Thursday, August 30, 2007

Mixing it up...

I’m utterly at a loss for what to write about. It seems almost silly to “update” you on what’s been happening because, well, nothing has. I’ve been working from home this week. The bleeding has (thank g-d) not returned. I am being weaned off progesterone, which terrifies me a little, but seems to be going okay.

So, really, nothing to report.


So, in the absence of, literally, anything interesting to say, I’ve decided to spend my time making a new mix. I realize this isn’t an original idea here in the blogosphere, but I used to make mix tapes all the time when I was trying to sort through my emotions and so, I figure, why not revisit an old standby? Plus, I think it's fun to sort through my library and find songs that speak to me right now.

I’m calling this my, “I’m not really buying that this journey is going to be as important as the destination” mix, and it's sort of a nod to where I'm coming from in this IF journey and the lighter place I hope to be headed. Enjoy!

1. There is no try, Yoda*
2. Hell, Squirrel Nut Zippers
3. Mr. Blue, Yaz
4. I wanna be sedated, The Ramones
5. No One Is To Blame, Howard Jones
6. I will buy you a new life, Everclear
7. Over The Hills and Far Away, Led Zeppelin
8. Lie in Our Graves, Dave Matthews
9. Don’t Stop Believin’, Journey
10. Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls
11. The Only Living Boy in NY, Paul Simon
12. The Boxer, Carbon Leaf
13. I am a warrior, Pat Benatar
14. Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole
15. Send Me on My Way, Rusted Root

*This is a nod to Sarah’s shuffle game from WAY back in the day. This came up randomly for me in the game and I always thought it was so funny. So, in honor of that shuffle, this audio clip made it into a prime spot in this mix as well.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Rock On...

I’m a little late to the game, but I was very honored to be nominated as a rockin’ girl blogger by JJ and Amy (So, when will you have kids?). You could blame the hormones, but I sincerely almost cried—I’m all over the place, what can I say. But, it's not only that, it's also that I'm such a huge fan of both of their blogs. So, many, many thanks, ladies! It was a very nice surprise, and a much welcome distraction. ☺

Now, I turn to nominate five additional rockin girl bloggers. As you all know, there are far more than 5 rockin’ bloggers whom I’d like to nominate. And, I know many of you have been nominated, so I apologize if I’m duplicating nomination, but here’t goes:

1. Sarah at For the Flavor: I started reading Sarah’s blog very early on and have been a For the Flavor convert ever since. And, I’ve always been just a little sad that we never met when we were both living in DC (and hanging out at the Crow Bar). She writes with such sincerity and honesty and all of her posts really speak to me.

2. Becks at One Miracle Needed: Becks is a thoughtful and honest writer, a world traveler, and the person who helped me really stop drinking coffee by being SO DAMN GOOD and giving it up cold turkey. I always enjoy her posts and am wishing with all my might that her little sausage and mash grab hold tight for a nice, long 9 month trip!

3. Chris at Love, Hope and Faith: I’ve been introduced to Chris’s blog more recently, and am so glad that I was. Chris has such faith and such a wonderfully positive attitude and is so supportive of her bloggy friends, even when she’s down. She’s about to embark on IVF#1, and I’m wishing her all the best and hoping that this is her cycle!

4. Tam at Peanut’s Journey: I’ve been reading Tam’s blog since I started blogging and feel like I know her, even though she lives halfway across the world. I’m always touched by her writing—by her descriptions of her struggles, by her love for her hubby. All of her posts are heartfelt and relatable.

5. Somewhat Ordinary at A Somewhat Ordinary Life: While we share the (exact) same anniversary, I sometimes wish that I shared her courage and strength. She has had to deal with quite a lot in her IF struggles, and has done so with strength of character—to the point where she’s put herself on the line and went public with her IF struggles in her local community as a way of helping others who struggle in silence. That just simply rocks.*

*This isn’t just a ploy to figure out how to get to her blog either. Though, if you’re reading, SO, I’d love to be able to get behind the password protection and see how things are going for you. ☺

Sunday, August 26, 2007


That just about sums up how I feel right now. Scared. And kind of pissed. Scared because, thanks to Dr. Google, I know roughly how much a subch*rionic hemat*ma (SCH) increases my chances of miscarriage…or worse.

