Miss Inconceivability

Please Help Holden

2011-12-22T12:53:00.000-08:00

****UPDATE****12/24/11: Christmas Miracles? Holden's feeding clinic costs are now fully funded. There was a huge out pouring of support and I am so happy for this family...Really hoping it makes all the difference in the world and this little boy will start thriving...

I have been in the event industry for nearly 20 years now. It is a very tight-knit community, and, much like the ALI community I have come to love so much, we like to support each other in any way we can.

A very talented photographer, Scott, and his wife have a son, Holden who spent 2 months in the NICU. He is home now, and is having serious feeding issues. He is getting most of his nutrition through his G-tube, but at nearly 8 months is still experiencing failure to thrive. They have been accepted into a special feeding clinic, which, they feel is Holden's best shot. However, insurance refuses to pay. (Unfathomable).

They are trying to raise 20K to get him into this clinic. So, I am reaching out to you, all of you, on their behalf.

Please visit the link here to learn more about their need. WARNING: the video is beautiful, but heartbreaking. But it tells you all you need to know.

http://scottandrewstudio.com/blog/loving-holden/

Please help if you can, even if it is just to lend moral support.

My Own Creme de la Creme (2007)

2011-12-14T10:27:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows about the Creme de la Creme list, right? (If not see side-bar). Well, like I mentioned in my last post, it has taken me um, 5 years to get around to submitting anything to the list. Finally, this year, I put my fear of humiliation aside and sent in my submission. I don't know why I was so scared. So, over the next few posts, I am going to share with you the posts, one from each year I've been blogging, that I should have submitted, but didn't. It will be a nice look back on the journey I've traveled since starting this blog, before I move on permanently to my Parenting blog.

This post, from 2007, may not be my best ever, but it was the one, that, while reading through my posts from that year, made me cry all over again. I suppose it is a testament to the fact the feelings surrounding our infertility will always be with me: It is so easy for me to be transported back to that space and remember, on a very visceral level, exactly how it felt to be where I was at that moment. It was also very eerie to read this post, about my jealousy of others' pregnancies, about my deep longing to conceive, and about my desire to move past my jealousy and pain and get on with the rest of my life, as a mother with our son whom we had adopted. Eerie, because this post was labeled "The Elusive Miracle-Surprise" which I moaned would never happen. Re-reading this now, I am hit square in the face with a great amount of awe and appreciation to the God/Angels/Universe that must have been listening all along to my deepest despair--for two years later, I received my very own Miracle-Surprise. It is also very humbling, because, reading it now, I wish I had had more faith that everything was how it was supposed to be, because, clearly the Plan was for me not to conceive at that point in time so that we would adopt. So that Handsome Man would be our son. How I wish I could go back in time to that woman I was then and tell her to have some peace and enjoy her life and be more grateful for what she had. It is hard though, when you are in the middle of it, the heart-deep longing, to let go, as much as I really, really, wanted to. And I have a great deal of compassion, too, for the woman I was then.

So, without further ado, I give you, "The Elusive Miracle-Surprise" originally written in 2007:

Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Elusive Miracle-Surprise

Another friend of mine is pregnant.

I found out as Mister and I were excitedly driving out of town on the way to our first day of vacation. My cell phone rang, and, I was delighted to see my old friend's number. So I answered. And she told me the news. After I hung up, Mister said he was very proud of me, because I did such a good job sounding excited and happy for my friend. To which I replied, "Well, I'm a very good actor." But, the truth was, I am happy and excited for her. And jealous and crushed. Simultaneously. This friend of mine is a bit older than me. (42). She had her first child 4 years ago, and though they struggled for about a year and a half to conceive (natural conception) they had no other issues. Due to my friend's age, she and her husband figured they'd better jump right back on the train and try for number 2 right away. So, for the past 4 years or so, they've been trying to conceive. ART is not for them, and so, after 4 years, and after celebrating another birthday, she figured it was over. She totally moved on. She gave away all the baby stuff she'd been hanging on to (high chairs, clothes, toys, etc.) some of which I was the happy recipient. She told me, the last time I saw her, that she and her husband knew they would just be a family of 3, and that was fine. Done. Moving on. Next topic.

Then, Blam! Pregnant. A total miracle-surprise.

There have been a lot of these miracle-surprises happening lately. There have been several recently out in the blogosphere that I am aware of. And, there's all the second-hand stories I hear everywhere. (Some one's friend's-sister, who only had one ovary, tried for 5 years,yadda, yadda, yadda.) I have heard so many of these miracle tales over the past 3-4 years that I honestly assumed that eventually, one day, MY miracle-surprise would happen. It is what has kept the flame of hope alive through all of the bad news and evidence to the contrary I've received, that one day, it would happen.

So the overwhelming feeling I had when I hung up the phone was, "Where's MY miracle?"

And the following answer my mind and heart came up with was this. Maybe there is no miracle in store for me. Miracles are miracles because they don't happen every day, or to everyone. They are miraculous because they are "not supposed to happen." And the overwhelming evidence suggests that, after 4 years of wanting and trying to have a baby, there is no miracle in sight. In 4 years, I have never managed to get knocked up naturally. We got pregnant one time, on C.lomid, but it didn't stick. And, each month that passes, my already crappy eggs just get older and more geriatric. So, I am most likely one of the people on the other side of the miracle story: the ones you don't hear about. The ones for whom there IS no miracle. One of the ones that never gets her pot of gold. And, being sad, or angry, or jealous, or sorry for myself, won't change the outcome. It won't change the facts. So, then, why waste the energy feeling angry, jealous, and sorry for myself, if the outcome remains the same? Why?

I cried for a while after I got off the phone with my friend, as all these thoughts were swirling around in my head. And then, I vowed I would not let this bit of news ruin my vacation. And I didn't. Furthermore, I gave myself this cycle "off." I decided to not care (as best I could) about where I was in my cycle, what my ovaries were doing, or any of it. I did not bring along my thermometer, did not do any charting, nothing. Also, I drank wine, ate pizza, sweets, whatever I felt like. I started my mornings with my old friend coffee! I even had a cocktail at lunch, no less, one of our days out and about. Because I felt like it. Ha! I just tried to be present and enjoy myself, and my husband and my son. And it was great. There were even moments where, for the first time in a long time, I just felt "normal." I felt like Me.

And, since that day I decided to try and not care any more about my infertility (a weighty undertaking, but I'm trying) I have been repeating a few things over and over to myself. Mantras, if you will. Of course, the aforementioned, "Being upset about it, will not change the outcome. So don't be upset." "Be fluid" or, "Go with the flow." And, "What will be, will be." Also, every time I look at a pregnant woman, I think, "Some women are made to be pregnant. Some aren't. I'm one of the latter. So be it."

I'm not saying that I have reached some sort of higher ground (as you can tell if you read my last post about being in I.kea). But, it feels better than always expecting a different outcome than what I have received.

So when I was at my acupuncturist's office the other day, she asked me how my mood was. I told her it was pretty good, that I was feeling pretty relaxed after my vacation. And then, I told her about my friend. And, the conversation went something like this:

Acu: How do you feel about that? I can see it is making you weepy.
Me: Well, I wish it were me this time. But it's not. And, I'm beginning to think, it just may not happen for me.
Acu: And how do you feel about that?
Me: I just wish I could stop caring. If I could just open up my brain and remove the wiring that makes me care whether I ever get pregnant or not, then, life would be great.
Acu: What would your life look like if you could do that?
Me: Great. I could move on. I could focus on other things. I could just be a wife to my husband, and a mother to my son, and, I have this AMAZING child! We could get our life back on track, financially. We could stop living like we are on hold--in limbo.
Acu: Yeah?
Me: Yeah!
(Pause)
Me: But I'm not quite there yet.
Acu: But, I think this is how you get there. Day by day. You grieve a little, and you let a little go. And then, one day, you come out on the other side of it.
Me: I would like to get to the Other Side of this. I would like to have my life back.
Acu: Then you will.

Maybe I've had plenty of miracles, but have refused to recognize them, because I've been so caught up in my strangle-hold of trying to have a baby. For instance, is it not a miracle, that, despite the fact that my body refuses to procreate, I have here, right in front of me, a beautiful HEALTHY BABY? Is it not a miracle, that, the biological mother of this amazing child picked Mister and me, out of all the people on the frigging planet, and said, 'Here, I want to give you my Baby'?! Is not abona fide Miracle-Surprise that we got matched with our birthmotherthe very first day our adoption profile went up on our agency's site? Is it not a miracle that this baby loves me, and reaches for me, yes me, when he wants his Mommy?

And, the other thing is, I'm tired. I'm exhausted from the caring about my infertility. I'm tired of wanting and not getting. I'm sick to death of the sad feelings and the jealousy and the distance I have had to put between me and my fertile friends, and, sometimes, the world. I'm so tired of giving a shit, that I could just scream. I am ready to be done. I am not quite done, I know, in my heart, but I truly want to be done. Perhaps that is the first step on my road to recovery. When I think of how life will be after I reach that elusive place of not caring about being infertile any more, it makes me very happy and hopeful. So, perhaps my focus is changing. Changing from reaching that pot of gold (pregnancy) to getting past the point where I'm even looking for it any more. To being satisfied with what I have.

Lastly, I still want to do the IUI. I feel that I must pursue, at this point, what options we have, so at least I will know that I did all that I could. I am keeping the flame of hope lit for now. However, I'm feeling (at this point) less committed to the outcome. As I see it, one of three things will happen with this IUI. 1. I'll actually get pregnant! 2. I won't get pregnant, and when it's all over, I'll really be in that place of saying, 'okay, I'm done.' and I'll move on. 3. I won't get pregnant, but we will learn some new information about my body, and how it responds to the treatment that will be encouraging enough for us to go ahead an give it another try.

I think I am ok with any of those.

My Own Creme de la Creme

2011-12-12T08:07:00.001-08:00

Okay, so everybody knows about the Creme de la Creme list, right? Yeah, I've been blogging for 5 years, and um, I've never, ever submitted a post to the list. Why? I guess I just never thought I had anything that amazing (or well written) to say. After all, it's just me, Frenchie. Who cares, right? I think after reading and following (and heck worshiping) so many amazing bloggers in this community like Luna, and Lori, and JJ, and Mel (just to name a few) what could I possibly have to add? Well, maybe not much, but as I am starting a new blog (have you visited yet?) and am turning over a new leaf in my life as well....I guess it's time to start taking myself a little more seriously. Ok, so my little submission to the list isn't going to change anyone's life. I'm not going to gain the attention of a magazine editor and it probably won't leave a lasting impression on many people. But, it was important to me. My submission this year was a little post I wrote on one of those days when the absolute awe, gratitude and love for what I had (after so many years of yearning for what I didn't have) just washed over me, and I allowed myself to soak in it for a brief moment before moving on to the next bit of business for the day.

I won't ruin it, I'll wait till the list comes out, and you can read it there (among all the other much more amazing blog posts--there I go diminishing myself again, right?--). But, in the meantime, I think I am going to do my OWN Creme de la Creme here, on this blog, before I say goodbye once and for all. Over the next week, I'll pick a favorite post from each year I've been blogging and put it up here. It will be a nice way for me to reflect and wrap up the journey that I've traveled with this blog--and with all of you--over the past 5 or so years. Also a nice way to wrap up the end of the year, and (gulp) the end of my 30's. (So many transitions right now, yikes!) Anyway, I hope someone out there will read my own personal "gems" but if not, I will enjoy looking back at where I was, only to appreciate where I am all the more.

And if you haven't added YOUR submission to the Creme de la Creme, don't be shy like me--get on over there and add yours!! Happy blogging!

It's Time

2011-12-03T09:33:00.000-08:00

Infertility has touched my life in a dramatic way. It has not just touched my life, it has shaped my life. I don't think I will ever forget the feelings and raw emotions of those 6 or so years. I can recall just how it felt to be sitting in that doctor's office and being told my baby had no heart beat, I can be transported back that sinking, falling, sick feeling instantly. My palms are getting sweaty as my fingers type this now. That was in 2006. I still feel so much sadness, and so much anger toward the smug Fertility Specialist who told me my chances of conceiving were less than 1%, that when I heard his voice on the radio recently (a commercial for their facility) I almost had to pull over while driving. I remember each and every pregnancy announcement and the sinking into the floor feeling it left me with. And I remember the random, nagging, mosquito-buzzing-like sense of hope that plagued me each and every month for years, hoping something would miraculously change. I remember how much money I sank into special herbal treatments, acupuncture, vitamins, etc., and how much hope went right down the drain with them. I remember hugging my miraculously-pregnant-at-43 friend, and sobbing into her shoulder, ashamed, that I couldn't hold it back, even though I was so happy for her. I remember how humbling it felt when she said it was ok, and that we never had to talk about the pregnancy, she just wanted to see me.

All of those emotions are just a thought, a moment, a mere wrinkle-in-time away. Even though, I sit here, on what many might call "The Other Side."

What's my point? Infertility will always be a part of my life. How can it not be? I believe it has changed who I am. I am certainly more aware, more cautious, and more concerned about other people's feelings. I am able to recognize that weird, pained expression, on another woman's face as I pass her in the mall with my two kids in tow. I was that woman. For years.

However, though Infertility will always be my shadowy companion, it no longer consumes me. It does not define me anymore. And I have a life now that involves so many other things. Things I can fully pay attention to now that the veil of sadness has lifted. I have been extremely blessed with two children. And my life, and my blog have moved on to a different type of existence. I am a mother. I am an adoptive parent. I have a child with special needs. I am a wife. I like to cook. I get frustrated with the ups and downs of parenting. We have recently moved to a new state and we are starting over from scratch. I'm looking forward to new career possibilities. I am spending time examining myself, outside the bubble of Infertility: Who am I? What's going on? What do I want? What do I need? What can I do better? And.... how am I ever going to get a full night's sleep again? :)

Oh yea, and I turn 40 in a couple of months.

How did I get here?

So it is time. Time to start a new blog. Time to feel free to say without any reservation on any given day that maybe my kids are driving me crazy. I know most folks in the throes of IF are not going to want to read about that.

And, although my infertility experience will always be a tactile memory-a shroud of experience I can wrap myself up in at any given moment, I feel it is now time to hang her up in the closet. She's there, right next to my pile of maternity clothes I don't quite know what to do with.

So, if any one is still interested in reading about the ongoing (and mostly boring) life and times of me and me crew, then please visit my new blog:http://startingoverafterif.blogspot.com/

Peace.

We Made It

2011-11-14T14:01:00.000-08:00

I underestimated how much moving would take out of me, mentally, physically and emotionally. I am sorry for the long silence. There have been lots and lots of post-in-my-head moments that have never made it into 'print'. But I am still here, and all is well.

Here is a brief snippet of what's going on.

10 Things I Love About Our New Life:

1. Bigger House.
We are not all on top of each other anymore. Everyone is happier.

2. Mister loves his job.
When Mister is happy, everyone is happier.

3. Handsome Man is in school.
Clark County School District has been good to us. For the first time since we started this struggle through HM's diagnosis, etc., he is finally--FINALLY-- getting special ed services. And he is thriving. And I get a 3 1/2 hour break, 4 days a week.

4. Our new health insurance is pretty freaking awesome.
No more gigantic bills every time we visit the pediatrician. Jeysus Lordy.

5. Sunshine.
I know California is sunny, but it is like seriously sunny here, even when it's cold. (and yes it does get cold!) No more SADD.

6. Renting is not so bad.
If something breaks, someone else has to fix it (and pay for it). Nuff said.

7. Everything is close.
Seriously, everything and anything I might need is close. And compared to the Bay Area, traffic is virtually non-existent. Seriously, people around here have no idea. If they have to drive like 20 minutes to get somewhere it is a big freaking deal. Me? I'm like, only 20 minutes? Sweeet!

8. Trader Joe's AND Whole Foods nearby.
Need I say more?

9. Cost of living is just basically lower, in general, which is super nice.

10. Did I mention BIGGER HOUSE??

10 Things I Am Struggling With Since Starting Our New Life:

1. I seriously miss my friends, and my familiar surroundings. I'm lonely.

2. I miss being able to drive an hour to see Mister's parents and spend time at their house. (Handsome Man seriously misses grandma and grandpa).

3. People here are weird. Not as friendly as I'm used to.*

4. The heat in the summer time is pretty extreme.
Hard to be outside for longer than 30 minute stretches with the kids during the day and we end up spending a lot of time indoors.

5. Gigantic energy bill from aforementioned summer months; running the A/C 24-7.

6. I miss green things.
Green trees, hills, grass.....and flowers.

7. White walls.
This house has white walls. Not only is it boring but they show every smudge, smear, dirty little hand print. I have invested heavily in the Magic Eraser. We are renting so don't want to deal with painting, at least not right now. Maybe if we end up being here long term....?

8. Dealing with the stress of leaving behind our house in the Bay Area.
Not that we are the only ones going through something similar, but it sucks. And we are not out of the woods yet.

9. I feel pretty isolated.
...ergo, I spend waaay too much time on Face.book. Ugh. Stupid.

10. Did I mention how much I miss my friends?

*Mister is meeting a lot of really cool people from his work, and so we have had the opportunity to socialize a bit. It will just take time for me to make new friends. It will happen eventually, but it just doesn't happen overnight.

it's Official...

