapidly than he should of, and he looked much older than his true age. Also, while most of my friends' parents were comparably younger and hipper, and had much more energy, my parents were still living in the 1950's. It was really a drag. So I swore if I ever had kids, I would have them super young, and be a young, hip mom. I never even imagined what my life would be like at 37 because, surely, by 37, life would pretty much be over and I'd just be waiting to die....right? So, here I am... wow. I'm not really sure what to say. I hope I can do better by my one child than my parents did by me. I realize now that age is more about attitude than years, and my parents were just living in a different era. They also were unhappy people and had given up on living life, and that is what made them seem so.....old. I will try to be more energetic, more in tune, more aware, and yes, if I can, way more "hip" than my parents were. I will try to continue to take care of my health, and hopefully (unlike my father) I will live a long healthy life and get to see my son grow up, become an adult, and not only dance at his wedding, but show the youngin's a thing or two. I will hold my grandchildren, and if I'm super lucky I'll be around to see them blossom toward or into adulthood as well. Hell, maybe one day I'll even hold a great grandchild in my arms. If I'm with it enough to know who I'm looking at. Ahhh, this is a hard one, for me folks. But I am trying to stay calm. Life is what you make of it, and life has moved in a much different direction than I ever thought. I pray that I will be able to bring another child into this family and that Handsome Man will not grow up an only child. I pray that I will find the inner strength and God will help me to be a good mom. I pray that I will hold onto my youthful feelings about life, even if my face reveals a different image in the mirror. (Thankfully, there is Botox and other stuff, that, once I can afford it, I'm aaaaalll over). I pray that this year I can find some resolutions to my sorrow and my longings, and whether that means making peace with what I have and moving on, or pursuing another adoption, or doing DE/IVF or hell, getting a miracle and getting pregnant with my own eggs, that by 38 I'll be a little closer to where I want to be. But I also know that I can't put too many demands on an age or a year. I realize I have no control over this. I can only do what little tiny bit is mine to do...with the limited resources we have. I need to be ok with wherever I am this time next year. And that will be a challenge, I'm sure.

I am thankful for my friends, both "real" and "from the internets," my husband and Dear God my wonderful son.

My challenge to myself for year #37 will be to do the OPPOSITE of what my parents did. Instead I need to pursue Life--to live, have fun, be engaged in my son's life. To have friends, have goals, and to feel inspired and....Alive. I have a lot of work ahead of me. I will have to start digging myself out of a pretty deep hole that I've dug myself into over the past few years....a hole of despair and apathy brought on by the overwhelming disappointment that is Infertility. So, (*grabbing shovel*) here I go. Wish me luck.

No, I Can't Relate. I Can. But I Can't. (Preg. and M/C Ment.)

This post could also be labeled, "The One In Which You Decide Frenchie is Really Not that Nice of a Person After All."

I got an email this morning. This was from an old friend, and it was one of those "catch up" emails since we haven't been in touch for many many months.

Somewhere in the middle of the email was this line:

We had some happy news and then some sad news recently. My sister was expecting baby #3, but lost it at about 4 1/2 months. It was a little boy, just like my nephew was hoping for. She's doing ok, but some days are worse than others. It's just sad, as I'm sure you can relate.

Okay. First of all. I am sorry for your sister's loss. That is horrible. Yes, I too have experienced a miscarriage, and it was in very early pregnancy. Even so, it was horrible, and I still grieve that loss. I can't imagine, nor do I want to ever know what it is like, to lose a baby that far along. Horrible. Terrible. I can understand on some level, yes. It saddens me to hear, and my heart goes out to your sister. Really. I hope she is doing ok.

But.

But then there's the other side of me. The ugly side that has been broken and bruised by infertility. The side that says, "No, I can't relate! Uh, did you say baby #3? Oh, you did. Well, I'm sorry of course for her loss, but she has 2 children already. She has had 2 (from what I know of your sister--and I've never met her) blissfully wonderful pregnancies that turned into real live children. So now she has experienced a loss. Yes, a terrible loss. But hey, welcome to a little taste of my world. Yes, I know what it's like to have the happiest moment of your life turn into the saddest in one single instant. It sucks. It's a loss of more than just your baby. It's a loss of the innocence and the hope that you had before this happened. The innocent world you lived in where good things happened to you because you are a good person, and because you expect things to go well. You expect to be happy and to have happy outcomes in everything. After miscarriage, you don't live in that world anymore. And, no, I don't wish it upon anyone. Not your sister. I'm sorry.