I was able to find two seemingly well-done studies that put my miscarriage risk around 20%. And I’m pissed because I was only able to bask in the glow of having seen the heartbeats for two days before my chances of miscarriage went right back up. Not to the point where it was initially, of course—which is good—but still. I was pretty excited about getting down to the less than 10% chances.

I’m also pissed because I have to be happy about this news. It is, after all, not nearly as bad as it could have been. And for that I am TRULY grateful. But, again, why is it that we infertiles are always left to feel good about the better of the bad news? When really all we want to know is why the fuck do we have to get bad news at all?

What’s more, the two studies I found said that there was only one factor that had a statistically significant impact on the outcome of the pregnancy. And that was the gestational age of the fetus at the time of the diagnosis. In one study, the outcome of the pregnancy was far better if the diagnosis happened after 8 weeks; in the other it was after 9 weeks.

I was 8 weeks to the day Thursday. That puts me on the worse end of the statistics. In both studies (though admittedly only marginally in one).


And on the fear thing, well now I’ve had a glimpse of how bad it’ll be if something does happen to this pregnancy. And it wasn’t pretty.

On Wednesday night, when I started spotting, I came out of the bathroom and just started to cry. I found hubby and I just sobbed into his chest and asked “WHY?!”

Then when I woke up in the middle of the night and had the bout of real, actual bleeding, the sobbing got worse. I just felt so sad and so empty and so scared. It just seemed so spectacularly unfair. And I cried some more.

Hubby keeps telling me he just thinks everything is going to be okay. And I so hope he's right. More than anything, I hope that this is just a story we can one day tell our children about how we worried about them right from the very beginning.

On our side, I haven’t had any bleeding since Wednesday night, and only had brown spotting for about a day afterwards. I’m hoping that that’s a good sign that maybe this is healing. (And I'm going to try to put out of my mind for now that, from what I’ve read, the size of the SCH and amount of bleeding isn’t as significant as the gestational age at diagnosis.)

The good news is that the modified bed rest has been going pretty well. My parents and hubby’s parents stopped by at different points this weekend to spend some time with us, which helped pass the time. And I think I’ll just work from home this week to be safe (though the doctor didn’t insist on it).

I have my first appointment with the high-risk ob/gyn on September 4th, and between now and then I’m hoping with all my might that this stupid thing just resolves itself by then so I can go back to being a "normal" pregnant infertile... You know, the one who worries about those regular pregnancy fears--that I still don’t have any real symptoms (nausea, etc.). That my breast soreness has all but gone away. That I just don’t feel pregnant.


So, keep thinking of the stickies. And hope that this is just a blip in an otherwise uneventful pregnancy. (PLEASE just be a blip. Please?!)

Thursday, August 23, 2007

A subchori-what?!?

First, thank you so much for all of your good thoughts and prayers. I cried as I read them (I actually cried quite a lot today) and can't tell you how much I appreciate your support.

So, here's the two minute update: I just got back from Smirky’s office. First of all, despite his pessimism during my stims cycle, I’m a big Smirky fan. He just really seems to know what he’s doing, and he’s a straight shooter all the way.

Since today was the only day Smirky was going to be in the office, they asked me to come in at 1:45, which I gladly did. They took us right on time, I told him what happened last night and he said, “okay, let’s check it out” and gave me an ultrasound.

The good news is that the sticky buns were still kicking. One was actually facing us and you could see his/her little arms and legs and beautiful heart beating. The other (the shy one from the picture) was of course turned away, but measuring well with a nice strong 175bpm heartbeat.