2011-07-07T19:18:00.001-07:00

....we're moving. Mister got a job offer from Big Company out of state. We are going for it. It is going to be a huge change. But, as time has gone on (and the possibility of this company offering him a job became more and more real, aaand we got nearer and nearer to the end of his severance pay) I have started to warm up to the idea of a fresh start. Yes, it will present a whole new set of issues that I will have to contend with: Where to put Handsome Man in preschool in the fall, and who/how/where to talk to about his IEP. Who will work with it? Will they have room for him if a program even exists? Also, a new community, where I know absolutely NO ONE, and at nearly 40 years old, with two young children, I have to go about the seemingly impossible task of making new friends. Which sounds positively exhausting. I can't imagine how I could ever do better than the friends I have surrounded myself with here--and it took a while after we moved here to find and foster these friendships. I am spooked about navigating my way through a whole new city, in a new state...even though I've traveled a bit, I've never officially called anywhere but Northern California my home. Now we are moving to a city that I have never been to....(even though everybody and their kid brother has been there at some point in their lives for a bachelor/bachelorette party, quickie wedding, convention, vacation, or just for the Elvis impersonators...{can you guess where I'm talking about? No. I've never been.}) And then there's the whole business about going back into business. I was looking forward to getting back to work within the next year or so, and also starting a new business partnership. Now what? Start over? In a market I'm totally unfamiliar with, where I have ZERO contacts? Oy. That also sounds positively exhausting and impossible.

But then there's the flip side.

There is something so appealing right now about hitting the RESTART button on our lives. The past many years have been one struggle after another, the biggest and most debilitating and crushing of which has been infertility. It has colored every aspect of my life for so long. Mel at Stirrup Queens has talked about Location Casualties; the places you can't bear to revisit because they hold some horrible memory for you. My world here is full of them. So many places that I must drive by or even visit on a semi regular basis due to my work or just because they are so many and so near: There's the hotel we stayed at the weekend after we learned our first pregnancy was not viable. It was a vain attempt to 'get away' and forget and an excuse not to answer our phones for just a few more days, not to have to answer the horrible question. There's the restaurant we ate in that weekend, where I ordered wine, feeling strangely guilty even though I knew it didn't make a difference to the dead embryo inside me. There's the locations where I attended friends' baby showers, or heard pregnancy announcements and nearly cried my guts out in one bathroom or another, and on and on...And there are many more places that are mixed for me now on the other side of our journey: The hospital where I had my d&c but also the same hospital where I delivered Grace. But, either way, I am surrounded by this gauzy film that sort of covers the lens of my mind's viewfinder. Every where I look, old sadness, new joy, but melded together into one large opaque shroud over everything. How will it be, I wonder, now that things are different, now that I am no longer mired in my Great Sadness, to be somewhere new, somewhere totally devoid of memory and meaning? No reminders of old longings, losses or heartache. Even our house, which I will be sad to leave behind, as it was the home that welcomed both of our beloved children, is also the home where I sat for hours, incapable of moving, during the most suffocating moments in our struggle. How many hours did I spend completely stuck to this couch, drowning in inertia. How many times did I sleep (or not sleep) on this couch when I couldn't stop crying in the middle of the night and didn't want to disturb Mister? I think before we leave I will drag this couch into the front yard and light it on fire! I will dance around it and proclaim: You no longer have a hold on me! I am free! I have ripped through the dark veil of sadness and I will start over!

Can you start over at almost 40?

No one I meet from now on in our new town will have any idea of what came before, what sadnesses I endured or how broken I once was, how fragile our marriage became. Maybe that is good, maybe just what we need. I/we can be whoever we want... I think. Maybe we can forget too.

Who will I be now? Who can I be now...? Is there a more confident, happier, sassier, funnier, kinder, more energetic version of me, waiting out there in the desert?

The Empty Space

2011-06-20T09:57:00.000-07:00

I haven't really talked about it to anyone. It is far, far from everyone's mind now, and I don't really want to be a Debbie Downer. But, if my rough calculations are correct, I would be getting ready to, or would have just given birth to my baby right about now, had my ectopic actually been, well, NOT ectopic... I have been thinking a lot about that night that I at once found out I was expecting and then that it would have to end. I feel like there is this hole right now where something is missing. And even though I know with the very logical part of my mind that there is NO WAY we'd have been able to handle another baby right now--especially in light of Mister's recent job loss--I do feel a sadness and a loss. I am sad that there was a baby there--with a beating heart!--that had to be removed from my body. A baby that was real, but had to be left behind, reduced to no more than 'medical waste' in some operating room. I am grieving for that little soul, and even though I know it was not my 'fault'--I feel so sorry. I look at my baby Grace and imagine what her little baby brother or sister would be like. And I think it SUCKS that that could have possibly been the last time for me that I will be pregnant...that will be my body's last memory of pregnancy. My ugly belly scars are an every day reminder of my loss. And I am aware of the empty space inside me where part of my reproductive system is now missing. Most of the time I really try not to think about it but right now I feel like I need to sit with it and mark the loss, as the time that WOULD have been my baby's birth is coming and passing. I love you....baby.

Happy Father's Day, Mister!

2011-06-19T09:29:00.000-07:00

Despite all the uncertainty and stress right now...I know we are so lucky. You are a great Dad, and we have been extremely blessed with these two beautiful children.

On a Lighter Note

2011-06-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

Thank you, everyone for your supportive comments. Thank you, especially Shelby for the insight on how IEP's work--it really does help my anxiety levels. I guess I just feel like I had to swim through wet concrete to get where I am with this process, I worry that starting over will mean a repeat. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard the second time around. I'm sure most cities have their act together than the one I live in. Deep sigh.

We still don't have any job news. The job in SF we were hoping for didn't pan out, so now we're down to the out-of-state one. (Though Mister is still applying to some more companies nearer to home). The out-of-state company is flying him out in a couple of weeks, which seems like ages away. I try to remain as Zen-like as possible, though some days it is impossible--my body belies what is really going on deep inside and suddenly (like the other night from about 2 a.m. to 5 a.m.) I find myself in the midst of a anxiety attack. Double Deep Sigh.

But, ON A LIGHTER NOTE!

Here are some pics of my kids at our Stepping Stones class. (This is the preschool-like class where parents attend with their kids, and younger siblings are welcome.) For the first time since Grace was born, the past few weeks Handsome Man has been wanting to play with his sister. The other night I even caught him rubbing his sister's head and giving her little kisses. He can't wait to see her in the morning (he usually wakes up before everyone--and we try to keep him quiet and out of Grace's room until she wakes up.) So--despite my fears that his jealousy and anger since we brought Grace home would be life long--Handsome Man loves his sister. She has been completely enamored of him from day one, but I was worried it would never flow in the other direction. Thank you God, I think that things are going to be ok. I can't even express how much this means to me. I was raised basically as an only child (my sister being 16 years older than I and going off to college and living abroad by the time I was 2)... I always wished for a sibling, and when we adopted HM I always wanted for him to have a sibling. So, despite the many on-going challenges I am still dealing with with Handsome Man, this one thing seems to be turning around and I couldn't be happier. These two children will be in each other's lives (God willing) longer than I will be in their lives on this earth. I think having a brother or sister is such a gift. So there you go, my gratitude for this week, despite all the other s.h.i.t.!!!

Limbo Lower, Now

2011-06-05T09:40:00.000-07:00

I have been hiding under a huge rock. I am sorry for those of you who still check on this blog or who still have an interest, that I have been seemingly unable to write. I also have been very bad about checking on my bloggie friends and so I've been really out of touch.

It seems like when one door opens, another one gets slammed in our faces...

All went well at Handsome Man's IEP meeting. (Yes, we got an official meeting). After being fully evaluated by the psychologist and speech therapist (both of whom were very thorough, pleasant, helpful and understanding) we received an Individual Education Plan for HM. He will be enrolled in a preschool that is part of the Head Start program, and his IEP allows him to have an aide (he will be among 8 students in the class that have IEP's and there are 2 aides for those kids, in addition to the teacher and teacher's aide for the class in general). Of course we are already at the end of the school year (hard to believe I started this process back in October!) so all of this will take effect at the start of the school year in September. What a huge obstacle overcome, and a huge sigh of relief on my part. Yeah.

Then the door slammed.

Mister lost his job.

This all happened about a month ago, and I have been in a huge funk ever since. Of course Mister isn't exactly happy about it either. He's been looking for work and we are still in limbo. One of our potential options for work would require us to move to another state. And that's all I can say about it right now. Which means all that hard work I did for getting the IEP gets flushed down the toilet and I have to start over. It means all my recent plans and excitement about getting back to work and making my 'comeback' and the new venture I have been planning with a new business partner...flushed down the toilet. I am completely cut off at the knees and it feels like the last several months of my life have been a total waste.

Then of course the WORST possible outcome would be Mister gets no job offers, local or in another state, and we run out of money.

I have been living in a total state of limbo for the past month and though I've been trying to stay positive and hopeful and pragmatic, it's starting to wear on me. I can't sleep well, I'm tired and cranky ALL THE TIME. I'm depressed.

It is hard feeling like you have absolutely NO control whatsoever over your own destiny, but I guess I should be used to that feeling after 6 or so years of struggling with family building. Really, why this comes as any surprise, I don't know. I guess I just thought there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel: We were out of debt, Mister's job was going great (as far as we knew), we had two children we had always wanted, I was looking ahead to new horizons on my future career path (baby #3 plans on hold--but that's another post), HM finally was going to get services and be in school, freeing me up a bit to follow some goals.... then, BLAM!

I just haven't known what to say, which is why I haven't said anything. I've been shuffling through my days waiting for good news, a sign, some indication of what's coming next so I can start planning, and preparing. But for now I am still in the extended holding pattern where I can't plan anything, not knowing whether we'll still be here come fall.

Squeaky Mommy Gets the Grease

2011-04-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

Below is the letter (slightly edited for privacy reasons) that I sent to our Board of Education regarding Handsome Man's botched assessment and their denial of services. I sent a copy to Mrs. G., the woman who so blithely told me on the phone 'no further action was required' and also told me, when I asked if the assessment could be challenged or re-done, 'no there is no way to challenge it, the assessment stands.' Bullshit. I contacted a parent advocacy group and found that she was flat-out lying. They gave me a form letter to start from that I used to pen my little missive here, requesting a comprehensive assessment. I also sent a letter to the director of the Special Ed Dept. (her boss) and a few other key people in the mix.

3/7/11

Dear Ms. G____:

I am the parent of {Handsome Man}, who will be turning 4 years old this month. On November 17, 2010, your secretary, Miss H_____, took my initial application for an IEP assessment over the phone and at the same time, {Handsome Man's} psychologist, Dr. _____, faxed you her clinical assessment pertaining to {HM's} ADHD and co-morbid ODD. The file sat on your desk for over a month. At the time he was attending preschool at ________ Nursery School. Not only did I request and IEP for {HM}, so did the school, with great urgency.

In January, he was assessed by Mr. J_____ through your “Child Find/SELPA” program to determine eligibility for an IEP.

During the assessment, {HM} was displaying his typical problems pertaining to his disability. He could not sit still, listen, take direction, or answer questions directly. However, Mr. J__ went out of his way, taking {HM} outside to run up and down the hill, in between each question or task to get him through the sequence of testing. He even told me at the end of the assessment, that no other assessor would have been able to get him through the tests. He took at least twice the allotted time to get {HM} through the tests. To be frank, I feel that the bare test results are not a fair depiction of the challenges that {Handsome Man} faces. While I feel that Mr. J__ would be a wonderful instructor for {HM}, it seems that by giving {HM} special treatment in order to answer the questions, Mr. J____ “threw” the test. After the assessment was completed, I called you the following week (as I had not received anything from your office--{and still have not to this day}--) and was told that {HM} was not approved for an IEP and that “no further action is needed.” Ms. G____. I ask you, how a student who cannot sit still, cannot focus, take direction, interpret questions, or socialize with other students or teachers in an appropriate manner can possibly be able to participate in a school environment, and therefore learn and become educated along with his peers? If he cannot sit through a three-hour preschool program, or do the preschool curriculum, how is he expected to move on to Kindergarten at age 5? In fact, since your rejection, I have had to take {HM} out of his preschool because his teachers simply could not continue to teach {HM}, not because of any failing on their part, but because his behavior became too unmanageable and was a disruption to the rest of the class.

It is my understanding, under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) that children with ADHD and related issues, need to be considered for eligibility under the ‘Other Health Impairment” category.

I am requesting a comprehensive assessment in all areas related to suspected disability to determine whether {HM} is eligible for special education and/or related services either under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (including the Other Health Impairment category) or Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973.

I am requesting this assessment because as stated above, {HM} cannot participate in basic preschool curriculum and is therefore going to be (if not already) behind his peers, educationally.The following interventions and accommodations have already been tried: Attending class with a parent, special accommodations by teachers to give him more time for transitions, sitting next to teacher during circle time, warnings, time-outs, extra exercise, and medications for ADHD, and dietary changes. However, my student continues to struggle in school with sitting still, taking direction, interacting with students and teachers, following through with tasks, appropriate behavior in the classroom and on the playground, impulsive behaviors, disruptive behaviors, and emotional outbursts.

As stated above, {HM} has been diagnosed with ADHD and ODD by Dr. _____, a licensed clinical child psychologist.

It is my understanding that I will hear back from you in writing within 15 days of this request. I look forward to hearing from you and working with you and your staff.

Sincerely,

{Angry Mom}

Boom! Take that Mrs. G!! You could say I was a little pissed and it probably showed. But, guess what? I've got the department speech therapist and the department child psychologist coming to my house in two weeks to do two assessment of Handsome Man. I have not heard from Mrs. G. but I suspect her boss instructed her NOT to contact me, because I was already pissed enough. I have received phone calls from her boss and another coordinator within the department with apologies. I was amazed at how fast things started to happen once I sent the letter. The only reason the assessments aren't happening sooner is due to the two week Spring Break happening right now.

I am Angry Mama Bear--Hear ME ROAR!!

Now just crossing my fingers that we do get the desired result from these upcoming assessments: help with Handsome Man for school and at home!!!!

Long Time, No Post

2011-02-20T10:08:00.000-08:00

A quickie:

Still trying to figure things out for Handsome Man. It is just not going to happen overnight. On the recommendations of some of my other Mom friends, I am switching pediatricians to one closer to home--whom my aforementioned Mom friends really like. We would like to see a psychiatrist, but found out with our current insurance we will have to pay out of pocket (to the tune of 200.00 a pop) until our deductible is met.

I did some digging and found that the Board of Education is required to review our case again--under what's called an IEE (Individual Education Evaluation). So I have a sample form letter I need to fill in with our particular info, and then send via registered mail. Then they will be legally bound.

We have stopped giving him his medication because he was just. not. sleeping. Sleeping has gotten better since we stopped the meds. We will see--it's hard to know what's what since we were having sleep issues before the meds anyway. Still, he needs to be on something during the day, and I am going to ask the new doctor (we have an appointment on Thursday) about the non-stimulant meds. In the meantime, I have pulled him out of preschool, as it was causing much too much anxiety for him (and me). We are going to try a program called 'Stepping Stones' which parents attend with kids (since that is what I was having to do anyway) only this program is set up for moms who have babies too (they can bring them) and it is less expensive. Also it goes in 6 week increments, so if after 6 weeks it's not working for us, then no biggie.

We are considering Montessori, (which we can't afford) or possibly moving to another county where we can get better resources. (Which will mean walking away from our house and renting somewhere else). Mister has a meeting scheduled with an attorney next week to discuss these possibilities.

Grace is getting bigger by the day. She has two teeth and is starting to cruise. Time is going by way too fast.

Oh yeah, and I turned 39 on Feb 10th. Dear good God. Of course this birthday didn't sting like previous birthdays. I have more wrinkles and grey hairs than I used to, but I also have my 2 kids, so... it's all good.

Okay, So THAT Happened...

2011-01-31T16:45:00.000-08:00

...As feared. I called the BOE this morning regarding Handsome Man's assessment. Their answer was that since he scored well on the tests (i.e. he is smart--but we knew that) they are NOT going to move forward and provide us with an IEP (Individual Education Plan). I have been on the phone all morning and have had a good cleansing cry.... and I think I am now ready to FIGHT. I spoke to HM's psychologist and she basically said that not getting an IEP was bullshit AND illegal, re: Federal and State Mandates. I have some homework to do this week. *Sigh*

CRAP!!!!!!

Wordless Wednesday: At the Park

2011-01-26T07:21:00.000-08:00

Quick Update

2011-01-24T08:56:00.000-08:00

Thank you everyone for the comments/support. The appointment for Handsome Man went really well (I think). The gentleman that did his assessment was an absolute saint. He kept taking HM outside to run in between questions/tasks because HM could just not. sit. still. (Came to find out that this man also coaches track and field--ha ha). Anyway, it took us a while to get through all the questions and tasks since we had to keep taking running breaks in order to get HM's attention/focus, but he actually did really well. In a way I'm afraid he did too well and he won't be let into the program, but the assessor assured me he would let the board know exactly what he had to do and how hard he had to work to get HM to focus long enough to answer questions. He also told me (and of course I already knew this) that HM is very smart. Yep. I know. We just need some extra help so he can use that brain and learn in school!!

So now we wait for the letter which will tell us 1. if he's "in" and 2. what their recommendations are going forward. Fingers crossed.

