Sticky Bun

New blog...

2011-01-10T20:26:00.000-05:00

I know I *said* I wasn't going to post again. But the thing is, I miss blogging. I still don't feel comfortable blogging here, though. I really feel like this space is about my infertility, not my life afterwards. So, I've created a new blog. On the off chance anyone is here, please join me at: laughter-and-noise dot blogspot dot com.*

See you there, I hope.

*disc: Because this blog is anonymous, I don't want to link directly to it from here. And, I will not directly link the two blogs together, in case folks from my "real" life read my new blog. Though, it's funny that I say that the other is my "real" life, since anyone coming from here will know more about my family building experiences! But...I digress...

A happy ending

2010-09-18T21:40:00.004-04:00

The ice cream truck doesn't frequent our neighborhood. When I was little, I seem to remember seeing the ice cream man frequently. In this neighborhood, I think I've seen him three times in total.

The first time was more than three years ago. I was about a week from starting stims for my first IVF and I was a mess of emotions. Conflicted, dejected, confused. The works. But that day, as I was feeling sorry for myself, hubby heard that horrid, canned music that only an ice cream truck can produce. (Why, exactly, is that music SO awful?) As soon as he heard it, he ran outside and bought us both ice cream. And it was so cute and made me happy.

Today, for only the second time in the five years we've lived here, we got ice cream from the ice cream truck. But today, hubby and I didn't eat any. Instead, I sat on the curb, my new son cradled, sleeping, in a baby bjorn and my beloved stickies absolutely enamored with the idea of getting ice cream. From a TRUCK! With RAINBOW sprinkles!

So, I just sat there and cried, my heart absolutely bursting with gratitude and love.

Throughout my journey with IF, I felt very sorry for myself quite frequently. Looking back, it feels so silly. So many people have been through so much worse. and in hindsight, the time we spent going through IF seems so insignificant compared with the joy I've felt since. I'll never know or understand why some people have things so easy, why others struggle, and why still others have to go through more pain and heartache than I can possibly imagine. But, those aren't questions I spend time contemplating anymore. Not like I used to. And for that, I'm so grateful.

Instead, I'm closing the door on this chapter of my life. In fact, as part of my c-section, I had my tubes tied. Can you imagine? Permanent birth control? Seems silly, really, since we couldn't conceive on our own for anything. But, frankly, I wanted the finality. I don't ever want to wonder "am I??" ever again. I don't want to pee on a stick. I don't want to wonder about late periods or symptoms. We have three beautiful children. Three years ago, as we ate our ice cream together, I never could have imagined that we'd be this lucky. And now it's time to move on.

I will likely not come back to this space. This is a catalog of a journey that has ended. Happily. Thank you for following me and supporting me. I can only hope that I've been able to support someone else as I've been supported here.

And, to anyone who stumbles upon this blog or who has followed my journey with me, I wish you much happiness and love.

And now, none of that matters

2010-09-03T19:59:00.001-04:00

We're happy to welcome our new addition to the Sticky family. He was born at 10:40am today and weighs 10lbs 1oz and is 22 inches long. (So, while I may have been able to push him out just fine, they were certainly right on the money with his size.)

He's beautiful and we're both in love. I did have the c-section, but it's over and I can just focus on the future.

I feel happy We are so lucky, and very truly blessed.

Friday

2010-08-31T11:46:00.002-04:00

I can't remember if I mentioned this, but I scheduled one last appointment with my OB for yesterday. You see, I had been cycling through different doctors in the practice, but there is one doctor whom I LOVE and whose opinion I really value, so I scheduled an appt with him yesterday. I'm so glad I did. This guy is GREAT. He speaks to you like a grown up--lays everything on the line and lets you make an informed decision. He doesn't try to sway, just very dispassionately lays out the stats.

Imagine! Treating you like you're an intelligent person capable of making an informed decision?

Anyhow, he was actually comfortable letting us schedule for next week. (In other words, he felt comfortable that we understood the risks and trade offs and was happy to let us make the call.) He also fully explained that, chances are, everything would be just fine. He was basically like: "look, in a majority of cases you could literally just show up for the delivery and have things turn out fine. In a small percentage of cases, things go wrong, and obstetrics is about managing for those cases."

How true! (I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not about to not show up for appointments, but it was a refreshingly honest take that basically says: this is a normal, natural process. Sure it's not without risk, and we can help you manage that risk, but know that that's what it's about.)

He also very frankly explained: "hey, look, WE (doctors) would prefer to do a c-section. We know the risks and generally how to avoid them. There's more uncertainty with vaginal delivery particularly with a big baby. We can't predict shoulder dystocia and that's troubling. But, there's more to the decision. And, chances are, everything will be fine. People birth big babies all the time"

He also explained that the chances of shoulder dystocia are less than 1%, and of those cases, the chances of permanent damage are less than 2%.

So, it was a helpful conversation. It did what I wanted it to do--put the risks in perspective. He isn't hyberbolic, which the other OB in the practice was. (He was making all kinds of faces and was pretty dismissive of my questions. That, frankly, is what was putting me in a bad place.)

That said, hubby isn't entirely comfortable waiting until next week. For a number of reasons, I think he just feels like the longer we wait, the higher the risk of...well, of a number of things. So, we said we'd schedule it as late as we could this week.

So, Friday it is.

I feel SO. MUCH. BETTER. Just having talked to this doctor helped put me in a totally different space. Sure, I'm still not happy with the c-section, but whatever. I don't feel pressured into it; I feel like it's our call. And I feel like we're making an educated decision. And, yes, I do still hope I go into labor between now and Friday. But if I don't, we'll figure it out.

So, send labor vibes. And wish us luck either way.

That old familiar feeling

2010-08-27T19:15:00.002-04:00

So, here I am, 39 weeks tomorrow with a baby who, by ultrasound, is measuring 9.5lbs.

The cutoff (according to my ob) for a c-section--regardless of VBAC--is 4,500g. A week ago, he was measuring 4,300g. I currently have a c-section scheduled for September 1. On the upside, I was expecting last week's growth ultrasound to show him at greater than 4,500g. It didn't, so I bought myself another week to possibly go into labor on my own. I felt really good about that for almost a whole 24 hours.

But then, of course, the reality of the fact that I have ZERO signs of impending labor started to set it. I've had virtually no contractions, no dilation, no losing of the mucous plug, nothing. (I mean, seriously, people? I had no labor symptoms with almost 14lbs of baby in me with twins and ditto for this. It's shocking that we couldn't actually MAKE a baby on our own because apparently babies find my uterus to be a place from which they have zero desire to emerge!)

So, to be honest after the initial 24-hour "I still have a window to VBAC!" high, I'm just feeling discouraged. I've gotten my mind set on a VBAC and now that hope is slipping away from me. And there are so many emotions wrapped up in that. (Including this incredulous "are you KIDDING me?!" feeling. I mean, what are the f'ing chances?! This c-section is absolutely not VBAC related. Seriously, people??)

Anyhow. For the past two weeks I've now been obsessively googling "signs of labor," and "ways to naturally induce labor."

Ummm....does that sound familiar? Obsessively checking Dr. Google for signs and symptoms that maybe, just MAYBE this will end the way you envision?

Yeah, so frankly, this is all starting to feel WAY TOO MUCH like all of those months I spent googling "early pregnancy symptoms." And, the desperation I'm starting to feel is eerily similar to that last cycle before my first IVF. At that time, I remember the raw feelings. The: "this is IT. My LAST CHANCE to avoid such a dramatic medical intervention."

I wanted that cycle to work so badly. Just like today, I want to successfully VBAC (and avoid surgery)...so badly.

But the thing is, as of today, I just don't want to feel like this anymore. I don't want to revisit those IF feelings, that desperation. Yes, I know this is different for SO MANY reasons, but for whatever reasons, it FEELS the same. And I hate it.

So, part of me just wants to say fuck it. Much as I DO NOT want to have a c-section, I don't want to feel this way anymore.

And so...for today anyhow...I give. I'm just going to mentally prep for a c-section and be done with it. I need to start focusing on how to make that experience as much as it can be and I need to stop thinking "are-you-fucking-kidding-me-that-yet-ANOTHER-random-and-highly-unlikely-fertility-related-thing-has-happened??" Because, that thinking is negative. And, really, look how lucky I am? I have two beautiful children and I'm lucky enough to have a third on the way. I need to STOP thinking that this is supposed to look a certain way and just say that we take different paths and it's fine.

So...that's what I'm trying now...

There is no gray, only black and white

2010-08-10T13:04:00.003-04:00

So, I had another growth ultrasound this morning. You see, at 32 weeks, this kiddo was measuring greater than the 97th percentile, so they're getting increasingly nervous about vaginal delivery. I went back today and--shock!--he's still measuring greater than the 97th percentile. (Why exactly was I the only one in the room not surprised by this news? Did they expect him to fall off the growth chart? And, if he did, wouldn't that be a BAD sign??)

Anyhow, it sounds like the general obstetrical recommendation is that babies measuring greater than 4,500-5,000 grams (somewhere around 9.5-10lbs) are at greater risk for all kinds of delivery complications, so OBs usually recommend c-sections at that point, regardless of cesarean history.

So, clearly that's where I'm headed. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, but I can almost guarantee that he's going to recommend moving my c-section up to between 39-40 weeks.

Bla.

I'm not going to go against this recommendation, because god forbid something happened, I would never forgive myself. But I genuinely can't help but feel that these recommendations are based on a general CYA strategy, since there are only extremely limited correlations between size and things like shoulder distocia (which is what they're currently afraid of).

And I'm just pissed. The feminist in me believes, deep down, that these recommendations are those of a male-dominated world where we try to shut down and control women's bodies as much as possible to control for "risk." I'm not saying this is part of a deliberate anti-woman conspiracy, but I do think that the world would look a lot different if people make less of an attempt to control and more of an attempt to genuinely understand. For instance, I asked the doctor last week whether genetics played any role. (I was, for example, 10lbs, and delivered vaginally with no problems. And the smallest baby in our entire family--both sides--was my brother who was greater than 8lbs, and we were all delivered vaginally. I suppose that could be coincidence, but it seems much more likely that it's related to the fact that we make and deliver big babies.) He said no. I also asked if they had a sliding scale that accounted for a woman's height--I'm 5'10" and just have to believe that it's easier for me to push out a 10lb baby than someone who is 5'1"--he again said no.

Perhaps he's right, though the midwives in his own practice actually disagree with him, for what that's worth.

I think it's because doctors don't like gray areas. When a gray area appears, they try their hardest to make it black or white. And I feel like that's what they're trying to do here: paint my situation as an absolute when it seems so clearly to me that it isn't.

In the end, I just need to get used to this. Like I said, I'm not going to allow a feminist hunch to push me to ignore a medical opinion. If it were just me and not my baby, I'd be more inclined, but it's not, so there we are.

But it definitely is starting to get me all lathered up. Like I need man-made intervention for EVERY part of the baby making and having process. And I just don't believe in my heart that's true.

Whatever.

Also, if they ask me one more time if I'm diabetic, I'm going to slap someone. Check my fucking chart. I passed my 1-hour glucose screening. If you want me to take it again, fine. But the baby is big, and it appears to have nothing to do with my blood sugar or his. So, look somewhere else for an explanation of his size. (I recommend genetics, for what it's worth.)

Oh, and to add to the number of things that are making me feel crappy about myself, a new study came out this week that basically said that women who gain more than 44lbs (which I have) have a greater risk of big babies, and that big babies have a greater chance of long-term problems like diabetes and obesity. (Again, I don't know how much they controlled for OTHER factors, like whether the people gaining 44lbs were overweight to begin with--I wasn't--or what the family history for the diseases were for the bigger babies--we have none--but whatever.)

So, just for those of you keeping track at home: gain 35lbs, you're a wonderful mother with healthy children. Gain 44lbs, you're dooming your offspring to a life of medical problems. 9lbs apparently makes all the difference.

You see? Black and white.

So, to sum up: I'm cranky and uncomfortable. This "little" guy is huge. And I'm a horrible mother who is dooming her child all because she ate too much ice cream for 8 months.

Moving on and VBACs

2010-07-29T13:51:00.003-04:00

I officially took my name out of the running for the job yesterday, which was a relief. It's stressful to think about something that you're torn about like that. Now, the decision is done, so I can just move forward.

In other news, I'm 34w5d today. When did that happen, you ask? Yeah, not quite sure.

Everything has been mercifully uneventful. He's huge, though--measuring about 4 weeks ahead. On some level, that makes me feel better because I swear I feel full term! I'm hoping it means he'll come just a little early, but in the end don't care as long as everything is fine.

I'm still planning to VBAC. Researching it has been really interesting, actually. I didn't realize just how rare they were. More than 90% of women who've had a c-section have a repeat c-section. I knew the number was high, but wow. That's really high. I ended up switching hospitals and practices for a more VBAC-friendly place. In the end, while I'm fully aware of the possibility of another c-section, I really want to increase my chances of success with a vaginal birth.

It's funny, at first my desire to VBAC was mostly driven by the desire to avoid surgery. Not that the c-section was horrific. (It wasn't.) But, I hate the idea of surgery and would prefer to avoid that kind of recovery again, particularly since I'll have two 2.5 year olds back at home.

As time has marched on, though, my emotions have moved from a simple "I don't want surgery" to a more intense, "I actually WANT a vaginal birth." (You know, as much as you ever want that sort of thing.)

I think it's related to a bunch of things--one, that I really feel like I can do it. Like it would be a real accomplishment.

But even more than that, it's more natural. So much of my reproductive history has now been driven by man-made intervention--IVF, c-sections, etc. When given the chance to let my body do what's it's supposed to, I start feeling...empowered.

I felt similarly about breastfeeding. I was hell-bent on breastfeeding the stickies for a year. And I did, even though for a while I had to pump every two hours to ensure I got them what they needed. But there was something that felt empowering to me about it. Like, *finally* my body was doing what it was "supposed" to.

And, the more I talk to (some) doctors, the more worked up I get about the pressure to do a repeat c-section. I know there is some risk to the VBAC, but it's really not so big that more than NINETY percent of women should be avoiding it like the plague. And, in a moment of rare doctor clarity, my ob explained that VBAC avoidance was really driven by a desire to avoid being sued. "You'll never get sued for doing a c-section," he explained quite candidly.

Isn't that MADDENING!?! That major abdominal surgery has become the norm because of a fear of LITIGATION, rather than because of medical necessity??

Anyhow, all of this makes me very happy to be delivering at a hospital that's committed to reducing the c-section rate. It's a big, reputable, university hospital, but they've publicly come out in support of reducing the c-section rate from 30% of all births--the current national average--to 15%. So they and my new doctor's office are very supportive of my decision to VBAC. (That's in part because I'm a "good candidate." Since I just never went into labor with the stickies, they have no reason to believe it won't be an uneventful delivery.)

Of course, the fact that I appear to be carrying a beast does raise some eyebrows. They're having me go in for another growth ultrasound on August 10 to see how big he's gotten. I don't really know why, to be honest. He was tracking at the 97th percentile. I just assume that's going to be where he ends up. Most of the babies in my family are enormous. I was 10lbs. My brother was more than 8lbs and has the record of the smallest baby in the family--of everyone (cousins, etc.). And we were all pushed out. So, I believe in my heart of hearts I can do it.

Of course, this is one of the reasons I love one of my midwives. At my last appointment, I asked her about his size and she said: "Yup, he's in the 97th percentile. That's big. But, so are you!" (I'm nearly 5'10".)

It struck me as a pretty good point. Also, we don't know how long he is. Let's say he's 10lbs at birth. Well, 10lbs and 19 inches and 10lbs and 22 inches look a lot different, no?

Anyhow. Here's hoping I go into labor naturally, and ideally before my due date. But most of all, that this little guy arrives healthy, happy, and without incident.

Timing is everything in life

2010-07-27T20:51:00.002-04:00

I'm at a crossroads.

I think I mentioned before that hubby is in the process of launching a national organization, and that he needs to decide whether to headquarter it in DC or NYC. We've been torn about whether to stay or go for all sorts of reasons that I won't even go into. Instead, I'll tell you about the additional wrinkle that just came up about two weeks ago.

In short, a good friend of mine is trying to get me to take a pretty high-ranking job in NJ. In theory, I could take it and we could move to NJ and hubby could headquarter his organization in NYC.

But, it would mean that we would both have really tough, time-consuming jobs. We'd be moving farther away from family. We'd be leaving the kids' school--a place where they thrive and that we like. And we'd be leaving a nanny we love as well (who it looks like may actually commit to us for a third year, which is big for all kinds of reasons I'll get into later). And we'd have to do all of this within, say, 6-12 weeks of having our third baby.

Of course, the job itself is a G-R-E-A-T opportunity. If I were 27 or 30 or 32 and either unattached or kidless, I'd jump at it. It's possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Maybe not, but I have to assume it is because things like this just don't come up that often.

But I'm not 30. I'm not unattached. We have a family. We have responsibilities and two (soon three) little people that count on us for everything and who want nothing more than to spend as much time with us as they can. And I recently scaled back so that I can work part time from home, and it's working out great.

And the thing is, I love all of that. I love that I get to spend leisurely mornings with the kiddos without rushing out to work at 8am or earlier. And I love that this past school year, I was able to pick them up at lunch and got to be the one who put them down for their naps everyday.

So obviously, I have to pull my name out of the running for this NJ job. Uprooting the family so soon after the little bear arrives and making the transition for MG and SP to "big sister" and "big-brother" hood that much more complicated just isn't a viable option.

But, I can't lie to you; I'm so torn. I've never felt exactly like this. Even when I left my last job to take the work from home job I have now, the decision was easier. I had been at that job for five years and had extracted all that I think I was going to.

But now? Now I really feel like I'm at a crossroads. There are two paths in front of me. One heads in the direction of a lot of the career-related things I've been working towards since I graduated from college.

The other is focused on my family.

I guess I just never thought I'd have such a deliberate and distinct choice to make. I guess I just always thought that life paths were decided by the sum total of a million tiny little decisions that added up to one direction or another. And, while I'm sure thats also true, this is definitely a bigger, "road not taken" kind of decision.

I know it's the right one, of course. I know all of the cliches that tell me that, when I'm 80, this is the decision I won't regret. And I know how much I love spending more time with the kiddos now and having flexibility.

But it's still hard. It's hard to close the door on something I've worked so hard for.

I guess I just need to let myself mourn the loss and accept the unpleasant reality that, as an adult, the right decisions, while sometimes clear, are rarely easy.

Cliche

2010-06-20T22:31:00.002-04:00

Today is Father's Day, which of course means that empty-headed celebrities get paraded out with their kids to talk about how becoming a parent has changed their lives.

I don't mean to be flip here, but is that not the least interesting thing to say about parenting? Yes, having kids changes your life. So does not having kids, by the way. And, as those of us who've been through IF know, not having kids actually changes the course of your life even more than having kids does.

Sure, my life is different today than it was before March 2008--before the stickies were born. But what if I hadn't been lucky enough to have them? Well, that would have changed my life--my aspirations and dreams and vision of the future--so much more. I would have had to rethink and envision a new reality for myself that took me down different paths and towards different destinations.

And, let's face it, for many celebrities, having kids doesn't actually change your day-to-day life much at all. They've got nannies and night nurses and all kinds of help to ensure that they don't miss a day at the gym or a tour or a movie premier or god-knows-what-else.

So, today, too all of the men whose lives have been changed--either because of the birth of a child or because the cards they've been dealt have forced them to envision a new path for themselves--I wish you all the best. It's your day.

179

2010-06-19T20:20:00.002-04:00

That's the number of my sister-in-law's beta from her first IVF. She has one son a little younger than the stickies that she conceived with Clomid--she actually got very lucky on her first clomid-IUI for that cycle--and she's been through four IUIs trying for another baby. And, well, we all know how that goes...

I can't tell you how nervous I was for her waiting to hear the news about today's beta. I really revisited all of those feelings leading up to the beta from our first IVF. It's been a long time since I revisited those raw "oh-my-god-will-this-EVER-work" feelings. And, let me tell you, it made me appreciate all the more how lucky we are and how lucky we've been since that fateful first IVF beta.

She doesn't go in for her next beta for a whole week, and then has to wait two more for her first ultrasound, so she's got a while until she gets more "data." With a beta like 179, she's in the "are there 1 or 2" gray zone. Of course, in the end she just wants a healthy and uneventful pregnancy followed by an uneventful birth. But I know she's really also hoping for twins. She never thought she wanted twins, but when you transfer two good embryos, it's hard not to get attached to both.

Keep your fingers crossed for her. I'm really hoping that she gets nothing but great news from here on out...

In other news, things here are going well. I'm in denial over the fact that I'm 29 weeks. 29 weeks?!? What? It's all very strange. But, things have been uneventful, which has been great. And, because it's a singleton, I feel like I rarely go to the doctor or get ultrasounds, so there hasn't been much to update. I'm growing more and more terrified of having three kids under three, but it's a good kind of terror. More exhilaration than fear, really. Mostly, though, I just feel lucky. (Oh, and f'ing HUGE. I've put on more weight than I care to admit and it's definitely bringing me down a bit, particularly since it's the summer and impossible to hide.)

Also, I'm actually planning to switch Obs. I really want to VBAC with this baby and think there is a better hospital and better ob/gyn practice. I met with one of the doctors there and just really love him. (Ironically, he's the doctor I went to for my first miscarriage back in 2006. I really liked him then, but didn't go back because I was spending so much time with REs. Then, when I got pregnant with twins, my RE--whom I LOVE--strongly recommended working with a practice that delivered at this one particular hospital where the perinatologist was second to none. So, that's how I ended up where I am now.

So, that's the news chez Sticky...not that I make any assumptions that there's anyone reading at this point, since I've been so silent (and sporadic) for so long! If you are still checking, thank you. I wish I've been better about blogging. I guess I just never really found my post-IF voice and often find myself at a loss! (Bitter and cynical suits me better as a blogger, I think. Is that awful? :-)

A weekend away...

2010-04-25T12:46:00.002-04:00

I spent this past weekend in DC. It was our anniversary on Saturday, and we both had to be in DC/Baltimore for work, so we took advantage of the free travel and extended the trip to spend the weekend visiting friends and our old haunts.

It was great. We miss DC terribly. Not that we regret moving. Compromises are complicated and our move from DC, while a compromise, has been overwhelmingly positive.

But, still, our hearts are still in the town where we lived when we were engaged and married, and where I had lived for years before.

And it was wonderful to reconnect with a few very close friends who came to meet us. It made me realize how much I missed being near my girlfriends. You see, I haven’t really connected with anyone in my “new” town. I’ve been here more than four (really close to five) years, and for lots of reasons—including that I spend more time with family than seeking out friends, that I had a crazy busy job for all but three months of the time I’ve been here, and that I just am not convinced I connect with or have much in common with folks up here—haven’t really made social ties. It’s kind of strange for me, to be honest. I’ve never been somewhere—a job, a school, anywhere—where I haven’t at least met one friend. So, on some level, it’s been a little lonely.

On the other hand, having family nearby has been a godsend. Literally. I don’t know how we would have gotten through the first two years of raising twins without my parents, or hubby’s parents. And the connection my kids have with my mom and dad is priceless and worth whatever compromises we’ve had to make.

But, times are changing, as they always do, and it’s looking more and more likely that we will end up moving back down to the DC area. It will be, of course, a compromise. Leaving our family at this point will be both sad and painful to our daily routines. But, on the other hand, I think hubby and I will willingly get behind the move. We don’t love our state, we miss the DC area, and we would be very excited to be back.

There’s so much to tell about the weekend that I hardly know where to begin.

Saturday was our sixth anniversary—the third anniversary I’ve passed since I started blogging. Isn’t that crazy? That means I’ve officially been blogging for more of my marriage than not. Weird. It was nice to be back down in DC for this anniversary, in particular, though. We were able to connect with our old selves—the pre-kids and pre-absolute-and-total chaos selves. I miss those people. I’m so tired and high strung these days, and it has inevitably taken its toll on our marriage. (Not in an I’m-worried-that-we-might-not-make-it way, but it can still be very tough. And I miss just getting to “be” with hubby; just the two of us, just laughing and doing fun things free from daily chores and worries.)

While I was down there, I was also able to connect with one of my best and closest friends. She was my maid of honor and my roommate for several years. She knows me better than almost anyone and we just kind of get each other. I love seeing her; it always feels like no time has gone by and like I’m coming home.

But this time was a little different. This friend is 35 and single. (She’s beautiful and the greatest person I’ve ever met, so I’m not sure why that’s so, but it is.) She wants marriage and kids but just hasn’t found the right person.

Anyhow, she’s had to endure more sadness in her life than she deserves. She lost her dad at 16 and had to deal with a lot of turmoil after that. Has watched a cousin die of Lou Gehrig’s disease (awful) and countless aunts/uncles/grandparents die of cancer. Just very sad.

And, because she has such a history of cancer in her family—all of her grandmother’s sisters died of either ovarian or breast cancer, several in their 30s—her doctor has been pushing her to be tested for the “breast cancer gene.”

Long story short, she has it. The doctors did a full workup and this baseline scan was clean, but they are recommending an immediate double-mastectomy and removal of her ovaries at 40.

This is awful in its own right, but complicated by three things:

She’s single, but wants kids. So now she must decide, fairly quickly, whether she’s going to seek out a sperm donor and have a baby on her own and whether she’ll try to freeze some of her eggs (a very experimental procedure with no guarantees of anything),
She’s dedicated her career to working in Catholic education and there is a nonzero chance that she would be fired if she did fertility treatments and got pregnant as a single woman, and
If she switches her insurance company now, she runs the risk of never being covered again because this genetic discovery is a pretty serious “pre-existing condition.”