The bad news is I have something called a subchorionic hematoma. Basically, shy sticky looks like s/he’s got a little blod clot between him/her and my uterus. That’s where the bleeding came from last night. (And, while the bleeding has stopped, the chances I’ll bleed again are actually quite high because there’s still blood in there.)

The other bad news is that having this puts me at a higher risk for miscarriage and all kinds of other unpleasantness if it doesn’t resolve itself.

We don’t know what caused it, but I can’t help but think that last Friday’s accident didn’t help the situation. (Although, I guess we didn’t see it on Monday's scan, so who knows.)

In the end, I guess it doesn’t matter what caused it. I’m on modified bed rest for now basically hoping that this thing heals itself over the next few weeks and that it has no effect on sticky 1 or sticky 2.


So, the news is better than I thought it was going to be as I sat in the ER last night, but obviously not as good as it could be. And we’re just hoping that this is the last trick Murphy plans to play on us during this pregnancy. He’s such a prick.

Hang on sticky buns! We're trying to take good care of you!


If ever I’ve wanted Murphy to go f*ck himself, it’s right now.

Starting yesterday, my doctor wanted to start weaning me off the PIO shots. So, I took my regular 1cc on Monday and Tuesday before bed, was supposed to skip yesterday and go in for b/w today to see what my levels were like.

I never got there, because of the 1:30am trip to the emergency room due to the bleeding.

At 11:30pm, as I was about to go to bed, I went to the bathroom and did my ritual obsessive TP checking.


I freaked out. I cried. I told hubby. I kept just asking why. We debated calling the doctor, going to the emergency room, etc. Ultimately, though, I decided it was minimal and, since I had an appointment first thing in the morning to get my blood drawn, I should just go to sleep and wait for the morning to do anything.

Then at 1:00am I woke up with some cramping (I’ve had some off and on, but have been blaming it on this RIDICULOUS const*pation I have. Nice.) and went to the bathroom. Bright. Red. Blood. And not just on the TP.

So, I woke hubby and we went to the emergency room. (In hindsight, I sort of wonder why we bothered. They’re pretty useless.)

Anyhow, by the time I got there, I wasn’t bleeding as much (it was never that much, actually. But enough to actually reach the toilet and stain a pad, so definitely not good). The doctor did an internal exam. My cervix was still closed, so he diagnosed a “threatened miscarriage.” I asked for an ultrasound, but he said he’d have to page an ultrasound tech for an emergency, and that it wouldn’t really tell us anything useful at this stage, so he didn’t think it was worth it. (The only reason he’d order one at this stage, he said, was to rule out ectopic. And, since we saw the heartbeats, there was no need to do that.)

So, I came home and we decided to do the PIO shot (No fucking around with this one.) and we went to bed. At 4am. Nice.

This morning I called Smirky’s office to tell them what happened. I talked to the nurse and she’s going to talk to Smirky and see what he thinks we should do. I'm waiting to hear back. For now, I’m on bed rest and I’m terrified.

Amazing that I can go from a better than 90% chance of things going well to a 50/50 chance of things working out in two days flat. That’s Murphy’s Law for you.

Please pray for our stickies (particularly since you know it’s hard for me). I’ve never wanted anything to work out more than I want this to, and it’s the only thing I can think to do to help.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007


Last night, I gave hubby a card. It was a card that I had bought for him more than two years ago when I got my first positive pregnancy test. We had just recently started trying, and that June, I took a test and got a very faint positive. I was thrilled and excited and nervous all at once.

And, because I was as type-A then as I am now, I immediately went to the local Safe*way and bought three more HPTs. And this card for hubby.

It was June—the month of father’s day—and I had visions of giving him this card as my way of telling him we were pregnant. I pictured us crying together and making plans and calling everyone we knew.

I still remember, when I got to the checkout counter the woman working there scanned the HPTs and asked me if I was hoping for a positive or negative. It was a bold question, and it annoyed me even then. But, I nervously and shyly answered that I wanted it to be positive. And she gave me some ridiculous advice about how I should eat crackers tonight, because that would make the baby really grab hold.