Handsome Man: Please Send Good Thoughts

2011-01-20T10:39:00.000-08:00

So things seem to be not getting better with Handsome Man, despite our best efforts so far. After several visits with the child psychologist (who originally diagnosed his ADHD/ODD) we were encouraged to try some medication. We were against it at first, but, as time went on, we realized we needed to do something to break the cycle of bad behavior=negative attention=more bad behavior. We're not just talking about your typical 3-year-old stuff. I can go into more detail at some point, but let's suffice it to say that we felt desperate. Not just for ourselves, but for him. It breaks our hearts to see our beautiful boy struggling so much and dealing with so much. It is not that he is a "bad" kid, "spoiled" or anything like that (though that may be what it looks like to the outside observer--just ask any of the people gawking at us the other day when he had a major meltdown at the grocery store). He can not control his impulses. At all. And his emotions are all over the place and totally out of control. He is suffering, really and truly. It is like he is trapped in his own mind/body that is just not functioning the way it should, the way it could. So, PLEASE don't send me hateful messages because I put my preschooler on medication. We debated. We tried special diets first. We consulted with a doctor of TCM also (and still are). But we needed to do more. And so, at first the medication seemed to help. And, then, not really. If anything, it seems like things are getting worse. Our follow up yesterday with the child psychologist confirmed this.

Anyway, the reason for this post is, really, to ask everyone for their prayers or good thoughts for us TOMORROW. Because tomorrow we (finally!) have our screening scheduled with the County Board of Education/Special Ed program. They will assess Handsome Man and then we will find out if his condition qualifies him for the program. WE NEED THIS. If he gets into the program we expect they will have a behavioral therapist who will be able to work one-on-one with him at his school, and they will create an "IFP" or an "IEP" for us--and I'm hoping, we'll get plugged into a greater network of help that we can utilize. I am still trying to sort everything out and figure out where to get help and how. When you find out your child has a special need, it's not like someone hands you a manual on what to do. It's more like following a trail of breadcrumbs.

As far as the meds go, the pediatrician said we could safely up his dose, based on his weight/height etc.. I am going to try this and monitor him carefully. The psychologist said we should be able to see improvement within one week if it is working. If not, then we need to try something else. I asked her for a referral for a child psychiatrist, who could help us with this more on the medication side. Obviously, I don't want to drug my child without cause, or forever, but we need to find a way in with him, so that we can even get to the point where he can benefit and handle say, weekly sessions with a behavioral therapist. At this point he's not even able to do school, unless I'm there to shadow him throughout the day. This is difficult for me to do since I have Grace with me.

Please hold us in your thoughts tomorrow morning, and hopefully we will be getting some more help/answers soon.

Perfect Moment Monday: Wagon Ride

2011-01-16T10:49:00.000-08:00

When Handsome Man was a young toddler, his grandparents gave him a red radio-flyer wagon. The wagon is outfitted with two seats, which fold up and down, and seat-belts, for pulling around precious toddler belongings, or for pulling around precious toddlers themselves. HM absolutely loved his wagon. And I loved pulling him around in it, too. Our trips to the park were just that much more Norman-Rockwellian: my toe-headed boy in his bright red wagon, and me the picture of parenthood towing him along, singing silly songs or making choo-choo sounds. But, as every silver lining seems to have a grey cloud to many an Infertile, I always looked wistfully at that empty second seat. I envied the invisible multitude of parents out there pulling around full wagons, those that had purchased this model to hold not one, but two little kids. It made me sad not just for me, but for Handsome Man, too: I never wanted to raise him as an only child.

Then, last spring, amazingly, Grace came into our family. As the spring turned into summer, I thought about that wagon, but I felt she was still too little and fragile for wagon rides. And, Handsome Man was moving on to bigger things now, like a big boy bike and cool helmet. I figured that by the time Grace was robust enough to ride in the wagon and go over bumps without sliding down or falling over, that Big Brother would deem the wagon 'baby stuff' and want no part of it.

Then yesterday, the sun came out long enough to warrant a trip to the park down the street. Grace was sleeping, so HM and I went together while Mister stayed home. At the park there were 3 other little kids--all riding their bikes. Handsome Man then wanted to ride his bike too--so we trudged back home to get it. When HM gets something in his head, it is very, very hard to dissuade or redirect him; this is part of being a three-year-old, and part of it is his ADHD. So, when we got back home, got his bike, put air in the tires, and then realized we'd left his helmet behind at grandma and grandpa's house the previous weekend, the melt-down began. Which of course woke baby sister up from her nap. The pleasant afternoon was about to turn into another one of our marathon melt-downs that can go on for hours. I could feel my muscles tightening and my mood plummeting. Then, as a Hail-Mary and said, "would you like to take a ride in your wagon?" Amazingly, he looked at me, stopped crying, and smiled: Yes! It worked! "Can baby sister come with us?" I ventured. Sometimes he is less than enthusiastic about sharing his things, or more importantly, his time with Mommy, with his baby sister. To my great surprise his answer this time was "Yeah!"

So there I was, pulling around the little red wagon with two kiddos. Grace loved her first wagon ride. Handsome Man is almost too big, his long lanky legs taking up a lot of space, but he seemed to thoroughly enjoy being pulled around, and kept saying, "Faster Mommy!" Our trip to the park eventually turned into a long walk around the neighborhood, met with many smiles from the neighbors. I couldn't help but think of how lucky I was, and what a very perfect moment it was. I know by the end of summer (or even sooner) Handsome Man will really be too big for his little wagon and like many of his other old toys it will become Grace's by default. So I was very grateful to have a wish fulfilled. I should have taken a picture, but I was too busy enjoying the moment as it happened. I did however, take a picture the other day of a similar moment while shopping at Cos.tco. The only place I know where the shopping carts are double-wide: fit with two seats for little ones. Again, even though HM is really too big for the seat, he wanted to ride this time. Maybe he was just tired from all the walking, or maybe he just wanted to ride along with his little sis. Either way, precious.

The Weight of It

2011-01-10T11:28:00.000-08:00

As the days speed by me at the beginning of this new year, I find myself gasping for air, to find a moment of peace to reflect on the year that was....that I am leaving behind.

2010 was a Big year. It began with me joyfully entering my third trimester. For the first time in my life I was enjoying a healthy pregnancy and I was relishing every minute of it. The year also started with us taking on the project of turning our small one-car garage into a third bedroom, to expand our minuscule house in order to make more room for our growing family. All seemed well, like things couldn't be better. But it was soon clear that with all this expansion and joy, there would be some pain and sacrifice. It became obvious that I would have to make the very tough decision to close my business. A business that I had tended to and watched grow over some 13 or so years. But, due to the faltering economy, and the financial needs of an expanding family, the (mathematical) writing was on the wall. I would have to let it go. I could not afford (financially and energetically) support a business that was not supporting me. And so I grieved--really grieved-- the loss of my first "baby" and started transitioning my life and mind toward being a full-time mom. Of course, I did this with gratitude, too. Of course having this baby, and these two children, was what I always wanted, more than anything else in the world, and I was aware of that. But, still it was painful to say goodbye. Then, my darling Grace was born--a little earlier than expected. The C-section was not how I envisioned bringing my child into this world, and that too was a sadness, but again, I was aware of the big picture: A healthy baby, which was the most important thing of all! And, to my great surprise and immense joy, she was a SHE...the daughter I had long dreamed of. The next several weeks were more difficult than I could have imagined. Mister did not get a lot of time off of work, and I was overwhelmed with taking care of a newborn, and a three year old who was not reacting well to being an older brother. He reacted with anger, frustration and even violence (toward me) and I cried and cried, worrying that he would never come to love his little sister. Add to this the fact that in the early days Grace was not putting on weight, and we fretted. Breastfeeding didn't go well, and I hated my body once again for not doing what it was supposed to do. Add to this some postpartum depression, and the promise of help from my mother-in-law that did not materialize, and there were moments where I just didn't know if I could do it.

Somehow, like millions of women do every day, I did it.

Then as the spring turned into summer, we moved forward as a family, and I juggled the responsibility of being a full time mommy to two kids, while fulfilling the last of my work obligations and managed to produce about a dozen more weddings from May through October. It was clear, that I was making the right choice. It was no easy task. And what made it even more clear that I needed to be at home, was the realization and confirmation by professionals, that my son has ADHD. The diagnosis was at once a relief (ok I'm not crazy!) and a stress (holy crap, what do we do?) This is a question that we are still trying to answer, and as we move into 2011, will be at the top of my priority list. Many of my new year's goals (I don't make resolutions) will have to do with getting Handsome Man the help that he needs, and the help that we need as a family to cope with this the best way we can.

On the day that I completed the last wedding for my business, in October, my beautiful Grace turned 6 months old. And started crawling. I thanked God that I would be around this time to see every new accomplishment my baby would make--unlike with Handsome Man's first year, when I worked SO much.

Summer turned to Fall (my favorite time of year) and I enjoyed my newfound 'freedom' from work--I cooked, made home made baby foods, we carved pumpkins, I volunteered at preschool, and we looked forward to the coming Holiday season.

Then, the day before Thanksgiving, we discovered at once that I was pregnant, and that it was not to be. An emergency surgery, my second abdominal surgery in a year, and a cancelled Thanksgiving. I am still sad but at the same time grateful every time I look in the backseat as I drive down the road and see my two beautiful children sleeping in their carseats, or playing together on the living room floor. Every time I hear Grace giggle and every time Handsome Man runs up to me for an unsolicited hug.

We rang in the New Year on a happy note, celebrated with friends who also have a new baby. We made a trip to the snow and then cooked a beautiful meal together. I started out this year a totally new person. A much stronger person for the difficulties I've overcome. A happier person who is no longer carrying around the shroud of sadness about being infertile. I am not dragging around my envy and longing. I have everything I want, even if there is much that I would like to accomplish still, and like to have. Whatever happens, or doesn't happen, I know we'll be okay, that I'll be okay because I've made it this far. There are lots of struggles ahead. Ones that I'm aware of, and ones I haven't realized yet. I would like to say "I'm ready! Bring it on!" But the truth is, I don't know if I'm ready or not. I know I have limitations, but I also know that it will be fine because I'm starting 2011 liking myself a whole lot more than I used to. I am more aware than ever of my many shortcomings, but I'm more secure in my strengths. I am learning about myself.

Looking back on the year behind me, I acknowledge the losses, and accept them, because I have gained so much. When I weigh the sadnesses and the struggles against the joy and the gifts I've received, the scales are tipped well toward one direction. My cup runneth over.

Merry (Belated) Christmas Y'all

2010-12-29T15:09:00.000-08:00

....or Solstice, or Kwanzaa, or any other thing you do or don't celebrate. And a very belated happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends. (Did I cover everything?)

Ok.

Christmas was fun, if not hectic. My two little rug rats got tons of loot from Mister's parents and the aunts and uncles. We did a lot of driving, between home-Mister's parents' house-my mom's house and then home again for two days. Now we are back at Mister's parents' place, "house sitting" (read: taking over their huge {to us} comfy, well appointed country house while they are visiting the other set of kids/grandkids in New Orleans) and will be staying through New Years.

I am too tired from taking the late shift last night with a teething baby to come up with much of a post of any consequence, but all is ok over here.

We are all fighting a slight stomach bug which I am hoping will be history in time for us to celebrate on New Years Eve. I am making another attempt at hosting a get-together, so let's hope it's not a fail like Thanksgiving.

I got a special "gift" on Christmas: The return of Aunt Flo. Pretty much exactly one month after my surgery/loss. It gave me a moment of pause. It felt odd, my body moving on so quickly, not missing a beat. I don't know, just sort of weird in a way I can't really articulate right now. Especially since I know from blood work that I still had (a very small amount of) HcG in my system two weeks after the surgery.

Speaking of the surgery, my big incision site is really really sore all of a sudden. Is this normal? Is it just scar tissue forming, or should I be worried? I really really don't want to drive back to my hometown to go see the doc. But I also don't want to let things go... as we all know where that got me last time! Well, I'll keep you posted. I will also try and come up with my Year End/New Years blog post. 2010 was an incredible year!

Love to you all.

The Follow Up, and Other Ramblings

2010-12-08T08:26:00.000-08:00

Last week I got in to see my own Dr. Wunnerful. *sigh* Have I ever mentioned how much I love him?

The first thing he said to me was, "Well, that was a shock, huh?"

So he explained to me that I most likely had some scar tissue from my C-section, which caused the ectopic. And, that this is one of the risks of C-section.

This would have been good information to have had before Mister and I threw caution to the wind, and (amazingly, shockingly) got me knocked up again. Maybe, had I known that ectopic was a risk (even if a slight one) I might have been on the look-out. I might have taken my symptoms more seriously. I might have gone to the doctor sooner. I might have saved my tube.

But of course, since Dr. Wunnerful was out of town the weekend my water broke and I went into labor (a week before my scheduled C-section, which he would have performed), another doctor performed my C-section. Ironically, that was Dr. G., the same doctor I used to see when I first started down the path of trying to figure out why I couldn't conceive. The same doctor that performed my D&C in 2006 after our loss. The same doctor who looked at my labs and told me 'everything was normal' even though the RE looked at the same labs and told me later, my FSH was high. She is also the same doctor who pooh-poohed me when I brought up endometriosis.

Thankfully, my gut told me, when it was time to go back in 2008 for a check up after a failed IUI, I decided to switch doctors. And I've been with Dr. Wunnerful ever since. Dr. Wunnerful who did NOT pooh-pooh my thoughts on endo, who performed a lap....after which I conceived my daughter.

I often think, 'if only I had switched doctors sooner.....?!?' but I can't go there.

However, after my C-section, performed by Dr. G. (again, ironically, almost exactly 4 years to the day after she performed my D&C) I was required to see HER for my follow-up check up 6 weeks later. During my follow up I was asked what form of birth control I would be using. I had to laugh. The thought of birth control, after 6 years or so of not being able to conceive, just seemed silly. So I asked, 'is there any risk, or concern, if I should become pregnant, after my C-section?'

Her answer?

No. You'll be fine.

No mention of the risk, no matter how slight, of scar tissue or possible ectopic.

Not that anyone could have necessarily seen this coming.

And, with my history with Dr. G., she probably figured my baby Grace was a fluke, and future pregnancy was not likely anyway.

Who knows.

But I can't go there. I get too angry.

So, back to the present.

Dr. Wunnerful said, 'Well, you probably want to know about the condition of the other tube.'

As if he were reading my mind. Yes.

To make a long story short, he is recommending doing another lap procedure, during which he'll do another dye test to check the flow of the other tube, right before we decide to try again.

Wait, what, hold up...So, Frenchie, does this mean you ARE going to try again?

At first we were unsure. We were very happy with our two, and figured, what are the odds I could get pregnant again? We would just 'see what happened' and would be happy either way. Then, when this ectopic happened, when I learned there was a baby inside me, that I would not be able to carry...it was like everything crystallized. Our 'what-will-be-will-be' attitude shifted, and we knew: we will try again.

But, when? Right now, the timing is crap. We have so much work to do with Handsome Man. He really needs my full attention right now. We are still trying to wade through this diagnosis--and to find the best treatment(s) for him. We are dealing with issues of extreme impulsivity, opposition, hyperactivity, rage, and frustration. I am trying to forge through the red tape of the Board of Education, to get him a much-needed one-on-one assessment in the classroom, so we can see if we qualify for assistance. If we do not get this soon, I don't know if he will be able to continue at his preschool. Most days I feel exasperated, stressed, tired and spread too thin. Add to this I am trying to care for an 8 month old...and, well, now is just not a good time to add to our family.

So when?

In a perfect world, we'd wait a year at least. After which, hopefully, Handsome Man will be doing better, and by the time the baby came, he'd be going into Kindergarten. And by that same time Grace would be about ready for preschool. Hopefully by then things would be a little less crazy around here.

But. Time is not necessarily on my side, either. I turn 39 in a couple of months. And, after that, I'm staring down the barrel at 40. I know plenty of women have babies after 40, but let's be honest, there's no guarantee. Plus we don't know how long it would take with my one tube.

Dr. Wunnerful told me not to start trying for at least two months, to give my body time to heal. I feel like 6 months sounds like a better time frame. Physically. I am not ready for any more activity in my pelvic region right now. I need time to rest, get my energy levels back up, eat right, take my vitamins, take care of myself.

So, in 6 months or so, Mister and I will reevaluate where we are with the baby thing. Mister thinks I am about bat-shit crazy for wanting to go under the knife again. I told him I would do anything to prevent having another ectopic. If, in 6 months, we are ready to start trying, I'll go have the lap, and see what the status is with my remaining tube. In the meantime, I've got a lot of work to do being a mom to the two children that are here now. And to mother myself a bit, when I can find the time.

How Sweet!

2010-12-04T09:25:00.000-08:00

Thank you, Maria, from Mission: Fertile Soul, for bestowing me this lovely bloggy award.

So now I am trusted with the task of giving the award to five bloggers who I love to read, who's blogs have that 'something extra', that little spark, that keeps me coming back.

So here are my five picks:

Reproductive Jeans

Write Mind Open Heart

Good Egg Hatched

You Call Me a Bitch Like it's a Bad Thing

Are We There Yet?

Thankful, Not Bitter

2010-12-01T08:42:00.001-08:00

Thank you, my bloggy sisters, for sitting with me as I let out my pain and frustration. I am sad and feel a loss, even though I only knew for a short while I was pregnant.

But. Though in pain (both physically and emotionally) on that Thanksgiving Day, I was, and am, incredibly thankful for what life has given me this year.

-My two beautiful children.

-The joyful and transformative experience of being pregnant, and the safe delivery of my Grace.

-The health and well being of my family.