But still.

Yes, I understand.

Wait, no I don't understand. She has TWO children. And, from what I know of your sister, once she is healed and ready to try again, she'll have no problem getting pregnant again. And chances are, it will result in a healthy baby for her. And I hope that's true. I realize the loss of that baby is not just a loss for your sister, but for your whole family. Her husband, the other two children, and the rest of the family who were all anxiously and happily awaiting this new life. I get it. My heart goes out to you all.

But that's the evil part of what has become of me thanks to Infertility. I feel for your pain, but at the same time, I'm actually jealous. That's right. Jealous. I've had ONE. ONE! Pregnancy. It ended. I was not ever able to get pregnant again since. When I had my miscarriage, I didn't have two children already with me to hold and love on. I was absolutely back to zero. Apparently, that was my one lucky/unlucky shot at pregnancy. So see? I don't really relate. I wish I had the ability to get pregnant by just having sex with my husband. Not that I want to experience another miscarriage--no--but if I could at least GET pregnant that would be something! Something to give me some hope to carry on trying.

Anyway, call me bitter. Call me a bitch. Call me unenlightened. You may be right.

AF arrived this morning with all her glory, my last cycle before I turn 37. Cue curtain. Go ahead and BOO me. Go on. I'm not too big a fan of me right now either.

Moms:Beware!

Mister found this article and forwarded it to me this morning. Good grief. Please read. It's not only scary as a mom in regards to what we give our children (even though I am an avid label-reader, and I know you guys are too) but it's also scary for our own health. I occasionally have a "treat" once in a while of a Coke, for instance. I knew the high fructose corn syrup and the caffeine weren't doing me any good, but didn't realize I was also putting mercury into my body!! Check out the list (I cut and pasted below) of foods where mercury was found!! Yikes. Also, crazy illustration in the article. Is that shit for real? It wouldn't surprise me.

Table A: Total mercury detected in 55 brand name foods and beverages high in HFCS

Product Name Total mercury detected (ppt) Laboratory detection limit (ppt)
Quaker Oatmeal to Go 350 80
Jack Daniel’s Barbecue Sauce (Heinz) 300 100
Hershey's Chocolate Syrup 257 50
Kraft Original Barbecue Sauce 200 100
Nutri‐Grain Strawberry Cereal Bars 180 80
Manwich Bold Sloppy Joe 150 80
Market Pantry Grape Jelly 130 80
Smucker’s Strawberry Jelly 100 80
Pop‐Tarts Frosted Blueberry 100 80
Hunt's Tomato Ketchup 87 50
Wish‐Bone Western Sweet & Smooth 72 50
Coca‐Cola Classic 62 50
Yoplait Strawberry Yogurt 60 20
Minute Maid Berry Punch 40 30
Yoo‐hoo Chocolate Drink 30 20
Nesquik Chocolate Milk 30 20
Kemps Fat Free Chocolate Milk 30 20
Hy‐Top Syrup ND 50
Hawaiian Punch Fruit Juicy Red ND 50
NOS High Performance Energy Drink ND 50
A & W Root Beet ND 30
Dr. Pepper ND 30
Wyler's Italian Ices ND 30
Market Pantry Ice Pops ND 30
Kool‐Aid Bursts Tropical Punch ND 30
Kool‐Aid Cherry Jammers ND 30
Sunny‐D ND 30
Snapple Peach Iced Tea ND 30
Powerade Orange ND 30
Lipton Green Tea ND 30
Zoo Juice Orange ND 30
Tropicana Twister Cherry Berry Blast ND 30
Fanta Orange ND 30
Pepsi ND 30
7‐Up ND 30
Hi‐C Wild Cherry ND 30
Jell‐O Strawberry ND 100
Market Pantry Applesauce ND 100
Mott's Applesauce ND 100
Campbell's Tomato Soup ND 100
Aunt Jemima Original Syrup ND 100
Hershey's Caramel Syrup ND 100
Hershey's Strawberry Syrup ND 100
Market Pantry Thousand Island ND 100
Smucker’s Strawberry Syrup ND 100
Heinz Hotdog Relish ND 100
Market Pantry Cranberry Sauce ND 100
Market Pantry Tomato Soup ND 100
Ocean Spray Cranberry Sauce ND 100
Mrs. Butterworth Original Syrup ND 100
Heinz Tomato Ketchup ND 100
Wish‐Bone Thousand Island Dressing ND 100
Welch's Grape Jelly ND 100
Nesquik Strawberry Milk ND 20
Land O’ Lakes Chocolate Milk ND 20