Even in my naïve pre-infertile state, I rolled my eyes, paid, and left.

When I got home, before I filled out the card, I took another test. Negative.

Then I looked back at the first test I had taken, and the line had disappeared.

I felt like I was losing my mind. That line was there! I certainly hadn’t hallucinated a second line…had I?

I called the helpline and they said that, while the line was supposed to stay for at least 24 hours, a line was a line and I was most likely pregnant.

I was excited, but now more cautious. I decided to wait and retest the next morning before giving hubby the card.

Of course, we all know now how the story went. I retested several times; all negative. AF came a few days later.

Despite the months and years that have passed between that first illusory positive and last night, and despite my cynicism, which has grown with each passing day, I never threw the card away. In fact, I kept it in the back of my drawer, even through our move, hoping to one day be able to give it to hubby, if only as a joke.

So, because we did see two heartbeats yesterday, I gave it to him, though obviously without all the naïve pomp and circumstance that I had envisioned when I first bought it. In fact, I told him I felt ridiculous even giving it to him. First, I felt like a fraud. But also, it seemed downright ridiculous. The card was so cheery and sappy and represented a me that doesn’t really exist anymore—a me that naively believed that getting pregnant would be easy, and that pregnancy was blissful and always resulted in a cute baby at the end.

Of course, that’s not me anymore. That early naiveté has been replaced by cynicism and a touch of bitterness. I now know how hard it can be to get pregnant. In fact, I’m so acutely aware of how difficult it can be that I now count myself extremely lucky that it “only” took two and a half years, four IUIs and one IVF.

And, what’s more, I no longer believe that pregnancy always equals baby. On the contrary, I’ve experienced some pain of my own, and witnessed or read about horror that goes well beyond what I’ve experienced myself. And so, rather than blithely looking at this pregnancy as our golden ticket to parenthood, I find myself so scared. Hopeful for the first time in a long while, but so. very. scared.

And, more than anything right now, I wish I didn’t know how bad things could get. I wish in some ways that I could go back to being that girl who bought the card and thought that a positive HPT always meant decorating a nursery and bringing home a baby nine months later. Because, unfortunately, the knowledge I now have can’t help me and can’t help the embryos. There is nothing I can do to prevent any number of the painful things that could happen. And so that knowledge serves no purpose for me except to remind me, even when I’m happy, that I shouldn’t let my spirits soar too high. Because the higher they soar, the farther I’ll have to fall…

Of course, I can’t let myself think that way. First of all, it’s exhausting to be scared all the time. Second of all, it doesn’t help. Fear of the worst won’t prevent it and won’t cushion the blow if we experience it. Not at this point, anyway.

So, while I’m wishing away the rest of the first trimester and hoping that my future appointments and scans bring the same reassurance that yesterday’s did, I’m going to have to find a way to live in the moment, experience some joy and excitement, and not let the terror take over. And hope—ah, hope—that we’ll be among the extremely lucky ones to have things go according to plan.

Monday, August 20, 2007

*Insert clever title here*

I’m just back from the scan and off to work, but wanted to post a quick update. First, I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous about anything in my entire life. We got to the office and sadly, Smirky wasn’t there (I think he’s on vacation), so there was another doctor. He was nice and all, don’t get me wrong, but I like my routines. I had gotten used to Smirky and his little quirks. And this guy turned the monitor towards himself so that I couldn’t see it. I almost screamed. I kept saying, “um….what are you seeing? Does it look okay?”

I’m sure I sounded like a total freak.

Anyhow, the good (fabulous, fantastic) news is that our little sticky buns appear to be thriving. They are both measuring perfectly (7w5d—I’m 7w4d today) and they had lovely beating hearts. (One had 180bpm, one had 148, I believe.) The doc and nurse both said that both heartbeats were in the perfect range and that everything looked great.

I’ve never heard more beautiful words in my life.