-My husband's new job, which is fulfilling him professionally, and is supporting us during these difficult financial times.

- A husband who works very hard, and who supports me (financially and emotionally) through my transition to full-time motherhood.

-My two real-life best friends who are REAL friends to me. They have held me up and supported me through so much this year, and celebrated with me too.

...and thankful that I have a stubborn husband who insisted on taking me to the emergency room rather than wait it out. Who knows what would have happened if I had ignored it any longer? I am thankful to be here to be with my family.

How I Spent My Thanksgiving Holiday

2010-11-30T16:41:00.000-08:00

....recovering from emergency surgery.

Really?!

Fuck.

We were out of town, staying at Mister's parents' house. They were traveling, so we were there alone. The plan was to spend the week there relaxing, and to also host the Thanksgiving feast for my family and some friends. I was excitedly preparing to co-cook a meal for about 12 people.

Then, in the wee hours of Wednesday morning (the day before Thanksgiving) I woke up to go to the bathroom.

....the rest of this gets sort of icky, so if you don't want to hear about it, leave now....

I was having some cramping....and I thought, 'finally, my period.' I had been expecting it for a week or so. But, no, no period. But pain. Lots and lots of pain. Like some one was stabbing me in the stomach and the groin, and twisting the knife around. I started seeing stars. I almost fell off the toilet. I made it back to the bed and told Mister, 'something is wrong.'

I had been having a sort of nagging pain on my right side for some time. I thought maybe it was a cyst...I figured I'd go have it checked after the holiday. Now, with this extreme pain, I figured I must be having an appendicitis.

When I got to the ER they had me pee in a cup.

Then the doctor told me, I was pregnant.

How?!?!? I had had sex exactly one time in the past two months, and had gotten my period that month. Since my period I NOT had any, ANY activity. So I knew two things: I must be pretty far along, and, something was wrong.

Still, while I waited for the ultrasound tech to come get me, my mind went wild: where will we put the second crib? We'll have to rearrange our storage so we can remove the second set of closets in Grace's room and make some room there. Oh my God, they are going to be so close in age! Will it be a boy or a girl? How will Handsome Man handle it....and so on.

I marveled at how it could be possible that I, a card-carrying Infertile, could now say, "Wow, he just looks and me and I get pregnant!" A saying that I had heard from women so many times over the years, and had made me want to vomit every time. Now here I was, the world's most fertile Infertile. Things like that just don't happen to a girl like me....

And then, the ultrasound. A pregnancy measuring 8 weeks. Alive. Not in my uterus.

Within an hour the OB doctor on call arrived and I was taken into surgery.

When I awoke I was shivering and shaking and all alone. Mister had taken the kids back to the house (at my urging) to get some sleep. When he came to pick me up he told me the doctor had called him after the surgery to let him know how it went. He tried to save the fallopian tube, he said, but it was too destroyed. And there was a lot of internal bleeding.

Physically, I am healing. It was not a delicate procedure like my other laparoscopy (which was performed by doctor Wunnerful). I look like I have been in a knife fight. Let's just say bikinis are no longer part of my future.

Emotionally, I have run the gamut of emotions. I know there was no possible way to save an ectopic pregnancy. But the word 'alive' keeps ringing in my ears. There was a baby there. And now there is not.

And I am short a tube.

I am mad at myself for not going to the doctor sooner for the pain. Seriously, had I had any reason to actually think I *might* be pregnant, I would have taken a HPT. I would have gone in right away. Maybe my tube could have been saved. I won't ever know, and I guess it doesn't matter now.

Needless to say, I didn't host Thanksgiving.

Drive By (Complete with Bullets)

2010-11-12T08:14:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday my little Gracie turned 7 months old. Holy heck! Time is flying
She is now crawling and sitting up on her own, eating solids.
On 10/10/10 I did my last wedding for my business.
Since I've had Handsome Man home full time since last March and really been hands-on with him, my gut has been telling me that something more than 'typical' 3-year-old boy behavior was at play....so I took him to a child psychologist recently to have him evaluated.
He was diagnosed with severe ADHD and ODD
Now I know I am not crazy, but still trying to figure out what to do next.
Our crazy do-it-urself-home renovations are still on-going. Presently: the bathroom.
Total Chaos.

I Will Post Again, I Swear....

2010-11-10T18:28:00.000-08:00

And I've got lots to talk about. (If anyone is still checking in, that is).

In the meantime, a few pics.

Lucky.

2010-08-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

(August 27, 2009)

The first thing I remember was a woman looking into my eyes and saying, "You're going to be fine." I was confused. I didn't know where I was or what was going on, but usually when someone is telling you everything is going to be okay, it means something is really wrong.

I looked down at my hands. Blood. I felt my forehead, looked at my hand--more blood. Again, "You're fine. Every thing's going to be okay." I looked down at my feet. I was barefoot. My right ankle was the size of a small cantaloupe. I remember thinking, "Oh, this is not good." But where was I? I looked around. The hot, bright, mid-day sun shone down on everything. Blinding. I was on the side of the road. My logic started working. I realized I'd been in a car accident.

The woman was talking to me again. "I found your purse, and your phone. I got them out of the car. Is there someone I can call for you?" I must have given him my husband's name. She stepped away, and came back a few minutes later. I spoke to ____, he is on his way. A female police officer was asking me questions. Accusingly, "Were you on the phone when you had the accident?" I was sure I hadn't been, and yet, I couldn't remember anything. The other woman jumped in. I think she looked through my iP.hone and saw that there were no incoming/outgoing calls within the past couple of hours. I couldn't have been on the phone.

Then the lady came back to my side. Something dawned on me. I looked into her eyes. I said, "I'm pregnant."

"You're going to be ok!"

I remember her telling me, "It must be a girl, then. I have two daughters, and I can tell you, only a girl would do this to you."

Obviously, she was trying to make me feel better, diffuse the situation.

Police officer stepped away and got on her walkie talkie.

Police officer came back and said, "The Ambulance is on its way."

Someone asked me about the car seat in the back of my car. Where is your child? Fear choked me, then I remembered quickly: He was safe at daycare.

The woman, again trying to distract me, asked me about my child. How old? Boy or girl? Handsome Man's face floated in my mind. In that moment I wanted to hold him more than anything, but was so glad he was no where near all of this.

We waited. The sun beat down. Oddly I felt no pain. I looked again at my ankle, how could I not be feeling this?

The EMT's arrived.

Strangely, I remember thinking how cute the young EMT was.

He asked me,

"What day is it?"

I guessed. I got it wrong.

"Do you know where you are?"

I told him I was on hwy x.

I was actually on hwy z.

I had no memory of being on hwy z.

Then, "Ma'am, are you pregnant?"

I looked into his eyes. I felt so strange, like I had just woken up from a dream. Like maybe I was still in a dream. I had dreamed many, many times of being pregnant, only to awake and realize I was not. Suddenly, I wasn't sure any more. I felt stupid. I didn't want to say I was pregnant only to realize I wasn't. To be a joke: pathetic.

"I don't know....I'm not sure!"

The woman told me she was going to call my husband again. She stepped away. She came back to me and said, "Honey, I spoke to ____. You are pregnant."

I started crying. Joy, like finding out my dreams had come true all over again, and then, gut wrenching fear for the fragile life inside of me.

EMT said, "Okay, we are going to take you to the nearest trauma center. How do you feel about taking a helicopter ride?"

They landed the helicopter in a field across the highway and rolled me out into the field. Aboard the helicopter, the female EMT said she was going to give me something for the pain. I refused..."I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant." I kept repeating. She told me the drugs would not hurt my baby. I still refused. I think I told her, "It is a miracle I'm even pregnant. I can't risk it."

They had to cut off my clothes. She told me she was going to check 'down there' to see if I was bleeding. She told me, no blood. That's good. Do you have any cramps? No. I felt nothing.

Then suddenly, it dawned on me. I was in a car accident--with another car. What about the other driver. Were they ok? I started to freak out. She told me, "They are going to another hospital by ambulance. I think everybody is ok. We'll ask when we get you to the hospital."

At the hospital: Rolled off the helicopter. I must have been on the roof. EMT gave my vitals, and said, "Six weeks pregnant. Very concerned about the baby. Refused meds." A nurse looked at me and said, "I'm MaryAnn. I'm going to be with you the whole time."

I was rolled in to the emergency room, and off of the EMT's gurney onto the hospital gurney. For the first time I was aware of the pain. I looked at my right arm. My elbow throbbed. I couldn't move it.I was sure it was broken. The doctor used an ultrasound to see if there was any internal bleeding. He moved the Doppler over my lower abdomen. Silence. At six weeks, not much was clear. He spoke to the nurse in hushed tones. He could see the pregnancy in my uterus, but could not detect the heartbeat. I closed my eyes and sent up a silent prayer: "Please God, don't let this be The Worst Day of My Life."

It was determined that I had no internal bleeding, so I was moved into another room. Again rolled onto another bed. Again, more pain. Tests were ordered. MaryAnn stayed with me. She was my advocate: She ensured I had a double layer of lead aprons over my pelvis each time they used the the x-ray machine. And, when I went in to the cat-scan machine to check my brain, she stayed with me, reassuring me, your pelvis is no where near the machine, just your head and neck are in. She ordered a pelvic ultrasound from labor and delivery. We had to wait for them to come down with the portable machine. She waited with me. We talked about my family. My son. My husband. And, why it was such a miracle that I was pregnant. Pretty soon more and more people were (nurses, techs) were in on the story. When the ladies arrived from L & D with the portable machine, MaryAnn held my hand while they inserted the dildo-cam. There was a palpable holding-of-breath in the room while they looked around for the heartbeat. Everyone stared at the screen. Then, there it was: A little flickering light. MaryAnn said, "We have cardiac activity!!" Then she told me, "Call your husband!"

On the phone, my husband was trying to stay calm. He was on his way, but it would take him about two hours to the hospital way up north where I had been taken, from his office in the City. "There's a heartbeat," I said. I could hear him exhale. "There is?" He asked. "Yes, the Baby is alive."

MaryAnn cleaned up my face. Tiny shards of glass were removed from my skin. I asked her to wipe out my mouth with a cloth, as it was full of grit from the exploded air bag. I wasn't allowed to have any water yet until the blood tests were done. The doctor stitched up the cut on my head above my right eye. I knew I would have a scar, but I didn't care. My baby had a heartbeat. Despite the pain I was feeling, I was floating on air.

Remarkably, no bones were broken. My legs were useless. Both legs were black and blue from feet to knees. My pelvis had absorbed so much energy from the impact and was so sore I couldn't stand, even if I could have put weight on my ankle. For many weeks the back spasms I endured were terrible. Especially since I couldn't take any of the "good" drugs due to the pregnancy. But, little by little, I got better. Pretty soon I could walk without the crutches, and with the help of my chiropractor, and physical therapy, within three months I was back to normal. I still have a stiff ankle. I probably won't be taking up marathon running as a hobby. I imagine when I'm older, I'll be able to tell when it's about to rain, because, "my ankle is acting up."

The other driver and his wife were not badly hurt. He had some cracked ribs, and she suffered from a very bruised knee from hitting the dashboard. It filled with fluid and had to be drained, but an MRI revealed no torn ligaments or cartilage.

There were definitely angels on the highway with us all that day.

Happy Friday the 13th: A Pee Stick Story

2010-08-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

Not one to be too terribly superstitious, Friday the 13th never really creeps me out. And today is a special day to me for another reason: Exactly one year ago today, I found out I was pregnant.

I was waiting for my period to start so I could call the RE's office to schedule the repeat HSG he was insisting on. I was supposed to have done it the month before, but the insurance clearance didn't come through in time and I had missed the opportunity. I was bummed that not only had I missed that month, but now even though I was going to go ahead with the HSG I would have to wait until the following month to actually start the IUI's.

And, then, my period was late. I'm never late. Early, yes. Late, no.

I was sure that my luck had just gotten worse--that now we were finally going to embark on another round of fertility treatments, and here I was, going into early menopause.

I figured that if I called the RE's office, the first thing they would tell me to do would be to take a home pregnancy test. I figured I'd beat them to the punch, let them know that no, I wasn't pregnant and something was wrong--so please get me in for some bloodwork.

On the way to work, I picked up a home pregnancy test. I felt so stupid doing this. Especially after all those years of buying those pregnancy tests, hoping I would indeed be pregnant...now this time I was sure I wasn't. This was just a formality. I bristled at having to even spend the money.

When I got to work, one of my employees was already there. I got him started on the first set of tasks--we had a big wedding that weekend--and I went down the hall to the bathroom (shared by the whole floor of the building).

As I peed on the stick I literally rolled my eyes. This was so stupid.

As I waited the required 2 minutes, I studied my face in the mirror. Don't be sad when it turns up negative, I told myself. Don't let it ruin your day. This is just a formality. I tried to think about the facial I had scheduled for myself later that day...something to look forward to.

I turned around and picked up the test.

When I saw the big, strong, undeniable PLUS sign, I slid down the wall, onto the floor and stared at it for a good, long time. My hands were shaking. I had to hold my wrist with the other hand to steady the hand holding the pee stick, so I could really see what I was looking at.

Of course later that day I went out and purchased more tests. That night I repeated the test. This time with the type that has two lines. I wanted to do several tests to see if the line kept getting darker, or if it faded. I tried to prepare myself for a chemical pregnancy.

That night I repeated the test. The test line was darker than the control.

Needless to say, it all worked out. I eventually emailed my RE's office and told them I wouldn't be coming in for an HSG. I remembered reading of similar scenarios by other bloggers over the years--urban legends in my mind.

August 13th was good to me last year!

Four Months Old!

2010-08-11T16:59:00.001-07:00

My beautiful Grace,Yesterday you turned fournths old. Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday, you were still moving around inside of me. Now you are here, and my life is changed forever. I have a daughter, I have you. Handsome Man became a big brother. And our family feels complete. It took a long time, but somehow, despite all the dissapointments, I knew one day I would hold you in my arms. I dreamed of you.

But time went on, days, weeks, months and years, and I started to doubt if I would ever hold you in my arms in this lifetime. If maybe, you were just a dream that was too good to be true. If the love I felt for you was make-believe and I was just torturing myself.

And, then, one day, not on my schedule, but yours.....

You made your presence known.

Not sure if it was too good to be true, I panicked through those first early days of my pregnancy. Every morning I woke up expecting you to be gone. But you stayed. First a flickering light on a monitor told me your heart beat within me, then, eventually, you fluttered inside like a butterfly.

And you grew...

And grew...

And then one day, again, on your own schedule, not mine, you came...

So tiny and perfect, your father held you close to my face and your dark eyes peered at me, as if you were a wise old soul, sizing me up for the first time. Like we'd met somewhere before and you were remembering me, and I, you.

Four months have flown by and you have blossomed from a tiny little fragile newborn (I used to call you 'my little sparrow') to a full-fledged chunky, roly poly, laughing, giggling, gorgeous little girl. Just four months and you are constantly rolling over on your belly every time I put you down and trying to crawl. You don't like your car seat and you squirm and protest every time I put you in it. You are a wonderful sleeper and you let mommy get her beauty rest all through the night (most nights) and I need it! Razzes, peekaboo and any thing that tickles your funny bone make you giggle, which is music to my ears. You study your brother, and I can see you love him already and are trying to memorize his every move so you can catch up with him soon and play.

(Handome Man and Grace--Grace at 2 months old)

You are sweet and friendly and smile at everyone, but for now, you love your Mommy the best. And I love you, my precious, precious little girl. God gave me you, God gave me Grace.

She's Baaaaack!

2010-08-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

Aunt Flo, that is. I knew she was coming because about 2 weeks ago I had the WORST ovulation pain, ever! So, here it is...the first period I've had in a whole year. I feel a little sad, in a weird way. Somehow this feels like it marks the end of a larger cycle. The process of conception, gestation, birth, and the post-partum phase is now officially over. My little Grace is turning 4 months old tomorrow--no longer a newborn, by any stretch. She is getting big, and chunky and active...she's already making those first attempts at moving on her own. Sort of a pilates-style scoot on her belly, with her arms and legs up in the air. Totally hilarious. But, time feels like it is moving way, way too fast for me. Where is the pause button? I know I am going to blink and Grace will be walking, then talking--not a baby anymore. Just look at Handsome Man. No longer a baby or even a toddler...he's all Big Boy. We're almost (finally) potty trained. Today I will go sign him up for preschool. He often says, "No Mommy, I want to do it ALL BY MYSELF." And I know with Grace it will go the same way...I'll turn around one day and my baby will be gone, replaced with a Big Kid. And I know it is as it should be, but, I am so grateful to have both of these little ones, so grateful to be in this moment in time, so grateful to have a baby to hold in my arms...I just want to soak in it for a while longer. The days pass by too fast. And, the return of old Aunt Flo, marking the end of a certain era for me, does make me a little sad. And, in another way, I feel happy, too--happy that my body is doing what it is supposed to--getting on with the business of its monthly cycle. Not missing a beat, moving forward, ready, perhaps, to create another life? Wait, what? Hold the phone...huh? Oh, I don't know, peeps. I'm certainly not ready for another baby right now, I'm way too overwhelmed. And there's no guarantee lightening would strike twice in my uterus. But, I'm just sayin'. It's not like we're going to prevent, per se. When I went in for my 8-week post partum check up, the doctor (the one who delivered Grace, unfortunately, not my Doctor Wunnerful) was all, 'So what form of birth control are you interested in?' I had to laugh. Really? After all I've/we've been through--all the time we spent (or at least I spent) pulling my hair out, wishing I could be like 'everyone else' and just get pregnant--after all the years of that just NOT happening, it was really surreal to be having that discussion. When I told her we would just see what happens she seemed a little amused. Not in a condescending way, probably in a happy way--happy for us that all of a sudden the possibilities were there again. Or maybe that was my own feeling. I don't know. Possibilities are nice. What is also nice, though, is that--I am not really worried anymore. I don't look at my period as a failure. Another month without conception. At least for now my period is a sign that my body is on my side. It's working. I'm 38 and my body still wants to procreate. So, we'll see. By the time I'm really ready for another baby it might truly be too late. I know that's very possible. It's also possible it just won't happen twice. But, that doesn't scare me anymore. The thought of not being able to conceive no longer chokes me and cuts at my heart. My cup runneth over right here, right now, and I am moving forward with a new outlook on life, a new appreciation and sense of gratitude for this body God gave me, and for what I went through these past 5 or 6 years. It was all worth it. Oh, and p.s. if my periods are going to be like this one so far from now on (pain free! What?) the HOORAY!!!!! Thank you body!!