Not Helpful

Mom,

It really doesn't help when you call me up to remind me (like I needed reminding) of the birthday I have looming in a couple of weeks. It doesn't help when you not-so-tactfully ask me if I "ever think of having another child?" (Yes, I think about it daily/hourly/by the minute) I guess that is indicative of how out of touch you and I are emotionally. It has always been this way. You don't get me. You don't listen to what I tell you. But you sure know how to make me feel like crap. It doesn't help me when you remind me (again, as if I needed reminding!) that I am about to turn the exact age that YOU were when you conceived me by some miracle. It doesn't help me to hear you say, "Oh, keep an open mind. It could happen to you." Just because you got pregnant at 37 has NOTHING to do with my situation. Don't think I am not dreading turning this age. It will be just another marker for me to arrive at, and then pass, with yet again, no pregnancy. See, I wanted to have 2 kids by the time I was 35. I finally got pregnant at 34 and figured, well, I'd be started by 35 and that was good. Then I miscarried. But, I thought, for sure I'd get pregnant again soon, before I turned 35. 35 came and went. Much teeth-gnashing ensued because I knew this was the point at which "they" say a woman is "over-the-hill" fertility-wise. But, surely, I thought, I'd be pregnant by 36. No? Ok, somewhere in my 36th year. Nope? Kay. I'm about to turn 37 and I realize now that no amount of wishful thinking is going to make it happen. Yes, I am thankful and grateful for the son that I have. But it doesn't help me when you say things like, "Even though he didn't come from your womb....." He is mine and I am his. That is all we need to say about that. I am not going through life living some fantasy that I birthed this child. I was there when he was born. I know he didn't come out of my body. I only wish my own pitiful cage of a body could produce something so perfect, so angelic, so beautiful, so amazing. If you must know, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him, but I digress.

No 37 is just another year I may be unsuccessful. I don't want to put any demands or goals on this year, though I know I can't help but. No, it does not help me one little bit when you urge me to keep an open mind. To think "positive". Holding out hope and thinking positive is torturous. But, of course, I can't expect you to understand.

I can't have this discussion any more. Click.

A Little Distraction

Tracy my old bloggie friend challenged me to come up with 10 favorite things--starting with the letter C.

Here goes:

1. CHOCOLATE. Preferably the dark kind. None of that wussy milk chocolate stuff!

2. CAFFE LATTE. With lots of foam, please.

3. Chardonnay.

4. Crowded House.

5. These CHUBBY CHEEKS.
6. COSTA RICA. It's where Mister and I spent our honeymoon. It seems like an eternity ago. It was such a happy time. Before we knew we were infertile. Before the pressure of "trying" had begun. Newly married and the future ahead of us. A future that was blissfully on hold while we spent our days in a swimming pool, with a swim-up bar or walking along the beach picking up shells...