It’s so awful on so many levels and it makes me so very angry that I can hardly see straight.

As some of you know, I’m a HUGE supporter of Catholic education, so I’m not looking for piling on the Catholic church or Catholic schools.

But, I just can’t help but look at her situation and be FURIOUS. She just deserves better. More. She shouldn’t have to weigh whether she’ll lose her insurance—or her JOB—if she decides to pursue what may be her only chance to have a baby.

I don’t even know how to process all of this for her. I’m of course helping her try to look for jobs, and connecting her to my sister-in-law who might be able to give her advice on the medical side. But other than that, I just feel so helpless.I really wish I understood why such awful things happen to such wonderful people. I just don’t get it and never will. And I don’t understand how I got so lucky when so many others have to suffer so regularly.

So, for today, I’ll be thinking of my dear friend. And counting my many blessings.

Anatomy scan

2010-04-08T20:37:00.002-04:00

Today was the infamous anatomy scan. I have to say, I was super nervous. I mean, ultrasounds always kind of make me nervous (and excited), but since the last one was so...well...iffy, I was just nervous that they'd find something troubling on this one.

The good news is, they didn't. Everything looks normal. Great, even. In fact, since the nuchal scan, the baby's risk for Down's has gone from my age-related risk of 1:350 (ish) to 1:750(ish) with the first round of scan/bloodwork, to 1:1,000(ish) with my second round of bloodwork (taken last week), to 1:3,500(ish) after today's ultrasound.

That's good news. Makes me sort of irritated that the tech ever raised the alarm at 12 weeks, but what can you do. I get that that's the risk of the early screening. I also get that this is only a screening and non of this means that my baby couldn't have something wrong. But the perinatologist said--very strongly--that she didn't think I need to do ANYTHING. (i.e.: no amnio, etc.) So, I'm taking that as a good sign.

I left the ultrasound feeling pretty excited, actually. It's finally starting to feel real. Up until this point, I've been really quite detached from this pregnancy. It still just felt very tentative. But, being back at the hospital where the stickies were born, seeing the little ones in the nursery, and thinking that we might be back there soon got me all teary.

And then, of course, learning that this little one is a little boy helped, too. Now I'm really picturing a little person. It's not just an abstract embryo or fetus, it feels more like a baby.

Of course, there's a scary part that goes along with that, but for now, it makes me excited.

I'm 1/2 through the pregnancy as of tomorrow. Getting closer everyday to viability. And to, I hope, meeting our little one. Hooray! One day at a time!

2x2

2010-03-21T22:12:00.006-04:00

My sweet stickies turned two today. Two years old. They've almost been with us longer than we suffered through any IF nonsense. And, I can honestly say that these two sweet, smiling faces do make the pain we felt fade away. Not completely, but pretty dramatically. I know that's in part because the pain we felt, while so raw at the time, is so much less than so many others have and are suffering through. And my heart still aches for everyone who's seen so much worse, and for everyone on at the beginning of a very long journey.

And, because of all of that, I can't help but look at these faces everyday and just be so very thankful about how lucky we are.

At the same time, I can't believe they're two. I really feel like we went from 0 to 60 in about 3 seconds.

Happy Birthday, sweet stickie s. I love you.

Normal

2010-02-23T15:49:00.002-05:00

First, can I tell you how much I HATE dealing with a "regular" ob? I miss the kindness and compassion--and, yes, the handholding--of both Smirky and my perinatologist. I feel like the nurses at the ob's office see so many "normal" fertiles and normal pregnancies that they just get nervous when an uptight infertile with a history of miscarriages calls the office.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

After last week's nuchal scan I called my ob's office to ask some follow-up questions about my normal-but-still-higher-than-we'd-really-like translucency measurements. I got transferred to a nurse and explained my situation:

"Hi, I had my nuchal scan yesterday and the translucency measurement was technically in the 'normal' range, but was higher than we'd like, so I'm naturally very nervous. I know that we don't get the full results until my bloodwork comes back, so I'm hoping you can tell me when I could expect the full results."

"What? Well...er...you don't get the full results until your next blood draw at 16 weeks."

"Well, yes, but I know that we get a risk assessment from these tests and I'd like to know what they are. You see, I'm 12 weeks pregnant and understand I can only get a CVS until I'm 13 weeks pregnant, so I really have less than a week to decide whether I want to go that route. And, I don't want to make that decision without the results of this test."

"Let me look for your chart."

Long Pause...

"We don't have any results yet."

"Yes, I didn't expect you would, but my measurement was higher than normal so I'd like to know when you will."

"Higher than normal? Well, I wouldn't worry unless it was lower than normal."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's wrong. Can you direct me to a genetics counselor?"

And that's how I ended up back on the phone with my fabulous perinatologist who both understood my concern and explained lots of helpful options, including the fact that I could call them Tuesday (today) to get the full results and discuss next steps. I heart them.

So, call today I did. Unfortunately, I got a woman on the phone who basically said, well yes, I have your results right here, but I can't GIVE them to you.

????!!!

She couldn't read me the results but instead had to fax them to my useless Ob. I'm sure there's some horrible privacy law about why they couldn't, but it was bullshit. I'm a person. Who's scared. And on the phone RIGHT NOW. Please just tell me whether I need to worry!!

So, I had to hang up and call my ob. I got another nurse...let's call her nurse snippy.

Me: (I open with the whole backstory above, but I'll spare you.) "So I'm calling to get the results."

Snippy: **SIGH** Hang on...

Snippy: The first part is normal, you'll get the results of the second part and your paperwork later.

Me: "Um...I don't understand what you're saying. Can you please explain it to me? I'm really scared about all of this and really want to understand all of it."

Snippy: *sigh* "The results are normal."

Me: Now on the verge of tears..."Well, can you at least tell me the numbers that go along with it?

She did. And then got off the phone quickly.

I hated her. I mean, I hate to bother your busy important schedule, but I'm scared sh*tless that something is wrong with my baby. A little bit of fucking compassion wouldn't kill you. Bitch.

The bottom line is that it seems like everything is "fine." The risk of the baby having Down's went to 1:710. (My age-related risk is something like 1:365 or 400.) And the risk of the other trisomies was 1:10,000.

So, good news. I will now not be totally assured until...well, until delivery, really, but short of that until my 16 week blooddraw and 18-week anatomy scan. But, I'm glad that my risk didn't trip a "quick get this girl an amnio STAT" radar.

Exhale.

Let's hope no more excitement lies in store for me down the road. I would like to hear "normal" over and over again between now and September. Here's hoping!

In the high range of normal

2010-02-18T16:15:00.003-05:00

When you've been through what any of us has--pregnancy, miscarriage, infertility, treatments, etc.--you want to go into every doctor's appointment and hear only one thing: "everything looks perfect!" Anything short of that--even if it's merely a less-than-effusive, "sure, everything's fine" will send most of us into a panic.

So, you can understand how I felt when the ultrasound tech was nearly silent for 40 minutes of today's nuchal screen and as she kept trying to jolt the baby into a different position by jostling my belly over and over again.

This was NOT the reassuring 12-week ultrasound I was hoping for.

The problem, apparently, was that the baby was lying in such a way that made it difficult to accurately measure it's nuchal translucency. She took a bunch of different measurments, each time getting something in the range of 2.8-3.1mm. (Apparently anything above 3.0mm is considered abnormal.)

Thankfully, she finally gave up and brought in another tech, who was able to take the measurements in about two and half minutes. He took three measurements in a row that put the thickness at 2.6mm. Better, but not altogether reassuring.

The good news is that everything else looks fine: the heartbeat was a strong 153bpm, you could see a four-chamber heart, a stomach, the bladder, the lungs, arms, legs, etc. And, you could see a clearly defined nasal bone, which is apparently a reassuring sign.

The second tech tried his hardest to be reassuring, but the damage from the first tech was done, and now I'm freaked. And, Dr. Google is even more useless than ever when researching this topic. I can find some info that suggests that any reading over 2.5mm at this point is high, some that say anything over 3.0mm is. Either way, this isn't the super-thin result that I think everyone wants to see.

I now have to wait at least a week until we get the results of my bloodwork back to assess the actual chances of this baby having a genetic abnormality.

Of course, I hope that everything comes back just fine and we can put this behind us. But, I actually suspect that the results will be inconclusive. Apparently the point of this screening is to get your risk down to something less than 1:1,000. The risk for my age (35 at delivery) is something like 1:350. I'm willing to bet I get something right around that number, which will tell me only that I should have skipped the damn test entirely. (Of course, there is also a chance that my risk will go up and that I'll see a number higher than that. Let's just hope that isn't the case.)

I'm still trying to process all of this--and to talk myself down. I just have to hope everything is fine. I'm sure I'll post something more coherent eventually. For now, just keep your fingers crossed that this little bean is just fine.

Exhale...

2010-01-18T13:49:00.002-05:00

I have to say, I think I grow about 50 extra gray hairs in the 10 minutes between getting called back for the ultrasound and when we actually see something on the monitor. Today was no different. My heart was literally pounding out of my chest. It was RACING. I just wanted to get on with it because, at this point, I just wanted an answer. (Well, okay, I wanted a particular answer, but you get it.)

Smirky inserted the wand and very quickly poked around to see a lovely, beating heart. 148bpm--the exact same as one of the stickies back at that 7.5 week ultrasound.

I cried. It was like the release of 7 weeks worth of built-up tension. I have to admit that, while I did let hope in, I was having trouble envisioning anything but another "I'm sorry but..." conversation.

So, we're going to start the PIO weaning process this week--HOORAY for that. And I need to make an appointment with my OB to officially transfer me into their care.

I know better than to think this means we just sail smoothly to the happy delivery of a healthy baby, but it's certainly a good step in that direction.

I guess my next big milestone isn't until the nuchal scan, which if memory serves doesn't happen until about 11 or 12 weeks. It's going to be a long way until then!

D-Day

2010-01-18T07:50:00.002-05:00

T-minus 70 minutes until the ultrasound. It's hard for me to sort out my feelings right now. It's a mixture of nervous, resigned, hopeful, and petrified. No matter what, this is the big one. A day rivaled only by beta #1 for it's meaning and finality.

Fingers tightly crossed for a heartbeat.

Reassuring

2010-01-05T10:16:00.003-05:00

I remember the 5.5 week ultrasound from the FET this summer vividly. Smirky was almost silent. He poked around, showed that there was one sac. Looked for a yolk sac, took a few measurements, and said that we should come back in two weeks.

I remember asking if everything looked okay. He didn't say much, other than "there isn't much to see at this ultrasound." We were mainly confirming that the pregnancy was intrauterine, he cooly explained.

I left that ultrasound feeling pretty crappy--I remember talking to the nurse that afternoon and specifically asking about the yolk sac. Did it mean something ominous when we didn't see one? She took out my chart and explained that there was a small one, and there was nothing diagnostic that they could tell from that ultrasound, other than to confirm the presence or absence of an intrauterine pregnancy.

In hindsight, I realize that Smirky was being deliberately cautious. He never said, but I suspect he had doubts about that pregnancy from that day.

I'm happy to say that his demeanor today lies in stark contrast to the Smirky who scanned me this summer. He inserted the wand and we instantly saw the gestational sac and a clear, distinct yolk sac. He pointed them both out happily as he took measurements. I asked if things looked okay and he said, "everything is exactly as it should be. The measurements are perfect." For Smirky, that's high praise.

I go back in two weeks for the all-important heartbeat scan. I know we're nowhere near out of the woods yet, but I have to say that I feel better than I did at this point last time. I feel...hopeful.

Come on, l'il sticky jr! Hang in there. (Please.) You have two parents and two siblings who want nothing more than to meet you.

3,607

2010-01-04T19:36:00.002-05:00

The levels continue to rise nicely--my level was 3,607 today (23dper). I wanted better than 3,000, so feel pretty good about that.

They're bringing me in for an ultrasound tomorrow--I was sort of hoping to wait a few days so there would be fewer days between this ultrasound and the all-important heartbeat ultrasound, which I assume will be roughly two weeks from tomorrow or Wednesday. But, it will be good to get a glimpse at things tomorrow to see how it's going.

All in all, I'm feeling almost hopeful today. Come on, sticky jrs!

(PS: I realize these updates have become quite utilitarian. I'll try to be more clever soon. :-)

366

2009-12-30T18:57:00.002-05:00

I wa of course hoping for better than 400, but the beta came back at 366. Which is fine: a doubling time of just under two days. So, I live to see another day. I go back Monday, at which point I should be over 2,000. And, assuming that's right, I should have an ultrasound next week.

Fingers remain tightly crossed.

162

2009-12-28T21:19:00.002-05:00

Thanks to everyone who's been checking in and for your well wishes! I'm happy to report that I'm officially pregnant--I HOPE for the long haul.

I was on pins and needles all day waiting for my beta. Today is 16dper, so I was really hoping for something greater than 250. (I wish I knew less about these fucking numbers so that I'd just be happy with the damn positive and not cloud it with all of this hyperanalysis!) Anyhow, the beta came back at 162. Technically within the normal range, whatever that means, but definitely lower than I wanted, greedy wench that I am. :-)

I go back in Wednesday for another beta. I have to say that I kind of wish I didn't go in again until later this week or next. I'm not entirely convinced that every-other-day monitoring does much more than give me additional fodder to freak out over every detail. I mean, I think we all know that they aren't going to do anything until my first ultrasound, which I assume will be next week, when they verify that the pregnancy is intrauterine. Last time my numbers started lower than I would have liked, but rebounded and doubled really nicely by the end. But the outcome was crap, obviously. So, I've basically lost interest in monitoring. (Of course, because they ARE monitoring, I absolutely will overanalyze and overthink every blood draw. How could I not!)

For now, I'm just so grateful to have passed step 1. As hubby always says, you can't have a baby without a first positive and a first number. So, we've cleared the first hurdle. Now, I just want to fast-forward to the all-important heartbeat ultrasound, which my clinic does at about 7.5 weeks. Three LONG weeks from now. Distractions welcome.

In the meantime, I'm going to try to just be excited about the possibility of a happy ending with a happy sticky bean. Come on l'il bean! :-)

Welcome home, little ones

2009-12-15T14:53:00.003-05:00

Transfer today went well. Er...well, transfer today...happened, as scheduled. (It's hard to know how to judge the transfer without knowing the outcome!)

Our two little embryos were still hanging on, though one definitely looked better than the other. One was a 4-cell, grade 2.5 and one was an 8-cell, grade 1.5. Those numbers meant nothing to me, so I asked what they usually want to see on day 3, and Smirky said, "two 8-cell grade 1." So, we have at least one that looks reasonably good. Sarah did talk me down by reminding me that these grading systems aren't particularly "scientific," frustrating as that is.

But, now they're nestled back in where they belong, hopefully for the long haul.

The 2ww will be excruciating, as always. Doubly so because my beta should be next Friday. But, next Friday is December 25, so I have to wait until the 28th for my beta. Ugh! Three extra days! At least we'll be busy until the 25th. But the 26th-27th will be torturous. What are the chances I wait to take an HPT?

Anyhow...in order to facilitate some relaxation, I canceled the trip to DC I had scheduled for tomorrow. It just seemed like more chaos than we need right now. I had to cancel some meetings, but whatever. This is more important than any stupid meeting.

So, there you have it. Suggestions for distractions between now and the 18th welcome. And, continual positive vibes appreciated. I need to hope for the best for my little sticky jrs. Come on, l'il guys! :-)

Dwindling numbers...

2009-12-14T22:10:00.002-05:00

We're down to two embryos today, so I'm going in for transfer tomorrow at noon.

It's getting hard to keep my spirits up with the continual gray news. I mean, I know in my head it only takes one, but still. I can't help but worry even about the quality of the two we've got left.

Thanks for the continued support. Keep the positive vibes coming as we transfer the sticky jrs tomorrow.

And then there were three...

2009-12-13T18:28:00.002-05:00

I got the fertilization report this afternoon--three of the eggs fertilized, so we're looking at a day 3 transfer (Tuesday). I have to admit to being a little disappointed. Last cycle, I kept getting pleasantly surprised by having our expectations exceeded.

Last time, we were expecting 5-6 eggs, hoping for 7-8, but got 10. Then 8 of the 10 fertilized. Then they all grew out to day 5 and we had two cute ones to transfer with two to freeze. It was really one pleasant surprise after another. This cycle...not so much. (I know I shouldn't compare, it's just hard not to. And I am a little disconcerted by how different these two cycles look. I mean, for the love of god, I'm not THAT much older!!)

But, hopefully the three embryos are great quality. I realize that's what matters. If they're all three looking GREAT tomorrow, they might extend me to a day 5 transfer. But in all likelihood, it'll be Tuesday.

Either way, I just hope there's a keeper in there. :-)

Come on, l'il embryos! Grow!

Waiting... **updated

2009-12-12T10:00:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting in the hospital waiting fo retrieval. My clinic is affiliated with a huge university center in the city, so my last retrieval took place downtown in a much bigger, more impersonal center.

Since then, the University has built a satellite full service lab in the hospital where I delivered the stickies. What a difference! This hospital is swank to begin with, and the setting is so intimate by contrast. I have my own room with a TV where I can lie down, under covers, watching TV while I wait.

Oh, and there is wifi. :-)

I will take it as a good sign that the first channel I turned to was playing "Miracle," one of my favorite movies.

Miracle indeed, we hope. I'll keep you posted.

**Update
Retrieval went well. We got 6 eggs, which was about as many as we could have hoped for. We can't be certain they're all mature and fertilizable, so we need to wait until tomorrows all-important fertilization report. I forgot how this process makes you feel like you're sitting on pins and needles every step of the way. Come on, l'il eggs and sperm. Do your thing!

Triggered...

2009-12-10T23:39:00.002-05:00

I forgot how stressful the HCG injection was! So much pressure. The timing, the dose. It all has to be exact with no room for error. Eek. Hopefully all was well (despite the fact that we were 9 minutes late.)

Retrieval is Saturday morning, 10am. I'm so nervous. Wish us luck!

And, I'll take that cheerleading! I think the l'il eggos could use it!

Limping towards retrieval...

2009-12-09T20:24:00.002-05:00

I had another scan and bloodwork this morning. My E2 level has finally eeked it's way above 1,000--on day THIRTEEN of stims. !!! And there are a handful of follies. It's like waking the dead in my ovaries--it's like there ARE eggs in there, it just takes a pickaxe, shovel, and 60 gallons of men0pur to find them.

Unfortunately, there is still one follie that has taken the lead--22-23mm. That one is ready to go, really, but Smirky is trying to let the others bake another day or two before trigger in the hopes that some of the smaller ones will catch up. It's a risky game, but I trust him.

So, I think he wants me to stim tonight and tomorrow, but I go back tomorrow, I assume to see if that's possible or whether I just need to trigger tomorrow.

I'm definitely glad that it looks like we'll make it to retrieval. This is our last shot at an IVF, so I definitely wanted to give it our all and get as far as possible.

And, for now, we'll just take it one step at a time...

The update that wasn't

2009-12-05T12:56:00.003-05:00

So, as of yesterday, my E2 was around 170ish and I didn't have a single follicle over 10mm. Day EIGHT of stims.

That can't be a particularly good sign, huh?

I really don't have a lot to say about all of this. I was a slow responder last time, too, but by this point I at least had 4-5 follies at around 12mm. So, I'm even behind that ridiculously slow lead-up.

As Smirky said yesterday, I'm not out of the woods. Nowhere near. I go back Monday for another u/s and b/w. I have to hope that a bunch of the 7-8mm follies have grown or I fear I'm eerily close to a canceled cycle.

And that's the news from chez sticky. Let's hope for better news Monday or I'm going to have seriously regretted doing an IVF cycle during the Christmas season!

Day 4

2009-11-30T22:17:00.002-05:00

I had a mini-monitoring appointment today--bloodwork, but no ultrasound. Unfortunately, despite the higher doses we started with this round (225 of G0nal-F and 2 amps of Men0pur), my E2 was still as paltry this time as it was the first time around--perhaps worse. It was in the 50s--54, I think? (Last time I was at 77.4 on day 5. Sounds similar, hopefully not worse.)

Now they have me on 300 of G0nal-F and FOUR vials of men0pur. That sounds like a lot to me. I'm happy to do it if it works, but it certainly doesn't SOUND promising that I'm not responding to a higher dose.

I go back on Wednesday for bloods and ultrasound. I'm hoping that the ovaries kick into high gear. Come on, l'il guys!

In the meantime, I would love to hear what other people's protocols were--good or bad stories, I'm just interested in how high my dose seems by contrast. (Because I'm a glutton for punishment who can't just let go and let things happen, I suppose...)

Game on

2009-11-27T21:58:00.002-05:00

I went in this morning for bloods and ultrasound--everything looked good. (My FSH, incidentally, was 4.3. ??? What the hell is that? Can someone explain FSH to me. I know that the highest number is the one you're supposed to pay attention to, but those numbers are so wildly different, it just sort of makes me wish I never knew about the other stupid number.)

Anyhow, I started meds tonight--225 G*nal-F and 2 vials of Men@pur. Is it wrong that my biggest takeaway from tonight's experience is how much bigger and flabbier my stomach has gotten since the last round? My stomach was nice and flat before. Not so much anymore. It could be the extra 10lbs--the 10lbs that I cannot blame on carrying twins because it was gained much more recently. (I can blame it on the miscarriage, I think, since the weight gain corresponds almost exactly with that.)

So, we're off. I got in for a blood check on Monday, then the litany of ultrasounds, etc. begins. Fingers crossed, and here's hoping for more luck than I probably deserve!

Don't worry, they have a very lovely life.

2009-11-25T20:30:00.005-05:00

I start IVF meds Friday. It's sort of stunning to me how deep my complete and utter denial is. Actually, it's not even really denial. That sort of assumes that it has crossed my mind more than maybe twice since my last blog post. I've just been so...busy.

I gave notice at my job and have started to transition out while at the same time I've started to transition into the new job. Oh, and I've taken on some related contract work for the month of December, you know, because I guess I was nervous I'd be bored or something. (And I have a request to do some additional contract work in December that I'm trying to decide whether or not to take.)

It's actually kind of exciting to think that I can piece together some contract work here and there over the long term. It's a nice way to earn some extra dough when we need it and it's good to keep the contacts.

But, you know, December mightn't have been the best time to get that ball rolling.

Also, the kiddos have been sick on and off for, oh several months now, it seems. I knew this would happen this year, as it's their first year in school. They haven't gotten anything too terrible, which is good. Just enough to make them fairly uncomfortable on a fairly regular basis. Poor little kiddos. Sweet Potato in fact has croup right now, poor thing.

The funny thing about the sicknesses has been that each one has followed almost the exact same path: sweet potato gets whatever it is first and worse. Monkey girl follows, but never seems to get it quite as bad. She's such a little trooper, that one.

And this latest sickness got in the way--or, really, almost got in the way--of the first girls weekend I was going to have in more than two years. On Saturday at 6am I was supposed to fly to Disney for a girls weekend to celebrate the 35th birthday of one of my best friends in the world. At 4pm on Friday, Sweet Potato spiked a fever.

Argh.

I changed my flight and rebooked on the last flight out Saturday. That way, I could use the morning to size up how sweet potato was doing and try to fly standby on the afternoon flight. But, if things looked not so great, I had a confirmed ticket on the last flight out so that I could get just over 24 hours of fun in. (I was slated to come back on Monday morning, and canceling was not an option in my book. This weekend was too important to my friend, who I hadn't seen in more than a year.) The next day everything seemed fine--yes, he was sick, but he slept well and it was manageable with motrin, so I figured that hubby could handle the stickies. Sure, it would be a tough evening, but my parents were coming to help Sunday, so it should be fine.)

Anyhow, that was the plan. That was until I was about 3/4 of the way to the airport at 2:00 on Saturday and got a desperate text from hubby to please come home. Sweet potato had coughed himself awake and the kids were both a mess--sick and exhausted--and he didn't think he could handle it on his own.

So, I did turn around. I was disappointed, to be sure, but it was a happy disappointment, really. If that makes any sense at all. I walked in the door and a very sad monkey girl ran and leaped into my arms and cuddled there for a good hour. It was so sweet. And really, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything.

But still. Seriously, hubby--they're not THAT terrifying. I'm sure you would've been fine (though I agree that you may have needed several beers after you put them to bed).

So, those are some details of what's been my crazy little life of late. We're going to somehow fit IVF--and, we hope, another baby--into the mix. I'm sure the emotion of it all--cycling, our last attempt to have another baby, etc.--is going to start to hit me at some point. And I'm sure you're in for some kind of woe is me post at some point. You know how the meds and the cycling f' with your emotions!

But, really, right now I'm just feeling...grateful. Despite the madness, I know how lucky we are. And, while I hope that this cycle brings the little brother or sister that I'm really hoping to give monkey girl and sweet potato, I also know that, no matter what happens, we'll be fine.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. And wish us luck and peace to deal with whatever this journey throws our way.

And so it begins

2009-11-09T20:16:00.003-05:00

Let's leave aside the fact that an overturned fuel tanker shut down I95 for more than four hours today, thus turning a quick trip for bloods and ultrasound into a more than six-hour ordeal.

Instead, let's talk about the results from those blood tests. My FSH level isn't good. 10.9. It was 7.4 before our last IVF, and I freaked out that THAT was high. Ah, to be young and naive again...

The message from the nurse provided cold comfort: "Your FSH did go up, but we're still going to go ahead."