Perfect Moment Monday:Family Ties

2010-07-18T09:06:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we (Mister, the kids and I) went out to his parents' house for the weekend. They live out in the country about an hour and a half away, and we enjoy visiting. Handsome Man loves to run around in their big back yard, and we all enjoy taking dips in the pool. My in-laws are the type of people that are just very easy to be around. I never feel like I have to be "on my best behavior" or perfect in any way. There are rarely any scheduled events on these lazy weekends; we're free to just do what feels right: take a dip in the pool, a nap, a snack, read a book, go for an outing to one of the many nearby wineries, farms, or drive into town for a movie or shopping. Mostly we just all like being in one another's company. Not many people can say this about their in laws. I know I am lucky.

On our latest visit, I was sitting in the kitchen with my mother in law. She was holding her newest grandchild, Grace, and just marveling at her beauty--(who wouldn't?)--and beaming with love and pride. She was taking in all her features: her gorgeous, long eyelashes (must have gotten those from Mister) her auburn-tinged hair (where did that come from? Maybe from my father?) when my MIL said off-handedly, "well, I just hope for her sake she doesn't get my nose!" I smiled and looked at her for a moment as she continued gazing at Grace--then she looked up at me and met my eyes. Suddenly we both burst into laughter. Of course, Grace won't have her grandmother's nose. Because Mister was adopted.

But that's the thing: the bonds of love within this family run deeper than DNA. They love their adopted child and their biological children completely and with no preference. The legacy of their love for their child (Mister) will live on through our children, both adopted and and biological. It is not a legacy of chromosomes and genetic traits, it's the legacy of love that matters most.

Breastfeeding Woes, and More Updates

2010-07-06T08:13:00.001-07:00

Well, I think I'm about ready to give up. On breastfeeding, that is. Thank you, those of you who sent me the supportive comments. But I think I need to pick my battles, here. When Grace was a tiny newborn, and only required about 2 oz per feeding, when I was only producing about 1 oz, it didn't seem like such a crazy thing to breast feed first, then supplement. She enjoyed being on the breast, and I enjoyed the closeness and experience of breast feeding her (as soon as my nipples stopped hurting so bad) so I really wanted to keep trying. Then, before long, her required intake shot up to 4 oz at a feeding, and now, she can easily hammer back a 6 oz bottle at many of her feedings. Despite my best efforts, I still only produce 1, to maybe 2 oz (max!) at a pumping session. I am trying to pump at least 3 times a day. And, honestly, every time I pump for 30, sometimes 45 minutes, and only come up with 2 0z (on a good day!) it really does nothing more than depress me further. If I pumped 3 times a day (when I can find the time--good gawd!) and got a lucky 2 oz each time, that would only amount to ONE bottle's worth for Grace! However, up until now, she still really enjoyed being on the breast--at certain times of the day, like when she was ready to settle down for a nap. She'd fuss, and pull away from the bottle sometimes, and seek out the breast, and then stop fussing and fall asleep. I was like a human pacifier, with the added perk of having a little bit of milk. But now, when I offer her the breast, she sucks away for a minute and then just gets frustrated. And then I feel horrible. So, at this point, I think I'm trying to keep it up for myself more than for her. I love the feeling of breastfeeding but it is feeling more and more pointless as time goes on. I have a tendency to get mad at my body--you know, like this is just another way my body is revolting against me and failing me. But, I have to pull back at those moments when I get down on myself and remind myself that my body has, actually, done quite a lot for me lately: my body figured out how to conceive this child all on its own (well, my husband was there, but you know what I mean--no injections, no doctors in the room, etc.), and my body carried and nourished this baby for 38 weeks. My baby was born healthy and I enjoyed a fairly uncomplicated and easy pregnancy. And, despite having a c-section, my body bounced back pretty quickly. (And don't hate me but I look pretty good. No one would guess I had a baby 3 months ago. I don't even have any stretch marks!) So, I guess I'll have to cut my body some slack here. I wish I could successfully breast feed. I so felt I missed out on that experience with Handsome Man, too--but here we are. I also woke up this morning with the distinct feeling that I am about to get my period. Ick. One of the many perks I enjoyed with pregnancy was NOT having a period for all those many months. And, I looked forward to delaying its return even longer with breast feeding. It has been a year now since I have suffered through a menstrual cycle. I am not looking forward to seeing that monthly red visitor again. I've also read that for many women, the return of menses reduces their milk supply--so--do I really want to fight this battle with my body any harder? I think it may be time to raise the white flag of surrender here.

All I can say is, thank goodness for formula. Don't report me to Le Leche League. They might string me up for saying that. Grace is thriving and getting chubby and hitting all her milestones, and that's what really matters. (And I keep thinking, what did people in my situation DO before formula? Good grief!)

And, yes, Grace is a healthy, happy little girl. She really is such a GOOD baby. (Not that there are 'bad' babies, but you know what I mean). She has settled into a bit of a routine. Things are not so hectic around here any more. She is sleeping through the night most of the time, and I am getting more (not enough, but more!) sleep. So things are good. Handsome Man still has his moments of jealousy, but for the most part he seems to be feeling more grounded and secure. Those first few weeks were really, really hard. I am not kidding. There were times when I wished I could find a reason to be re-admitted to the hospital with Grace just to get away from him. And to go back to that blissful time of just being with her in our own little cocoon, where I could connect with her, and get my much needed rest. (And 3 good meals a day). (I honestly think that the stress I experienced after coming home from the hospital had an effect on my milk supply, and everything I have read states that stress effects milk supply, but what could I do?) However, now, with lots of love, sometimes "tough love" (there was one point when we had to literally take everything out of his room other than his bed and a dresser until he could get control over throwing his toys and books, etc.--for about 3 weeks!) and attention and work, Handsome Man is back to his (active) adorable, good-natured self. He is more independent now too, and will play in his room with his trains or play outside in the back yard for stretches without "needing" me to be right there with him. So, I am a little more relaxed (relatively) than before. Grace also naps at a long stretch in the afternoon, so that gives me some time to do a few things around the house, or if I'm lucky, relax a bit now and then.

I am still struggling with juggling my responsibilities of working and being a full-time mom. This coming weekend I have two weddings (one is big) and then nothing for the rest of July. Then I have 2 in August, and 2 in October. Then, I'm done for good. (*sigh*). It's hard, but for now I feel it is definitely the right thing for our family. There really is no question. On the weeks when I have weddings to produce, it really throws a wrench into our little family routine, and I am just so exhausted. It's hard. I need to be at home for the next couple of years at least, and that's all there is to that. So I am looking forward to finishing my last wedding and hanging up my clippers, at least for a while.

Now the baby is crying, I must go. Have so much to do today it's not even funny.... the list that never quite gets finished is growing and growing!! xoxo

Grace's Birth Story, part two

2010-06-28T16:01:00.000-07:00

(I have decided to just write this post in small dribs and drabs because to find the time and the brain power to actually sit down and write out everything in a well thought out post is seeming impossible)

By about 7:00 a.m. or so, Mister and I both agreed to give up on the sleep thing, seeing as we were too excited and, any time now they'd be coming in to start prepping me for surgery. It wasn't a happy, jittery type of excitement, though. It was more of an I-feel-sort-of-numb-because-this-is-all-too-much-to-take-in sort of crazy, weird excitement. I don't know how to explain it. You'd think I'd be freaking PSYCHED. But I was very in-the-moment...which is weird for me. It was very much like, ok, now: I'm having a contraction. It's a little one. Now: I'm feeling calm. Now: I can hear more activity out on the ward. Now: I am thirsty.

Oh yeah, thirsty. Gawd. They wouldn't let me eat or drink anything all night. Off-limits since I was about to have surgery. Ohhhh I was so thirsty, and probably from the combo of the drugs they had given me and my nervousness, and the horrible crying jags of the day before, I was sooo thirsty! I had the Worst taste in my mouth. I was afraid I would knock out the next nurse that got near me with my vaporous halitosis. If only I had known they were going to make me wait till morning for the surgery, I would have chugged a gallon of water on the car ride to the hospital. Guck. So I sneaked a mini Altoid. Shh. Don't tell.

But I digress.

So, as Mister and I were both awake, we decided to get down to the business of picking a name for this child once and for all. And, since Mister is the awesome geek that he is, he already had a spreadsheet going of our top picks. So, he pulled out his laptop and we got to work. We had a short list of girls names, and we agreed then and there on the one we both equally liked, and paired it with a middle name that funnily enough was a family name for both of us (both of our sisters have the same name). It sounded pretty and I liked it. I sort of saw it as just another thing to check off the list (gotta have a name picked out for boy and girl) but not really that critical, because I was SURE I was having a boy. So we agonized over the boys name. We had a much longer list of favorites as well as middle name choices. There were more names that we both equally liked so it made it a bit harder. I really, really liked the name Liam. Also, it is a Celtic (or Gaelic?) version of William, which is my father's middle name (may he rest in peace) and he always went by his middle name any way so--I thought it was nice. And another name we had really liked, though we knew it was a little popular at the moment was Nathaniel. I also love that it means 'Gift from God' as this little miracle that was about to be born surely was. So we chose it for the middle name. Liam Nathaniel.

Grace's Birth Story, part one

2010-06-08T09:01:00.000-07:00

April 9th was a very weird day.

It was a Friday--and exactly one week before my scheduled C-section. I had plans to move out of my work studio over the weekend, and then to spend the rest of the following week relaxing and just getting ready for our hospital stay. I was incensed and determined to get the house CLEAN once and for all. I knew I was running out of energy, and time, to get the house somewhat dust and pet-dander free, and somewhat organized before the Big Arrival. And, depressingly, the baby's room was still not finished. I had a lot to do.

But, for some reason, Handsome Man was having one of those days. One of those days where he just haaad to get into everything. It seemed like every stride I made toward getting things clean, at least one new mess was created behind me when I wasn't looking. And I was an emotional wreck. I can see now it must have been my hormones going completely bonkers. But at the time I was just frustrated and despondent (and exhausted) beyond belief and felt that nothing was going right. Toward the end of the day, after Handsome Man had managed to find, and pour out, an entire bottle of bubble solution (someone had given us this as a gift, idiots) all over the carpet I had just vacuumed, I had totally lost it. And I had at least two more hours before Mister made it home from work. I had to call a neighbor friend to come take H.M. for a while because I couldn't stop crying hysterically. I was a complete basket case.

When my friend came over (God bless her) I got in my car and drove down the street, parked it, and just cried my eyes out until I had gotten it all out. (Which took a while). In the meantime Mister made it home and took over--totally puzzled by my state when I came back. He got H.M. to bed, and I decided it would be in my best interest to eat something. Finally, by about ten o'clock, I decided to throw in the towel, put an end to the day, and climb into bed to get some much needed rest.

But as soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt a strange 'twinge' down in my nether regions--sort of like a guitar string popping. And it hurt. Which made me tense up. And when I tensed up, a little bit of pee came out, which was a pretty common occurrence at that point in my pregnancy. I went to the bathroom, and went pee some more, only, it was strange... it just kept trickling out. I went back to the bedroom, and as I lifted my leg to put on a fresh pair of undies, fluid came squirting out down my leg and onto the floor (sorry, tmi). I went back to the bathroom, thinking 'wow, I really have NO bladder control now!' But by the time I made it back to the bathroom, it was pretty obvious this was not pee. It kept streaming out of me. Back in the bedroom, I said to my sleeping husband, "I think we need to go to the hospital. I think my water just broke." He didn't even lift his head from the pillow, being so tired from a long week of work and commuting, and said, "Are you sure it's not just pee?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure."

Then we started rushing around the house, throwing things into a bag. I took a shower, because I wasn't sure when I'd have another chance. We grabbed a sleeping Handsome Man, and put him in the car. I called the hospital on the way there. (And they told me to come right in). During the 30 minute car ride, as I sat on a pile of towels, completely gushing now, I started getting contractions. Now I was a little scared too, because I wasn't feeling the baby move at all. By the time we pulled up to the hospital the contractions were getting stronger, and when Mister asked me to help him find the sign for the Labor and Delivery parking lot, I said, through gritted teeth, "I'm a little preoccupied over here....!"

Once inside we were taken to a small room, where I was hooked up to the fetal heart monitor and another monitor for my contractions. A nurse gave me an exam and told me I was not dilated at. all. Which because I was breech, was pretty normal. Or at least that's the gist. All I know is, I sure wasn't feeling very good. And I was already exhausted. They called the doctor on call--Dr. G.. (the same doctor who I used to see before I switched over to Doctor Wunnerful. The same doctor who had, four years earlier, performed my D&C in this very same hospital.) Dr. G. had just gotten off shift, and the nurses asked if I felt ok with waiting until 8 a.m. for my C-section. They would give me drugs to keep the contractions at bay until then. I figured it would be better to wait and have a doctor who's fresh and has had some sleep perform my surgery, and it would be better to try and get some sleep, one last time, before I became a mother of two.

My friend, T., was so kind, and met us there, and took Handsome Man home back to our house so Mister could stay there over night with me. They promised us a room where we both could sleep. Only, we waited for what seemed like forever. And after finally getting into our comfy room, sleep was somewhat elusive. Despite the fact that I had been given (or so I thought) drugs to reduce contractions, and pain meds, they were coming harder, faster, closer together. Finally, I rang the nurse. She hooked me back up to monitor my contractions, and a few minutes later returned and said, yes, I needed more meds. The meds. The meds made me feel yucky too. Shaky and gross. These were the same meds they had given me the previous week when Dr. K. had attempted the 'version' to turn the baby. Icky icky ick. Add to this the fact that it seemed like someone was coming in there every 5 minutes to check this or do that, and sleep was not on the menu. For either of us.

Luckily, despite my earlier crazed emotional state, despite the fact that there was a mountain of things I wanted to get done before the baby came, a mountain of things that would now obviously not be getting done, Iw as strangely calm by this point. I just submitted. I was still a little scared about the surgery. I tried not to think about it. Did I really have a choice? Plus, after what little sampling I had just gotten of labor, I thought maybe having a c-section wouldn't be so bad.

Will I Ever Blog Again?

2010-05-30T09:47:00.000-07:00

Crazy. Crazy. Crazy... that's what it's been around here. I don't think there's truly any way to prepare for bringing home a new baby and dealing with the fall-out from a 3 year old big brother trying to adjust. The first 2 or 3 weeks were pretty harrowing. Handsome Man did not handle it too well. Everyone told us to expect this, but, wow. Also, at our first post-hospital check-up we found out that not only was Grace not gaining weight, but she had, in fact, lost a pound since birth. Her jaundice was also getting worse. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I was so scared and worried. Back we went to the hospital to have her bili levels checked and to meet with the lactation consultant. Long story short, it was determined that my milk supply was pretty much inadequate. I had no idea. All I knew was I was feeding Grace constantly, it seemed... I thought all was well! Little did I know she was starving. We immediately started supplementing with formula. They wanted me to do 30 minutes on each breast, then supplement with an ounce or two of formula. And do do this every hour and a half. So, in case you didn't just run the math in your head--that's pretty much round the clock, constant feeding. All while being at home with a very rambunctious, needy, acting-out three year old who also needed my love and attention. I did this for about 2 days before I absolutely totally and completely lost it. Oh, I forgot to mention the lactation consultant also wanted me pumping in between feedings to increase my supply. (sigh...). I switched to feeding her breast at one feeding, and then formula at the next, and pretty soon her formula consumption shot up from 2 ounces to four at most feedings. The good news is her weight shot up immediately and her jaundice resolved very quickly without us having to check her into the hospital. The bad news is that the reality of trying to juggle all this to get my milk supply up has proven to be more than I can really handle. Throw into the mix that I have had weddings to produce this month and well....TILT!!!!!! Overload!!!! So, the little munchkin has been getting more and more formula and I have tried to keep pumping but honestly there are days where I just don't have time. My milk supply is dwindling and I am really upset because I would love to keep breastfeeding. But the important things are that Grace is healthy and continues to gain weight (in fact she's turning into a chunky little Bhudda Baby) and that I have time in the day where I can give Handsome Man some individual attention, and that I stay sane, for all of our sakes. So, I'm not sure what will happen with the breast feeding thing. I doubt I'll be able to get my supply up to where it would need to be to feed her exclusively. So do I ditch it all together and just switch to formula? I'm sure at some point I will have to. I pumped four times yesterday and I only get about an ounce and a half combined (both breasts) after pumping for half an hour. Yeah, pitiful. So, the boobs are more of a comfort/bonding/quick snack sort of thing for Grace at this point.