I don’t think the terror will ever completely go away, but I can’t even begin to explain how relieved I feel. I know how important seeing the heartbeat is and, while I know we’re nowhere near out of the woods yet, I feel like we’ve crossed one of the most important milestones.

Of course, you know how paranoid I am about jinxing, so I won’t let us talk to much in the future tense, but I’m cautiously and hopefully optimistic.

And I think I exhaled today for the first time in almost two months.

Below is a photo of the buns (so feel free to surf away). Clearly one is more of a ham than the other, and the picture isn't great so you can only see one well, but they are actually both the same size, etc.

As always, thanks for your love and support! You guys are my rocks and I sincerely appreciate all of your cheering on and support, even when my pessimism has gotten the best of me.





Sunday, August 19, 2007

That'll teach me

Remember how I mentioned that I was out of debt? Well, yeah, the next day I got rear-ended while trying to merge onto I95. Now the back of my car is pretty banged up and is going to need some serious repair to the back end. And, in part because we just paid off the rest of our debt, we don’t have a lot of cash lying around to pay for it.

Murphy’s Law. Do you see now why I'm so afraid of jinxing myself?!

What’s more, I freaked out. I haven’t gotten into an accident in years, and now that I’m pregnant, I get rear-ended. Three days before the viability ultrasound. Argh. I was really nervous all weekend that the accident had done something to the sticky buns. I know it’s probably nothing—I was stopped and the guy couldn’t have been going faster than 15mph, but still. Give me something to worry about, and I’ll just run with it.

And speaking of which, I’m freaking out just a bit over tomorrow’s ultrasound. Okay, more than just a bit. Quite a lot, actually. I feel like I felt right before the first beta: scared, pessimistic, unsure. With all of my heart, I hope our little sticky buns have been growing and thriving over the all-important past two weeks.

Hubby and I agreed that, if all goes well, we’ll tell our siblings tomorrow, and probably a few close friends—just those close to us who we feel strange not being able to share the news with. And now I’m scared that we won’t be able to.

It doesn’t help that I don’t really have any symptoms, other than sore breasts (which really haven’t been all that sore lately). No nausea. Sure, I’m tired, but again, aren’t I always? I’m just really hoping that this lack of symptoms is luck and nothing more.

Please keep your fingers crossed for us. And, given the new blog-blocking at work, it’ll probably take me a while to update afterwards, but I will let you know how it went as soon as I can.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Cramping my style...

On Tuesday, I was at work, blissfully (sort of) going about my day. And, as I usually do when I’m looking for a quick break, I tried to check my bloglines account to see how my sisters were doing.


Curious, I thought. So, I decided to go directly to a few of your blogs.

All blocked.

Fu*kers. They’ve blocked all blog-related websites—bloglines, technorati,, etc. Now I can’t get to any of them, which is making my daily blog reading, commenting, and writing a lot trickier than I imagined. And the worst part is, it’s not like I didn’t do my work. I poked around only when I needed a bit of a break. But, sadly, the man has decided I can surf no more.

Of course, this new blocked content also makes me PARANOID. I feel like I have a scarlet B on my computer or something—like they know about my blog and are blocking me particularly. I realize that’s probably ridiculous. It’s more likely they blocked the sites from the kids, but whatever. That doesn’t stop me from being paranoid.

In other news, today is a red letter day in the life of sticky bun and hubby. Today, just after lunch, I sent the final check that will zero out the last of our credit card balances. You see, hubby and I racked up (separately) ridiculous amounts of debt in our twenties, then combined all of that debt on our wedding day. Romantic, huh?

(We used to joke that a prenup for us would just be about shackling one of us with all of the debt rather than getting or keeping any money. It really was a shockingly large sum—one that if I told you, you’d probably think I was the most irresponsible person in the world for living so frivolously when I was making nothing and in grad school.)

But, today, we paid it off. And I feel really proud.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Vying for good parking and dogs...