Oh, gee, thanks. Now you've planted a seed in my head that you were contemplating canceling my cycle based on that number. Sh*t.

I mean, I guess this means it's good we just decided to go straight to IVF. No need to f*ck around with DIY cycles at 34 when your FSH level is borderline "diminished ovarian reserve."

I'm also now convinced I'm about to go into menopause. I assume this is a ridiculous fear. For the love of god, I'm only 34. But still.

Stories along the lines of "wow, only 10.9? Gee, that's lower than my 16-year-old niece with great eggs" or "10.9? Wow, we got 25 mature, healthy eggs with that fsh" welcome.

Do you want to hear the punchline? I had the makings of an entirely different post in my head before I got the call this afternoon. That post went like this: "Gee, if you had told me two years ago that an IVF cycle would feel like the more drama-free of the IVF or DIY cycles, I would have told you you were crazy. But going through the IVF motions feels remarkably comfortable and familiar..."

So much for drama-free, I guess. Fingers crossed that this isn't a sign of things to come. BCPs start tonight.

Winding up and down...

2009-11-07T12:28:00.002-05:00

Every year, twice a year, I have to work to pull together a HUGE project. It's enormous and, while I have learned a lot and I guess it was gratifying at one point, now it's just a thorn in my side.

Anyhow, yesterday was the last one I'll ever have to run. The next one is in March and I'll be out of my job by then. HOORAY!

So, I feel like I'm in the home stretch of my job now. I have one or two medium sized projects to tie up before I leave, but they aren't that big a deal. Then I have to do the annual reviews and goal-setting for all of my direct reports, which will be a lot of work, but I'll feel good about. (I love my team and want to make sure I leave them well set up.)

Can I tell you how glad I am to be winding down?! I'm so sick of the hours I have to put in to all of this. I'm so looking forward to a holiday season with less drama and more kid fun.

But, while yesterday marked the beginning of the wind down from work, today marks the wind-up for IVF#2. AF arrived today, so I'll go in Monday for bloods and will start BCP then. Then I start stims on November 27, and we're off.

I am barely processing what I feel about all of this. I hope I'm not tempting fate. But, for better or worse, it feels a hell of a lot better than endless DIY cycles to me right now! (And, nobody tells fertiles that they're tempting fate by trying for kid #3 or 4 on their own! Damnit.)

It's funny, I feel, since we have two kids, oddly shy about doing IVF again. I feel there is this unspoken rule that doing IVF when you have no kids, or when you have one kid, is totally acceptable. But somehow that doing IVF with two kids is just greedy.

Who knows...maybe it is. But, I really hate the idea that I shouldn't be able to have a big family because we're fertility-challenged.

Who knows how I'll feel once it all gets going. If it doesn't work, this is really it for us. I don't want endless DIY, nor do I think we'll ever do another IVF. So, we'll just have to jump and see. That's life, I guess.

Here's to the tail end of 2009. November and December will be, if nothing else, very telling months.

A charmed life

2009-11-01T21:18:00.004-05:00

First, it's funny. I read your comments on my last toddler sleep post and was like, "well, it certainly SOUNDS logical that I wouldn't undo 19 months of good sleep in one day, but..."

In the end, you were right. But it did take more discipline on my part than I was ready for. Monkey Girl just wanted me. She clings to me like you wouldn't believe before bed. She's not at all upset, she just wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and buries her face deep in my neck as I walk her upstairs for bed. And I have to admit, it's so cute I can hardly stand it. So, when she calls for me in the middle of the night, it's hard not to give in to the cuddle.

But, in the end, I resisted moving her permanently to sleeping on my chest. Though, as I see them both growing bigger and bigger everyday, it only going to get harder to resist. For me, that is. For them? Well, the relationship they have and the comfort they provide to each other is slowly going to give them the independence that I want them to have, but that's going to be bittersweet to watch develop.

*sigh*

In other cute twin news, remember when I mentioned that they were basically asking to nap back together in the same room? And remember when I was nervous that it might jeopardize their naps because they might wake each other up? Yeah, it turns out you should listen to their cute twinny instincts. They've never napped better than since we put them back together. They actually sleep better. Longer. And they wake up happier. Not the sad wake-ups they used to have. Now they chatter and laugh. It's so cute I can hardly stand it.

All of this is to say: I lead a charmed life.

It's funny. This blog really chronicles one of the saddest times of my life. (Yes, I realize that means I've had a very good life.) Knowing that I wanted more than anything to have a family, and facing the reality that it might not happen as I wish was so tough. And it brought out my sarcastic and cynical side. Sure, I'm not saying that side of me is buried deep or anything. It's pretty darned close to the surface. But, before infertility, I was genuinely happy. I loved my family and my friends and my work. Yes, I despised people who cut me off and then went 35 mph on I95, but who doesn't?

Infertility really brought out the worst in me. Well, I actually think it was infertility coupled with the job that I'm now leaving. Neither was life-affirming, to say the least. And, I swear I actually think I look WORSE because of all of it. I think the negativity has given me gray hair and a bad complexion.

And the thing is, I really lead a charmed life. Several months ago--well, to be honest, a few years ago--I started fantasizing about leaving my job. I just wanted to quit. It was making me miserable and taking me away from my Stickies. But how could I? I needed money and had devoted so much time to building my career. How could I walk away from it all?

And, the thing is, when I started thinking about leaving my job for something else, I figured I'd have to take a serious pay cut. And/or that I'd have to step way back.

And then this opportunity just fell into my lap. It's honestly better than I could have imagined for me and for us. It pays really well, gives me a senior, resume-building title, is part-time, and 100% remote.

It's just ridiculous, really, how lucky I am.

And yesterday, as I chased around the neighborhood after the cutest Tigger and Pooh you've ever seen in your life, I just started to cry. I was so overwhelmed...with happiness. I'm exactly where I want to me. Where I'm meant to be. Sure, it may not have been pretty how I got here, but I'm just so lucky to be here.

And while my infertile self might say--watch out! This is the point in the movie where the piano falls on your head!--I don't want to listen to that voice anymore. That voice certainly doesn't shield me from the piano. And it just makes me feel crappy, even on the days when no piano hits my head.

I don't really know what that means for this blog. For a while now, this has been the space where I've come back to bitch. And the thing is, I'm sure that's neither helpful for me nor interesting for you to read.

On the other hand, though, I can't really see me becoming a PollyAnna-esque blogger who tells stories of sunshine and roses. (I'm a New Yorker at heart, for the love of Peet.) So, I'm going to need to decide what's to become of this space. Should I blog about being a mom of twins? About the plight of the working (from home) mom? About...oh good lord, I don't even know what else. I'm sure I would talk at least a bit about my next IVF--for which I start BCPs in just over a week (!!!)--but even that seems like it doesn't deserve a whole blog. How much interesting will I have to say?

Either way, I'll give it some thought.

In the meantime, here are Tigger and Pooh, my daily reminders of what a charmed life I do lead.

Toddler sleep

2009-10-24T19:15:00.003-04:00

So, I gave my notice at work. It went fine--my boss was perfectly pleasant about it. Asked if there was anything they could do to keep me, to which I said, "if there is, I can't imagine it."

We're working on a transition plan. One of the directors who reports to me will be taking over the team, which is great. She's wonderful and deserves it. I'm also starting to ramp up at my new job during the same transition period. So, my life is going to get slightly more complicated before it gets easier.

But, in the end, it should be worth it. I should be able to hobble together a more rational existence that involves fewer work hours and more time with my family. And maybe even some time for me. Hooray!

In other news, the stickies are sick. We've been so lucky. For almost the first 18 months of their life, we've had to deal with very few illnesses. Sure, they got a few colds, and yes they did get hoof and mouth disease once, which was no fun. (104 fever. I still can't believe it's "normal" for babies to get 104 fevers. It certainly felt like sweet potato was going to burst into flames when it happened.)

But, now they're in a Montessori school three mornings a week, so they're exposed to a lot more than they have been in the past. Sure, we knew when we signed them up that they'd basically have a cold for the entire year. What we didn't anticipate was that we'd be dealing with what they're predicting will be both the worst winter in 50 years AND the worst cold/flu season. Awesome.

So, both kiddos have had a pretty nasty cold for the better part of two weeks. They've been real troopers for the most part. Sweet Potato had a rough day or two and is on antibiotics for a slight ear infection. Monkey Girl seemed like she'd be clear of the worst of it, but now two crappy nights of sleep is suggesting otherwise.

And, as I struggled through a rough night last night and a sleepless nap, I came to the realization that I have, literally, no strategy to deal with a 19-month old with sleep challenges. We did some modified sleep training more than a year ago, and have had dreamy sleepers (pun intended) ever since.

But now? Well, Monkey Girl barely fell asleep last night. And only did after MUCH drama. And now we're staring down the barrel of a repeat performance. Last night I blamed it on not giving her pain killer before bed. Today? Well, I have no such excuse. Now I blame it on going in to get her last night. Twice. When there was really nothing wrong. And staying with her for a while. Then today we were at my in laws for my nephew's 1st birthday and we had a disastrous nap where I went in and let her sleep on top of me.

While it feels like I'm being helpful when I do things like that, I'm pretty sure it just sets us back in a very real way. And now, she's been struggling on and off for an hour and a half. I'm sure she's uncomfortable, but there is nothing left for me to do. We've soothed and comforted, given her pain killer. She's tired and she's sick. What she really needs right now is SLEEP.

Ugh. Poor little girl.

Thank god twins are completely immune to each other. Sweet Potato is in there as she struggles, sleeping away. I swear sometimes they're comforted by hearing the other one, because it lets them know they're in it together. It must be funny to be a twin.

In other news, now that I'm going to have (I hope) more free time, I need to meet some friends in this hamlet. Because we moved up here to be close to family, and because our lives have been sheer chaos for a while, we've really spent any extra time we've had with family. And I really haven't met anyone that I've really connected with. And now that I'll be working from home, well, I'm going to need to find a way to reverse that. Any good suggestions for meeting good people when you're a work-from-home mom?

I've also had a post percolating around in my head since last week's front-page New York Times article on fertility treatments and multiple births. More on that later because it definitely hit home when I saw it.

In the meantime, try to stay dry in what appears to be monsoon season in the Northeast.

Okay then, here we go...

2009-10-15T22:25:00.003-04:00

Okay, first THANK YOU for the pep talks! It's SO helpful to get support from women that get the struggle.

I ended up not going down to talk to my boss last week, though. I was convinced by the chorus of people who told me to wait until I finished negotiations with the new job. So, I did wait.

I emailed a few times back and forth and then talked to the CFO today. In short, they gave me everything I asked for: title, upped the salary, benefits, transition period, and a partridge in a pear tree. They certainly made it awkward to say no, huh?

So, I'm going to talk to my boss tomorrow. At 2:00.

Holy Sh*t.

So yes, I'm just as nervous as I was to talk to my boss and to tell my team. Only potentially more so, because now I've had a full additional week of making long-term plans. And since my breakdown in my boss's office, he's been trying really hard to show he appreciates me.

Well, okay, he hasn't been trying THAT hard. But for him it's been a step up.

But, really, it's too little too late. And, frankly, there's probably nothing he could do. This opportunity is better than what I could have imagined when I started waxing poetic about having more flexibility and time with the kids. So, it's basically a done deal.

Oh, do you want to hear the punchline, though?

So, I canceled the meeting last week with my boss, which meant that I could keep the post-miscarriage follow-up appointment I had made with Smirky. So, hubby and I piled into the car on Thursday morning--and I stacked back-to-back conference calls for the trip down and back. Then, right around 10:15am, I ran headlong into a huge SUV going almost 30mph.

So the car is nearly totaled. And I never made it to Smirky's office.

Yeah. Talk about a sign of....something.

Then on Tuesday (Monday? I forget already.) AF came. No urban legend post-miscarriage, post-IVF pregnancy for us.

With all of this, I decided I was done--already--with OPKs and timed s*x. F*ck it. I don't want to be sucked into this nonsense, and I have enough of a track record to know where it's leading anyway. And, I mean, if I really want to have another baby, I should just start trying to have another baby the only way that's proven even remotely successful for us in the past.

So, I've booked an IVF cycle with Smirky. I start BCPs around November 10.

I know it's risky, but I'm in a risk-taking mood. I have one more IVF covered. And we'd feel so fortunate to have another baby. And I'm under no delusions that this will work. We got SO LUCKY our first IVF. I can only hope we'll get lucky again, but if it doesn't, at least I'll feel like we did what we could.

Yes, it means we'll have to have some uncomfortable conversations about how many embryos to transfer--assuming we're lucky enough to get that far with more than one--but I'm feeling like it's a risk I'm willing to take.

At least I think I am.

So, there you have it. A big week for Sticky: totaled car, new job, scheduled IVF.

Stay tuned for my next post. Who knows what's in store for us then!

I need a pep talk

2009-10-07T14:10:00.003-04:00

It's one thing to wish for something. It's quite another to actually get it.

I got the job. The tentative offer came through today, we are just working through some salary/benefits questions before the deal is signed, sealed...

And so now the dull ache in the pit of my stomach grows. I switched around my schedule so I could go into the city to meet with my boss tomorrow. I wanted to tell him in quick order--before the offer was formal and official so I could still plausibly say: "I haven't accepted this and am not quite sure what to do, but wanted to tell you as soon as I could."

The lie is white--I didn't quite tell him RIGHT away, but let's call it close enough.

Can I tell you how STRESSED I am about possibly leaving my current job? I just don't actually know how it's going to work. I feel like I'm screwing them. I lead the biggest team in the organization and several things that are central to our operation. And my team is short-staffed as it is. And my boss (the CEO) is way overextended.

I get that that's not my problem and that they'd do what they need to do, but still. I feel super stressed about it.

There is a backstory that suggests I shouldn't care about all of that. My boss has done some pretty damn selfish things over the course of the past four years--things he actually readily admitted to in a coincidentally-timed meeting we had last week--but I can't help but care. I love my team, and I worry that they'll put this other woman--someone who I know I would NEVER work for myself because she's a bit of a tyrant--in charge of my team when I leave. And that stresses me out.

I still feel like I just need to do this. The job would be 75% time, which would basically mean I'd be cutting my hours in half because I'm currently working 50-65 hours/week (and this would be about 30). I'd be able to work from home 100% of the time--a double-edged sword, I'm sure, but a happy challenge compared to the ridiculous schedule we're trying to juggle right now. And I just kind of hate my job these days. Not all of the time, but a good part of it.

I am going in to have a conversation with my boss tomorrow. I'm not officially quitting, but putting it out there that I'm damn close. I dread this! But am hopeful that if I can get through it, it will be for the better.

So, yeah. I need a pep talk. Desperately!

On twins and napping

2009-09-20T12:47:00.003-04:00

I haven't become fully immersed in the twin blogosphere, but because our very own Erin is a contributor, I do read "How Do You Do It" from time to time. It's definitely fun to read the exploits of other twin moms--other people who fundamentally get how challenging it can be to have two kids the same age. (And why it isn't exactly the same thing even as Irish Twins.)

It's also fun to read how other moms deal with some of the challenges of raising twins. How they get out of the house. (IF! they get out of the house--I don't know about any other twin moms, but it's still a three ring circus trying to get out of this house.) How they handle napping, sleeping, potty training, and on.

Anyhow, I was reading the other day and one mom was lamenting that her twins are voluntarily deciding to sleep in separate rooms. I totally get why she's sad about it.

It's funny, from the beginning, so many people questioned our sanity over the decision to put the Stickies in the same room. Why would we jeopardize their sleep and naps like that? Wouldn't it be so much easier to have them in separate rooms?

I can't say the decision was fully rational, but I was always hell-bent on keeping them together. I just thought it was better. I like the idea of room sharing in general, and for some reason with twins it just felt wrong to split them up.

Now that they're 18 months (tomorrow!) I can honestly say we're so happy that they sleep together. And they are so happy, too. They LOVE being together at night. They have a whole nighttime routine after we put them to bed--we can hear them giggling for a few minutes over the monitor before they doze off. And when Monkey Girl wakes up in the middle of the night (which thankfully rarely happens), I know she's comforted by having Sweet Potato there. (As evidenced by the time she woke up in the middle of the night and deliberately woke him up to have company. She literally cried and poked to wake him. As soon as he woke, she laid right back down and fell fast asleep. Cute, but poor little SP. It's hard being a twin sometimes, I guess.)

Good lord, I'm rambling.

Anyhow, for naps they haven't been sleeping together for a while. SP dropped his nap at 10 months (!!!) and was down to one nap a day since then. MG was NOWHERE NEAR ready to go down to one nap a day at that point. So, they slept separately because they were on two different schedules. That was until June (at 15 months) when we decided to push MG onto the one nap a day schedule. (It was literally impossible to go anywhere when they were on separate schedules--there was a baby asleep from 9am until literally 4pm everyday. It was ridiculous.)

But, as we were transitioning her to the one nap a day schedule, we still napped them separately because during their transition, their naps started to blend. So MG napped in the nursery and SP in the pack-n-play in the guest room. And it seemed to be going pretty well--one would typically cry out for a minute mid-nap or wake up earlier--so we just kept it. Why fix what ain't broken.

Then, over the past few weeks, a few things have happened. First, they wake up within seconds of each other on most days. (It's actually incredible; it's like they have sonar. They aren't even on the same floor so couldn't possible hear each other!) Second, lately as we've been putting them down, they've basically started asking to sleep together. SP points to his crib and wants to get in. And MG points to his crib because she wants him there. (It's awfully cute, actually. I'll ask MG: "Do you want SP to sleep here today?" "Yes! Yes!" she'll say.)

So, today, we finally gave in. SP hasn't been sleeping as well in the PNP anymore, and truthfully I'm just really glad they are comforted by each other and actually want to sleep in the same room. It's very sweet.

Of course, if they start waking each other after 30 minutes, I might be singing a different tune, but for now, assuming it isn't a total disaster, it seems worth it.

Fingers crossed!

Lies this blogger tells you

2009-09-15T19:35:00.002-04:00

I said I wouldn't let myself get pulled back into this nonsense. It's just simply not true. It's unavoidable. A bunch of people have announced pregnancies at work--due dates right around when I would have been due. And AF arrived today, punctuated with a negative HPT about an hour before she came. (Why I bothered, I'll never know...) I can't help it. I feel sad and crappy and left behind. Again. True, the sting is less, but it still stings.

God, do I not want to be here. I told hubby today I just wanted to go back to Smirky and figure out what the right treatment next steps would be. We should have one insurance-covered IVF left. (Hooray for this state's insurance laws!) I think I might just go for it as our last hope. I can't see spending months on DIY. It's too mentally and emotionally draining.

Of course, treatment is no easy decision either. But, we've decided we'd like another. Yes, given the option, I'd prefer one conceived naturally, but perhaps it's worth the risks and the treatment for one last shot. One last hope.

I'll likely call tomorrow to set up a consultation. And we'll just go from there...

F*cking infertility.

Still crossing my fingers on the job front!

Surfacing

2009-09-12T13:12:00.002-04:00

I can't believe it's been almost two months since I posted. I suppose I just don't have much to say. The miscarriage fallout is as it was: I try to think as little of it as possible.

I'm currently 10-11 dpo in our first post-miscarriage DIY cycle. Actually, our first DIY cycle since 2006, I think. More than three years. It's hard to believe how lucky we got back in 2007.

There's not even a shred of hope in me for this cycle. Well, okay, that's a lie. There is a shred. One tiny shred buried deep in the recesses of my mind. But it's so small and pathetic that I think very little of it. In many ways this has been the easiest 2ww ever.

But, all in all, I just don't have much to write. I just don't want--even refuse--to allow myself to get back into the black hole of temping and watching the days. We did do the whole timed s*x thing, but that's it. I haven't even cut out my daily coffee (though it's decaf) or my nightly glass of wine. What's the point, eh?

In other news, I'm potentially three weeks away from quitting my job. Ever since the miscarriage, I've started to revisit all of those old feelings I had when I first went back to work after maternity leave. I'm seeing the days and weeks slipping away, and I'm realizing that I might not have another chance at this with another baby. And so, I started looking around. And my former employer from DC has an opportunity for me that would basically be 75% time, nearly all remote work. If it works out--which I should find out in early October--it might truly give me exactly what we want for our family. Decent pay. Flexible and reduced hours. More time with the kiddos.

Keep your fingers crossed for us. For that anyway.

As for the DIY cycles...well, for those? I guess I would happily accept a miracle. But otherwise am anticipating that we'll need to make a treatment-or-no-treatment decision in the not too distant future.

The fallout and the definition of insanity

2009-07-24T21:50:00.003-04:00

I'm truly amazed at the difference between having a "natural" miscarriage and a D&C. Perhaps I just lucked out or something, but it was astonishingly easy. I barely bled, barely cramped. On some level, it really just should not have been that easy.

It's funny, on Monday when we got the news and when Smirky recommended the D&C, I said to hubby that I just wasn't sure whether I wanted to do it. I felt, on some level, that I wanted to feel the miscarriage, like that was the only way I'd really face all of the emotions of this whole debacle.

In the end, though, I talked to my sister-in-law (the surgeon I have a TON of respect for and love dearly) and she highly recommended the D&C. She explained that it reduced the chances of infection and that, with the natural miscarriage, the chances of having a D&C in addition were actually fairly high. And, it's more predictable. We had no way of knowing when I'd miscarry on my own.

So, physically, my recovery has been fairly uneventful.

Time will only tell what impact that will have on me emotionally because, frankly, I haven't faced the full emotion and weight of all of this yet. Hubby and I blew off work for the whole week and just spent time together. We buried our feelings in retail therapy and tasty food. I'm sure a shrink would have a field day with those coping mechanisms.

I can't say I regret it, though. We spent a lot of time, just the two of us. And it was nice. We talked a lot and tried to sort out some of our emotions. Hubby is really sad. Both of us really felt like this FET was our best chance for a third baby. And we felt so lucky that we had gotten pregnant. We couldn't believe our good fortune--we had the chance of a third child before I turned 35, we had the chance of a brother or sister for the stickies. We were genuinely so excited.

And now...now we don't know what to do. We feel like someone has broken their promise to us. And now we're just staring down the barrel of empty milestones.

We also now have to decide what to do next. We weren't just doing the FET because we had the stickcicles; we genuinely wanted another baby. And so we've been all over the place about what we should do next. One day I said "I'm done. We have two kids, let's just get away from this infertility crap. I don't want to open this can of worms again."

Another day I said, "Forget it, I'm totally up for IVF. I know we risk multiples, but we wanted a big family, we have one more insurance cycle and it's our best hope."

Then, most recently, I had the most ridiculous thought of them all.

"I think we can get pregnant on our own," I triumphantly declared to hubby. "I think we should take six months and just really give it a go. No caffeine, perfect timing, do everything 'right'."

Good fucking lord, do I NEVER learn?

We of course have a month (at least--until my next period) to decide for real.

We will schedule a follow-up with Smirky to talk about next steps and what his recommendations are. I don't really know why we need to do that, I sort of know he's going to recommend IVF, but it seems silly not to have a conversation at all. I'd also like to take the opportunity to ask him, in the unlikely event that we get pregnant on our own, would he still monitor my levels, give progesterone, etc. Who knows what our problems is, but if low progresterone has anything to do with it, I'd like to leave as little to chance as possible.

I fucking hate being back here. I want to hope for luck, but part of me curses hope. I remember how many months I "hoped" only to come up empty and I don't want to set myself up for that again.

I'm so conflicted.

Anyhow, Sarah asked if the stickies make all of this any easier. It's a good question (and, no, I don't mind questions).

The long and short of it is, right now, yes, they do. (Ask me again after lord-knows-how-many failed cycles.)

It's still painful, but it's not the same raw, aching, "will I ever have a family" pain. And, I get how different that is. They are beautiful and sweet children. And I hope they will eventually have a sibling, but if ended up being just the four of us, we'd of course be okay.

Hence the conflicted feelings, though. If we'd be okay, why don't I cut my losses?

But why should I have to just because of reproductive challenges?

And so the vicious cycle goes.

So, for now, I'm just hoping AF shows up sooner rather than later so that we can move on, one way or another.

D&C

2009-07-22T22:46:00.002-04:00

The D&C today was physically pretty uneventful. I'm not really even in a hell of a lot of discomfort right now, which seems sort of strange to me. I guess the whole experience has helped with my denial plan in a lot of ways, though I'm not entirely certain that should be chalked up as a "pro."

Hubby and I have started talking about next steps. It's too early to decide, but we're at least contemplating IVF. I don't know yet if it's the grief and disappointment talking or something more. Time will tell, I suppose.

For now, we just feel like we've been taken. And we're both just sad and angry about it. If only that helped.

*sigh*

It ain't just a river...

2009-07-21T19:43:00.004-04:00

I'm in denial. I suppose I'm going through the stages of grieving, though my denial isn't a denial of our situation. I get it; this pregnancy isn't viable.

Instead, I'm in denial that it's bothering me. Serious denial. I haven't let myself feel anything. Outside of the initial reaction at the clinic and just outside, I've been pretending nothing's wrong.

Hubby and I went to the mall both yesterday and today as a way of getting away from it all. (As if to add insult to injury, it was pouring rain, so our options were limited.) I replaced my grief with some retain therapy. I bought a new iPh*ne (which I love), we got the stickies new armchairs (which they LOVE), and we went out to two fairly decadent lunches in a row.

It's all an attempt to ignore my pain. I know I have to feel the pain, but I just don't fucking want to. I want to go back to 8 weeks ago, to the day before I started the cycle when I was still feeling quite distant from infertility and miscarriage.

So, I'm pretending that that's what I feel like.