Shutting down the business: I had to move out of my studio. I had it slated for the weekend before I was supposed to have my c-section, but of course Grace had other plans! My friends and family rallied together and got me moved out the following weekend. It was a lot. A week after my delivery and there I was, wandering around the studio, with a baby on the boob, as everything got broken down and moved out. It was all very strange. I am adjusting to life as a stay at home mom. Still have several weddings to produce to fulfill my obligations, but much, much fewer than I'm used to. It's a good thing. But it's an adjustment. I am anxious to get HM back into daycare soon, maybe a few times a week, if we can work it back into our budget. If not, I will have to hold out until fall when I will hopefully get him enrolled in preschool. Trying to get him potty trained once and for all in preparation for this. So far I have been less than successful on that front but we are making progress.

I am hoping at some point I'll have time to sit down and write a more coherent post and tell Grace's birth story.

For now, I will leave you with some photos:

Welcome to the world!!

Mom's not looking to good here, but happy!!

Home from the hospital...

Having a "cupcake party" to celebrate coming home. Handsome Man's tee-shirt says 'Big Brother'. My sister got it for him--totally cute. My face looks totally bloated in this photo. It probably was.

My amazing Grace--a few days home from the hospital.

A Change of Plans

2010-04-16T19:09:00.000-07:00

I was supposed to have my C-section today. But.....

My DAUGHTER decided to come one week early. My water broke last Friday night. We rushed to the hospital (because she was breech they told me to come in right away if I should go into labor). Grace* (*not her real name) was born via c-section at 8:28 a.m. on April 10th. She weighed 6 lbs 13 oz and was 20 inches long. She is beautiful and of course I am in love. It has been a whirlwind ever since. I just got home from the hospital a couple of days ago, and things are crazy, of course. Today is the first day I've had time to even open up my laptop. I will post soon with the whole story and some photos....

C-Section Scheduled

2010-04-05T17:31:00.000-07:00

My baby's birthday will be April 16th. I had a choice between the 15th or the 16th but who wants their birthday to be Tax Day if it can be avoided? Of course, if I should go into labor earlier than that, I will go straight to the hospital, but if not, I'll be delivering by C-section next Friday. I guess the benefits are that it takes the guesswork out of the timing, eh? Trying to line up help at home for when I get out of the hospital, plus help with Handsome Man while I'm in there. I'm assuming my husband will want to spend a significant amount of time at the hospital with me, and I don't think HM will have too much fun sitting in a hospital room for long periods of time. This is all so crazy.

Still to get done before C-day:

Find jammies for hospital

Pack hospital bag

Finish washing baby's clothes/blankets

Finish organizing stuff in baby's room

Get changing table moved over from storage (aka my office)

Move out of studio (this is a biggie)

Finish pre-orders and place orders with vendors for May weddings

All while totally exhausted, with swollen feet (that just started happening) a sore back, and a three year old with me full time.

No biggie, right?

Turn Around!

2010-04-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this baby is still breech. Yesterday I went into the hospital where they tried a 'Version'--which is where they try and manually manipulate the baby into turning heads-down. Let me just tell anyone out there who may need this procedure--it is not pleasant. Though, I'm sure it is nothing compared to labor. First they pumped my full of a drug that was supposed to relax my uterus. It is actually an asthma medication. How it was discovered it was useful for relaxing women's uteri I have no idea, but whatever. Let's just say it makes you feel like craap! I was shaky and jittery and just sort of icky feeling. Like having waaaay too much coffee. But without the fun. Then the good doctor (not my doctor Wunnerful but another doc from the practice, whom I've been seeing a lot lately) tried (while I was hooked up to a fetal heart monitor and the ultrasound tech was standing by to keep checking position) to moooooove that baby. Um. Let's just say it was painful. I tried as hard as I could to not seize up and constrict my muscles (which would have been counterproductive to what they were trying to do). I had to do a lot of breathing--the type of breathing I would imagine I would be using if I were actually in labor--and try my best to "go to my happy place" while it was happening. Mister was there and he was being very supportive. Unfortunately, it just didn't work. Once the doctor announced he was stopping, I started crying. I really hoped it would work. Because this means of course that the only way this baby is coming out is by C-section.

Many friends have suggested acupuncture or chiropractic or even standing upside down in a pool. Let me just tell you that after what they did to me yesterday, I would wager that if that couldn't get the baby to move, then needles in my little toe aren't going to do it either. Not to sound negative or anything, but seriously--apparently the baby's butt is firmly planted in my pelvis. Pretty stuck.

So I've got another STUBBORN little child on my hands. God help me.

I am disappointed that I will not be able to go through the rite of passage of childbirth. There is a part of me that wants to be angry at my body for failing me once again--but really, I can't go there. I mean, if anything, I owe my body a lot of thanks for getting me this far. Not only did I finally conceive, I have had a pretty uneventful and healthy pregnancy. I even survived and recovered from a terrible car accident at 6 weeks pregnant. I've been feeling mostly good this whole time. I've got a robust, healthy baby growing inside of me. He or she is just in the wrong position. It is not my fault. It is not my body's fault (other than being slender and not providing a lot of space, I suppose?).

I see the doctor again on Monday and he will schedule the C. Do you think it will be rude or weird of me to request my Doctor Wunnerful to do the C-section?

On another, random note: Today is April Fool's Day. On this day 4 years ago I was informed the baby I was carrying was not a viable pregnancy. And it wasn't a joke. It was one of the worst days of my entire life. I guess, when I think about where I was then, and where I am now, having a C-section isn't such a big deal, if it means I get a healthy baby at the end of it all.

But still, I'm a little freaked and a little sad, too.

Happy Birthday Handsome Man

2010-03-20T18:06:00.000-07:00

My little boy is three. Whoa. He is sprouting like a little bean pole. We went to one of his favorite places today--about 30 minutes from home with a railroad and a petting zoo. Two of my friends who have little boys met us there to ride the trains, and then we went next door to a pizza place. It was chaotic and hectic with three little boys running around, but a lot of fun.

I can't believe that three years ago today we were in a hospital in Boise, Idaho waiting for him--waiting on the brink of becoming parents.

I talked to HM's birth-grandmother, "Aunt Patty" today. (And HM got on the phone with her too). She has been trying to come out for a visit but has been having a hard time getting the time off of work. She's going to try to come in the next few weeks. Of course it will still be hectic and crazy around here, with moving out of my studio, and all the baby preparations, and trying to get the house together. But I don't think she cares. She loves spending time with HM and we love seeing her.

Patty told me Eryn has been MIA lately. Crazy stuff going on that I just won't get into for the sake of minding my own business. But let's just say her current boyfriend is not much of an improvement from the way M. treated her. It makes me sad, but what can I do...

We'll be giving her a call this evening too and hopefully will get to speak with her.

Last Day of School

2010-03-19T16:44:00.001-07:00

Today is Handsome Man's last day at school. Last day, that is, until I am hopefully able to start him in preschool in the fall. It will most likely be a parent co-op preschool. Which I know is going to be really great, but at the moment I am feeling really low. He loves his school and has thrived since he started going there and I have been crying off and on all day. We just can't afford it now.

I don't know but I think the hormones might be getting the better of me today.

In other news my baby is still breech and I am freaked.

Just a Few Things

2010-03-15T08:16:00.000-07:00

So, I've got just a few things to do/get sorted out in the next month before baby arrives. I'm not totally stressed out or anything.

Business:

I am in the process of trying to sell off everything in my studio--all the props and such that I've collected over the years, plus the office furniture. Hoping I can make some decent money from all of it--(we need it!)--and hoping it all goes so that I don't have to move it (again!). I sent out a flyer to everyone in my address book who is "industry" folk, for a sale for the last week of March. I have some people coming this week to pre-view some stuff. Hopefully they will take stuff. The sooner the better.

My friend, T., has just bought a house in The Town Where I Live. She is hoping to get possession by April 8th. She has so very generously offered to let me use her basement space to do my existing events for 2010. So all going well, I should be able to move the things I need into her space without having to store them somewhere else in between. I am keeping a few work tables, my tools, buckets, various floral supplies, glass, and probably my cooler (until end of summer when my events are done).

I need to finish my taxes. I am waiting on some paperwork my credit card company was supposed to send, to give to my bookkeeper, so they can finish up my 2009 books, so that I can then fill out the tax packet for my cpa. UGh. I have to check on this again today.

Home:

We moved into our New Room a few weeks ago, and it is awesome. It is so cozy and nice. My husband thought of everything. Down to the his and hers reading lights installed above the headboard of our bed, complete with dimmer switches. Even though it only adds another 250 or so square feet to our tiny domicile, it makes the whole house seem so much more spacious. I love it and even though it cost us more than we planned--I'm glad we did it. I'm sure my husband is glad to be done with it--poor guy. But, someday, when the economy comes back, I know we have added a lot of value to this house. I hope.

So now we have to do the baby's room (our old bedroom). Two weekends ago my husband opened the suspect wall to check for mold. The good news is there was NO MOLD! Also no water damage. Everything was dry and the lumber looked as new as the day it was built. Which is saying a lot of a house built in the 1930's. So the mildew on the wall was a surface problem. The bad news is that my husband was a little bit aggravated about opening up a whole wall for nothing. Oh well, at least now we know, and now that that part of the wall is gone, so is the mildew. Yuk. So Mister took the opportunity of the open wall to push some insulation in (why did they not insulate houses back then?). This last weekend he replaced the drywall. Now he has to do a few coats of mud over the next few evenings. Hopefully by next weekend, I'll be able to start painting.

So I've got to:

Paint baby's room

Put together Handsome Mans's old crib (Mister will obviously be doing this.)

Move changing table and other misc. stuff over that is stored at my studio right now.

Find curtains for window AND closet system.

Get crib mattress (we're using HM's on his toddler bed).

We also need to clean up the debris from our construction that is piled up in the front yard (we look like the white trash house on the block yet again) and go to the dump. But for obvious reasons, being as overwhelmed as I am, this is at the bottom of the list. Sorry, neighbors).

Preparing for Baby:

Need to go through HM's old clothes blankets, etc., see what we have.

Wash and put away all baby clothes, blankets, bedding, etc.

Pack hospital bag

Find jammies for hospital

Find bottles, wash, store

Stock up on diapers, etc.

Clean entire house!!

Probably a million other things I am forgetting.

Oh, and this Friday will be Handsome Man's last day at daycare. So I need to do all of this stuff while watching my rambunctious 3 year old.

And I've got to figure out what we're doing next weekend for his birthday. (3 years old--OMYGOD!)

Let's just say I didn't get a lot of sleep last night.

Please baby, stay in there for the full duration of your gestation. Please oh please. Mommy has a lot to do.

Breech

2010-03-10T16:32:00.000-08:00

I had another routine appointment this morning. I saw one of the other doctors in the practice, so I missed seeing Dr. Wunnerful, but at this point they want me to see each of the other doctors at least once, since whoever is on call when I go into labor will most likely be the one that delivers my baby. I saw the doctor who's name rhymes with 'Jerk' and so we'll call him Dr. Jerk. Not just because his name rhymes, but because he is, kinda, a jerk. You see, he did not remember me but I did see him a couple of years ago. Right before we were about to start our first round of IUI's at the Infertility Clinic, I needed to get an "annual & pap." Not wanting to see the doctor I had already seen throughout my original infertility workups, and then short-lived pregnancy and miscarriage, (too afraid I'd start blubbering at the sight of her just because of the memories and what, at that time, she represented to me, emotionally), I requested Dr. Jerk do my annual. My friend B., who was pregnant at the time (via IVF) was seeing him and said she liked him and that he was very familiar with All Things Infertility, which made her more comfortable, since it had taken her a long road to get pregnant. So I thought, hey, we're doing treatments, he'll understand what's going on, he might be the right doctor for me too.

Nah.

During that exam 2 years ago, when I told him we were pursuing IUI, and that I'd been diagnosed with high FSH, he almost laughed, and said, "well, good luck with that. Your chances of success are very low."

Thanks, buddy.

(My friend B. had a bad post labor experience with him and now refuses to see him as well. So, we joke around when referring to him as Dr. Jerk.)

Today, I really wanted to remind him of who I was and how I got to where I am. He looked at my chart and noted that I'd been seeing Dr. Wunnerful exclusively.

I wanted to say it was because he believed in me, that the reason I was pregnant was most likely because of him, and my old, high fsh eggs were just fine, obviously, wouldn't you know it, thankyouverymuch.

But I didn't have the energy. After a sleepless night worrying about all of our financial and my business decisions, at 9:00 this morning I just didn't have it in me to be snarky. (Not that I would have been, really, but you know what I mean.) So I acted just like any other normal, pregnant lady, I guess....

Anyway. The baby is measuring a little small (about 32 weeks--I'm 33wks 5days?) but growing. He said not to worry it is probably just due to the fact that I am tall and lean. Either the baby is just measuring small because I am "hiding" some of it, or, hey, it's just a smaller baby.

And the baby is still breech. Which is really freaking me out because I don't want a C-Section. He acted very nonchalant about it, but hey, no one is coming after his gut with a scalpel.

Anyone who has any advice on how to turn a breech baby please let me know!!

Will see another doctor in the practice next week, just to do as I'm supposed to, and then I'll hopefully go back to my Doctor Wunnerful.

And I SO HOPE I get Dr. Wunnerful to deliver. I'm sort of afraid of how I'll feel if it's not him. Is that weird?

Can't Think of a Title...

2010-03-09T17:28:00.000-08:00

So I had to go to the flower market this morning. I had to renew my badges and I also had to buy some flowers for a sample meeting tomorrow. I haven't been there in months as I haven't had any events since around Christmas time. As I walked through the rows of flowers, and took in the sight of all the gorgeous beautiful spring blooms, all the color and vibrance, I felt at once uplifted and also sad. Sad that this thing that has been my life, for better or worse for the past decade and a half is now coming to an end. I thought of all the people I have come to know through this industry, the friends I have made (some casual, some life-long friendships).

I also sat down at my table this afternoon and went through my list of clients for 2010 and added up what I still have coming in. (Pathetic). I sat and wondered, what went wrong? I thought about years previous when I would have had tens of thousands of dollars in my checking account at this point just in deposits (vs my empty bank account as of now). *sigh*. I felt a little sorry for myself. I spent some time thinking, "I wish things were simple. I wish I could just enjoy the last weeks of this pregnancy without stressing over money, how to close my business down, moving out of my studio, etc." (Not to mention the baby's room is still not ready--but that's another story). I thought, "Why couldn't things go as planned? Why can't business be good, so HM can stay in daycare, I can keep my studio where it will be very comfortable to take the baby to work, why can't I have my business and be a success, why do we have to be so poor right now?"

Then this afternoon I had to run the mundane task of going to Cos.tco. (I am so into bargain shopping right now--trying to squeeze every penny out of our budget). With Handsome Man in tow I scanned the aisles. To keep him occupied we played silly games. We giggled and laughed and made funny faces, and I know people were looking at us. At one point he grabbed my face with both hands, brought his face to mine and gave me a big kiss. Afterward we shared an ice cream (giant non fat frozen yogurt, actually, but I'm not telling). I told him we had to share which he was not too keen on at first, but halfway through he was spoon feeding me and saying, "Yay, we're sharing!"

I thought, well, maybe this staying at home thing isn't so bad? Maybe I have something to offer my children that the daycares and programs don't. Maybe it will be ok. Maybe I won't totally suck at this.

After I loaded him into the backseat of my car, I looked back at him and the empty infant seat now secured in the backseat next to him, waiting to be filled by another little person.

I am so lucky.

I still feel a deep sadness over closing my business. I am mourning a loss, which my husband does not really seem to understand. And, like grieving any other loss, I am sure I will have my good moments and my not so good moments with it. It may be a while before I fully let it go, emotionally. But if my children grow up having happy memories of their childhoods---memories that include a mother who was there, memories that include family vacations during the summer and outings on weekends, (not so happening when you work in an industry that is busiest on weekends, and most especially May-October), then maybe there is a Greater Reason for all of this. Maybe it will all be ok.

The Empire Crumbles

2010-03-08T08:30:00.000-08:00

There is so much going on I don't even know what to say these days...

My little floral Empire is crumbling. I thought 2010 would be a rebound year, but exactly the opposite is happening. At this point in the year, I only have a tiny fraction of the number of events booked for the season that I need in order to survive. I have no money left--I've been living off of deposits through the winter and there is just nowhere to go from here. NO ONE is booking. Even if I got flurry of bookings right now it would probably be too little, too late. So, I am not able to keep the studio and all the things that go along with it in order to keep the business going. And I have no money to contribute to our personal fund (we usually require my contribution to pay all of our bills).

And we're broke, of course. The Room Project took twice as much as we expected. We're out of money. And, nothing's changed--we still have a lot of debt.

So what to do?

Well I have to close down the business, there's no way around it. But, I have booked some events, which I have to fulfill.

But we can't afford to keep Handsome Man in daycare through the summer so that I can work, let alone two kids.

Any money I make through the summer I need to put toward paying off my business credit card and socking away for taxes so that we don't wind up owing taxes for 2010 and so that at the end of the season I can walk away clean without any debt. But that means I won't be contributing much or anything to our home fund. So we have to figure out a way to live off of Mister's income....so....no daycare.