7. CHOCOLATE COSMOS. I know that sounds like a really fancy cocktail, but it is a type of flower. It is a deep deep burgundy-brown color, with velvety looking petals, and yes people--it smells like CHOCOLATE!! (See #1)


8. While we're talking about cocktails, how about it. COCKTAILS or COCKTAIL HOUR is another favorite thing.

9. CHEESE. Oh, Cheese. How I love thee. Bleu, feta, cheddar, Swiss, Edam, Gouda, mozzarella. Is anyone else hungry?

10. COMEDY. I love comedic things. Anything that will make me laugh. Sketch comedy, comedic movies, stand-up, spoofs. For instance, I wanted to marry Joh.n Stew.art before I met Mister. And let's face it, in some parallel universe, I still do. I also think this man (*beware if you click the link: bad language*) is a genius, may he rest in peace. I used to stay up late during childhood on Saturdays to watch (what is now 'classic') Sat.urday Nigh.t Liv.e. And I love humorous books, such as the Davi.d Se.daris variety.

There, 10 favorite things starting with the letter "C". If you want to play along, leave me a comment with one of your favorite, uh, C-words--and then I'll "assign" you a letter of your own for your own blog. Cheers!

De-lurk, Will Ya?

So, it's like "de-lurking week", or some such. Or so I gather from other sites I've been trolling.

Okay, so if you are lurking...pull back the curtain and say, "hiya!". It would mean so very much.

Cheers,

Frenchie

Coming Up to Speed

Here's a little bit of what's been going on in my world since Thanksgiving...

Teeth.
I chipped one of my front teeth pretty badly when I was a kid. Luckily, I was so young that it continued to grow in. After I got my braces off as a teen, my dentist shaved my two front teeth down to match. You couldn't tell. I've always been told I have really nice teeth and a pretty smile. However, I've always had these tiny little fractures that ran through the enamel of that tooth. Nothing you could see easily, and they never bothered me. Until recently. A few times in recent months I have been head-butted by my rambunctious toddler. Pretty darn hard. Right in the mouth/chin. Over Thanksgiving I was noticing that my front tooth was feeling very sensitive. Luckily for us Mister's company had just switched health insurance, which included dental. So, right after Thanksgiving I went to the dentist and had it checked out. I had no idea the saga that would ensue. The cracks in the tooth had gotten really bad and one was going up into the nerve. One was dissecting the other and the tooth was bound to break any time. I was given three choices: 1. wait for the tooth to crack. 2. Get a crown. 3. Get two matching front veneers (the best option cosmetically speaking). Which do you think I chose? Yep. 3. Which was the most expensive? Yep. 3. And, I had no idea what a long, painful process it would turn out to be. A week later I returned to the dentist to have my teeth prepped for the veneers. Let me just say it was not pleasant. Then, I was given these two janky-looking temporary veneers that I had to wear for two weeks until my real ones came in. My teeth were very sensitive and I was not allowed to bite into anything with my front teeth while I had the temporaries on. And to make matters worse, the soonest they could get the real veneers in was....Dec. 24th. Christmas Eve. Ack. On Christmas Eve I got my real veneers, and I thought the problems were over. Well, they're not. Something is wrong. I have been having a lot of sensitivity and pain, and I have been back to the dentist who just told me this was "normal" and sent me packing. I am going to be making an appointment with another dentist (got a referral from some people at Mister's work) and getting a second opinion. I know it's just teeth and all, but for me it has been sort of traumatic, and has been affecting my quality of life enough to make me a little bummed out.

December 20th: Happy Adoption Day:
We celebrated our first annual Adoption Day. It's hard to believe that it's been one whole year since our adoption was finalized. Handsome Man is still too young to understand the event, but he sure was happy with the balloons (he's crazy for balloons!) and the cupcakes we enjoyed to celebrate. Here's a photo from that day with the judge in the courtroom. What a happy day!

And here's Handsome Man enjoying his first ever chocolate cupcake to celebrate Adoption Day 2008:Christmas:
We spent Christmas in Lodi with Mister's mom and dad. Mister's sister and brother and their families couldn't make it out this year. But, Mister's grandmother was here from Sydney, which is always nice. Handsome Man got so many choo-choos and choo-choo related items, (he's crazy for Tho.mas or anything having to do with trains) it's almost sickening. He is a very lucky (spoiled?) little boy, for sure. Mark and Patty and Eryn sent a big box full of Thom.as goodies. Really nice. I got a new purse, some socks, and lots of little tidbits. I had a pretty bad cold over Christmas, and on top of the tooth pain I was a little out of it, but it wouldn't be Christmas if I wasn't sick!! (Last year I was just getting over a terrible stomach bug!!)

