Perfect Moment Monday: Wagon Ride

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

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

....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

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!

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

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

....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.