Except that, sometimes it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

Today, for example, I had to go to my ob/gyn to sign a consent form. This pissed me off. Why couldn't I just sign the f'ing thing tomorrow at the hospital? How am I supposed to deny my feelings if you keep making me face them? Today was supposed to be about denial, damnit.

So, I was irritated to begin with. The rain didn't help. I felt like it was an additional F-You from nature. I've taken two weeks off since maternity leave. The first was when we went on vacation about a month ago and it was chilly and rainy most days. The second is this week. In between both weeks, the weather has been absolutely glorious. But as if to mock my pain, it is going to rain all week.

To add insult to already serious injury, nobody in this god-forsaken state knows how to drive in the rain. And so I sat in TWO HOURS of traffic on the way to the doctor's appointment that I didn't even want to go to to begin with.

I kept my sense of humor for a while, but after an hour and a half, I couldn't do it anymore. I lost it.

"WHY CAN'T WE CATCH A BREAK?!" I cried, as if the traffic and the rain and the infertility and the miscarriage were all part of a grand conspiracy against me.

The traffic was, of course, not the problem. Rather, the traffic presented a rather inconvenient roadblock to my grand denial plan. Two hours to sit with my thoughts was too much; I couldn't ignore my feelings for that long.

Now, as I get closer and closer to my D&C tomorrow, it's getting harder and harder to ignore. I'm scared, really scared. And I'm sad, really sad.

I know there is no answer, but I still find myself wondering, "WHY?"

It's a stupid question, really. It doesn't matter why, it only matters that it is. This is our reality.

It makes me mad, though, because I feel like we were just greedy for trying again. Why couldn't we just be happy with our beautiful stickies? Why did we have to tempt fate?

But, really, fuck that. Why the f*ck shouldn't we try? Are we less deserving of a big family because we are reproductively challenged?

*sigh*

So, the D&C is tomorrow at 12:15. I'm very grateful to have a friend who's the nurse manager at the hospital. I called her and let her know I was going to be there and she sprung into action to ensure I had the best team and got the VIP treatment. I hope that will help, because I'm scared of anesthesia and surgery.

Reassuring D&C stories appreciated. And, please, wish me luck. I hope at least this goes smoothly.

Also, a HUGE thank you for all of your support. I'm humbled and grateful to be surrounded by so many wonderful women who just fundamentally get it. Thank you.

Sad and Confused

2009-07-20T19:36:00.002-04:00

I was so nervous about this morning's ultrasound. I mean, I know I'm always scared about these milestones, but for some reason my fear kept growing as we got closer and closer to the clinic.

"I want to say that this is the most nervous I've ever been, but that doesn't make any sense, " I said. "I must have been this nervous before the Stickies, right?" I asked hubby.

I'm sure I was, but today's nervousness now seems to live in my memory as a tragic foreshadowing of what was to come.

I knew almost immediately that it wasn't good news. Smirky inserted the wand, and we saw the sac and a rather large, circular yolk sac, but no embryo. No beautiful heartbeat.

Still, I waited. I needed to hear him say it.

He did, of course. In his quiet, awkward way. Some people would find his social awkwardness off-putting. I find it refreshingly honest and endearing.

He took a few measurements as I choked back tears. Then, he said I could sit up and told me that, once I got dressed, we could go to his office to talk more.

The nurse irritated me. She's new this year and has always turned me off. I missed my two favorites and wanted nothing more than their familiar faces in the room with me.

You had to appreciate this one for trying, I suppose, but I just found her attempts to soothe me invasive and annoying. She didn't deserve to see my pain, I thought. She doesn't know me well enough. She hasn't been there through they ups and downs.

When smirky and the nurse left, hubby and I just hugged and I just cried.

And then the nurse knocked to come in and offer us water.

Again, I'm sure she was being nice, but all I thought was, "Get OUT."

I pulled myself together and got dressed and we went into Smirky's office.

The three of us knew that there was really nothing to talk about.

"It's not a diagnostic dilemma," Smirky said. It was his way of saying, "there is, sadly, no hope. Let's discuss how to move on."

Again, I've always appreciated his candor. And, while his words could be seen as cold, his demeanor was anything but. He was genuinely sorry.

He recommended a D&C and I told him I wanted to think about it. We gathered our things, and I got some "pre-op" blood taken and left.

On the way out, hubby asked if I wanted to get some coffee and breakfast. And I lost it. I miss my coffee desperately, but I wasn't supposed to be able to have it today. I didn't WANT the coffee, damnit. I wanted the baby.

I scheduled the D&C for Wednesday. I still don't know if I'll do it, so your thoughts and experiences are much appreciated. How awful is a 7-week miscarriage? Are the risks of the D&C worth it?

I'm feeling such a flood of emotions right now, it's hard to sort it out.

On the one hand, I feel so very lucky to have Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato. I've always known how lucky we were, but today, hubby said to me, "I guess those were our miracle babies."

After that successful pregnancy and then this positive HPT after this FET, we began to wonder whether our infertility experience before IVF was the anomoly. "Perhaps getting pregnant is the more difficult part?" we wondered. Sure, we've had at least one confirmed miscarriage, but our bigger problem was actually getting pregnant after that. So, once we crossed the pregnancy hurdle, maybe we were destined to fall on the right side of the odds?

Today, we're left thinking that there's something else going on. Something larger and more onerous.

What's more, I'm left with all of those familiar feelings. Those empty promises and those plans that will never come to fruition. I was so looking forward to another baby. I was so looking forward to closing the door on the infertility chapter of our lives and of moving on. I was looking forward to talking to Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato about their little brother or sister, of having a small, smooshy baby to hold again. It's all gone by so fast! I never pictured doing this only once.

I'm so grateful that we have Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato. They have taken some of the sting out of the day. When I came home right before their naps, I went into the playroom, and Sweet Potato ran up and jumped into my lap for a cuddle. He doesn't do that a lot, but it's like he knew I needed it more than anything.

And so for them, I can't let this get me down. I can't lose sight of what we have and focus on what we don't.

But I also can't pretend that I'm not sad. And angry. And scared.

I'm sorry, my sweet stickcicles. I hope that nothing we did sealed your fate, and even though I barely knew you, I'll miss you forever.

That old familiar feeling...

2009-07-20T10:04:00.000-04:00

Gestational sac measuring behind. Large yolk sac. No embryo, no heartbeat.

Now I decide: D&C or natural miscarriage.

I fucking HATE infertility.

Still waiting...

2009-07-18T19:38:00.003-04:00

Sorry for keeping you hanging for almost the entire 2ww! Work has been insane to the tune of working weekends, ridiculously long nights, etc. And, on top of that, I've never been more exhausted in my entire life, so on the rare occasions I haven't been working late, I've been asleep on the couch at 7:30.

Wild times, chez Sticky...

That said, I have found more than enough time to worry about Monday's u/s. I'm nervous. It's not a crippling, all-consuming fear, but rather a dull ache that surfaces when I remember that I'm pregnant.

I've been having some uncomfortable cramping, which hasn't been helping my state of mind, frankly. I just have to hope its nothing, but I can't escape the fear.

And, just to confuse my already muddied mind, I've also been having really vivid dreams that I'm having identical triplets.

Yes, I realize that's impossible (or, at least I think it is), but I'm clearly f'ing terrified of having multiples again. Not that I don't LOVE being a mom of multiples (MoM), I really do. They are so fun. But, the idea of four kids under 2...well, what the F*&K would we do with that?!

Anyhow, I realize I already had an ultrasound and I realize there was only one gestational sac, but because of what happened to Anna during her first pregnancy, I'm taking that u/s as inconclusive until I see what happens on Monday.

It's weird to be terrified about two polar opposite realities at the same time.

Have I mentioned that I hate the uncertainty of early pregnancy? I mean, I prefer it to the alternative, but...well...you get it.

And so, I'm just trying to distract myself between now and Monday morning. I realize there is essentially nothing I can to to alter the outcome. My fate is sealed and my reality will be revealed to me. All I can do is wait. And hope that the PIO shots are not in vain.

Fingers crossed! I'll update as soon as I can on Monday.

Il y en a une

2009-07-06T21:11:00.003-04:00

I have to admit that I had a breakdown this weekend. It's not that I was rooting against one of the stickcicles. On the contrary, I wanted to give them both a safe and toasty home for nine months (ish).

But, when I saw my last hcg numbers and when it started to dawn on me that we might have two sets of twins in two years...well, I freaked. I wasn't sure how the hell I would even handle that. I mean, seriously. Like, how the hell would that work?

Then I felt bad for thinking that way. I mean, didn't I want both Stickcicles to nestle in?

To say my emotions were all over the place would be an understatement.

Which is why when we saw one gestational sac on the u/s today, I was definitely conflicted. I mean, on the one hand, I felt, in some sense, relieved. On the other...well, you get it.

In any case, we did see a gestational sac where it should be (the uterus). I couldn't see a yolk sac, and actually left thinking that there was none, so have been pretty nervous about that all day. But, when my favorite nurse called later in the day, she explained that Smirky did actually see a yolk sac, albeit a small one (2mm).

I've tried Google-ing all day to see if that was normal, but can't find anything specific on how big yolk sacs should be. So, I'm just left feeling...okay.

All in all, I suppose we're in a good place. We are pregnant. Things seem to be progressing "normally." Whatever that means at this point. I guess I feel a little nervous again because I left feeling a little tenuous (because I was worried about the yolk sac), and now I'm having a hard time shaking that feeling. It's silly, I get. But what can you do. I'll just need to distract myself until the next u/s--the BIG one, where there must be a heartbeat--in two weeks.

TWO WEEKS!

Ugh.

Here's hoping our little stickcicle hangs on and grows, grows, grows! Come on, l'il buddy!

Moving right along...

2009-07-03T13:33:00.002-04:00

I got another beta yesterday afternoon, right after I got back from the beach, but didn't get the numbers until today. Things still appear to be looking solid--3900 on 22dpo.

Um...wow. Way to go, stickcicles!

I'm feeling pretty lucky so far. I was really nervous but am feeling happy about the numbers and the way they're progressing. We'll have an ultrasound Monday. I have to confess to being the teensiest bit nervous that we'll have two lurking around in there. My mind won't even go there yet, because it seems so unlikely (they didn't even think one of the embryos was really viable). So, we shall see. And, frankly, I'll just count myself lucky no matter what as long as we have an uneventful pregnancy with a happy ending.

Fingers crossed.

Deep breath!

2009-06-29T15:51:00.000-04:00

Hubby and I took the kiddos on our first beach vacation and left today after I had my blood drawn.

I've been really looking forward to it, but also nervous. The Stickies love their routines, so I wondered what being out of their element would do.

But also, I was beyond terrified of getting today's beta results. I knew what would be acceptable (530ish) and I knew what I wanted (over 600).

The last two hours of the drive to the beach were torture. I had thought I would have heard from them, but hadn't, so was terrified that bad news was delaying the call.

Wherever you are, that audible sigh you heard arounf 4pm EDT was me after hearing the number: 944.

Wooooo...

I felt like a weight was lifted.

I know of course that we're not out of the woods; nowhere near. But I feel great about today's milestone.

Another beta on Thursday. Fingers crossed!

The bare minimum

2009-06-26T18:41:00.002-04:00

I went in for my second beta this morning. It had to be above 180 to officially hit the 48 hour doubling time. It was 190.

I realize I should be happy about that, but I'm really nervous. It's still seems lower than I'd like. I know it's tracking right at the median, but I feel like most people have higher numbers at this point. And, Betab*se.info seems to suggest that that is the upper limit of the normal range for betas at this level. (In other words, most betas that are in the range of my first beta (88) double more quickly than mine has.) So, I guess I'd say, I'm not in the danger zone, but I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of it.

I have to say, the beta checking business was much easier the first time around--with twins (which I'm assuming this isn't), I was over 1,000 by my second beta, which was altogether quite reassuring. This is...well....less so. Particularly because I haven't yet crossed the beta threshold of my first miscarriage. That was in the 500s. So, I'd like to best that by a lot, and then lap it by one beta. If/when I do, I think I'll feel a little better.

Here's hoping. Come on, little stickcicle(s)! We love you!

2:30am Updated

2009-06-24T12:07:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning at 2:30am and REALLY had to pee, but just lay there like a deer in headlights.

Do I test now, or pee quickly, go back to bed, get some sleep and test at 6:00?

I couldn't decide which would give me the better chance of actually sleeping.

I ultimately decided to test. I was all nervous and worked up and figured I wouldn't sleep either way, so I might as well just end the anticipation.

You can imagine my surprise when...

Well, that was supposed to be the dramatic pause before I posted a photo of a positive hpt. My phone won't let me upload it, but the news is the same. We have cleared hurdle #1.

I'm still waiting (on pins and needles) for my beta and will update as soon as I have it, but I didn't want to leave you hanging.

I still have my "no congratulations" rule. These early days just feel WAY too tentative for that. But we're certainly thrilled with step 1.

Thanks to everyone for your support. You don't know how much I lean on it! :-)

Update:
Just heard back from the nurse and the number is 88.6 (on what I guess is the equivalent of 14dpo). I guess that's fine, but I was hoping for more than 100. Back Friday for another. Fingers crossed for better than 180.

That old familiar feeling

2009-06-23T18:52:00.002-04:00

It was unavoidable, really. I knew the emotion of this all would eventually come rushing back. And today it did. In full force. Of course, it's different. I get that. I'm in a very different place than I was last time. Last time I felt the desperation that you can only feel when you sit on the precipice, wondering if you'll ever be blessed with children.

Today, I am so lucky. I have two beautiful children. I get how different it is.

At the same time, though, that feeling of desperation seems unavoidable. All day I've felt the weight of this cycle. You see, I always wanted three children. Hubby might even want four. And I can't escape the feeling that this is our best hope to make that happen. If tomorrow's result is negative, I am not sure what we'll do. We have two children already, so it almost seems foolish to do treatments again. I mean, IUI is either pointless--because it's never worked before--or gives us a risk of multiples or higher order multiples. And that almost seems irresponsible.

IVF could help us control for that, but I always said that I would have to be willing to raise as children the number of embryos we create. So, that's a complicated thought experiment.

And then there's the DIY option. And, well that just seems less than ideal for so many reasons. First because in more than two years of trying, we had one success (if you can call it that) which resulted in a miscarriage. I don't want to open up the possibility of month after month of disappointment and timed s*x and everything that goes along with that.

Ugh.

And so, here I sit. I'm less than 12 hours from the HPTs that I broke down and bought yesterday. And I feel so similar to last time. Last time, I remember feeling that I almost didn't want the 2ww to end. Not that I like the 2ww, mind you, because we all know it sucks, but rather because during the 2ww there is still hope. And hope, however little of it you feel, is better than a flat out rejection.

This time, I feel similarly. I'm literally petrified of a negative. I just don't want to feel infertile again. I don't want infertility to get to dictate how many fu*king kids we get to have. I want to be able to have three kids. I want them to be close together in age. I want it all. And it just pisses me off that it doesn't necessarily get to be that easy for us.

Blech.

So tomorrow is D-Day. Come on, stickcicles! Please hang on tight.

D-Day minus 3

2009-06-21T20:14:00.002-04:00

The 1.5 ww hasn't been horrible. I've definitely kept my mind off things, which has made it go by *relatively* quickly. I fear that the last three days (two days?) will be a little more tortuous, though. And on Wednesday morning, I'll have the inevitable "to test or not to test" before the beta question. I was at CVS last night and almost bought one, but didn't. I guess maybe I just didn't want the temptation.

I remember really stressing over the "to test or not to test" question last time. I again REALLY live in fear of seeing a stark white stick. I hate those damn things. Or seeing the "not pregnant" digital. I hate those, too.

Last time I ended up testing. And of course it was fine because...well, because it was fine. But it's hard to picture what that drive to the clinic would have been like without the positive. I mean, if I test Wednesday morning and it's negative, will I really feel like driving all the way down to get blood drawn just to confirm the result?! Ugh. That will just be a nightmare.

I also (unsurprisingly) really just don't know what to think this time around. I can't say that I have a feeling one way or another. I have no symptoms, not that you ever do this early. So, we'll see how quickly these last few days go.

So, I guess all in all, not too much to report. Fingers still crossed, but cynicism still abounds. Hang on, stickcicles.

Hang on, Stickcicles (part deux)!

2009-06-15T19:49:00.002-04:00

Here they are, our two beautiful little stickcicles, the siblings to our beautiful Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato, who were frozen almost exactly two years ago.

It's funny, both because things have been so busy and because this is an FET, I've basically been living in denial that we're mid-cycle.

Take yesterday, for example. After I put the stickies to bed, I checked the messages and had a fairly cryptic one from the lab asking me to call them back. I was admittedly a little freaked--maybe the embryos aren't going to make it!--but I really didn't lose any sleep or obsess over it.

Denial.

Then today, I had an early meeting in the city (way downtown)--fairly convenient given that my transfer is in midtown. (You see, I go to a satellite clinic of a University center so only have to go to the midtown clinic for retrievals and transfers.) So, I got up at 5:30, got ready, and caught an early train. Hubby came later and we planned to meet for a quick lunch before going to the transfer.

Seriously, do you hear how I was talking about this?! Going to meetings? Fitting in a quick lunch? Time was, I'd be planning my whole week around this. Now? Denial.

But, I think my cycle-long denial started to wear off a bit today. As evidenced by the fact that I almost cried in my meeting. Twice. And LITERALLY, nothing happened that could remotely have upset me.

Seriously?

I chalk it up to pent up emotions finally starting to bubble to the surface.

They started to come out in full force once we got to the clinic. I started to get really nervous and stressed. And then I started to feel the weight of what we were about to do. I started to realize how much I wanted this. Damnit, we wanted three kids. At least! I started to realize that this was a freebie--a free cycle before we had to make some hard decisions. And part of me doesn't want it to end. I don't want to face any brutal facts.

Then, we got pulled back for the transfer and the doctor came in and gave us the status report. Both survived, but as I mentioned, one didn't look great.

I almost cried when he said that. And that's when I started to realize how different I feel this time around. It feels so much more real. Last time, the thought of a pregnancy or an embryo ending in a real, live baby was so foreign to me I couldn't even go there.

Now?

Well, it's very real. I've been to this place--I've looked at the embryos on the screen and taken the picture home. And now that picture is the first in the stickies' baby book.

So hearing that one embryo didn't look viable? Honestly, it gave me a different kind of twinge.

And then suddenly I felt horribly guilty for being in denial for this cycle. I felt like maybe I wasn't taking it seriously enough and I wondered--if it doesn't work, will that be why?

Ugh.

Have I mentioned that I f*cking HATE infertility and the mind games it plays on you?

In other news, this clinic has either gotten really loose in their efforts to make you feel more comfortable or I've become a big-time infertile prude. When I got taken back for the transfer, I sat back on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. But they offered nothing--no blanket or covering. So, there I was. Spreadeagled on the table, girly bits flapping in the breeze while they scurried around for several minutes.

Seriously, people. Would a light blanket kill you?

Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the woman who was scheduled for a transfer at the same time as me. We were in the dressing rooms--which are technically different rooms, though separated only by a paper-thin wall--and she was talking SO. LOUD.

"Well, you know, I have a TWO-YEAR-OLD at home, so my husband is coming later."

"Okay."

"And, do you have my Valium?" (Yes, she was in there for a TRANSFER, not retrieval.)

"Yes, here it is."

"Oh, no, I need just one 10mg tablet. You see, I have a TWO-YEAR-OLD at home, so I can't be too out of it."

"Oh, okay."

"I mean, last time, I took more and I was laid out for a full day, but now I have a TWO-YEAR-OLD at home so, I need to take it easy."

"Okay. Well, we can't give you Valium unless someone is here to escort you home."

"Oh, well I'm supposed to call my husband to pick me up, but I need to wait, because, you see, I have a TWO-YEAR-OLD at home that he's taking care of today."

I left wondering if she had any kids.

Anyhow, that's the news from here. Back in the 2ww. Oh! How I haven't missed ye!

Hang on, Stickcicles!

2009-06-15T15:59:00.000-04:00

On the train home from my transfer, plus two embryos. I'm feeling so much right now, it's hard to capture it in a mobile post.

Both embryos survived the thaw, one "beautifully" and one that doesn't look too good, apparently. I'm happy of course that one looks good, but deeply saddened that the other did not. Not in a "I'm disappointed it might not work" way, but more in a "I feel guilty that, because of random chance and happenstance, we chose you to freeze and, because of that, the chances of survival are far lower than if we had made a different choice two years ago.

It's a strange and unexpected feeling that is born, I suppose, from the fact that the last two embryos we transferred did survive.

I know, I know: maybe if I HAD transferred this one, it wouldn't have. And I wouldn't trade Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato for anything. But I definitely feel this transfer a lot differently.

I'll post more later--perhaps when I've sorted this out better. But for now, I feel somehow at peace that my beautiful stickcicles are back home where they belong. I only hope they hold on tight and that I can provide a cosy resting place for them because I'm alredy attached.

PIO, Day 2

2009-06-11T22:14:00.002-04:00

For a moment when I read Carol's comment, I thought: "holy crap! Have I been using a much bigger needle than I needed to?! No wonder my butt is sorer this time than last time. Here I was just thinking I was a wimp."

So tonight I dutifully took out all of my PIO accouterments, gleefully thinking I had an easier shot ahead of me. Then, I disappointingly realized that I had, in fact, only been using the 18 gauge to draw up the oil and the 22 1/2 gauge to inject. I just had them reversed in my mind.

Damn it.

I guess the up side is that I didn't actually stick a needle that size anywhere near my butt! You guys must have thought I was at once both a crazy person and one bad-ass bitch.

In other news, the DC job has not yet called to offer me anything yet. For shame! What, do they expect me to go through a normal process or something? Sheesh.

In the meantime, though, I have branched out in an attempt to make some actual friends here in suburbia. I don't know if I've mentioned that I haven't really connected with anyone since I moved here. I have some acquaintances at work, but nobody I'd hang out with outside of work. And I haven't really met anyone anywhere else outside of work.

It's my fault, really, given that I've done literally nothing that would allow me to meet friends outside of work. It just seems harder in your 30s, you know? I have my friends from different parts of my life--can't they all just relocate here so we can hang out without all of that weird new "I have to be polite because I don't know you very well" phase?

I don't mean that to sound as horrible as it does, I just mean that I long for someone that isn't a lot of work. Like the kind of person who feels like an old friend from the moment you meet them. I love those friendships.

Anyhow, since my plan to relocate my best friends from around the country to my little hamlet seems destined to fail, I've finally decided to make an effort with some local working moms of twins. In short, a fellow working mom to 15-month-old twins posted to our listserve the other day basically saying, "good lord, can someone please tell me this gets easier?!" I replied that I totally felt her pain and offered no solution other than to drink good wine together.

She emailed me back saying something like, "thank god, you get it. All of these other people emailed me telling me to get my thyroid checked if I was really that tired."

We had a good laugh about that and I was immediately optimistic--she's comfortable about making sarcastic quips about women we don't even know yet to another woman she hasn't met? Jackpot.

Anyhow, she emailed a few women (not the thyroid women, of course.) and we're getting together next Friday. I'm hopeful that they're normal. And, assuming they are, I wonder if they realize that they have to be my new best friends? You see, this is all part of my "you don't necessarily have to move to DC" plot. That way, if nothing comes of that job--which there's a good chance nothing will--I will at least be making more of a concerted effort to meet more normal people here.

And by normal, I really mean people who are nothing like my new-ish next door neighbor. She's a good example of whom I do NOT want to be friends with. We introduced ourselves when she and her husband moved in, and they immediately asked us to help them move that Saturday.

!! Seriously?!

Then, when we didn't, she saw us later and basically called us out on it. "Oh, we MISSED you Saturday."

?!

Then, we didn't see her for a couple of weeks and when we did she said, "wow, we haven't seen YOU in a while."

????

I'm sorry, when you display yourself to be that high-maintenance in our first meetings, my drama radar goes off and I run screaming for the hills.

Anyhow, since this post is all over the place, I'll sum up: I'm not shooting myself with a needle the size of a screwdriver. 2. No word from the job people, and 3. I'm hopeful these working moms of multiples are women I'll connect with.

The Notorious P-I-O

2009-06-10T22:53:00.003-04:00

Wow, FETs are REALLY low maintenance compared to IVF, huh? I've been taking oral estradi*l since CD2 and have had one doctor's appointment. One! I was practically living at the clinic last time--particularly because my stims cycle was a bit of a disaster. Well, until it wasn't anymore.

So, my appointment was Monday. They checked my blood and did an ultrasound and everything looked good, so they scheduled my transfer for Monday at 1:45. I have to go in again Friday for more bloodwork, but otherwise I just show up, transfer (assuming the thaw goes according to plan) and cruise back home.

Weird, huh?

But, because it can't be all sunshine and roses, I did have to start the notorious PIO shots tonight. No, they're not awful. But, seriously? Is there anything fun about injecting sesame oil into your ass using a 18 gauge needle?

I don't know if I've mentioned that it's two years to the month since I started the stickies' IVF cycle.

Strange, isn't it? It seems just so long ago--like it was a whole other world or something. Everything feels so different now.

Also, I seem to have gotten out of my brief what-happened-to-my-20s funk, which is good. Hubby and I had a good chat about it and I came to a couple of realizations: 1. This state, in the long term, isn't for us. It's been great because we're closer to family, and for that reason we may stay here longer than we would otherwise, but all things being equal, we're keeping our options open. 2. My job is pissing me off. It's a good job, but--and I know this is going to sound self-aggrandizing or something--but I feel pretty underappreciated there. It's not even worth going into the petty details, but you know the drill. 3. I need to either find a job that isn't so damn frustrating (in a state that isn't so damn frustrating), or quit.