I don’t think I’ve ever shared with you before my pure unadulterated hatred for the reserved parking for expectant mothers that have been popping up in the parking lots of my favorite stores all over town. (Okay, maybe they’ve always been around, but I have started noticing them more and more with every month of our infertility.) Everytime I've gone to the grocery store or Targ*t or the mall for the past I-don’t-know-how-long I’ve been tricked by one of these fake-me-out spots right near the door. And everytime, I drive up to the front and just as I'm about to pull into my fabulous parking find, I'm faced with the reality that there is yet another thing we infertiles can’t have: good parking.

I mean, come on, they’re already PREGNANT, do they really need to rub it in our faces by taking all of the good parking, too?

Anyhow, yesterday hubby was being SUPER cranky, so I decided to escape to Targ*et for some fun afternoon shopping. (Why do I love you so, Tar-jay?) And, when I came upon the “parking for expectant mothers” I was THIS close to parking there. I mean, I know I don’t have a fancy baby bump, and I know I haven’t seen a heartbeat, but fuck that. I got a positive pregnancy test and damnit, I deserve the good parking that goes along with it, right?*


In other news, several of you were terribly excited to learn more about our smooshy dog. I don't blame you, really. He's the most interesting member of the family.

Unfortunately, we're not big take-lots-of-pictures-of-the-doggie kind of people, but here's one that's fairly cute (though it doesn't show his full smooshiness). But he is the greatest dog ever. We really feel like we hit the dog lottery with him. Which was a good thing, because he was actually our second attempt in 2006 to get a dog.

Our first attempt was the month after our miscarriage in April when we adopted a dog from a local private non-profit. When we began looking, we told the woman who ran the non-profit that, above all else, we needed a dog with no history of aggression. While we were certainly willing to work with certain training issues that we know can come with adopted dogs, aggression was a non-negotiable. We're first time dog owners and I knew we weren't equipped to deal with that, not least of which because we have lots of kids in our life (and want some of our own) and could never forgive ourselves if something happened to any of them.

The woman understood, and said she's only recommend we meet dogs that had been fully temperament tested, etc.

So, we met one dog we liked decided to take the plunge.

Two weeks after we got him, we found out that he had not only had a serious history of aggression, but had bitten three people in a year, the most recent of which was an adult who needed 15 stitches in his face. (Thankfully, he had not done anything while we had him, though he did have two strange episodes that seemed a touch aggressive--enough that I actually emailed the woman back to ask again about his history.) Our vet told us, as responsible dog owners, there was only one thing to do--to put him to sleep.

So, right after our miscarriage, the day of our second anniversary, two weeks after we got our new dog, and after many calls to the humane society, SPCA, etc., all of whom said they couldn't take a dog with a known history of aggression, we had to put him to sleep.

It was, needless to say, very upsetting.

Finally, in October, we got up the courage to try again to get a dog. This time we went with a breeder instead of trying to adopt. It was initially more expensive, but it was the right decision.

He was 10 months old when we got him--and fully trained (how lucky, huh!). The breeder had been showing him, but he had grown a quarter inch too tall for the breed standard, so couldn't show him anymore. And because she is only a small hobby breeder, she couldn't keep him.

He's a pretty funny dog, too. He's got funny little quirks that match our family pretty well because, well, we're quirky, too.

And, aside from this blog, he's been the best distraction and catharsis during our IF journey. And so I'm hoping it's a good omen that for us, the second time's a charm...

*Sadly, I’m way too much of a wuss. Also, because I’m such a believer in jinxing, if something ever did go wrong, I’m sure I’d be certain it had something to do with my flagrant disregard of Targ*t’s parking rules. *sigh*

Friday, August 10, 2007

Paranoia—it’s not just for breakfast anymore!

First, thank you for your well wishes and thoughts for hubby’s family. The funeral was, as you would expect, awful. It’s the second funeral for a suicide I’ve been to, and I have to say that this was awful for some similar (and obvious) and some very different reasons.