There's also the matter of where to do all these events since I won't have the studio.

And how am I going to move OUT of my studio THIS MONTH while I am 8 months pregnant.

Hmmm.

We have to pull Handsome Man out of daycare/school immediately. This will be his last week. Then I need to move out of the studio (??). Uh, yeah.

If I can just figure out a way to make it through the next 5-6 months, then things will be ok. But, I'm a little freaked out. And, I'm sad. I mean, I've been in this business in one way or another for over 14 years--I've been running my own business for at least 8. I have become very emotionally attached to being 'The Business Owner"--"The Owner of (My Company Name)."

Especially through the years where I was failing at starting a family, was experiencing loss and sadness, I was able to pour everything into my job. While my friends all around me were having babies and bragging about their families, I at least had my business. I had the recognition and admiration that went along with it. It was all I had to pin my ego on.

Now things are different. I have a family. I have everything I've asked for. I am so blessed. But, apparently, there is a trade-off. The Universe is telling me, no--you can't really Have It All.

I am preparing to become a stay-at-home mom.

I admire and respect sahm's. Believe me. And there have been many times in the past three years when I was worn out by my job and my mothering responsibilities and wished I could just be a mom and concentrate on doing that job--better. But to now really be forced into making the decision--not just 100% out of my own desire to be at home with the kids, but by a financial crisis, and well, a failure--imposed by the economy, sure--but a failure nonetheless, it hurts. It's scary. And I'm a little freaked out.

Feeling Low

2010-02-23T08:52:00.001-08:00

A lot of things are going on that I haven't really been writing about. I've been wrapped up in pregnancy updates... because I have been sort of using this blog as a 'pregnancy log' of sorts--for fear that I would not have a record otherwise and would forget everything... but the less than rosey side of my life I have not been writing about.

I feel like a monumental failure today. In so many ways. The pregnancy hormones may be making these feeling worse, and I am really hoping I can shake these blues away but it seems like all I can do is cry this morning.

What's wrong? Ugh, where do I start?

Due to the fact that we live in the World's Smallest House, we needed to come up with a 'creative' solution to our space problem when we found out we would soon be a family of four. Of course, nothing happened right away. Walking a tightrope through that first trimester meant that we didn't really take action on anything, for fear of getting into the middle of something we couldn't undo if I was suddenly not pregnant anymore. (Which happened with our kitchen remodel of 2006 when I had the miscarriage.) But as it appeared that we would indeed be adding another member to this family, we started thinking of adding on to this house. For a while we seriously considered a true addition--perhaps even doubling the size of our home (which, at twice the current size, would still be considered a modest size home by most standards). We even paid to have some plans drawn up. But, it just seemed like a lot to accomplish by April. And somewhere in my gut I knew it was not realistic. Financially we wouldn't be able to do it all at once anyway, which would mean we'd be in a state of construction limbo over the next couple of years. So what was my bright-ass idea? To turn our one-car attached garage into a proper living space. I thought it would be cheaper and easier. Well, my Dear Husband went for the idea. We'd turn the modest amount of space into a new master bedroom for us (which would include a small laundry room off the side since our existing garage held the washer/dryer and we NEED that). And then our old bedroom (which is near HM's room) would be the new baby's room. Well, long story short, my husband has been working on this project tirelessly since after Christmas. Every single weekend, and many many nights after work. And mind you, he doesn't get home until after 7pm...then to have to work for hours on a construction project is totally exhausting. And, to make matters worse, the whole project ended up costing about twice what we budgeted, so we are now officially out of money. No more money to pay for help to finish the project, and no money left in our savings account. No emergency fund. With a baby on the way. And, unfortunately, since the economy sucks right now, my business is not doing well. There is a chance that I may even go out of business at some point in the near future. And, with no money in the bank, we still really need my income.

Needless to say, my husband is tired, stressed and unhappy.

And I feel like it's all my fault.

We've had a couple of discussions lately that have made me aware of how unhappy my husband is, and, just how disappointed he is with Yours Truly. I have been zero help on this construction project. Between being pregnant and being very very sick for about a month (I had a cold that turned into flu into sinus infection into bronchitis and ear infection, with a stomach bug thrown in for good measure in the midst of it). I could not shake my illness(es) and it eventually took 2 different types of antibiotics to get rid of it. During the week when my husband was at work, I was supposed to get a lot of prep and painting done (once the new room got to that point). I was useless. Then I finally started feeling better and I did start working in there. First I did some prepping and sanding. The problem is I get very winded and tired these days very quickly. I also was trying to keep up/catch up with my work stuff that had been somewhat neglected during my illness. I am desperately trying to get more clients so that I can get some more money from deposits coming in, so that I can keep contributing to our income. Also, I am the person responsible for childcare (obviously, since my husband works an hour away and has is gone from 7 am-7pm M-F). Handsome Man is home with me Mondays and Tuesdays and goes to school Wed-Fri. So on Mondays and Tuesdays I find it very difficult to get anything done. Then by Wednesday I have so much catch up to do with work I find it hard to get everything done. I try to also keep on top of the house work (big fail if you saw my house right now) so, in my mind at least, there is a lot going on. Add to that pregnancy and illness, and, well, what have you got. To make a long story short, my husband and I had a very emotional discussion the other day, where he admitted to me he was very disappointed with me, and the minor contribution I have made to the New Room Project. The painting and prep work, for example, he informed me was so poorly done he had to re-do it all. Meaning it put us yet more behind on the project. But you know what? The other day when I was down on my hands and knees painting skirting boards, I really thought I was doing a good job. I thought he'd be happy and proud of me. See, bending over to get down to that level does not feel good. I have a big belly and my stomach is up somewhere in my chest and I have lots of ligament pain. I can't really bend over at the waist too much. It hurts. Squatting is hard for long periods of time. So I had to do it on my hands and knees. And, then, I guess because my lungs are being compressed from baby, or because I'm just carrying around 30 pounds of extra weight, I get really out of breath. I even get dizzy sometimes. But I did it. I painted those damn skirting boards and the windows and trim. But badly. I wasn't trying to do a bad job. I was paying attention. But according to my husband, it was a bad job. And, as he pointed out this is not the only time it has been that way.

There is a history here. A history of me not being able to get things done. A history of procrastination, or doing what appears to be half-assed work. I really try. I think my husband thinks I sit around eating bon-bons all day while he is at work. I don't. I swear. But I have to admit something. I find it extremely difficult to organize and manage my life. I get extremely overwhelmed. I find being a mom, a business owner, a wife, etc., all a lot to manage. And, it appears that I have been failing miserably.

This is not a new thing. My entire life has been a series of FAILS and overwhelming mediocrity. I know this. I dropped out of high school. I did manage to go to college--first a community college and then State College. It took me forever but I did graduate. With an English degree. (Big whoop. How am I using that degree now?) Ok, I will say I graduated Cum Laude. But how hard is that to do at a State school. It's not like I went to Harvard or anything. My first marriage? Fail. Career? At this point, Fail. I never got a Masters degree, and I am not qualified to do anything. I feel like a failure at parenting (hey my kid is about to turn three and is still not potty trained. Something I am almost too embarrassed to admit to friends and family).

But, as usual, I am getting off on a tangent. The point is that I have been thinking a lot about these things lately and have been wondering if there is any chance I may have Adult ADD/ADHD. I have denied this for a long time because, well, when I really focus on something I can do great things. I can take the monumental task of producing floral designs for a huge event and make it happen. Flawlessly even. But then I seem to fail at everything else, don't I? Then I realized as I started doing some research that being able to hyper-focus on certain tasks is actually a symptom of the disorder.

I am not trying to make excuses. I am trying to get answers to what seems like a lifetime of failure. I am pushing 40 and I would like to really not live this way forever. In my mind's eye I envision living an organized, simplified, happy and productive life. But I never seem to be able to get there.

And now I am more overwhelmed than ever. So the new room is done. We have moved in and I have started clearing out our old room which will be the baby's room. Only there is work that needs to be done in there before I can paint and move furniture in. It seems as if we have a mold problem in one of the walls. My poor, exhausted husband informed me the other day that there is just no way we can repair the problem any time soon. We can't afford to pay someone to do it, and my husband is exhausted. And, we are running out of time. My dream of decorating the nursery is on hold. My husband still has to finish patching, sanding and painting the new siding on the outside of the house where we removed the old garage door (and put up a proper wall) and on the side of the house where the new windows were installed. So this entails several more weekends of work, and by then, the baby could be here any time. I have an empty 'nursery' that will have to stay empty--for a while. I can't ask my husband to work any harder or do any more than he has done/is doing. He is about ready to crack. And, as a result, he has not been able to enjoy this pregnancy with me. He has been working non-stop. We haven't even picked a name. He has made no connection with this baby of his that is about to enter the world.

And on top of all of this, he is taking on side work to try and make some extra money to replenish our empty savings account.

This is all too much to take in and I feel horrible and I am so depressed right now I don't know what to do.

Did You Know I'm Having A....

2010-02-19T18:28:00.000-08:00

Boy?

That is, according to the slew of people (including total strangers) who say so. Apparently, since this baby bump of mine is "all out in front" that means I am having a boy. The other day, I was standing in line at Who.le Food.s and I hear someone say, "Are you having a boy?" I had to look around to see where the question was coming from. Some nice meaning yet very smug woman who just came out of the other line with her groceries apparently really needed to know. "I don't know." I chirped as cheerfully as possible (to hide my mild annoyance). "Oh it's definitely a boy," she said, "it's like a little ball right in front."

Okay.

Also, I know people are meaning to be nice when they say, (and they always do) when they hear I am 7 months pregnant, "Oh you are SO TINY!" Please, people, you don't realize you are speaking to an Infertile. Please don't give me another reason to freak out. Yes, I must look tiny. But, I started out tiny. I'm tall and what you might call 'willowy'. I'm downright narrow. So, yes the baby is all out in front (where else could it go?) and sure, I guess I might look tiny.

But don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't enjoy some of the pregnancy related attention. I'll admit it, I do. And a lady at the park the other day told me whatever I was doing 'I should write a book' because I 'look great.' That was a really, really nice thing to say. And one of the doctors at Dr. Wunnerful's office the other day said to me in the hallway (as I was waiting to set up my next appointment) 'That's a cute tummy you got there, Toots!' Even though that might sound kinda weird it was cute. Especially coming from a man who sees pregnant tummies all day long.

But there are only three people who truly know if my baby is a boy or a girl: The doctor that did my 20 week scan, her ultrasound tech, and Dr. Wunnerful.

Anyone wanna place bets? Will post pics of the bump later...

I Love Passing Tests

2010-02-18T18:55:00.000-08:00

Glucose screen: Pass! Yay!

In other news, I saw Doctor Wunnerful yesterday and had an ultrasound. This baby's head is in my ribs, and his or her little feet really are tap dancing on my bladder (I keep saying that's what it feels like, and I was right!) I hope that he or she decides to turn around before D-day. But my doc said that one in four babies are breech at this point (I'm 31 weeks). Baby was turned around facing my spine so doc could not get a good glamor shot for me to bring home to hubby. Oh well.

Amniotic fluid levels are good, and baby's measuring in the 46th percentile. I asked if that was small-- if I should worry... he said no, that they only start to worry when the baby is below the 10th percentile. I guess I should be somewhat happy the baby is not ginormous--after all, I do have to get him or her out in 2 months. But, still, I just want to make sure baby is healthy! I have decided not to consult with Doctor Google yet and just trust my beloved Doctor Wunnerful.

A Birthday and a Blogaversary...

2010-02-09T09:04:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow is my birthday. And, the next day is my Blogaversary. I started blogging one day after my 35th birthday. One day after the horrible 35! mark--you know, the one where the 'experts' decree that you are old, by fertility standards at least. It is interesting to look back 3 years ago (3 years!!!!) and see where I was then, compared to where I am now. For sure, I couldn't have seen what would transpire. Little did I know shortly after that first post, I'd hear the news that we were about to become parents through open, domestic adoption, to the most wonderful little boy that ever existed.

And as for birthdays--35 was horrible. Especially after two and a half years of trying to conceive, an early pregnancy loss, and a horrible diagnosis of DOR/POF. I don't know of any woman who wants to hear, at age 34, that she is going to be going in to menopause.

So, birthdays, then, and since, have been sort of prickly. Painful, even.

And there is no birthday I was looking forward to less than turning 38. That was the age I sort of held in my mind since childhood, as just TOO OLD to become a mom. Because that's when my mom had me---and I was always deemed a 'miracle'. Because, you know, she was so OLD.

Well, over time I've developed different notions than my parents held about what is old and what is not. As I've talked about before, through this infertility journey and through becoming a parent in my mid-30's, I've decided that a lot of age is emotional and mental. But, still....38 held special meaning for me. And I knew, as I turned 37, that my chances of ever becoming pregnant and giving birth before 38 were gone. But turning 37 also gave me new determination. A sort of 'this is it' or a 'now or never' attitude that brought me to a new doctor, a laperoscopy, and plans for more fertility treatments. I wasn't going to go into year #38 with unresolved options or what-if's. I hoped to try everything ('everything' being limited of course to what we could afford) and then, hopefully, move on. Once and for all.

Well, what a difference a year makes. Or three years. Or five, depending on how you want to look at it. But, for the first time in years, I am really looking forward to celebrating this year's birthday. 38 looks pretty good to me.

Really, Already?

2010-02-01T15:59:00.000-08:00

**Disclaimer--if you are having a bad Infertility day you may want to skip this post as I wax a little poetic about the state of being pregnant.**

I'm in the third trimester. I'm rounding the corner on 29 weeks. I can hardly believe it. I feel as though the first trimester was sort of a fog. First, disbelief, then fear (that it all would end too soon), then recovering from an auto accident and dealing with trying to heal my body. It was all surreal then, as I really didn't start showing until- hmmm- maybe 14 weeks? And even then to the casual observer, you wouldn't immediately guess I was pregnant. I remember looking in the mirror and rubbing my belly--longing for the day when I would indeed really look like 'A Pregnant Lady.'

Then all of a sudden, seemingly--POP! I started to show. As I entered the second trimester I started feeling really, really, good. My body was healing well from the accident, and my first trimester nausea and fatigue disappeared.

And yet, still, I have been walking through my days in a sort of haze. Am I really pregnant? Can it be? All it takes is one look in the mirror to confirm it--but still. And even though I feel this baby moving inside of me--I think, can it be real?

And now I am in the third trimester. This pregnancy is nearing the finish line. Even if (God forbid) I went into labor now, I know that I am at the point in this pregnancy where there is a good chance my baby would survive. Wow. Baby. Real, live, baby. Mister and I are taking a childbirth class next Saturday. I'm getting anxious to start decorating the baby's room (on hold until our little construction project is finished--more on that later). I'm starting to think about who is going to come help me when the baby arrives and how I'll manage breast feeding. The nesting urge is seriously setting in.

I'm starting to realize, not only am I indeed pregnant--I'm going to have a baby. In less than 3 months.

Holy crap!

I'm not ready for the pregnancy part to be over though. I'm actually not anxiously waiting for D-day. At this point, I'd be happy for the pregnancy part to keep going for a while longer. I know what it's like to have a brand-new baby to take care of. And I know what the challenges and rewards look like in that area. But this pregnancy experience is a whole new world for me. Being pregnant is the realization of a long-held dream.

I guess, with infertility, the goal went from having a baby, to just getting pregnant. And now, I'm having to shift my thinking again back to having a baby... if that makes sense.

And, while I am mentally starting to prepare for Baby's arrival, I'm a little sad, because I am loving being pregnant. I am feeling so blessed (and though I'm getting really tired again, and a little achey now and then) I feel amazing. I feel.....Fertile. Awesome. Powerful. Confident. Beautiful. Blessed. And there's a part of me that doesn't want it to end so soon.

Weighing In

2010-01-26T09:00:00.000-08:00

I had to go see my family doctor yesterday. Cause, yeah, I'm sick. Again. (I have just come to the conclusion that my adorable little alien inside me is using all my good stuff and there is no immunity left for me, the host. But, whatever.) So yeah. I've got a sinus infection--and normally I would load up on Sud.a.fed and be done with it but probably not a good idea right now. So I went to see the family doc. Anyway, as is normal protocol at the doctor's office, I had to get weighed. It's been a few weeks since my last appointment at the OB's so I wasn't quite prepared for the number that popped up on the digital display. 150 pounds! This may not sound like very much but considering I was 124 pre-pregnancy it seems like a big number! I know it's not. I know, that at 5'10" my 124 lb frame was probably considered by most to be underweight. I know that all this weight gain means my baby is thriving and that I am putting on the appropriate weight and fat stores to sustain this pregnancy and (hopefully) breastfeed once the baby arrives. But whoa.

I can certainly tell that I am carrying around a lot of weight that I'm not used to. The other day Mister and I went out to a concert and we had to climb a somewhat steep flight of stairs to get up the amphitheater entrance. I was feeling the burn! And a little out of breath! But I also got a kick out of how Mister held my arm the whole way up. I mean, he often holds my hand or we walk arm in arm when we're out, but this was different. It was more of a protective, I-don't-want-my-pregnant-wife-to-fall sort of embrace. Awww.

I have also noticed some additional up-sides to the weight gain. My face is definitely a little fuller. Less of that gaunt look... and I may be crazy but I swear I look a little bit younger. My face has plumped up just enough so that those wrinkles are not as noticeable. At least to me. Maybe I'm wearing rose-colored glasses. And then there's the boobs. For the first time in my entire life I actually have cleavage. Woo hoo! Mister doesn't mind it, either.