Of course, since quitting isn't an option, I serendipitously came across a job that would be a pretty damn good fit for me in....DC. So, I threw my hat into the ring. I don't know what will come of it, or if we'd take it even if anything did, but it just felt good to explore some options. It made me feel less trapped, which is always nice.

So, there you have it. Trying to get pregnant AND applying for a new job in a different state. Insane? Probably. But that's a label I'm totally comfortable with.

The $1 million question

2009-06-05T19:36:00.002-04:00

Sarah asked a great question today: "if you have two frozen, what are you going to do if they both do well in the thaw."

We were indeed lucky enough to have to frozen. And they are indeed frozen together. Which means we may or may not have two to transfer.

In short, we're going to transfer both. And, yes, that does terrify me. To my core.

The thing is, I laid out a few conditions when we decided to do IVF. The biggest was that, we couldn't go into the process unless we were willing to raise as children all of the embryos we created.

And so, since we have to thaw both together. And since I really can't see destroying one, we're left with just the option to transfer whichever of our beloved stickcicles make it through the thaw.

It actually seems downright silly to contemplate the possibility that we'd get pregnant with twins again. I mean, the chances of both making it through the thaw in good shape are, sadly, probably not that high. (Though, as a testament to what a different place I am right now, I haven't even Googled that factoid yet. I will now, of course, but I haven't yet.) And, if they both do make it through in good shape, I believe there's only around a 25% chance that we'd get pregnant at all. And only a 16% chance that we'd get pregnant with twins. (Yes, those I researched through my clinic's SART reports.)

So, I guess I'm not really contemplating it as a REAL possibility.

But, if we're on the winning end of all of those stats? Well, then please buy me a good stiff drink and wish us the best.

In other completely random news, I've become obsessed with the song "Sometime Ar*und Midnight." Anyone familiar? If not, I highly recommend it. It's FANTASTIC. I've listened to it about a million times in the past 24 hours.

For some reason it really hit me. It's brought back a flood of emotions and memories from my 20s in DC. It's essentially the story of a guy who runs into an ex-love at a bar and is so overcome with emotion and memories.

And, it's funny, my emotional reaction to the song has been super strong. Not that it reminds me of any ex-love in particular or because the story really speaks to me. Rather, the song is so full of emotion and electricity and it just reminds me of those feelings--that madness that was my 20s.

I can remember going to bars and getting super excited about new dates and about the electricity that comes with seeing an intriguing new stranger across the room or getting a phone call from someone you're so excited to see again.

And I can remember getting so sad at break-ups. Wondering what happened. Worrying that I'd never find "the one."

It's funny, I think that's really the only time in life where you have those kinds of emotional highs and lows. Nowadays the everyday emotions seem almost muted by contrast. The electricity isn't quite there anymore.

And I don't mean the electricity of a new relationship, though that's part of it. But there was just something electric and exciting about the whole time period. I think it's the kind of electricity you can only feel when you're just starting out, sitting on the edge of the "real world" and just starting to dip your toes in the water. I didn't for example, feel the same electricity in high school and college. For some reason, living on my own for the first time, going out with the friends who were really your urban surrogate family, there was something electric about the whole era.

I'm not saying that I wish I was anywhere other than where I am today. But for some reason listening to this song has made me realize that that kind of electricity is really something you experience at a stage of life that, for better or worse, I've passed.

Of course, it had to pass. Being 34 and trying to live the way you lived when you were 22 is just...well, less electric than sad.

But, just because you're happy with the way your life has turned out and the way it's going doesn't mean you can't be nostalgic for the past.

Although, as I'm writing this, something is starting to occur to me. Actually, there is one other period that, in theory, should breed that kind of electricity--the period when you're trying to have kids and build your family. So, really, shouldn't I be feeling similarly excited now? Instead, though, I just feel...I don't know. Tired and scared, I guess.

It's really too bad, too. There's something wonderful about feeling that crazy mad electricity. And, it's too bad that I can't get more excited about this cycle and the journey it represents. But for us--for all of us--it's hard to get too excited because...well because of everything you all know all too well. So, rather than feeling excited, I'm just feeling...cautious.

Wow, this went in a different direction than I thought and ended up as a random tangent. Perhaps is the estraid*l talking? Either way, it's a good song. Check it out. :-)

In the meantime, bloodwork and ultrasound Monday and, if all goes well, transfer next week.

Wowzers.

Game on

2009-05-27T19:28:00.003-04:00

We had plans to go away to a casino with friends for Memorial Day weekend and I said that I didn't want to deal with the FET until after we got back. I wanted to be able to drink and play games and not bring tests or PIO or anything.

I got AF on Sunday night.

Way to punctuate my point, huh?

So, I went to Smirky today for my bloodwork and an ultrasound and am starting estraidol tonight.

You'd think I'd have more to say about this, wouldn't you? But it all seems so anti-climatic? Pills instead of injections? No HCG shot? No retrieval? It can't really be this easy, right?

And, you see, that's the thing. It feels just so damn unlikely that this could work out. But I know that I'll be disappointed if it doesn't. And I'm definitely nervous about opening that can of worms.

But, there you have it. Can, open. Worms... well, you get it.

The Great Bottle Standoff: Day 6

2009-05-02T21:42:00.005-04:00

Monkey Girl has officially had about 10oz, give or take 2, since her last bottle Monday morning.

I admit it, she's winning the staring contest.

I talked to hubby today about giving in and just letting her have 1 bottle/day so that we could be sure she was getting enough milk. This whole, "stand firm even in the face of little to no beverage consumption" seemed like a good idea only when it seemed finite. Now that we're staring down the barrel of a girl who never drinks another glass of milk again, I'm second guessing my decision.

I was talking to our Nanny on Wednesday--just minutes before Monkey Girl drank the infamous 4oz from the sippy--and she mentioned, logically, that eventually she'd have to drink it.

"Why?"

"Well, she'll get thirsty."

It seemed so logical at the time. I guess I just never contemplated the level my beautiful young daughter would go to to avoid giving in.

So, my question is this. Does it really get worse if I wait to nix the bottles until she's older, or can I just suck it up and give the poor girl a bottle for the next few months (or until she's 15)?

In other news, I went to my boss's baby shower today. All I have to say is, thank GOD I'm not in the middle of treatments right now or I would have scratched out the eyes of about 87% of the attendees. In addition to there being a ton of babies--mine included--we spent the entire gift-opening session giving "mothering advice" to my boss. Seriously? Mothering advice? All that really did was give licenses to unleash every infertile's worst fear: unwelcome and insensitive fertile blabbering.

Mine advice was simple: "It's easier to have babies one at a time."

I realize in hindsight that isn't advice as much as it is a statement of fact. But, it's about the only thing I can say with any certainty. Everything else about "mothering" I am completely in the dark. There was a fellow twin mom at the shower. She totally had my back.

I was also thrilled that my colleague's wife--a fellow veteran stirrup queen--just adopted a baby about three weeks ago. The poor couple had been through hell--years of failed treatments, the uncertainty and waiting of domestic adoption, etc. Then, 11 weeks ago, they were chosen by a birth mom in Ohio. The woman asked them to fly out for the birth. They were thrilled, to say the least. They dropped everything and went.

24 hours after the birth, the birth mom changed her mind and sent them home.

!!!!!

I get that it's a tough decision, but don't do that. Seriously, just don't. My heart absolutely broke for them.

Then, two weeks ago (three?), the birth mom called and said, "do you still want to be (Baby girl)'s parents?"

Needless to say, they did. They flew back to Ohio, and are now the proud parents of a beautiful 11 week old baby.

Anyhow, my point, other than to share a wonderfully happy ending, is to say that all I could think about during the shower was how happy I was for her that this shower didn't happen before she got the wonderful news about her little miracle.

Wow, I'm a little all over the place today. So, I'll leave you with these. Check out the crossed legs. It totally cracks me up. And, sweet potato's eyelashes! I wish I could say he got them from me, but they're all hubby. So dreamy.

On sippy cups and staring contests

2009-04-29T19:47:00.004-04:00

You may not know it to read my blog, but I'm an incredibly strong-willed and independent. (Oh, wait--that was obvious? Am I that transparent?)

Evidence abounds, but when I was three, I can remember my earliest and perhaps boldest display of obstinacy. I was about three, maybe even younger, and was having some kind of temper tantrum over god-knows-what and my grandmother, who took care of us when my mom when to work, threatened to get out the wooden spoon.

I should preface this by saying that Grandma never laid a hand on me other than to hug me. The wooden spoon was more like a long-standing but idle threat. At three, though, I didn't understand the concept of idle threats. She threatened to get the wooden spoon, I thought she was serious, and I was PISSED. No way was I going to sit idly by and wait to get my come-uppance.

So, I did what any three year old would do. I screamed, "No," ran into the kitchen, got the wooden spoon, brought it back out to the living room, and broke it over my knee.

Take that, grandma!

My grandmother and my mother of course burst into hysterical laughter, which of course just ticked me off more, but that's a whole other story.

I tell you this to say that, as stubborn as I am, I think I've met my match in my beautiful 13-month-old little girl.

Monkey Girl loves her bottles. She's been holding her own since she was 6 months old and it just makes her happy. But like all things baby-related, almost as soon as they get attached, we have to break them of the habit. It makes me kind of sad, actually. Poor little thing.

Anyhow, this weekend we finally decided it was time. She knows how to use cups--regular and sippy. She just doesn't like to. She wants her bottle. So, we decided to bite the bullet, and on Monday morning she had her last one.

For two days she drank water out of the sippies, but refused milk. Even though she LOVES her milk. How the hell does a 13 month old have such strong preferences?!

So today we decided we had to ditch the water. We were only going to offer milk in cups or nothing.

Would you believe that when I got home from work at 4:30 she hadn't had a DROP to drink all day?

Seriously, people. We were having a staring contest and I was clearly LOSING.

Finally, after the 10th hour of the third day of the great sippy cup standoff, Monkey Girl pointed to the most bottle-like of all of the sippies, and proceeded to drink 4 oz.

Thank GOD! I swear I was becoming more and more convinced that she would never drink another drop of milk for as long as she lived.

But, the point of all of this is not about sippies. It's that my sweet, adorable 13-month old daughter went THREE FULL DAYS without her favorite thing in the world simply as a test of wills. And she's not even a fully rational being yet.

Holy crap I'm in trouble!

In other news, have I mentioned the extra 5lbs I put on when I stopped breastfeeding? Yeah, well I did. And I don't really have any good excuse that's keeping me off the treadmill.

Oh, and we've made no move for the FET. Hubby and I are going away with friends (and no kiddos) for the first time Memorial Day weekend. We're going to a casino and I'd like to be able to drink and NOT think about infertility or meds or HPTs. So, I think we'll consider going back for the stickcicles after that weekend. If all goes according to plan (HA! You have my permission to laugh.), I should get AF right after our weekend away. So, I suspect we'll head back to Smirky to get things rolling at that point.

For now, though? I guess I'm just not feeling ready. I'm having so much fun with Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato and I just don't want anything to distract me from them.

Soon, though. I know I'll never be "ready," so we'll just have to jump in feet first at some point. Just not quite yet.

Five Years

2009-04-24T18:42:00.004-04:00

Five years ago today, I married my soulmate.

I don't say that lightly--I'm not a sap. Hubby is the romantic, not me. I think we both realized that on our first dating anniversary. He designed a necklace and had a jewler make it for me. I got him three Guinness glasses as a joke because I used to tease him because of his (low) tolerance.

Oops.

But, he is. He really puts up with me, no doubt more than anyone would tell him is prudent. And certainly a lot more than I deserve.

I've actually been struggling with that. We're both SO exhausted. In the past year, our jobs have gotten even more intense and challenging than they were. Hubby was promoted to COO of his organization, and I to the VP level (responsibility-wise). We work long, long hours.

To be sure, we both prioritize our kids above everything--I make it a priority to get home by 4:30 to be with them. But that means I regularly work until midnight to make up for it. And still go to bed behind.

So, we're exhausted. And, frankly, I'm not at my--ahem--best when I'm tired. To say the least. My fuse is shorter and my expectations higher. It's a bad combo.

But hubby puts up with me. He's so sweet. He brings me flowers and tucks me in. He makes me coffee in the morning and dinner at night. He takes care of me.

I'm not saying I don't pull my own weight. I do, and then some. Kid care, bill paying, house cleaning and laundry, etc. But, frankly, the things that he does and that he prioritizes are the ones that take care of me.

Of course, I wouldn't kick him out of bed for doing a load of laundry, but...

...ack! You see how ungrateful I am! Argh...

Anyhow, I'm digressing. The point is, hubby is sweet despite tiredness. I'm grouchy. Boo.

So, I'm struggling. I feel like on some level we've entered a stage in our marriage where our marriage is more about chores and kids than it is about us. And to ignore the impact that has on our relationship would be foolish. Not that we ever were doing it in cabs or anything, but it's...um...definitely less. And, frankly, I can't say that I mind. (See above: exhaustion, grouchiness, chores.)

But, I guess the reason I know I married my soulmate is that, despite all of this--all of the chores and exhaustion and grouchiness--I can't imagine going through any of it with anyone else.

Have you ever seen the movie "High Fidelity?" There's a scene where John Cusack's (I heart him!) girlfriend decides very unromantically and matter-of-factly at her father's funeral to get back together with John Cusack. When he asks why, she says, "because I'm too tired to be with anyone else."

I remember when I first saw that, I thought: WHAT?! Seriously, because you're too tired? Terrible idea.

She goes on to say, "I know it's not very romantic. But there will be more romance in the future. For now, I just want to go home."

That's the deal. I know I married my match becuase, when the chips are down, I just want to be with him. Nobody else.

So, while this isn't going to be the anniversary for us where we gaze longingly at each other across a table just before making wild passionate love to each other, it is the anniversary where I know, without a doubt, I am in love with the man I was meant to spend the rest of my life with.

I love you, sweetie. Here's to a sleep-in past 6am.

Not this month...

2009-03-30T20:04:00.003-04:00

As I mentioned in my last post, today was the cutoff date. If I didn't get AF by today, I'd have to wait a full cycle before starting the FET process.

Needless to say, AF didn't show up today. And so we wait.*

I guess in hindsight I am a little disappointed. Stupid IF. I mean, it's not like I was itching to start the FET. I meant what I said last time, that I was just going to leave it up to fate and not stress too much about it.

And I haven't been--I really didn't give it a second thought until this weekend when it occurred to me that the date was fast approaching.

But now that the window has closed, I'm just pissed. On some level that I can't even explain or even comprehend, it's serving as another reminder of how little control over our reproductive choices we have. How we're forced to "leave it to fate," and how many months we were on the wrong side of those odds.

I feel awful even feeling that way because I know how lucky we are. But somehow this is making me realize what we're up against. It's making me realize all of the wounds that we're going to open when we go down this path again. The fear. The disappointment. The uncertainty.

Being infertile sucks. I know that isn't eloquent, but it just does. There's no good spin to put on it. This is something that's supposed to be so easy, but it's not.

And I'm just angry. Or PMSing. Or both.

Bleh.

*Yesterday, the thought did cross my mind, "oh, hey, maybe I'm pregnant." Then I laughed my ass off and finished my second beer.

Super Bowl

2009-03-20T21:46:00.012-04:00

It's hard to express in a post how I'm feeling right now. My babies--my sweet little stickies--turn 1 tomorrow.

I feel like this momentous occasion wants for a super bowl-style post. You know, something deep and eloquent that captures all of the emotions I'm feeling right now.

Instead, though, I find myself--as I have a lot lately!--somewhat at a loss for words. The truth is, there is no way to sum up the past year. It was, in every sense of the words, life altering. One year ago, almost to the hour, my life was permanently altered. I was given two beautiful little gifts. Two gifts that have given me more joy than I have ever or will ever know. Two gifts who will test me in ways I can't even contemplate right now.

Happy Birthday, my sweet little sticky buns! Thanks for the best year yet.

Back in the saddle again...

2009-03-15T22:05:00.003-04:00

AF finally showed up about two weeks ago. I have to say, I was anticipating a deluge--after all, it's been almost a year since the stickies were born and I've heard, from one too many people I might add, how HORRIFIC the first period after baby is. But, I have to say it was mercifully normal.

I think I had slightly worse PMS than usual. One day while I was home alone taking care of Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato I got what I can only assume was a mini-migraine. (Flashes of light in my eye that wouldn't go away followed by a headache. I'm guessing that's what that was...)

Then while I was on line at the local coffee house catching up on blogs on my phone, I read the great news about Sarah's ultrasound and started to get all teary. And, while I was certainly invested in her cycle and hoping for the best, I'm not one to cry in public.

So, I had at least a few hints that she was on her way.

I do have to say, though, I haven't missed her. Not one bit. What a pain in the ass, especially for us infertiles when the dawn of a new cycle doesn't really bring the promise of unfiltered sex followed happily nine months later by a real, live baby.

But, in this case, it was a good thing. Now we can start preparing for the upcoming FET.

WOW!

So, in preparation for the FET, after I got AF, I dutifully scheduled my appointment for the hysterosonogram (sp?) last Wednesday.

It's funny, when I went back to Dr. Smirky's office, I realized how wildly out of practice I am. Like most veteran infertiles, I used to go to the appointments and practically jab myself with the needle to take my own blood. And I used to be able to draw a map for the best way to get a catheter through my cervix.

But now? Not so much. I nearly passed out when they took my blood. And the whole cervix thing was really uncomfortable.

What a wimp.

But they did finally get the catheter in and we got a good look at the ute. It's still there. And they didn't see anything worrisome. (Frankly, I don't know what they were looking for that would be worrisome, but I'm happy they didn't see whatever that would have been.)

I think all of the drama about the bloodwork and the exam was really a reflection of how stressed I am about this nonsense, though. I find myself feeling really...really, I don't know. Stressed and angry, I guess.

Stressed because the thought of either having another child or opening up the endless cycling can of worms is just a lot. The past year has been really nice. It's been nice to just be able to focus on the stickies and not think about ovulation or pregnancy or infertility. And now, even though the pressure is less than it used to be, it's still stressful to think about opening up that can of worms again. I mean, what will we do if this doesn't work? Will we go down the treatment route? Will we embark on endless DIY cycles? Will we cut our losses with monkey girl and sweet potato and move on for good?

Hard to say how we'll feel, though knowing me and knowing that we'd really like another child, it will be hard to just turn it off.

And, of course, I'm angry for all of the reasons we know too well. I'm just still so pissed that so many people don't EVER have to deal with all of this drama. Hubby and I wanted three, possibly four kids. And for so many people, the only thing they need to consider on the road to parenthood is how to time the kids, not whether it's even possible.

And it's interesting, now that the stickies are here, I know we should just cut our losses and be happy. And, while I am of course happy with our little family and know that we'll be okay no matter what happens, I'm still just pissed that infertility gets to dictate how many children I get to have. I am angry because I want it to be a decision that WE make, not one that is made for us.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just get to the FET, shall we?

And to that end, assuming I get my next period before March 31, we're a go for this cycle. I start estrogen on Day 2 and we see what happens.

If AF doesn't come until after March 31, we have to wait it out a cycle because the clinic is closing for cleaning in April.

I'm really not hoping one way or another. If it happens before April, great. If not, we'll wait. For the first time, I'm really just letting the chips fall where they may. I long ago gave up on planning, so I'll just have to trust that it'll be the way it's "supposed" to be. Whatever that means.

So, here we go. Hang on tight!

Af-watch, Day ???

2009-02-24T23:18:00.002-05:00

I know what you're probably thinking, "so, sticky drops this 'oh, we might think about going in for our FET' on us then just disappears? What the hell?"

Well, the deal is that I have reduced (somewhat reluctantly) to two pumping sessions a day. Once in the morning when I pump/nurse monkey girl, and once at night. And, miraculously, my supply isn't dropping as quickly as I would have thought. I'm still pumping somewhere between 26-32 ounces/day. And, I'm assuming that's why, 11 months out, AF still hasn't reared her ugly mug.

Funny, isn't it? I stressed about keeping my supply up for so long and now see that it was better than I initially thought. (Either that or my 8x/day pumping has supercharged it. Either way...)

Live and learn.

I'm still conflicted about weaning. On the one hand, since I now see that it will take a little while, I think it's good I'm starting because I will want to do the FET within the next few months. But on the other hand, it feels like a big transition that I feel somewhat unprepared for. I mean, it feels like a symbolic shift from babyhood to toddlerhood. My babies won't be my babies anymore. And, while I'm so excited about what's to come, I'm also really sad at what we'll be leaving behind. They're so smooshy and cute and little. It's hard to believe they won't be like that anymore. I really want to bottle them up and remember every second of this time because I really feel how very precious it is.

*sigh*

Anyhow, that's why I've been mute for so long. Well, that and the fact that work is ridiculous, which, coupled with the stickies means I haven't had time for much of anything. I've actually seriously considered quitting my job several times. Or having the "I'm going part time" conversation with my boss. But, with the economy being what it is, it feels crazy to deliberately put us at risk. (And, really, I can't afford to quit. Part time, yes. No job? No chance!)

So, that's that. I do have several posts in my head, including one about how a guy that I work with, who went through years of infertile hell, just had a HEARTBREAKING adoption experience. Ugh. It was awful. Made me realize (even more) how lucky we are. I really never will understand how unfair it all is, this journey to parenthood.

So for now, I'll focus on our good fortune and think about planning the stickies' first birthday party. Can you even believe that?

Wow.

Sweetness

2009-01-13T20:06:00.004-05:00

Let me preface this by saying that I know I'm enormously biased, but MG and SB are the sweetest kids I've ever met.

You see, MG likes the chew on (clean) diapers. Don't ask me why. We have a room full of toys, three quarters of which are designed to be, you know, TEETHING toys, and MG makes a bee line to the diapers when we take them out and starts chewing.

Well, today, MG was gnawing away on a (clean) diaper. As she was chewing, sweet potato started to get fussy across the room. As he was crying, MG stopped chewing and looked up at her crying brother. She then stood up, walked over to SB, handed him her diaper, and took another toy.

I could cry that's so sweet.

We're walking...

2009-01-10T22:27:00.003-05:00

Monkey Girl took her first steps yesterday. Three then five. It was a big day.

For her, it was the realization of nine and a half months of hard work. She's been DYING to walk since the day she was born, I swear! She's been "standing" in our laps for as long as she could hold her head up. And, while sweet potato was the first to crawl, Monkey Girl has been practicing crusing and walking like it's her job.

So, hat's off, MG! You are now even more terrifyingly mobile.

It's also kind of bittersweet though because, as far as I can tell, the next mobility milestone involves, what? Riding a bicycle? Driving? Yikes...

Living up to his name

2009-01-08T22:30:00.002-05:00

We met with Smirky today and he was, well, smirky. That guy just really cracks me up. He's really socially awkward. But in an endearing way.

The whole appointment lasted all of about 20 minutes. It turns out there wasn't much to talk about; it's a fairly straightforward process.

He walked us through the basics at first. "You delivered on March 21 via c-section?" Yes. "Any complications?" No. "On any new medication?" No. Are your periods regular?

Um...well, I still haven't gotten one.

That got a classic smirky smirk. His head cocked up from our file and he looked at me crooked. "Are you breastfeeding or something?" Yes. "Oh."

Then he went into the details. "You've got two embryos. And, just to give you some context, the two we transferred last time were 3bc and 3bb. 4 is best and A is best so they were....well, I guess they were fine, huh?"

Smirk.

"Well, the two that are frozen we grew out to day six and they were frozen at 4bb. So, technically around the same, maybe a little better than the other two. But, they took longer to get there, so maybe they're not quite as stable. Nobody really knows?"

As an aside, one of the things I really like about Smirky is that he has this really unpretentious way about him. Despite out of this world success rates and being a world-class doctor, he is really honest about what he knows and doesn't know, and about what we can count on and what we just can't.

After the basics overview, I told him that I know zero about FET so had some general questions, but was really looking for any information he could share. And, as usual, Smirky gave us the straight dope.

In short, the sticksicles were frozen together, so will have to be thawed and transferred together. We asked if there were other options, because we are a little scared about transferring two again, and he basically said no. (Unless we want to discard an embryo, which we don't.) So, in some ways, that made that decision easier. No less terrifying, mind you, but easier nonetheless.

The FET success rate (for someone my age--33) is about 33%. So, after I wean the stickies and actually get a period, I got back for a hysterosonorgram (sp?) and some basic blood work. Then, I start two weeks of estrogen. When my lining is nice and thick, we go in for the transfer and the thaw the embryos the same day.

There is of course a chance that one or both of the sticksicles wouldn't make it through the thaw, but he thought that was unlikely.

Once I got in for the transfer, I'm on the beloved PIO until the beta or, if it's positive, for as many as TEN additional weeks. Worth it? Yes. Hell on wheels? Yessirree.

So, there you have it. Assuming all goes according to plan, we will transfer two sticksicles sometime this spring.

I do have to say I'm a little spooked at the prospect of two sets of twins, but there's nothing to be done about that. I won't jeopardize our sticksicles, so we'll play the cards we're dealt. And, as hubby said when I asked him what the hell we'd do if we had ANOTHER set of twins (as unlikely as that is):

Count our blessings.

He's a good egg.