-- As soon as I can figure out how to upload some photos from Mister's camera I'll update with photos from Christmas--

New Year's Eve:
Was terrible. Mister and I had a fight (awesome!). He fell asleep around 10:00 and I stayed up by myself reading to ring in the New Year. It was a little disappointing. I had made a nice (or so I thought) dinner and we had a bottle of champagne, but I kind of felt like I shouldn't have bothered. Mister was not that impressed with the food (I tried a new recipe--though I would knock his socks off!). But oh well. Plus, ever since we've started this infertility journey, I get a little depressed at the New Year--especially since another birthday is right around the corner for me. Another year passed, another year older, and.... I would say, what have I got to show for it, but I know that I do have an amazing, smart, loving, engaged, happy child, and that is something to be grateful for and proud of. But, I have to admit, I've been a little down since we rang in the new year.

What's Ahead:

Moving:
Yep, crazy as it sounds, just to make things more insane, we're planning on moving. The main reason being that Mister can't handle the commute he is currently doing for much longer. We need to move somewhere closer to S.F. and on a BART line (that's Bay Area Rapid Transit for those of you not familiar with our local lexicon). It is not only important for Mister and Mister's sanity, but for our family as a whole. As it is right now, he rarely gets home before 8pm and HM is usually already asleep. I'm exhausted by that time, too, and of course Mister is as well. We eat dinner, zone out for a little while in front of the tube and then fall asleep. Lather, rinse, repeat, Monday through Friday, and you get the idea. Not fun. So, we're moving. We are going to rent a house (we're in the process of looking now) big enough for our family of 2 adults one active toddler, 2 cats, 1 dog, and my floral business. This means renting a house with at least a two car garage, and 3 bedrooms. We hope to rent out our home (which we own, but can not sell in the current market). Before then, I/we have lots to do to get it rental-ready. Painting, bathroom facelift, and some serious work in bedroom #1 ("master bedroom, if you can call it that) which will include cutting out some drywall and replacing it (there is a leak causing it to mildew behind the wall. I know, nice) painting, re-caulking the window, etc.. A few little finishing touches in the newly re-done kitchen, etc. It is a lot of work....and we'll have to do most of it after we're moved out.

Fertility Treatments?
Mister and I both have started yearning for another child. I know this is a turn around from a few months ago, when Mister was being pretty gloom and doom about the possibility. The other day, we were both giving HM a bath, and Mister turned to me and said, "Can we have another one of these, please?" The comment made me happy and sad at the same time. Happy, because I know that means that the possibility exists for another child in our future. Sad, because I can't just give him another child effortlessly like "everyone else." Bringing another child into this house means, tough decisions, compromise, financial stress--a whole complicated ball of wax. If my body weren't such a piece of shit I could give my husband the family he always wanted, money wouldn't be such a stressful part of our life, we could afford OTHER things that we want, etc., etc.. Oh yeah, and I could fulfill my dreams of birthing a child. All of that.

Anyway, we've started talking about it. We are considering giving IVF a Hail Mary try....we have to work out how much we are going to throw at it though, because we have limited resources. We are considering going overseas for treatment. Meanwhile, I turn 37 next month and I know our chances of success are dwindling as we speak. Gahhhhhhhh. I go back and forth between being excited at the return of hope and possibility, and being frightened and feeling, well, doomed.

A few things that are working in our favor though--Mister did finally get the pay increase he was hoping for. (Otherwise we wouldn't be considering moving or treatments or any of this). My CPA is a goddess and I ended up owing a lot less to the IRS than originally thought (and was able to pay it without having to go on a payment plan). The business debt from Mister's old company should be paid off by April. So, I'm just hoping that my business will pick up a little from last year and I'll be able to bring home the bacon in a serious way again and help make all of this possible. It's a lot at once, but we really can't afford to wait if we're going to do it, we need to pull the trigger.

Phew! So that's the bulk of it--Happy New Year!