So, anyway, I guess as long as Dr. Wunnerful is happy with my weight gain (and he is) then, bring it on! Cake anyone?

Tired.

2010-01-18T18:11:00.000-08:00

My boy doesn't like to sleep. Well, apparently, that's not entirely true. Apparently, the days he is at daycare-preschool (3 days per week right now during my slow work season, aka, winter) he can't wait to get into his cot at nap time. He is the first one in and the last one out. He is a power napper. At daycare. That is probably because the other days of the week, he is WIDE AWAKE all day and Will. Not. Sleep. Not for anything. And he has this thing about 5:30 a.m. Yes, somewhere between 5 a.m. and 6 a.m. is where he awakens. Probably because he is power napping at daycare 3 days a week. I don't know. I am so tired right now, I feel like my eyes might bleed. It doesn't help any that I've been sick as a dog all weekend with a really bad cold (boy am I glad I got that seasonal flu shot--hope that saves me from what could be worse than a bad cold). Also, I'm nearing the start of my third trimester. And, while I can think of very little to complain about regarding this pregnancy (I confess, it has been pretty darn easy, so far, knock wood) I am tired. I'm carrying around an extra 25 or 30 pounds I'm not used to and, you know, I'm growing a human. So, I'm starting to get really, really tired. Like. just-start-crying-in-the-middle-of-the-cereal-aisle-for-no-good-reason-tired. Yeah.

So I wish my kid would sleep.

I have come to the conclusion that our son and Mister and I are not energetically matched. I know HM is a BOY. And he's two (almost 3) so by definition he is high-energy. But, I'm talking about something more than that. I believe that we are all born with an innate sort of 'energy-personality' type. For instance, Mister and I are fairly matched energetically. We are both somewhat homebodies, even though we do enjoy being social. We just have to remind ourselves that we actually enjoy being social and then force ourselves to go out and do it. Otherwise, we might never leave the house except for work and trips to the grocery store. We like relative quiet. Before we had kids we relished rainy weekends where we could pull the couch out into a bed, watch movies for hours, and eat popcorn and be totally lazy. We both seem to really operate best when we've had at least (AT LEAST) 8 hours of sleep. 9 or 10 would be preferable.

It's not that we're lazy. Though it might sound that way. We both work really hard at our careers. We both do a lot of work around the house. We just operate at a sort of low frequency most of the time and it takes a lot longer for us to recharge our batteries, so to speak.

Our son, on the other hand, I believe, is just one of those people who is the complete opposite. (Good for him!) It will serve him well in life, I think.

But it is exhausting.

I totally don't know what I am going to do when the baby comes? I'm sort of freaking out. I'm so so so tired NOW, what am I going to do when I'm up every two hours every night to feed a screaming baby? Help....

I Shouldn't Be Resentful

2010-01-13T08:02:00.000-08:00

I called my mom the other day to wish her a happy birthday. She was in good spirits and we had a nice conversation. She asked me about my pregnancy and due date, etc. (I've told her my due date before but I have to repeat things many times for my mother). Then she said how much she wants to try to get up where I live when the "Big Event" happens. (She doesn't drive further than a few miles from her home--and that's a good thing). I said, yeah, I'm trying to figure out what we're going to do when the time comes and I need to go to the hospital--we'll need someone to come help out with Handsome Man. She then reiterated that she hoped she could come and be there and help out. (Side note: I don't know how much actual help my mother would be...but the sentiment was nice) But then after I hung up the phone I started thinking....That's really nice but where the F*ck were you when we brought home Handsome Man?? I'm pretty sure we went a couple of months before she even met her grandson. She wasn't in any rush to get up here then... and then I think when she did finally meet him it was because Mister and I drove down there. I know, she doesn't drive, yada yada, but if she is willing to make arrangements (to get a ride with my sister or brother in law or one of my nieces) to get herself up here when the baby is born, then....well, I'll say it again: Where the F*ck were you 3 years ago? Sure we'll need even more help now because I'll be recovering from childbirth, we'll have an infant AND a toddler. And I will not say NO to any help that is offered, just out of spite. I know I shouldn't feel resentful but I do. Even though I didn't give birth to Handsome Man, he was our First Born, and I just wish my mother would have acted as excited for his homecoming as she is acting about this baby on the way.

Again, I know I shouldn't complain. My mother is showing interest in my life and my family and that is a plus. She is expressing a desire to come and be involved and that is saying something for her... Maybe it's just hormones making me crazy.

There's Not a Book for That

2010-01-03T10:49:00.000-08:00

Handsome Man has several books that have to do with adoption. He especially loves "Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born." He asks me to read it to him several times a week. When I read it to him we talk about the night he was born and all the excitement Mommy and Daddy had, how we couldn't wait to see him, about Eryn, about the first time we held him in our arms. I'm not sure how much of this information sinks in...he's two years old, after all. But, as far as I know, Handsome Man believes that Mommies and Daddies get on planes and go somewhere to "get" their babies. Now, as my belly is growing, we are talking more and more about "the Baby." We are trying to talk to HM about being a big brother. We have to keep reminding him to be gentle with Mommy, and careful around her tummy, because "there is a little baby in there."

How confusing is this to him, I wonder?

I want to prepare him for being a big brother, and there are plenty of books I can get on that topic.

But, they don't make a book for our situation (or do they?) We adopted you (mommy couldn't make a baby in her tummy). Now you are going to be a big brother. There is another baby on the way! But this one is growing in Mommy's tummy. Um, yeah.

I'm trying not to make a big deal out of any of it, and certainly not drawing any comparisons between the origins of HM and 'Baby on the way'. It would probably go over his head anyway. But what about later? I'm trying to prepare myself for questions... I just wish they made a book for this one. (If you know of any let me know).

Thankfully, Mister was adopted, then had two siblings who were born into the family. So, you know, thank goodness for that. In our family it will seem run-of-the-mill. I hope.

A New Decade, A New Chapter

2010-01-01T17:02:00.000-08:00

Happy 2010 everyone. Wow. I can hardly believe it. I have been thinking a lot today about where I have been over the last 10 years. What were your highlights and low-lights over the last decade?

Highlights:

2000: Opened my own floral shop

2001: Started dating Mister

2002: Sold floral shop and started my event business. Got engaged to Mister!

2003: Married! We had a beautiful wedding...

2004: Bought our house (for better or worse)...

2007: Our son was born and we finally became parents through open, domestic adoption

2009: Well...most of you know why 2009 was a banner year!

Notice anything? Isn't there a big gap between 2004-2007? Why? Well, all I can conjure up in my memories about those years have to do with the struggles of trying to conceive, our failures, our miscarriage. The diagnosis. The despair. The toll it took on Mister and I each personally, and as a couple. Those are years I will never get back. All in all, over five years of what I think of as "the Infertility Years".... half of a decade. It makes me sad to think of all that time that was wasted feeling sad and hopeless. But how could I not? I feel badly about the friendships that went by the wayside--because I couldn't deal with watching my friends' dreams come true and their picture-perfect lives unfold while I felt as if mine was falling apart. I feel guilty about not being 100% whole for my son. All those times my depression got the better of me.

But none of this is new news. Anyone who's read my blog has heard it all before.

Today starts a new year. A new decade, and hopefully, a new era in my life. I am excited about what the year has to bring, and not bitter about the year I am leaving behind for the first time in years. Even though there is so much to worry about or fret about (the economy, my dwindling business, where we're going to put this baby once it is born, how we're going to pay for everything, etc...) I do not feel worried. A little overwhelmed some days, but not that worried. I feel satisfied. For the first time in a long time I have faith that 'everything will work out.' I don't feel like I'm walking in quicksand anymore.

If the 'aughts were my decade of struggle may the tens be my decade of satisfaction and contentment. That's not too much to ask for right? Haha. I am wishing love, happiness, and fulfillment of dreams for all of you my Internet friends.

If you would like to scroll down, I've included a few belly pics, if you are so inclined. If not, I will leave you here. Happy 2010.

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About 17 weeks

Surreal Moments

2009-11-18T09:47:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-10T07:51:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-23T09:47:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-22T18:39:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-10-09T18:15:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-28T16:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-22T18:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-09T16:46:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-24T18:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-08-05T03:58:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-02T08:56:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-05-06T22:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-06T21:44:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-03-20T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

'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

2009-03-07T11:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-03-03T15:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-03-02T11:21:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-02-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-25T13:46:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-19T22:21:00.000-08:00

...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

2009-02-17T09:22:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-02-10T15:11:00.000-08:00

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.)

2009-01-30T13:37:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-28T13:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-21T19:02:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-01-16T16:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-13T09:43:00.001-08:00

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!

Thanksgiving

2009-01-12T14:53:00.000-08:00

I am feeling a little low at the moment (no biggie--more later), but I will try to give it my best shot, lest I lose any and all peeps still reading my blog: The long overdue Thanksgiving update.

I think some of the things that kept me from updating after the Big Thanksgiving were just that 1. I was still sorting through my own feelings/impressions from the visit with Eryn and Mark and Patty, et al. 2. Some of the things I feel/want to say may not come off as the nicest or most P/C of things to say, at least with the extremely P/C adoption crowd (though I don't know if any of those folks read my blog anyway). 3. Nothing that extreme happened...no great anecdotes to share. 4. I've been feeling lazy. Especially when it comes to blogging. Almost avoiding, well yes definitely avoiding it and I'm not sure why.

I'll try to give a synopsis of Thanksgiving.

We headed out to the in-law's house in the country (which, as you may remember was empty and open for us to use as my MIL and FIL were traveling in Morrocco) a few days ahead of Thanksgiving just to have some time to ourselves as a family. Mister was able to work remotely-from there-so he was still busy during the day, but it was nice to be all together, and he didin't have to commute. Also just nice having a great big house to spread out in.

HM and I finished our shopping and busily started preparing for our guests. I made cookies. It was lovely. I felt so domestic and happy. Seriously.

On Thanksgiving morning, I had my arm shoved deep inside the turkey carcass when Eryn, Mark and Patty arrived. (Eryn's brother Ethan chose to stay home and have Thanksgiving with friends--can't say I blame him!). It was so great to see them. Seeing Mark and Patty again, was just like, ahhhh....yay! Family. (The kind of family you're always happy to see). Eryn smiled and looked happy to see HM, but she stayed pretty reserved. She didn't rush up to grab him and give him a squeeze or anything. I tried to "read" her facial expressions and body language, but honestly couldn't tell how she was feeling. Of course Mark and Patty were holding him and loving him right away, and HM acted as if he remembered them. It was just like being with family for him, it seemed.

They only stayed Thursday and Friday night, and were off early Saturday morning. Basically the entire time they were there, Eryn spent to herself, on the couch or up in her room, texting or talking on the phone. I don't know if it was with Matt or friends, or both. Not really my business, but she definitely kept to herself. Both Nick and I tried to make it clear that we were totally ok with her spending as much time with HM as she wanted, etc., but she seemed more interested in texting. We tried to involve her in conversation but she kept pretty quiet. Unless I asked her a direct question, she didn't talk much. I did try to engage her, but only to a point. When I had moments alone with Mark or Patty I asked how she was doing and they both seemed frustrated by her behavior. I was like, well maybe it's hard for her, but Mark seemed to think she just "wasn't interested." As it turned out Mark had to practically force her in the car--she balked at the last minute and said she didn't want to come. I thought it was because she was worried/unsure about seeing HM and being with us, but Mark seemed to think it was because of her on-again/off-again relationship with Matt, which was currently "off". Eryn wanted to be around to make sure he wasn't hooking up with anyone else, etc., etc..

She did spend some time with HM, don't get me wrong. On Thanksgiving evening., she and Patty gave him his bath and put him to bed. I was really happy about that. I was glad Eryn got to spend some quality time with HM without me hovering. And I was happy to have the break after all the cooking, etc.. There was a teeny tiny part of me that was shocked (and slightly hurt) that he went down without a fuss even though it wasn't ME who was tucking him in. Even at home he usually won't go to sleep without crying buckets of tears if I don't do the tucking in honors. Daddy isn't even good enough, if you know what I mean. So, the next evening when they put him down again, and he started bawling his eyes out and screaming like a banshee after they left his room, I felt a little vindicated (is that terrible?). I let an acceptable amount of time go by, so as not to seem like I was swooping, then went in and spent some time with him and tucked him in. Off to sleep he went without another peep. (Visualize me grinning widely).

All that being said, there was definitely not a feeling (at least on my part) of any kind of rivalry or struggle for his affection with Eryn. I felt very much at ease, much more than I had even thought I would. It was just so clear who Mom was. And, I love, love, love seeing him interact with Mark and Patty. It just makes me feel good, it feels right, that they should be a part of his life. And they love him very very much. But at the same time, they are very respectful of not wanting to be labled "grandparents". As I've said before they are just happy to be "Uncle Mark and Aunt Patty."

Eryn couldn't get out of there soon enough it seemed. And I talked to Mark after they got home and he said she was silent (texting away) both on the drive out (10 hours!) and the drive home, with not so much as a "thank you for making this happen" or anything. Mark told me this was the first, and last trip with Eryn that he would facilitate. From now on, it's up to her. And, he believes, she probably won't be itching to come out any time soon. He seems to think she's just not that interested.

So, how do I feel about my son's birth-mother being "not interested" in being a part of his life?

Ok, this is the part that is going to make all the P/C adoption bloggers send me mean comments. Please don't send me mean comments.

I feel....

Relieved.

There. I said it.

Not that I don't want Eryn in his life. I went out of my way (along with Mark and Patty) to make this all happen. I wanted this. I needed this visit. I want HM to be able to know Eryn and have a relationship with her as he chooses. But for me, personally, this is so much easier than having to emotionally manage a relationship with a birth-parent who is dying to see him, missing him, calling all the time, etc.. I'm sorry if that sounds selfish or whatever. It's just the truth. Seriously, if she calls up one day and says, "I want to come out" my door is open. But I don't have to think about it and try to make things happen at this point. The ball is in her court.

And if she decides to totally drop out of HM's life, that is her choice. For HM's sake, honestly, I hope she doesn't. But my heart is at peace knowing no matter what he will have a bond with Mark and Patty.

My mom didn't say anything too weird. Thank goodness. The meal was lovely--though my turkey (fancy schmancy Who.le Foo.ds organic hippy turkey) was a tad dry. I will blame my MIL's oven which I am not used to and seemed to run way hotter than what it was set for. Kay? My stuffing, however, ROCKED! Awww Yeahhh.

And, as we all sat down to the Thanksgiving table, I felt extremely happy and fortunate. I raised my glass and thanked everyone, near and far, for coming to share this time together. Now on occassions like this, my Brother in Law is usually the one who says the prayer, because my sister and he are sort of the most religious folk in our family, but I asked Mark to say the blessing.

It was brief, and I don't remember all of it, except for this part:

Thank you God, for friends, and family, and for lines in between that blur.

Sorry.

2009-01-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

I haven't been feeling very bloggy lately.

For those of you, my loyal followers (all three or so of you) who may still be checking in, I apologize.

Thanksgiving went well. My mom refrained from saying anything really obnoxious. I'll write a more detailed post about it soon.

Lots of things going on that are sapping my mental energy since I last posted. Nothing horrible, just....Life.

Gawd, I can't believe it's 2009.

Miss Inconceivability

Please Help Holden

My Own Creme de la Creme (2007)

Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Elusive Miracle-Surprise

My Own Creme de la Creme

It's Time

We Made It

it's Official...

The Empty Space

Happy Father's Day, Mister!

On a Lighter Note

Limbo Lower, Now

Squeaky Mommy Gets the Grease

Long Time, No Post

Okay, So THAT Happened...

Wordless Wednesday: At the Park

Quick Update

Handsome Man: Please Send Good Thoughts

Perfect Moment Monday: Wagon Ride

The Weight of It

Merry (Belated) Christmas Y'all

The Follow Up, and Other Ramblings

How Sweet!

Thankful, Not Bitter

How I Spent My Thanksgiving Holiday

Drive By (Complete with Bullets)

I Will Post Again, I Swear....

Lucky.

Happy Friday the 13th: A Pee Stick Story

Four Months Old!

She's Baaaaack!

Perfect Moment Monday:Family Ties

Breastfeeding Woes, and More Updates

Grace's Birth Story, part two

Grace's Birth Story, part one

Will I Ever Blog Again?

A Change of Plans

C-Section Scheduled

Turn Around!

Happy Birthday Handsome Man

Last Day of School

Just a Few Things

Breech

Can't Think of a Title...

The Empire Crumbles

Feeling Low

Did You Know I'm Having A....

I Love Passing Tests

A Birthday and a Blogaversary...

Really, Already?

Weighing In

Tired.

I Shouldn't Be Resentful

There's Not a Book for That

A New Decade, A New Chapter

Surreal Moments

As Seen at the Check Out Stand

Infertility 'Survivor' Guilt, Part One

NT Screen Results

NT Scan--Lots of pregnancy stuff mentioned

Perfect Moment Monday

Still Pregnant at 9 weeks

Still Here

Betas and Bugs

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the RE

The Story With Handsome Man.

I'm Still Here

Pointless?

Funk It

Two.

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

Quick Update

Dr. Google, You're Making Me Crazy

It's On

Really?

One Foot In Front of the Other

So Many Reasons to Be Happy

Confession Time

Hellloooo 37.

TMI POST: Um, Where Is My Period? UPDATED