Back to the mines

2008-12-29T16:12:00.002-05:00

So, I did it. I called Smirky's office this morning for the first time in more than a year. It was funny, actually. I really didn't know what to say. The receptionist--the sweetest woman in the world--answered the phone and I stammered:

Um...er...I don't know if you remember me, but, well, um, I got pregnant a year ago June thanks to you and had twins 9 months ago. Well, um....er....I...well, um, I have two frozen blastocysts and we'd like to come in for a consultation because, well, I guess....well, I mean, we're thinking about trying for another.

Yeah. I'm graceful under pressure.

Despite my incoherence, I did manage to book an appointment for next Thursday.

NEXT Thursday.

Holy sh*t.

I know it doesn't mean we're doing something next Friday so I don't need to totally panic yet, but it does mean we're moving forward. Or talking about moving forward. On Thursday.

Tonight at dinner I asked hubby, "so, really, you're ready to add ANOTHER child to this equation?"

"Yeah! I really think I am!"

Wow. What, not enough chaos in our lives right now, then?

But, that's the kind of optimistic thinking that could really get me in trouble, frankly. I mean, I'm already talking as if deciding to "try" means that we'll get to take home a real, live baby in the imminent future.

It's cute how naive I've gotten again, isn't it?

Of course, all of this talk is really premature given that I haven't had AF since June of '07. Yeah, that's right. Since my IVF cycle.

Is that normal?! The stickies are more than 9 months old. Don't get me wrong, I'm LOVING the hiatus. I don't miss her ugly mug one bit. But still. I can't help but wonder: is something amiss?

I'll definitely update after my visit to Smirky's office. I still can't say I really know what I think of all this. I guess my biggest fear is getting drawn back into the vortex of cycling and HPTs, OPKs, betas, shots, waiting, wondering, hoping, and disappointment.

But, one step at a time. I'll just talk to Smirky and figure out what this whole FET entails and how long after I get AF for the first time we need to wait before diving in.

Madness. Happy madness (for now), but madness nonetheless.

Feeding time at the zoo

2008-12-11T07:29:00.003-05:00

I haven't posted much about breastfeeding. Mostly because there isn't much to post. It's gone reasonably well. Sure, there are twin moms out there who have had even more success. Hats off to them! But what I've settled into mostly works for me.

I never breastfed exclusively. Almost, but never exclusively. In the beginning I would supplement with maybe an ounce or two here and there (mostly with Sweet Potato), nothing much. By the time the stickies were a bit older, I would supplement with a bottle at night, but breastfed the rest of the day. Then, not too long after I went back to work, I was almost exclusively pumping and bottle feeding. You see, I would breastfeed both babies in the morning--which was my absolute favorite time of day with them--but then would pump and bottle feed for the rest of the day.

Frankly, it was just easier. I was at work all day, so had no choice then. And, when I got home, trying to breastfeed both of them before bed was something I had long since stopped--it was too complicated and too tenuous. I wanted to make sure they both got great feeds before bed, and depending on the last time I pumped or fed, my supply at night wasn't enough to satiate both. (They stickies have been eating 8-10 ounces at a sitting for a while. I generally pump 6-8 ounces at a sitting, which is only enough to satiate one, and barely that.)

But, by pumping all day, including two to three times after they go to bed, I've been able to maintain a supply that gets them 75-90% of what they eat during the day, depending on the day. (The days either one goes on a tear, they get more formula.)

I'm pretty proud of what I've done so far. The stickies will be 9 months old next week and are thriving. I take some small amount of pride in the fact that that might have something to do with getting so much breast milk for so long. I'm not saying that they wouldn't be doing great without it, and I am making NO judgment call on anyone who doesn't, particularly because I didn't suffer through supply or latching issues, or any other of the myriad things that would have definitely caused me to stop earlier. Rather, I'm just proud that, because it's been relatively easy, I've kept it going.

But, as you might expect, it's getting tough. Sweet Potato has already weaned himself. He stopped showing any interest in the morning breastfeed several weeks ago. I was adamant about NOT fighting to breastfeed. That doesn't feel good to either of us. So, I let him wean himself and we exclusively bottle feed him (mostly breast milk).

Monkey Girl and I still really enjoy our morning feed, though. It's a really special mother-daughter time that I know I'll treasure forever. But, I fear that it, too, might be close to coming to an end. I worry. There have been a couple of days this week when I had to pump before she got up and couldn't feed. I worry that too many of those days will lead her to wean herself, too. Then I'll have nothing. I'll be exclusively pumping. I'm not ready for that.

I realize that it's still really good for them (to pump and feed breast milk). But selfishly, I want to maintain that morning feed for as long as I can. It's the last real physical attachment I have to either of the stickies at this point and I'm not ready to give that up.

You see, among other things, giving it up would be like a larger symbol of leaving the baby stage. Something that I'm at once both really excited and sad for. Excited because they get more and more fun every day. Sad because this has been such a magical and wonderful stage and I really can't believe it's coming to a close. I want to savor every last second; to sip it slowly like a fine wine because, given our history and the fact that since we were blessed with twins, I can't see going down the treatment road again if the FET doesn't work, I don't really know if we'll be lucky enough to have another.

And so tomorrow, I'm going to do everything in my power to breastfeed Monkey Girl. And I'm going to hope she lingers a little longer than usual. I'm going to treasure every touch of her hand on my skin and on my face. I'm going to drink in her beautiful scent and I'm going to savor the way she looks up at me with her beautiful big blue eyes.

And I'm going to hope that time slows down, just this once.

Remembering

2008-12-04T19:07:00.003-05:00

It's not the same, I know, but today will always hold a special place in my heart. If things had gone according to plan, we'd be celebrating the second birthday of the the baby I lost in my first miscarriage.

There is no question that sweet potato and monkey girl take the sting out of this year's anniversary. It's not sad this year as much as it is bittersweet. But it is a reminder of everything that we went through.

I can so clearly remember two years ago the pain I felt. We were several months past miscarriage. We had gone to the RE for the first time for a first round of tests and realized that nothing was "wrong." You know, other than the fact that we had gotten pregnant, lost the baby, then couldn't seem to get pregnant again.

I remember how much pressure I had put on the holidays that year--I just kept telling myself that as long as I was pregnant by the holidays, everything would be okay.

Needless to say, I wasn't pregnant. Hubby and I got in a big fight on December 4 that year. He thought I was taking it too hard, and I thought he was being too flip about it. I remember the fight SO. CLEARLY. And I can remember the pain and the desperation I felt. That day, two years ago, I really felt, perhaps for the first time, that this journey might actually not end happily. I realized that, for some, eventually taking home a baby isn't a foregone conclusion, and that we might be among that group.

In the midst of the most painful months, I can remember hubby and I talking and saying that, if someone just told us that it would take us X months to get pregnant, but that we would, indeed, have children, it would be easier to go through IF. The certainty of knowing that it would ultimately work was all we needed.

In hindsight, that's absolutely true. Looking back, it doesn't seem like it took that long to get pregnant after that first "due date." I mean, 16 months after the miscarriage and 8 months after the due date, the stickies nestled in for the long haul. I now see how lucky we were that that happened so quickly. At the time, though, that didn't feel quick. It felt raw, interminable, painful.

But now? Well, now here I sit. I have a half-decorated tree and two extra stockings hung. I don't know if we'll ever find time to finish putting the ornaments up, but I don't care. My house has never looked more chaotic, but it's never felt fuller.

And, while I'm not saying that everything happens for a reason, I can say that the joy I feel right now makes the pain we went through somehow okay. I mean, I would do anything for monkey girl and sweet potato, and that journey did bring them to me. I know we're lucky in that way. I know there are far too many people who haven't gotten the light at the end of the tunnel, and my heart breaks for you.

So, on this December 4, in honor of everyone having a tough holiday season, I want to remember the one we lost. And I wish everyone joy that will dull the aches that right now are so intense.

S*x and the CIty

2008-11-09T18:36:00.003-05:00

So I was lying in bed, mindlessly reading my US Weekly, and discovered that they are thinking of making a sequel to S@x and the City: The Movie.

Did anyone else see the first? Was it me or was it not AWFUL? Seriously. It was impressively bad. I mean, I was expecting chick-flick bad. You know, the kind of bad where we all recognize it's not great cinema, but it's fun to watch with your girlfriends.

But SATC didn't even qualify as that. One of my best friends was up for the weekend, hubby had made himself scarce. We broke open a bottle of wine and ordered it up on Apple TV. Then, we sat through an excruciatingly painful hour and a half and I wondered how it was that I could enjoy the series so much when I hated the movie so viciously.

And now they are making ANOTHER. And we all know that sequels are far worse than the original. (Except The G*dfather. Or so I hear, I've never actually seen it.)

Anyhow, it just sounds awful to me. They've already made each of the four women an absolute caricature of her role in the series, I can't imagine what that's going to look like in the next movie. Worse, I suppose. I hope SJP has the good sense not to do it...

In other news...well...there's really not much. The stickies are 7.5 months old. The crawling thing is old news by now, I guess, though it still amazes me how fast they are. And they pull up. They're like little adult babies. They eat like crazy, too, though still seem like little peanuts to me. I guess they're just burning off a crazy amount of energy each day.

We haven't really talked much more about January. (You know, that hubby was talking about transferring the sticksicles in January? Yeah. That.) I suspect we won't do it that early. I'm not really feeling ready to jump into that again. I suspect we'll wait until at least the stickies' first birthday, if for no other reason than to really be able to enjoy it without adding any complications to the mix.

I have to say I have really mixed feelings about going into the TTC world again. I mean, we hit the jackpot. Two beautiful, healthy babies: a boy and a girl. Isn't that when you're supposed to cut your losses? I'm just so afriad something bad might happen that would put a damper on our happiness, you know?

And, the thing is, I'm really happy right now. Tired? Of course. Stressed? No question. But happy. I love monkey girl and sweet potato so much. Hubby and I have, I think, settled into parenthood really nicely. (Sure, we can be kind of a disaster, but in all the normal ways. Nothing out-of-the ordinary, which in my mind is the definition of success, you know?)

So, we'll see what happens.

My last thought is a bit bittersweet. I don't know if you've been feeling this way, but it seems to me that so many of my bloggy friends have either stopped blogging altogether, or post so infrequently. (Yes, I realize I fall into that category.) It makes me sad. This blog was such a huge part of my journey to parenthood and now I feel like a chapter of it is closing. And, the thing is, irl, I keep in touch with my closest friends. I don't just drift apart. So, it's kind of weird to have online friends who know more intimate details about parts of my journey than real-life friends who I'll likely just never talk to again.

I guess in one way it's kind of beautiful. These wonderful women were brought into my life at exactly the moment I needed them and provided the support I needed. But, still. When I surfed over to Anna's blog this week and read that she would no longer be blogging, it was definitely kind of sad.

Wishing you the best, my friend! I hope that our paths cross again.

Crawling and colds

2008-10-02T21:26:00.009-04:00

Yes, that’s right, my 6 month old babies are crawling. Well, Sweet Potato is full-on crawling. Monkey Girl is almost there. She’s got forward motion and can get from point A to point B, but it’s not technically a crawl yet.

Oh, and sweet potato has started pulling up as well.

Did I mention these children are 6 months old?

Holy sh*t, we’re in trouble.

I of course ran out to BRU to get gates. Ironically, I ran into a couple who had twins. The twins were snuggled nicely into their car seats, riding in the double snap n go. I thought to myself, “I remember those days, when we could take the kids on errands like that. Back in those months where they’d sleep anywhere and didn't want to be on the move every. waking. moment.”

So, as I gazed at the one was snoozing away, and the other placidly looking around. I asked, “oh, how old?”

“6 months.”

Huh??

I don't know what you've experienced, but the two six month olds I know are a.) in bed by 6:30 (frequently by 6:00) every night and b.) if they were awake, they'd be crawling all over BRU, not happily looking around from their carseats.

I'm not complaining. They're super-fun. We went to the aquarium last weekend and they actually really enjoyed it. Sweet potato particularly loved the frogs. And monkey girl pet a starfish. So, I'm glad they're moving into an age when they can really enjoy things.

But you better believe that the gates are going up this weekend!

In other news, my two sweet little babies have the beginnings of their first cold. You know who gave it to them? Me.

Crap. I suck.

I just hope it isn't too bad. I know they have to get sick eventually, but it makes me so sad.

*sigh*

But, to leave us on a high note, look how big they've gotten!

6 months

2008-09-22T21:14:00.002-04:00

The stickies are six months old. Wow. Can you believe that? What a long, strange trip it’s been!

I could give you a long-winded explanation for my absence for the past month, but the reality is that it’s just been busy. Work, bla, bla, bla. You get it. And it’s not that interesting.

I desperately want to quit and just hang out with hubby and the kiddos. But, you know, we’d still have to pay bills and stuff, and haven’t worked out how exactly that would happen sans my (our) income. We did buy a lottery ticket today, though, so it’s not like we’re not doing anything to make it happen.

On the more interesting side, monkey girl and sweet potato are fabulous. Here’s what's new(ish):

1. Swimming. Yes, that’s right, we take swimming lessons with the stickies every Saturday morning. They are SO. MUCH. FUN. Monkey girl and sweet potato were a bit scared at first, but they really get into it. Monkey girl, in particular. She’s going to be a fish, I can already tell. We had to toss them to the instructor this Saturday and let their heads go under water (eek!!), and she took it like a champ. I was so impressed (especially given how traumatized I was by the whole thing...)

2. They are so freaking active. They’ve been rolling all around for ages, and are now literally almost crawling. Sweet Potato started effectively crawling backwards a few weeks ago. Since then he’s been rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, gaining strength everyday. And now he’s even added forward motion to the mix. It’s not actual crawling. It’s more like getting up on his hands and knees and thrusting himself forward. But, it does get him to those hard to reach toys.

Monkey girl is not far behind. She never really did the backwards crawling thing, but is also rocking back and forth. And she’s rolling all around to get from point A to point B. We can't take our eyes off them. Just the other day, sweet potato was on the activity mat in the middle of the floor. I went to warm a bottle and turned my back for maybe a minute. When I turned back around he was all the way on the other side of the floor. He had been eyeing the dog's leash and had figured out a way to get across the room to grab it.

So, yeah. It seems like pretty soon we’re going to have babies going every which way. Must. Babyproof. IMMEDIATELY.

3. They had their 6-month appointment today. The shots broke my heart, as usual. They cried. I cried. It was a mess. But, they took it like champs. I now keep them on a strict tylen0l regimen after shots to take the edge off--it makes a HUGE difference.

But, it was a big day: monkey girl has officially surpassed sweet potato in weight for the first time ever. She’s 15lbs 6 oz to his 15lbs 1oz. Well done, girl! He’s still bested her in height, though, by about ¼ inch. They’re both growing really well and are healthy, so we’re all happy.

4. Eating “solids.” Monkey girl and sweet potato have been eating “solids” since just after their 4-month appointment. (Though, I have trouble calling the mush solid, but you get it.) Sweet potato eats it up—he LOVES it. Monkey girl…not so much. She always makes a face that makes it look like we’re inflicting some strange breed of torture on her. She’s coming along, slowly but surely though. She definitely likes oatmeal better than rice cereal, and she seemed to like carrots. I’m thinking she’ll really take to fruit once we introduce that, so I’m kind of excited about that. We shall see!

5. Stranger anxiety has set in. It’s not terrible, but when strangers—grandparents among them—decide to launch a full-frontal attack the SECOND we walk in a door, the stickies lose it.

I can’t blame them, really, I’d lose it if 50 strange-looking relatives were all up in my grill the second I woke up from a nap or walked into a strange house. But people don’t get that. In fact, they make it worse. They get in the kids’ faces then, when monkey girl and sweet potato start to cry, they get up in their faces MORE trying to “cheer them up.” It both irritates me and makes me feel bad. Particularly when it’s hubby’s mom. The babies always cry when she picks them up. Of course, she’s the biggest “get in their face” culprit, so it doesn’t particularly surprise me, but I do feel badly when it happens.

That’s about it. But, for the first time in a while, it’s more than enough. I’m still bursting with love for these little ones. More and more every day. They amaze me. I’m so proud of them and love spending time with them. We’re very lucky, and we tell each other as much every night before we go to bed.

Oh, (she mentions casually), and hubby wants to transfer the sticksicles in January.

January!

I haven’t had time to even process what that would mean… I just don’t know that I will have it in me to jump back into TTC. Or even pregnancy, should we even get that lucky again.

I can't even think about it now. (Which I'm sure means that we will not be doing anything of the sort in four months. But, it does mean that we're not too far off from starting these conversations again. I feel fortunate that the conversations will be SO DIFFERENT this time around, but wow.)

To be continued...

Daddy's Little Architect

2008-08-25T22:08:00.004-04:00

I know several bloggers more eloquent than I have quite rationally ranted against the horribly sexist clothing that seems to be the only option for our daughters. I join them in their fury--it's MADDENING that the only options for our girls are frilly, pink, and princess-themed.

But, while I remain frilly-averse, I've sort of gotten used to the pink thing. On the one hand, monkey girl looks super cute in hot pink. But also, she's got a firey personality and I'm certain that she's wearing pink with a deep sense of irony.

What continues to really get me, though, is that I can't find much for my little girl that isn't princess themed. This pisses me off on so many levels. First, my daughter is five months old--she quite literally has her whole life ahead of her. She has nothing but potential, and yet the best that we can hope for, apparently, is that she grow up to be a helpless, defenseless, submissive, PRINCESS. That she aspire to nothing more than waiting idly by for a knight in shining armor who will come and sweep her off her feet. And if that prince never comes, well, I guess we're supposed to believe she doesn't live happily ever after? That her life is somehow incomplete?

Are you fucking kidding me, people?

So, because I've had it, I went on a rant to a poor unsuspecting soul who had the audacity to buy a bib with a picture of a frog prince on the front and which said "princess" across the top. (Sorry, mom.)

And, right after my rant, I started to mentally go through all of the bibs and onesies we've gotten and realized that, while I have a few for sweet potato that say things like "daddy's little helper," or "dad's team," none that were bought specifically for monkey girl had her as anything but passive and submissive.*

So, I went online tonight and bought her this. I'm thinking of getting a whole damn clothing line of my own to match--no princess themes allowed. Who's with me?

*Yes, I do of course dress monkey girl in some of the other clothes. But I know that they weren't intended for her, and the intent still irks me, even if I'm working around it on my own.

Cosmic want ad

2008-08-23T21:59:00.004-04:00

As I think anyone who’s been reading knows, since the stickies were born, I’ve struggled quite a bit with this whole work/life balance issue. And, I was talking to my friend C last night and telling her how conflicted I’ve been feeling about being back at work and about I can’t seem to figure out what I really want. (Do I want to just go part time? Look for another job? Stick it out and just set clearer boundaries? Etc.)

She said that when she was struggling through some similar issues, she read a book that suggested writing a cosmic want ad—a list of all of the things you want out of life, no holds barred. (She included “have clear skin,” for example, on hers.) She explained that it was a really cathartic exercise for her, that it helped her sort through some things, and that, surprisingly, she’s gotten almost all of them.

So, in lieu of a real update, which I promise will be forthcoming (August has been a NIGHTMARE at work, but is finally starting to settle down, so I’ll be able to get back online a bit more), here is my cosmic want ad.

Okay, universe, your turn. Now let’s see what you can do!

Wanted

I want a job that pays what I make now (or more ☺), where I enjoy as much responsibility and respect as I have, but where I have to work no more than 60 percent time.
I want to have enough money saved that monkey girl and sweet potato never want for anything, can go to college wherever they want, and so that hubby and I don’t have to stress in our retirement.
I want to not have to worry about money.
I want to get back in shape.
I want to find a haircut that I just love.
I want to find some kick-ass shoes and get rid of my boring old ones.
I want to get back into the classroom for at least another few years before the end of my career.
I want monkey girl and sweet potato to know that, despite whatever pressure they might feel from society, they can do whatever they want and whatever they set their minds to.
I want monkey girl and sweet potato to grow up happy and healthy, and I want them to know and to feel with every fiber of their being how loved they are, how special they are, and how lucky we feel to have them in our lives.
I want monkey girl and sweet potato to grow up knowing that it’s more important to be nice, thoughtful, giving, and caring of others than it is to be financially successful.
I want monkey girl and sweet potato to know what a great dad they have, and to know how much I love him.
I want to learn how to curb my temper and not take my moods out on the people I love the most.
I want monkey girl to grow up in a household where she feels removed from all of the societal pressure for her to look and act a certain way. Ditto for sweet potato.
I want to be an example for monkey girl and sweet potato of a strong and independent woman, and I want them both to have respect for all of the women in our family who have worked so hard for the good of others.
20 years from now, I want to remember what it feels like to walk through the door after a day at work and see my babies’ faces light up, as if there was nothing they wanted more in the world than to see their mom.
I want to make time to go to on vacation with my family every summer, and to do nothing but spend time together.
I want my parents to see monkey girl and sweet potato graduate from college and get married, should they choose to do so.
I want hubby to know that there’s nobody I’d rather spend my life with.
I want my brother to know how much he’s meant in my life, and I want him to play a big part in my kids’ lives.
I want to learn to let go.
I want to make sure I don’t let my busy schedule get in the way of my close friendships, which mean the world to me.
I want the courage to surrender my own ambition, without compromising myself, and to never look back.

What would your cosmic want ad look like?

Worst. Sleep. Ever.

2008-07-26T20:48:00.001-04:00

Sweet Potato: “Hey, Monkey Girl! Did you notice how smug mom and dad are getting about our sleeping? It’s like they just expect us to sleep from, say, 7:30 until 5:30am. I think it’s time to start training them to play with us in the middle of the night.”

Monkey Girl: *suck, suck, suck*

Sweet Potato: MOOONKEEEY GIIIIRRRL!

MG: Huh? Oh. What now, SP?

SP: Fine, you don’t have to help, but I’m waking mom and dad up Right. Now!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

MG: You know they’re already onto thus crying/fussing thing. You need to throw something else into the mix.

SP: Good point. Did I tell you? I learned this new trick that really freaks them out. I flip onto my stomach in the crib so that I’m face down in the sheets. Mom always picks me up. It’s great fun. Watch!

Flip.

WAAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

(Mom enters. Freaks out as predicted, and flips sweet potato.)

SP: See! Now, watch, I’m going to do it again.

MG: I’m bored with this game. Good night.

SP: WAAAAAAAAAAA!

Flip.

Freak out.

Repeat.

Flash forward to 2:00am

SP: okay, I’ve tortured them enough. I’m going to sleep.

MG: Great! My turn!

Flash forward to 3:45am.

MG: okay, now I’m tired.

SP: but now I’m HUNGRY! WAAAAAAAAA!

*************************
This reenactment has been brought to you by the Children Against Parental Sleep Council of America.

Ten Twin-Mom Commandments (as told by Sticky)

2008-07-17T08:33:00.005-04:00

If you spend money on something that buys you a week’s worth of sanity in the first few months, it was NOT a waste of money. I don’t care what anyone says.
If at all possible, for the sake of sanity, have your partner get up for every feeding with you. There is nothing worse than juggling two crying babies at 3:30am…for the fourth time…when sleep deprived. (I still turn to hubby when Monkey Girl or Sweet Potato wakes up and say, “Monkey Girl is up. It’s your turn to get her.” He wondered once when it was my turn. I told him I’d happily get up and change her when I could come and pass him/her right off to him to feed for god-knows-how-long.)
Sometimes babies cry. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. (I have to repeat this mantra in my head. Frequently. I'm hoping it'll stick.)
When losing your mind during the evening fussy period…which can seem interminable around two and a half months when you hear the cries of your babies in stereo and fewer people are around to help than when they were first born, see #3 above.
If you never fold or put away another article of clothing for as long as you live, it’ll be okay. Think of all the room you’ll save on dressers and hangers.
When, at a time when you haven’t pieced together more than three hours of sleep at a time for god-only-knows-how-long, someone regales you with stories of how their babies slept through the night beginning at six weeks, you are totally within your rights to throttle them. A jury of twin moms will completely understand.
Read as many books on parenting and sleep habits as you want, but don’t hesitate to use them as kindling when you can’t afford to heat the house anymore because you just HAD to buy that extra swing because it was the only contraption that kept your lovelies quiet for more than 60 seconds and you just. needed. two. (See also #1 above.)
Don’t make yourself feel guilty if you gave more attention to one in any given day. Your love and attention will be equally showered on both in the long run.
Redefine your expectations of what a productive day looks like. If you get a shower and a full meal in, well then you’re my hero.
Don’t listen to people who tell you it won’t get better until the twins are two, or three, or in high school. First of all, who the hell does that help? And, second of all, as far as I can tell, it gets better everyday, with every smile and every belly laugh. I have no doubt it’ll never be easy, but, as they say, nothing worthwhile ever is.*

*I should preface #10, however, by saying that I live in fear of the day when they’re both super mobile and go in opposite directions at a million miles an hour wreaking havoc in every corner of the house. I caught a glimpse this weekend when Sweet Potato flipped over face-down in his swing (yes, while strapped in—I don’t get this at all!) at the same time that Monkey girl pulled a giant blanket off the couch on top of her. I didn’t know who to try to save first and I’m pretty sure the SIDS police was notified and I’m now on permanent watch.

Also, happy transfer day, stickies! It's been a year since you've been officially entrusted to my care. I hope I've done you proud. You've certainly exceeded all of my expectations since the start. :-)

The beginning...

2008-07-13T19:26:00.002-04:00

Hmmmm…what to post.

There’s a lot bubbing around in my head, but none of it makes its way coherently onto a page.