The first was awful because, well, suicide is awful. But, that one included a very beautiful service with a wonderful tribute to his life and family. And it was a full military funeral, complete with 21-gun salute, which was beautiful. (Yes, I bawled my EYES out incessantly, but it was a beautiful tribute to a beautiful man.)

This one was….well…just kind of strange. It didn't feel like the same kind of a tribute. In fact, his mother gave a eulogy during the service and she was just pissed. I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but it just came off strange.

I know that you have to give the mother of the deceased full-reign to act however the hell she wants because I can’t even BEGIN to imagine how she’s feeling, but it’s definitely not what I expected. (In fact, I can’t even imagine speaking during a loved one’s funeral, let alone your 22 year old son.) No judgment--It was just hard to wrap my own mind around. And made it sort of clear that there was much more to the story than we'll ever know...

And, for a number of other reasons, there was just a strange gloom and doom that fell over the day. It’s tough to describe without going into too many details, but it just left a very strange feeling at the end of the day. And it just really made me feel sad for hubby’s cousin. And, I just hope that the family is able to find some peace at some stage, as hard as I know that's going to be so very hard for them.

In other news, I’m 6w1d today. I wish I could say that I felt great and zen about everything, but, well…you all know me better than that by now.

So, yes, I’m freaking out. I have virtually no symptoms, other than breast soreness. And, that means if my breasts are any less sore than they’ve been, I freak out. (Like this morning, for instance. I was able to roll over onto my stomach without flinching in pain. You’d think that’d be a good thing, right? No way. It just freaked me out and made me wish more than anything that I could have an ultrasound today. Or everyday, really.)

I guess I’m also exhausted, but really that could be due to any number of things. Like the fact that I had to drive 8 hours round trip to a heart-wrenching funeral Wednesday. Or that work has been so busy lately. Or that I’m just always tired.

And I know I should be glad I don’t have nausea—and I will, if everything turns out to be okay—but I just don’t feel right feeling fine, you know? I kept holding out hope that when I passed the magical 6w mark, I’d feel….something. But, still nada.

I really hope that has nothing to do with anything. You hear all the stories about how symptoms--especially nausea--are a great sign of a strong pregnancy. Then when you don't have them, it's scary. Hopefully I'm just lucky, but it’s just still so hard to believe that's going to be true.

So, I’ve still got a week and a half before our next ultrasound, and I need something else to pass the time. So, who's game for helping me change the subject? I’ve seen bloggers before open themselves up to “interview” questions. So if there’s anything you’ve always wanted to know about the life and times of Sticky, hubby, and our smooshy dogs, feel free to ask away. And if there are any questions, I’ll blog on them in future 2ww posts as a way of passing the time between now and the 20th.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Some sad news

Hubby's family got some very hard news this past weekend. One of hubby's cousin's took his life on Saturday morning. While it wasn't a cousin that he or his immediate family was very close to, this is obviously something that's going to be very hard for his uncle's immediate family, and for his extended family more broadly.

We're heading up to be with the family for the funeral, etc., so I will be out of range for a couple of days. I'll check in with everyone when I get back.

In the meantime, please keep hubby's family in your thoughts.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Il y en a deux

Hubby and I went for our first ultrasound this morning and, lo and behold, there were two gestational sacs, each with its own yolk sac. !!!

One was measuring “normally” and one Smirky told us looked “small.” So, it seems like sticky #2 is a little more tentative than sticky #1, but we’re really pulling for both of them. I’m hoping that sticky #2 will be prodded along by his/her sibling and catch up by our next ultrasound, which will happen in two weeks.

So, we’ve officially gotten further along than we’ve ever been with this whole pregnancy thing. Still, I’m feeling like everything is extremely tentative and that much can still go wrong, but my cautious optimism does continue to grow. (And that, of course terrifies me because, as we all know, the higher you climb, the harder you fall.)