I’m back at work now, so that’s big. And exhausting. It’s funny, I always used to think I was tired after a week's work before. Man did I not know from tired. I also didn’t realize how much work I used to do from home. I have so many meetings and calls during the day that I would put in a few hours of actual work when I got home at night or on the weekends. Now that I am otherwise occupied with something far more fun and interesting for a good portion of the evening, and now that I’m tired as all get out and don’t want to look at work after the kids go to bed, I realize how reliant on that time I was because I am BEHIND!

But, all of that is really insignificant compared to the bigger picture. That is, one year ago today I got my fertilization report. 7-8 of 10 eggs fertilized. One of those seven is spitting up on hubby as we speak. The other is cracking herself up in her swing.

*sigh*

One thing that’s been occurring to me lately is that, while the stickies have been around for less than half of the time I was actually pregnant, the pregnancy itself seems like a blip. In retrospect, it seems like such an insignificant part of my life, though I know it wasn’t. I mean, for so long I thought of not much else. Then during the pregnancy, it seemed to drag on forever—like an endless waiting game. And now? Now I barely give it a fleeting thought. Ditto for the c-section and everything that went along with it. I remember that it did hurt, but I can’t remember the pain at all. And I can barely piece together what those four days in the hospital were like; it was such a blur.

But, here we are. And you know, it’s funny. I’ve been thinking about the fact that, when asked, most parents will cite the day their kids are born as the most important of their lives. If you asked me on that day, I’m sure I would have given you the same answer, but more because I intellectually understood the importance of the day rather than because I felt its weight. (On the contrary, I think all I could really feel was overwhelmed. And, frankly, confused. “Wait—these are OURS?”) Now I understand. The reason people say the day their kids are born was the best or most important of their lives is not necessarily because of that day itself. Rather, it’s because that’s the day that you can point to and say, "well, that’s when this all began."

For IVF patients, though, I wonder, is the day they’re born more momentous somehow than the day of your retrieval? Or the day you got the fertilization report? Or the transfer? Because today, on this one-year anniversary of the fertilization report, I find myself wondering, in retrospect, whether it wasn’t a year ago yesterday that was the most important of my life. Or a year ago Thursday when we said, somewhat flippantly, "okay, let's transfer two."

After all, wasn’t that truly the beginning?

Milestones

2008-06-25T21:33:00.003-04:00

Sweet Potato rolled over today. He ROLLED OVER. And Monkey Girl pulled herself forward on her activity mat. And they're both grabbing toys and holding their heads up so well. It's insane how quickly they change and grow. I'm so proud.

And you know what all of this made me realize? I realized I'm going to be one of those parents. You know the ones; they're convinced their children are so fabulously advanced and delightful and wonderful?

Except, of course, in my case it's true. They are truly delightful children.* See?

*Biased? Me? Okay...maybe just a bit... :-)

Growing up and away…

2008-06-15T11:47:00.000-04:00

I was reading Serenity’s latest post about remembering, and something really struck me. In one of her last lines she said, “as we celebrate every milestone, he grows away from me.” As I read that line, I cried.

And as I thought more about it, I realize that I feel like I’m crying a lot more now than I have in the past, even more than I did throughout our struggles with infertility. But this crying is so very different.

Now I cry because my heart is so full, it’s almost constantly ready to burst. I started to tear up yesterday when both Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato grabbed their first toy. They just reached right out and grabbed a hold of it and took it out of my hands. It was such a sweet moment—you could almost see them learning and their little brains working as they stared so intently at this tiny ring; as they batted it a few times as if to see if it were really there; and as they wrapped their tiny little fingers around it and took it away. And I was so proud of them it was almost silly.

And I start to get all teary when I just think about their future milestones. I’m reduced to tears when I think about buying Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato their first ice cream cone and seeing their eyes light up when they go to the beach for the first time.

And I cry when I think about the first time they’re not going to be invited to a birthday party, and the first time their feelings are going get hurt by another person from whom I won’t be able to protect them.

I cry when I think about establishing those sweet traditions that are going to arise organically from the monotony of day-to-day life and that I probably won’t even realize how much I’ll treasure until much, much later.

But, Serenity’s right. All of these milestones will help Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato develop a sense of independence. And I know that I’ll be so proud of them; so proud to watch them grow up and need me less and less. But at the same time, I know that as they get older and need me less and less, and when they are embarrassed by my hugs and kisses and want me to drop them off a block away from school, I know I’m going to desperately miss these early days. These days when their little faces just light up when I come over to give them a kiss. These days when they want nothing more than to smoosh with me all day long.

And so, for the first time in my life, I both can’t wait to experience all of their firsts, but also wish that I could pause time to really cherish every single second I have with them right now.

Awkward conversations

2008-06-13T20:33:00.004-04:00

It turns out that this couple--you remember, the ones with the giant inflatable stork?--had their second child about three weeks before the stickies. And, we've run into her and her husband quite a bit on our walks with doggie...and, well, it turns out we've got a lot in common and we've started to get friendly. To the point where I think we might hang out.

How long do you think before I tell them that I almost mutilated their stork in a fit of infertility-induced rage?

Anonymous

2008-06-10T13:54:00.002-04:00

I got my first hostile anonymous comment today. (The first comment in the post below, for anyone interested in checking it out.) It’s funny—it was such a personal attack on my parenting that you’d think I’d be upset by it. But I’m really not. Both because the comment showed a fundamental misunderstanding of the post I had written and because this person doesn’t have the faintest clue who I am or what kinds of parents hubby and I are. And, more than that, I get that by writing a public blog I open myself up to this kind of malice.

And, frankly, I’ve seen worse. In a previous job, I wrote Op-Eds on a fiercely debated topic, and let me tell you, people can be vicious when you’re engaged in a public, heated debate. I remember once getting a personal phone call from a high-ranking government official who called me just to bitch me out about a piece I had written. I think I was 27 at the time. I think he would have been embarrassed to realize he was getting all worked up by nothing more than a young punk with a computer.

Now that I think about it, actually, I guess I started to subject myself to such scrutiny at a fairly young age. I can remember reading a New York Times article about feminism when I was a senior in college that got me really fired up. So much so that I wrote a letter to the editor, and it got published. When I returned to my dorm about a week later, I had a handwritten letter from some old man who’d attended my alma mater in the dark ages. He wrote me a four-page letter just to bitch me out, to tell me that a woman’s place was in the home, and to tell me that I’d never find a man. I still have that letter—my first piece of creepy and argumentative hate mail, I suppose.

But, today’s comment got me to thinking about how judgmental people are when it comes to parenting and infertility. I mean, the evil letters and calls I got when I wrote these other Op-Eds and letters to the editor made somehow more sense to me. I was purposefully engaging in the public debate on a hot-button issue for the express purpose of trying to persuade people. On this blog, however, I’m not trying to persuade anyone of anything. I’m merely cataloging my journey, my struggles. And so, when, cloaked in a veil of anonymity, someone without any knowledge of me takes the time to comment only to tell me I’m a bad parent, I’m left wondering, what’s the point? Not to help, surely, since the tone and substance of the comment didn’t offer anything worthwhile—no helpful suggestions or even assvice.

It’s curious, having a blog sometimes, isn’t it? We open ourselves up to criticism and scrutiny. But, I suppose there is some comfort. After all, as Ego surmises in Ratatouille (by far my favorite P1xar flic):

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read, but the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.”

That’s of course, even truer of anonymous criticism…

Who’s the boss?

2008-06-10T08:28:00.000-04:00

I’m a total geek. And a little OCD to boot. So, it should come as no surprise that I read a lot of books on raising kids, particularly on establishing good sleeping habits. Unfortunately, what I’m realizing is that, other than protecting them from overstimulation (see our utter meltdown below), it seems that these kids are going to fall into a schedule all on their own, and the best I can do is let it happen.

Take this morning for example. You see, yesterday my parents took care of Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato while I was at a half-day meeting at work. (Yes, I’m still on unpaid maternity leave. More on that crap later.) I tried to explain to them what we’re trying to do by trying to follow Dr. Weissbl*th’s “Hea1thy Habits” tips. i.e., watching for drowsy signs and soothing the kids to sleep when they start to get tired, motionless sleep, not keeping them up for more than 1-2 hours at a time, etc. And I explained that we’re trying to ease them into a schedule of three naps—one somewhere around 9:00, another somewhere around lunchtime, and a final late afternoon nap.

Unfortunately, something got lost in the translation. My parents took that to mean nap them in their swings (with the swings on) from 8:45 until after noon.

Now, if they slept that long on their own, then obviously they were tired, and there’s not much we can do. But, the fact that the swing was on the whole time makes me think that we kept them asleep when they otherwise might have woken up to eat, etc. Plus, according to W*issbluth’s sleep bible, that kind of sleep is far less than ideal, so they probably didn’t get the restorative sleep they really needed.

Then, since my parents had them pseudo-napping in their swing until lunchtime, their afternoon nap got all kinds of screwed up. And they basically didn’t sleep again until bedtime, with the exception of a tiny catnap. The result? Evening meltdowns.

The thing is, the reason I’m really trying to get their naps right is that I don’t want our primary interactions with our kids when we go back to work to be evening meltdowns. That just sounds stressful and upsetting to me. Well, that and having overtired kids is a disaster. Both hubby and I really need our sleep, so I expect that the stickies will be similar. (Sweet Potato, especially. He really gets cranky when he’s tired. Monkey Girl—other than when she’s EXHAUSTED, is the freaking happiest baby in the world.)

So, last night I decided that for the rest of the week I was going to work really hard to get this nap thing right, to see how it worked, so I could give more specific guidance to my parents and the nanny next week when I’m back at work. And, my obliging wee ones slept until 6:00am this morning (after going to bed at 8:00—we’re so f’ing spoiled I can hardly stand it). So, I fed them and at 7:00am thought, “I’m going to take them on a walk with the dog and play with them a bit and try to push their morning nap to as close to 9:00am as I can.

But then, both kids fell fast asleep on the walk. When we got home at 7:30 I thought, “well, we’ll just put them down for a few minutes and I’m sure they’ll wake right up. They always do.”

They’ve been asleep ever since. Proving yet again that I’m not in control here and that, they are going to fall into their own patterns in spite of what I’m doing.

So, perhaps I should just pay better attention to them, make sure not to get them overtired, and let the chips fall where they may, huh? They’re going to continually test my inner geek/inner planner. ☺

Oops…8:25 and they’re both waking up. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.

M-E-L-T-D-O-W-N (Updated)

2008-06-07T22:56:00.002-04:00

I’ve said this before, and I assume I’ll say in an infinitesimal number of times to come, but, just when we think we’ve gotten some things figured out, the stickies show us who’s boss.

Well, that’s not fair. Actually, just when we get all smug that we’ve gotten things figured out, we screw it up. Royally.

Today started out beautifully. Last night was the perfect night. We got both stickies in bed after a good solid feed. And, when we put them to bed, neither uttered a single peep. Neither a fuss nor a cry. For EIGHT solid hours. Not only that, but my mother was here. So, after we fed them both at 5am, we were able to put them back down and pass the monitor to my mom, who took over until their next feed. So, in all, we were able to piece together nine hours of sleep. It was magical.

Of course, then we started to screw everything up, one small decision at a time. You see, first of all, when my mom is watching the kids, there’s definitely the potential of overstimulation. She is not great about putting them down for naps when they’re starting to display signs of tiredness, both because I think she enjoys playing with them and because I think she lives in fear of the dual meltdown. So, if they start to fuss when she puts them down, she immediately gets them back. (This is of course not a great idea—sometimes they’ll fuss a little, then fall fast asleep. And picking them up stimulates them, rather than soothes them, and so they miss a nap.)

This alone wouldn’t be a big deal. We could have taken over at 9am and gotten things back on track. But, instead we got up. I fed them again. We played with them a little. Monkey Girl fell asleep—she was clearly exhausted—but Sweet Potato did not. Then, hubby decided he wanted to take a quick trip up to his parents. So, around noon, we fed them both again, jumped in the car, and headed up. (We had to wake up Monkey Girl to do this. Something my gut told me not to do. Always listen to your gut. Damnit.)

That was the catastrophic mistake. You see, hubby’s parents’ house is the single most stimulating place on earth. His mom is fairly manic and loves playing with kids. (She used to wake her own children up from naps because she was bored and wanted to play with them.) So, since the kids were already slightly overtired and plenty stimulated from the morning, this was the worst place to go.

But, we decided to add insult to injury with every decision throughout the day. You see, we have a new nighttime routine that’s been going pretty well. We give the kids a bath and a good long feed, followed by a soothing ritual, then right to bed. And, we try to do this and get them in bed somewhere between 7:30 and 8:30, unless they’ve had a late afternoon/early evening nap. But, today, we didn’t even end up leaving hubby’s parents’ until 5:30, which meant we didn’t get home until 6:30—not nearly enough time to get two overtired and wired kids to bed in an hour. And at this point, Monkey Girl basically hadn’t slept all day and was constantly on the verge of a total and complete meltdown. (I kept trying to put her down, but someone kept picking her up. It was maddening.)

Needless to say, by the time we got home, both kids were in full-on meltdown mode. And it just got worse and worse. They were hungry, but exhausted. They breastfed, but wouldn’t take their bottle supplement, which they really need at this point in the evening.

We finally put them down at 8:00ish, but I know they didn’t eat enough. They were just too tired and trying to feed them—whether on the breast or the bottle—was restarting screaming fits because all they wanted to do at this point was go to sleep. (Of course, sleep was eluding them as well, so we kept getting confused: were they crying because they were tired or hungry? It’s tough to tell when the answer is clearly, “both,” but when they keep fighting one for the other.)

We finally gave up on feeding them—it was clear they needed to sleep before they ate again. So, we were finally able to soothe them to sleep. Unfortunately, now I fear we’re headed for a night where they both wake up every hour and a half. Sweet Potato has already woken up once at 9:30 to eat. (But, again, he was too tired to take more than just enough to put him back to sleep, so I assume he’ll be up again soon.) And, I’m fully expecting Monkey Girl to follow suit, though of course on a slightly different schedule, just to ensure we don’t get any sleep. (Serves us right, huh?)

*sigh*

Let’s just chalk this up to a learning experience and *hope* that we don’t act so flip with the napping/feeding routine in the future!

UPDATE: Two quick things. One: I love my kids. Despite our total and complete failure to get them to nap and eat appropriately yesterday, they slept like champs. Both until 5:30am. They are superstars. Unfortunately, I was so wound up from the horrible evening (and my contribution to it) that I slept like crap. Helas...

Two: As if I needed more evidence, I clearly don't know what the hell I'm doing as a mom. Thank god these kids are apparently too little to realize my utter and complete failures. Man, am I ever in for it when they get older if we aren't careful, though! :-)

A different world

2008-06-06T21:46:00.001-04:00

I have this cousin, let’s call her the single most fertile person in the world. She got pregnant with her first child the MONTH her husband has his vasectomy reversed. The same month! That was just a couple of months before our first miscarriage, and at the beginning of our infertility journey.

Flash forward two plus years to this May. We’re at the stickies’ christening and she casually mentions to me that they want to start trying for number two in December, because they’d like to have a baby next fall.

“So, you’re assuming you’re going to get pregnant the first month trying again.”

“Well, yeah. We’re counting on it.”

“Even though you’re 35 and it could take, oh, I don’t know, more that one wild night to get pregnant.”

“*blink* *blink* Well, anyhow, it’s probably a moot point because we probably got pregnant last night.”

“huh?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we got pregnant last night because we forgot to use anything.”

Flash forward 14 days.

“Hi, sticky! So, yeah, we’re pregnant. I wanted to wait to tell you until the doctor confirmed it.* I knew that was going to happen. I’m so annoyed because I really didn’t want to be seven months pregnant at my brother’s wedding in the fall.”

“Yeah, it can be tough when things don’t go exactly as planned, huh?”

Just wow…it’s a different world, huh?

*I’m not sure what she meant by “wait” to tell me. HPTs aren’t always even positive that damn early!

Part of the "in" crowd

2008-06-05T10:04:00.001-04:00

Among the posts I’ve been meaning to write is a rant about my neighborhood. You see, when hubby and I moved from DC, we ended up in a nice, suburban neighborhood chock full of lots of families with small children. (Truthfully, I wanted something a little more urban feeling, but this was the compromise we ended up with.) All in all, we’re very happy with our home and our neighborhood, despite the fact that I think people used to see us as the creepy couple with no kids. I didn’t realize how strange it would feel to live in suburbia and not have kids. I don’t know if anyone else feels this way, or if it was just because we were struggling with infertility the entire time, but we really felt like fish out of water. At least in our neighborhood, we are pretty much the only house that didn’t—and still does not—have a swing set in the backyard. It’s all a little Stepford, if you ask me.

Anyhow, we’ve lived here for more than two years. And, in that two years, exactly two families have gone out of their way to introduce themselves to us—the family next door and the one across the street. Everyone else has completely, utterly ignored our existence. Despite the fact that we have a dog who we walk twice a day, everyday. So, it’s not the case that we’ve been holed up in our house being antisocial.

During all of those months of infertility and heartbreak, I would tell hubby that, if we ever were blessed with a child, I was certain that people were going to start talking to us. And that, if that were the case, it was going to royally piss me off. Like, what, we’re untouchable peons unless we have kids? Bite me.

Well, boy was I ever right. Now that the stickies have arrived, people are coming out of the woodwork to introduce themselves. On our twice daily walks now, people come out of their houses to introduce themselves and congratulate us, etc. But, what’s more, almost every single one of them says something along the lines of, “We had always seen you both walking your dog, but then only saw hubby for a while. Now we know what happened!”

Interesting. So, you knew that we were your neighbors. You saw us walking our dog everyday. You were even sometimes out at the same time as we were. But NEVER until we had kids did you bother to talk to us.

Of course, I don’t know if that’s better or worse than our neighbor who lives, I kid you not, two doors down, who actually said to us, “oh, did you just move into the neighborhood?” Nope. We’ve lived here almost two and a half years. “Oh, well this must be the first time you’re out and about.” Again, nope. Two years we’ve been here. And we’ve been out and about twice a day everyday for those two years—in rain, snow, sunshine, whathaveyou. But thanks for being so neighborly and welcoming us into the ‘hood!

All the attention really irks me now, I have to say. I feel like we’re in one of those painful teen beat movies and I’m the geek who just got the makeover (read: lost the glasses) and now it’s okay to talk to me. And, the attention from the neighbors rings as hollow in reality as in those movies.

Man do I miss the city sometimes…

Tough decisions

2008-05-26T13:55:00.004-04:00

On this beautiful Memorial Day, hubby and I just spent some time watching a slideshow of photos of the stickies. The photos brought me to tears. On the one hand, I can't believe how big they've gotten. They've grown out of their newborn outfits and diapers, their head control is getting better and better by the day, and their smiles. Oh, their smiles. I melt. I mean, look at this:

And, something occured to me this morning. It occured to me as I sat on a conference call. On this beautiful day. During the UNPAID portion of my maternity leave. What occured to me is this: I hate my job. Or, at least, I don't love it. Not nearly enough to justify allowing it to keep me away from these beautiful little kids for a minute longer than I have to. And in the pre-sticky era, I was away from home a lot. I worked long hours, and spent way more time battling traffic--sometimes as much as five hours of traffic a day--than I will have the stomach for now. So today, after the conference call (which I swear was a repeat of a conversation I've had ten zillion times over the past three years), I came downstairs and told hubby I wanted to leave my job. I told him that I just don't have it in me to, for the fourth year in a row, have the same conversations, manage virtually the same projects, defend the same decisions, and do the same things day in and day out. All while someone else raises my kids. Kids it took us so long to have.

Unfortunately, we need my salary. We can't make ends meet without it. Not only that, the stickies and I are all on my insurance. And we need to be. If we were to be insured under hubby's plan it would cost us a prohibitive $1,400/month. (His job sucks. They pay for 0% of any family member's insurance. It's so crappy and un-family friendly, I could scream.) So, for me to leave work--or even to take a pay cut--we'd have to add $16K after taxes to the total amount of money we'd be losing out on. And we just can't afford that.

And so I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I just don't know what to do. Do I try to convince my current employer to let me go part time, knowing that I can't do my current job part-time? (And knowing how impossible it is to cut back when people across the organization already know you as the go-to person for certain projects.) Do I look for another job? Do I just try to cut back on hours or travel in my current position (knowing it will compromise my ability to do the job)?

I hate having to make these decisions, these trade offs. Why can't we all just be independently wealthy?*

*I recognize having money comes with problems of its own. But man right now it seems like it would make things easier!

It's the sleep deprivation talking...

2008-05-20T22:34:00.011-04:00

Just when we thought we were getting things figured out, Sweet Potato and Monkey Girl throw monkey wrenches into our systems. First, over the past week or so, Sweet Potato has started a new nighttime fussiness routine. This is more than a little upsetting, not just because it's heartbreaking not to be able to soothe your own child, but also because from everything I've read, fussiness is supposed to peak at six weeks and then get better. Sadly, it seems that Sweet Potato hasn't read the books, because his has been getting worse, not better, and the stickies are about eight and a half weeks now.

*sigh*

And, if that wasn't bad enough, last night's dual meltdown was an exhausting, utter and complete disaster. One or both babies essentially screamed bloody murder from 6:00pm until 11:00. And we were powerless to stop it the entire time.

Then, because their nighttime routines were so f'ed up, Sweet Potato woke up at 12:45, and Monkey Girl at 2-something, which meant that we couldn't string together a stretch of sleep of more than just over and hour all night. (Basically, unless they get to almost 3am, we're in for it because they never sleep as long after they go back to bed as the do during the "first" sleep of the night.) And that was the second night in the row that one of them woke up early and frequently. And the thing is, it's not like a "good" night sleep involves getting a full night's rest anyway, so after two nights like that, I'm pretty sure I'm starting to hallucinate. (Wait, was that a purple elephant outside of my window??)

And, the fact that, around the third hour of screaming I really start to loose my sense of humor just makes me feel like a crap mother. I mean, not only can I not soothe my children, but now I'm losing my patience? I suck.

But, can someone tell me who was the mastermind that decided that humans would start their lives with no ability to communicate (well, that is, except the blood curdling screams of an inconsolable infant who can't express what's making him or her so sad) and limited ability to sleep more than a few short hours at a time? Because either one of these things in isolation wouldn't be so hard to deal with, I don't think. I mean, sleep deprivation--it ain't fun, but we've all been there and could cope. And inconsolable crying? Well, I think if I were getting more sleep I think my patience level wouldn't feel so fried.

But, taken together, well, they test the limits of even the most sainted mother. Which I'm not.

I should say that, on the upside, Sweet Potato had at least one rock star night's sleep--8 and a half hours! (And another 7-hour stretch.) So, I feel like we might be getting *close* to turning a sleep corner. Now, if we could just get Monkey Girl to sleep longer! And if we can get Sweet Potato to replicate that sleep more often--then we'd be in business.

Of course, I confess that I got nowhere near 8 hours sleep despite Sweet Potato's rock star stretch both because Monkey Girl didn't sleep well that night and because after about his 5th hour sleeping, I woke up every 15 minutes or so to make sure he was still breathing.

So, yeah. I'm a little paranoid.

Thankfully, they're a very forgiving pair and don't seem to notice when I can't make it all better. In fact, they are both having longer alert period and are smiling up a storm at us. It's the best feeling in the world. Of course, it breaks my heart that one day they're going to push my hugs away and make me drop them off a block away to avoid the embarrassment. But, in the meantime, it's really fun to be able to play with them, and to see them smile and coo back. I mean, does it get cuter?

Insert impossibly clever title here

2008-04-25T11:53:00.002-04:00

I can’t believe it’s been so long since my last post. It really seems like only a day and a half. (Sure, that’s probably because I’ve only slept about 8 hours since then, so all of the days are just blending together, but whatever.)

The real shame is that, since my last post, I’ve thought of about a million updates for you—all wonderfully insightful and witty and otherwise brilliant. Unfortunately, because I haven’t been able to get my act together to write them down while they’re fresh in my mind, Poof! they’re gone. And the world will never know the genius that was…

So, in the way of a less witty and intelligent update, here it goes:

1. It turns out that having twins is hard. Really hard. I know what you’re thinking—we waited a freaking month to hear that having two kids is hard?! I’m never coming back again. But the thing is, it isn’t a cliché—it really is hard. Especially when they’re both crying and you feel powerless to stop it. And the funny thing is, everyone--our pediatrician, my lactation doc, our parents, random people we meet on the street--all tell us how well we're handling it. That we seem really calm "for twin parents." I can only imagine the disasters they see, then, because I'm constantly operating on almost zero sleep, have spit up on my clothes and in my hair, and panic when it looks like both babies are getting fussy at the same time.

Speaking of both babies getting fussy at the same time--it's super stressful. Sweet Potato has a cry that would absolutely break your heart. It’s like he is the saddest boy in the world and he just needs love. And the worst thing is when he’s crying like that and Monkey Girl starts to cry. She actually has tears. And seeing them stream down her face is equally heartbreaking. All I want to do is make them better, but I haven’t mastered the art of comforting two babies at once. If there are twin moms out there who have tips on how to comfort both babies at the same time, please share the secrets, because pretty soon hubby will be back at work full time and I’m on my own. And I’m scared about it.

The good news is that we’ve discovered the joy of excursions. Sure, it tires us out to be on the move all day, but when the babies are in motion, they’re calm. Asleep even. So, in addition to our daily dog walks, we take one excursion a day. And it makes me feel almost human on those days when I’ve strung together only three hours of sleep in total.

2. In the first week or so after delivery, I watched the weight fall off and thought, “how hard could this possibly be?” I dropped about 35 lbs of my 55 lb weight gain almost immediately and got all smug that I’d be back to my pre-transfer weight in no time. And now the scale is stuck and I’m realizing that I might have to actually cut out the B*n & J*rry’s and C0stco chocolate chunk cookies* if I want to drop the last 18. I’m not overly worried about it—I get that it will take a while—but I have to admit that it smarts a bit when the cashier at the B*st Buy asks me if I know what I’m having and I have to explain that I’m not, actually, pregnant anymore. *sigh*

3. I hate to say it, but I don’t miss being pregnant. I think I’m supposed to, but I just don’t. I am really enjoying being able to cut my toenails and sleep on my back. And I’m LOVING taking long walks again with the stickies and the dog. (The absolutely gorgeous weather we’ve been having doesn’t hurt either…) And I really love not having to rely on ultrasounds and dopplers to know how my babies are doing. For me, pregnancy was merely a means to an end. An end at which I’ve happily arrived.

4. I had my four week postpartum appointment last week and it looks like all’s well. I’ll be cleared to take baths, swim, and exercise after six weeks. (So, I guess I’ll have no excuse not to get started on dropping those 18lbs, huh?) Like so many infertile new moms, I had a good long laugh when my doc talked to me about birth control. “Start by using condoms right away. You need to be careful.” Ha! Ha! (doubles over laughing) Oh, wait. My bad. You were serious. Yeah, okay, I’ll go back to condoms. *wink, wink*

I mean, come on, if there’s one good thing about not being able to get pregnant without medical intervention, isn’t it that I don’t have to endure the nuisance of condoms ever again? Give me a break.

5. Breastfeeding twins is complicated on every level. On the one hand, if they’re both hungry at once, it’s hard to feed them together. I almost never do it. So, when you flip to those pages in your pregnancy books that show pictures of calm women nursing twins effortlessly by using the “football hold,” know that it’s a sham. It’s really hard. First of all, when they’re both attached to your breasts, you don’t have a free hand to help relatch one of them when they come off (or start hurting you), which they eventually will. Second, you can’t tend to one to burp him or her, etc. with the other is attached to you. (Or, I can’t anyway. Again, any dexterous twin moms out there with tips, I’m all ears.) Third, when they go on their tear where they’re both feeding every 2-2.5 hours, all you do is feed them. Literally. It’s all you do. And finally, without some serious dedication to feeding and pumping All. Day. Long. it’s really hard to build your supply up enough to avoid supplementing, particularly at night when the supply is lowest.

And, frankly, since breast milk is more easily digested, babies wake up hungry more often on breastmilk alone. So, I don’t really mind giving 10-20 cc’s of formula before bed in the hopes of getting, say, one three-hour stretch of sleep. (PS—that rarely happens, though, even with the supplementing, unless you fall asleep immediately when their heads hit the pillow. Oh, and only if they happen to be on the same feeding schedule at bedtime. It’s all very complicated…)

6. Yesterday was our anniversary. Four years. Of course, this year all we could muster the energy to do is go to the local brewery for a quick sandwich then come home to try to sleep (ha, ha!), but still. I wouldn’t have it any other way. ☺

Okay...babies crying...must go nurse. Moo. ☺

*For those of you who didn’t know, C0stco has THE BEST chocolate chip cookies in the world. Seriously, best ever. Pick some up today.

Quick updates and Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato

2008-04-01T14:33:00.001-04:00

I feel like I have much to say, but little time to say it. And, because it’s been too long since my last post, here are a few un- (or semi-) related updates:

1. C-Section: Thankfully the c-section went pretty well. The spinal wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d anticipated, but it was definitely weird to be numb like that. I have to say that it probably did detract just a bit from the birth experience. It was weird to be behind a curtain, unable to move, and to hear my babies’ first cries. But, they quickly washed them up and brought them over to me. And hubby was able to hold them and I was able to touch and kiss them right away. It was definitely a surreal moment.

2. Recovery: Things have been going pretty well, all things considered. There’s no question that the first couple of days are hard. And, everything you’ve heard about getting up and moving around is right on the money—it helps immensely, even though it feels a bit torturous as you’re going through it. And the pain isn’t awful and remarkably does diminish noticeably with every passing day. Saturday was the worst day—but the only one I was on perc*cet (sp?). Since they I have only been on motrin and advil. And now I only take that just a little. I’m not quite 100% yet, but I’m a lot better and really looking forward to the weather getting nicer and being able to take nice long walks with the stickies and the dog again.

But, to all of you out there who may have a c-section in the future, here’s a tip from me to you—don’t let your bladder get too full when you’re recovering. This is a little known tip that nobody ever talks about (or that nobody every told me in any case), but let me tell you, it ain’t fun. I fell asleep for more than three hours one night after drinking a ton of water. When I woke up to go to the bathroom, I can’t tell you how much having a full bladder hurt! YIKES! And, it took a while after going to feel better. No fun. I wish someone had warned me.

3. The Stickies, aka Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato: So, now that the stickies have met the world—and shown their very distinct personalities—I’m going to have to refer to them by something other than the stickies. So, from now on you’ll likely be hearing about the adventures of monkey girl and sweet potato. Monkey girl because, well, my beautiful little girl looks and stretches like a cute little monkey. (We had actually bought them stuffed animals before they were born—a monkey for the boy and a giraffe for the girl—and we had to switch them. She really has monkey-like qualities.) Sweet potato because our little boy is always balled up like a little sack of potatoes. It’s so funny how different they are, even at just over a week old.

In any case, they are both beautiful and I love them. I definitely still stare at them wondering, “did you really come out of ME?” It’s so strange. And, they look and act NOTHING alike. It’s really funny. Monkey girl has so much hair! And it’s coiffed in this adorable little pixie cut—I mean, it’s got little spiky layers and everything. It’s really too funny. Sweet potato has hubby’s little round head and much more olive skin. (And hubby’s hair…or semi-lack thereof. ☺) It’s amazing to think how differently your genes can mix together and what they can produce.

4. Being a parent: I always knew that being a parent was going to feel overwhelming. And it does, but not in the way I expected. I thought that midnight feedings and sleep deprivation would be at the heart of it. But really, that stuff—the “process” stuff—is manageable. Sure, we’re tired. But the really exhausting and hard to get used to part is being so emotionally invested and “on” all of the time, and in a way I’ve never experienced before in my life. It really is true that your life is no longer your own. And, while I’m happy to devote myself to these wonderful new arrivals, it definitely happens fast and furious and can feel a little overwhelming. At 8:26 on Friday morning, I was thinking about how the spinal was affecting me—whether I could breathe right or whether something was going to make me feel weird. Then, suddenly, none of that really mattered. At 8:27am, when I heard Monkey Girl cry for the first time, the only reason I cared about how the spinal was affecting me was because I knew how much these two little beings needed me. It wasn’t about me anymore; it was about Monkey Girl and Sweet Potato.

I know that there will be a time when it doesn’t feel quite as intense as it does right now, but for the moment, it definitely feels overwhelming to know that I’ve been blessed with such an enormous responsibility.

5. This blog: Now that I’ve officially crossed over to the other side, the nature of this blog is going to change, if only to acknowledge the continuation of my journey. To be sure, I’m (we’re) still infertile. But, for the foreseeable future at least, there will be an increased focus on babies and … well, parenthood, I guess? I say this more for me than for you. I think you all know that I sometimes feel funny about talking about pregnancy or babies because I don’t want to make anyone in the trenches feel frustrated or upset. But, to be true to myself and to our journey, I’m going to try to be as open about where I am now as I was when I was cycling, etc.

6. On Hospitals: I’m going to have to write a much longer post about this, but I have to say that my four days in the hospital were less than ideal. I found the nurses, in particular, to be wildly inconsistent. A few were remarkable—really wonderfully helpful and supportive. Some were just overbearing and annoying, and one made me so angry I’m actually filling a complaint at the hospital. (Long story short, the evening of my c-section, without warning, she was checking my bleeding and started forcefully pressing down on my uterus. It was excruciating and I was begging her to stop, which she only did when hubby leap off the couch to come over and stop her. It was awful. She also let my IV run dry and gave us terrible breastfeeding advice. She’s on my sh*t list, to say the least…)

It was really interesting, though. I’ve never spent any time at the hospital before, and it was a weird feeling. It’s a very paternalistic place to be and I was so happy to be discharged and able to just come home and start to muddle through these early days on our own.

So, that’s the update for now. Most of all, thank you all for your wonderful words of congratulations and well wishes. It really means the world to me. ☺

Welcome, Stickies!

2008-03-22T21:53:00.004-04:00

The stickies arrived, healthy and crying up a storm (a good thing!) at 8:27 and 8:28am Friday. They are beautiful and perfect and I love them more than I every thought imaginable.

I'm definitely sore from the c-section, but hopefully it won't take too long to get better.

I'll post more later, but wanted to pass along the news. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of your support throughout this entire journey. I'm overwhelmed and so appreciative.

Thank you!

The panic sets in...

2008-03-18T08:39:00.003-04:00

I can’t believe that, if all goes according to plan, in 3 days or less, I’ll be a mom.

And I really mean that I can’t believe it. It all just seems so unbelievably surreal. I’ve just barely gotten used to this whole being pregnant thing, and now I find myself woefully unprepared for the next step. I guess that's what happens when seeds of doubt are sown into your mind for so very long.

Don't get me wrong, I’m not saying that the pregnancy went quickly. On the contrary, there are parts of it that dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. The night in the ER and the days after the hematoma were the worst. And the third trimester—at least the first part of it—seemed to drag on forever.

But now? Now I can’t believe there are only 3 days left. And the thing is; I’m terrified. Seriously petrified to my core. All of the sudden I feel like I’m on the precipice of the biggest change of my life and I feel totally and completely unprepared. I mean, in less than a week, I will have two little beings who are going to rely on me for everything. Food, water, changing, discipline, decisions, cleaning, education. Literally, everything. And they’re going to grow, god willing! They’ll have little personalities and they’ll get into trouble and they’ll fall into danger. And it’s all on my shoulders to protect them. (Okay, not all on my shoulders—mine and hubby’s—but still…)

And, the thing is, moms know everything. But I DON’T know everything. So, how can I possibly be a mom?

And, the other thing is, there will be TWO little beings looking to me to care for them. What if I screw up? Both of them?

And even before we get to the point where I can screw them up, I have to get them out. I'm scared of that, too. I'm scared that something will go wrong between now and then, or that something will go wrong during delivery. I think we’ve all seen so much heartache—especially lately—that no matter how close we are to delivery, and no matter how things look, we know how important and how precious every day is.

The other thing is, because they both seem so darned comfy in there, it looks like I'm headed for a c-section on Friday. Granted, I was petrified of both--c-section or vaginal--but now I'm focusing my fears on what appears to be the inevitable surgery. And, I realize it's ridiculous, but the thing that freaks me out the most (other than the possibility of something going wrong with the stickies) is the anesthesia. I hate being numb. Hell, I get my teeth drilled at the dentist without novocaine because I hate it so much. (That and I have a pretty darned high tolerance for pain.)

Trust me, I'm not saying that I want to try this without anesthesia, but the idea of being numb and out of control from the nipples down (yes, that's how the nurse explained it to me) is kind of scary. Particularly because I'm prone to anxiety and the way I ward the panic attacks off is by taking a nice, deep breath. Something I won't be able to do with the spinal numbing me from the chest down.

AH!

I think I've reached full-on panic mode.

Oh, and the other thing, I feel selfish that this is what I'm worried about. I found out yesterday that, after the stickies are born, they get taken to the nursery. Hubby can either go with them or stay with me. And, I asked him to stay with me. Does that already make me a bad mom? I mean, wouldn't a mom only be concerned with her children?

Must. Stop. Obsessing!

I know I'll be fine--people do this everyday--but I just had to get my fears out there. (Although, if anyone has any (preferably not horrifying) c-section stories (or can tell me what breathing felt like under the spinal), I'm all ears.)

Alternatively, if anyone has some good relaxation tips that don't all involve breathing (so I don't focus too much of feeling like I'm short of breath...) I'd take those, too.

(Truthfully, I'd also actually welcome a good, clean kick in the pants that says, "you're overthinking this, Sticky. You'll be focused on the stickies, and it'll all be fine...")

No babies yet, but the countdown is on...

2008-03-15T16:24:00.001-04:00

37 weeks 2 days and no signs of any progress. I’m barely dilated (less than 1 cm), and just a little bit effaced.

You know, I spent so long worry about delivering early, it just didn’t occur to me that I’d be nearing 38 weeks with no signs of labor whatsoever. Life’s funny, huh?

I did have another u/s on Thursday and it looks like the stickies are 6lbs 8oz and 6lbs 10oz, respectively. There is a pretty big margin for error right now with the measurements, but it looks like they’re still thriving and growing. In fact, they still seem to be tracking at the 50th percentile for singletons, which is great. So, if I do go all the way to next Friday (um, yeah, that’s 6 days from now. We’re not talking about that right now…) they’ll have a great shot at being close to (or even more than) 7lbs. That would be really exciting—it would help them sleep better, eat better, etc. Go, l’il sticky buns!

In other news, it turns out that the internal exam they do to see just how dilated and effaced you are is the most g-damn uncomfortable and invasive procedure I’ve ever had to sit through. And I’ve been through an HSG, four IUIs, egg retrieval, transfer, and more transvaginal ultrasounds than I know what to do with. I swear to god I almost drop-kicked the f’ing ob when he said—for the THIRD time—just relax your legs, just relax your LEGS.

If my belly were any smaller, I would have shot up, yanked his pen1s, and told him to relax his f’ing legs. He’d better watch his back at my follow up appointment after delivery is all I have to say.

Other than that, no real news. I’m really hoping I go into labor on my own before Friday; it’s my only chance to avoid a c-section, and I’d at least like the chance for a vaginal birth. But, no matter what, I’m not going to stress. I’m just hoping that whatever happens, the stickies come out healthy and happy—that’s all I really care about. ☺

The bonus round

2008-03-05T21:45:00.002-05:00

I’m three hours away from being 36 weeks pregnant. From everything I’ve read, 36 weeks is “term” for twins. Term! Our perinatologist says that everyday after tomorrow is just a “gift,” a bonus, if you will.

Kind of exciting to be in the bonus round!

We’re now taking bets on when the stickies will arrive. My MIL has bet on tomorrow. It’s a bold bet given that I’m not having a single sign of impending labor, but whatever. Everybody else is betting on the week leading up to the 21st (my scheduled c-section date). So, now I guess we just wait and see.

At 36 weeks, I can definitely tell that my body is reaching the end of its ability to keep these little guys inside—my ankles are swelling when I’m just sitting around doing nothing. And doing ANYTHING that involves being out of the house is just exhausting. And I don’t think I’ve had skin this itchy in my life. We’re lathering that stretch mark oil on my belly multiple times a day. Not so much because I think it will help with the stretch marks, but rather because it’s the only thing greasy enough to hydrate my poor, overly stretched skin.

All of these minor* discomforts have also gotten me thinking more and more about all of the things that I am looking forward to about my post-pregnancy days. No, I’m not talking about cuddling with the stickies or taking home babies—though I am excited beyond words to do both. Nope, I’m talking about all of those daily things that I took for granted everyday of my adult life and that, post-pregnancy, I vow to enjoy every chance I get. Including:

5. Knowing when I need a bikini wax. I can’t tell you the last time I was able to see that area, but it’s been months. And, I can’t imagine the jungle that has developed, but can only imagine it’s hideous. And I feel powerless to stop it—not only because I can’t do a damn thing about it myself (without potentially subjecting myself to some very unpleasant cuts and scrapes), but because I fear I’ll scare the hell out of the poor esthetician I’ll get stuck with if I try to get some professional help.

4. Cutting my own toenails. Yup, just can’t do it anymore. I got a pedicure this weekend—THANK GOD—and now I just have to hope they don’t grow too overwhelmingly long before I deliver.

3. Not weighing almost 200lbs. There’s really nothing else to say about this one. I know it’s probably un-PC or something and I should be all one and zen with my pregnant body, but the truth is I miss having a more agile body and just being….well…smaller.

2. Walking. It used to be so easy. I’d leap off the couch or out of bed, and effortlessly stroll wherever it was I needed to go—to the kitchen, to the bathroom, etc. Now, I need a crane to get me up. And, once up, a journey of 10 steps seems like the length of a marathon. Whenever I wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I actually negotiate with myself about whether it would be more uncomfortable to get up and walk to the bathroom or just wait it out for a little longer. It’s ridiculous, I realize, but what can you do…

1. Rolling over in bed. In my pre-pregnancy days, I used to flop all around—from my back to my stomach to a side. I used to glide through the smooshy sheets with nary a care and smoosh up against hubby without any struggles at all. Now, every time I need to change position, I wake up. I then have to deliberately reposition myself before I try to go back to sleep. (And, those back and stomach positions—my favorites, I might add—LONG gone.)

So, there you have it. I wish I had something more interesting or inspiring to report, but I think I'm losing brain cells by the day. (Apparently I should have been taking more DHA, huh?) In the meantime, no matter what lies ahead in the upcoming weeks, please wish us luck that the delivery is problem-free and that the stickies are healthy and happy!

*They really are minor. I’ve been very lucky with this pregnancy and am very grateful. I’m just reaching that “holy shit, is it possible that I might get bigger?!”

Milestones...

2008-02-21T20:54:00.003-05:00

I feel like, since I started BCPs last June, I’ve tracked this IVF and this pregnancy in terms of milestones—hurdles that, once reached, seemed meaningless and insignificant compared to those that lay ahead. It’s almost made me feel secretly ungrateful—like I couldn’t be happy for where I was. Rather, I’ve always looked forward to see where I could be and worried that I wouldn’t get there.

I can only imagine how annoyingly frustrating that must be/have been to those of you in the trenches. But, for better or for worse, that fear, or disbelief, or worry, has been front and center since the beginning.

Today feels a little different, though. Today, I am 34 weeks pregnant. My Ob tells me that I’ve reached the point where, were I to show signs of labor, they’d just let me deliver; they wouldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Sure, we’d like them to stay put for another month. But, it seems that today marks the point at which, if the stickies are that eager to meet us, doctors have every reason to believe that they would have just as good a chance as anyone of leading trouble-free, healthy lives.

Of course, I know that is no guarantee that things can’t go south. But really, that’s life. Things could go south at any point in our and in these babies’ lives. And the thing is, while I’ll never stop worrying about them and about their well being, I can’t let that worry consume me indefinitely.

And so, for some reason, crossing this milestone today is helping make this real and is helping me rise above my fear, if only a bit. I’m beginning to see that four weeks—maximum!—is not a lot of time to put the finishing touches on my maternity leave plan. I’m beginning to see the need for the pediatricians we’ve started to interview. And I’ve started to realize that it’s not completely ridiculous to put car seats in the back seat of our (tiny) car.

And, as I realize that we need these plans, it’s allowing me to start focusing on actually meeting the stickies and holding them in my arms. In fact, this morning, as hubby and I lay in bed before we got up, I pictured waking up one morning in the not-too-distant future and bringing our two little babies into bed with us and snuggling together. As a family.

And that made me really happy.

More on "that" room

2008-02-18T09:41:00.009-05:00

I actually have much to update you on--from a maddening MIL story to why my office's "new" insurance company is the bane of my existence to a general stickies update (in short, all's well). But because we're glued to the TV to see if Obama is going to seal the deal with tonight's primary, I'll just share the latest photos of "that" room. It frightens and excites me more and more each day that, assuming all goes according to plan*, in just over 4 weeks or less these two cribs will be filled with beautiful little stickies. It's still so hard to wrap my mind around.

But, here's the evolution of the room. I'm really excited about how it's coming together.

(Hubby's mom actually made those quilts. They're awfully cute.)

(This is now the most comfortable chair in the house. I L-O-V-E it. We purposefully got a color that matched our living room so that, when it's time to move the glider from "that" room, we can just move it downstairs.)

What you can't see in the cribs are these:

I saw these two t-shirts when we were visiting Hubby's sister in the fall but I was, of course, nowhere near ready to buy them. So, SIL bought them for us for our shower, which was so thoughtful. (And she knitted those caps, too.) Very cute.

Note that there's nothing on the walls yet. We've been waiting to get the last of the furniture to see how it all came together. And we couldn't decide what "theme" to go with. We didn't want anything too gendered or over the top. We thought about a French theme, but it seemed too complicated to pull together. Hubby really wanted a jungle theme, but we struggled to find jungle themed stuff that wasn't over the top. But then I found this painting, which I picked up for hubby today. It's going to go on the center of the wall above the cribs. We're very excited; it's super cute.
The rest of it, we may purposely leave empty and get some shelving and put photos up. I'm a big photo person, so it would make sense.

In other news, Belly Laughs just brought home her three newborn boys. She was just two weeks ahead of me in her IVF cycle, so I've been following her journey pretty closely--particularly since she found out, after being told she was having two that there were actually three in there--and am so happy for her. Congrats, Belly to you and your boys!

* Yes, I still put that caveat in all the time. But, my optimism truly does grow everyday. So, keep your fingers crossed for me that things continue to go well and that we're blessed with two beautiful stickies sometime in March.

Urban legends...

2008-02-06T20:29:00.000-05:00

It's no secret that, here in the blogosphere, the idea of getting pregnant on your FIRST fertility treatment seems about as realistic as riding to your first beta on the back of a flying unicorn.

And yet, somehow, my SIL just got her beta results from her first clomid/IUI and, surprise! It worked! Her first number looks good, too--113 at 14dpiui.

I'm SO excited for them. Last week marked one year since her last miscarriage, so the timing of this wonderful news couldn't be better. So, please keep her in your thoughts and keep your fingers crossed that her next beta looks great, and that this is the one that sticks for her.

6 weeks 3 days (or less!) left

2008-02-05T20:19:00.000-05:00

Amy reminded me that I need to update you on what’s going on with the stickies. It’s really hard to believe, but on Thursday I’ll be 32 weeks pregnant. Just wow.

In the way of an update, here’s where things stand:

Last week, we had two big appointments--the first was with our perinatologist on Monday for an ultrasound. The stickies still seem to be thriving--one was 3lbs 6oz, one 3lbs11oz (the 47th and 57th percentile, respectively). Their fluid levels look great, they are now both head-down (a new development), and my cervix remains long and closed. So, really, as much as we could possibly hope for at this stage of the game. Fingers crossed that everything continues to go well, but we feel so fortunate that we've gotten this far and that things look this promising.

We also had an OB appointment on Thursday and the doc was equally pleased. And we actually started to talk seriously about delivering these babies, which was just bizarre. Long story short, neither the peri nor the ob want me to go past 38 weeks. So, our OB scheduled us for a c-section on Friday, March 21. Barely more than 6 weeks away.*

!!!

That's not to say that we've decided on a planned c-section. But the challenge is, if we haven't gone into labor by 38 weeks, they would induce. And, induction raises the risk of c-section. And I'm already at a higher risk with twins. And we want to avoid an emergency C at all costs.

Plus, the doctor explained to us that we're better off scheduling because we can always cancel the day before if we decide to try for a vaginal birth. But, apparently in the hospital where I’m delivering, the appointments fill up quickly, which means that if we didn't schedule the C, we'd be painting ourselves into a corner. So this helps us keep our options open. And we have a real due date, which is crazy.

And, just to keep the "holy sh*t this might actually happen" news coming, our cribs were delivered on Friday. So, we have cribs. Cribs! And our changing table is being delivered on Thursday. That both terrifies and excites me all at once.

In other news, J.Lo finally confirmed she’s pregnant with twins. Her father is saying it runs in her family, but I can tell you that I’m telling the same line to random people who ask me as well. (Hubby has a bunch of twins in his family. Granted, all but one set are from fertility treatments, but whatever…)

I’m pretty sure that me and J.Lo are due around the same time…is it wrong that I think it would be pretty cool to deliver at the same time? ☺

*Out of curiosity, I went back and read my post from when I was 6w3d pregnant just to marvel at how far we've come. I found it funny that it was this rant about "expectant mom" parking, because I've never gotten over that. I STILL have never parked in one. They just piss me off too much; I can't really explain why.

Sticky Bun

New blog...

A happy ending

And now, none of that matters

Friday

That old familiar feeling

There is no gray, only black and white

Moving on and VBACs

Timing is everything in life

Cliche

179

A weekend away...

Anatomy scan

2x2

Normal

In the high range of normal

Exhale...

D-Day

Reassuring

3,607

366

162

Welcome home, little ones

Dwindling numbers...

And then there were three...

Waiting... **updated

Triggered...

Limping towards retrieval...

The update that wasn't

Day 4

Game on

Don't worry, they have a very lovely life.

And so it begins

Winding up and down...

A charmed life

Toddler sleep

Okay then, here we go...

I need a pep talk

On twins and napping

Lies this blogger tells you

Surfacing

The fallout and the definition of insanity

D&C

It ain't just a river...

Sad and Confused

That old familiar feeling...

Still waiting...

Il y en a une

Moving right along...

Deep breath!

The bare minimum

2:30am *Updated*

That old familiar feeling

D-Day minus 3

Hang on, Stickcicles (part deux)!

Hang on, Stickcicles!

PIO, Day 2

The Notorious P-I-O

The $1 million question

Game on

The Great Bottle Standoff: Day 6

On sippy cups and staring contests

Five Years

Not this month...

Super Bowl

Back in the saddle again...

Af-watch, Day ???

Sweetness

We're walking...

Living up to his name

Back to the mines

Feeding time at the zoo

Remembering

S*x and the CIty

Crawling and colds

6 months

Daddy's Little Architect

Cosmic want ad

Worst. Sleep. Ever.

Ten Twin-Mom Commandments (as told by Sticky)

2:30am Updated

Insert impossibly clever title here