Even Smirky was downright optimistic today, though. Or, at least as optimistic as he ever gets. He was asking if we had an OB and if we knew where we wanted to deliver. Ha! That’s certainly a change from his undying pessimism that was our two weeks of stims. (And, repeating a theme, even talking about that terrified me as well. I didn’t want to jinx us talking about such plans this early! I realize that he just wants to make sure that, assuming the next u/s goes well, that we have a good to whom we can graduate. But still… It seems too far away to even imagine…)

So, for now we’ll just be happy with our two little sticky buns and hope with all of our might that we see two strong heartbeats on the 20th. Grow, l’il sticky buns!

Friday, August 03, 2007

Jumping on the bandwagon

Click to view my Personality Profile page

I've always wanted to take the Myers Briggs but never have, so I decided to jump on the bandwagon and take the test online. Apparently I'm an ENFP.

ENFP - The "Advocate"

ENFPs are introspective, values-oriented, inspiring, social and extremely expressive. They actively send their thoughts and ideas out into the world as a way to bring attention to what they feel to be important, which often has to do with ethics and current events. ENFPs are natural advocates, attracting people to themselves and their cause with excellent people skills, warmth, energy and positivity. ENFPs are described as creative, resourceful, assertive, spontaneous, life-loving, charismatic, passionate and experimental.

Seems mostly right on in terms of being "expressive" and "passionate." (Although, let's face it, that's really just code for extreme and/or emotional, but whatever.)

It's funny, when hubby and I did our pre-marriage counseling, we both had to take a values test separately, then talk about the results together to see if there were major things we disagreed on that we hadn't ever discussed. It was one of these things where you had to rate about 200 statements according to a scale from "strongly agree" to "strongly disagree." The deacon we were meeting with laughed the whole time because I rated just about everything as either "strongly agree" or "strongly disagree." Whereas hubby was much more steady and go with the flow.

What can I say, I feel passionately about things. And, hubby complements me (read: puts up with me) pretty well.

Of course, I'm about as creative as my dog (no offense, buddy). But hey, you can't win 'em all!

Thursday, August 02, 2007


Today marks one week since beta #1. It's hard to believe it's only been a week; it seems like so much more time has gone by than that. (Perhaps because I've sweat every single, every single minute, rather.)

The good news is that we got our beta results back and things still look like they're progressing well. I'm at 3,455, up from 1,224 Monday, which is a doubling time of exactly 48 hours. (Way to be precise there, sticky buns!)

To say I'm relieved is an understatement. In our first pregnancy, by beta #3, things were already starting to fall apart and I was already starting to miscarry. So, to have crossed that third beta--and that our numbers are way higher than we've ever gotten before--feels really, really good.

On the other hand, it's still so early and it's hard to believe how many more weeks of pins and needles we have to sit on. (Trust me, I'm so not complaining! I feel so wonderfully fortunate and blessed. But, that terror that things might somehow take a turn is still there. I hope it wanes with time, but I seriously doubt it'll ever completely go away.)

On the news front, one of the tough things right now is that I know a handful of people suspect we're pregnant, and keep trying to get me to tell them. At the wedding this past weekend, one of my friends turned to me at the end of the night and said, "by the way, you're not fooling anyone" and gave me a hug. (Damnit! I thought I was acting my ass off during the champagne toast!) She and another friend called me last night and kept bringing pregnancy up, and I knew what she was trying to do. And a third emailed and did likewise.

The problem is, I'm nowhere NEAR ready to tell anyone outside of my parents and one or two very close friends. It just all feels way too early; too tentative.

The funny thing, though, is that, if things went south, these are friends who I would likely share my story with. And yet, I'm not ready to share in the good news. It almost seems unfair to them. And to me! Like, I'm more comfortable at this point commiserating about bad news than getting excited about good. Isn't that funny?

Anyhow, for now I feel good. I can even almost say "I'm pregnant" out loud. (Almost.)

So, for now, here's to our little sticky buns and that they keep on keepin' on! And, here's to a very successful step 3! Step 4 (the first ultrasound to see the gestational sacs) is on Monday.