On November 18, 1928, Mickey Mouse made his debut in "Steamboat Willie." Some 82 years later, it appears that my dear daughter will quite possibly share this memorable day with Mr. Mouse. An interesting turn of events given how Disney obsessed I have been for most of my life.
Today's doctor visit included a growth check. Baby is roughly 7 lbs--66th percentile. She is still head down, but has turned back toward the front again. She seems to swap back and forth between front and back with each visit. If the pattern holds, she'll be facing back again next week in time for labor. Yay!
Today's visit also included the scheduling of my induction. Provided my little girl doesn't come early, I head to the hospital the evening of Nov. 17 for induction. Sadly, my doc is not the one on call that day. However, the doc that is on call is one I met twice before, and I am comfortable with her.
The plan appears to be that I will receive drugs to ripen the cervix which will work overnight so that by morning, labor will either start on its own, or I will get pitocin to start contractions. This creates a high likelihood that my baby will be born on the 18th. Incidentally, I have two dear friends whose birthdays straddle the 18th, so if she comes on the 17th or 19th, she will also be in good birthday sharing company. Still, I'm a little amused at the idea of her sharing Mickey Mouse's birthday.
Outside of baby deciding to come early, the only other potential hiccup in the plan is if the hospital is full up. I have instructions to call a few hours prior to the time I'm supposed to arrive and make sure they can take me. If they are busy with moms already in labor, I will get bumped, and then who knows what happens from there. Thus, although there's still some wiggle room in all of this, we have a plan. And as you all know by now, plans make me happy.
All of this puts me about 9 days away from the beginning of the beginning. It's a little hard to believe that it's so soon, and yet it still feels so far away. I think it's now time to try and enjoy the time I have left bring pregnant. After all, there's no guarantee I can get pregnant again, or that we'll choose to afford to. This may be it. It's time to stop looking ahead and start living in and enjoying the moments I have left--however uncomfortable they may be.
So, here's to my remaining days of pregnancy. May I find ways to celebrate, rejoice, and enjoy them. After all, once she arrives, I have to share her. Until then, she's still all mine. Oh, and here's to my little girl coming before Thanksgiving, so I can indulge in all those wonderful carbs!
11.08.2010
11.01.2010
Sooner It Is
First things first. Tomorrow I reach 37 weeks, so my daughter will be considered full term and can arrive at any time. This news provides me both with anxiety and a great sense of relief. Relief because we made it and anxiety because she may come sooner than I was prepared for. Still, I doubt that I will somehow get more prepared in the next 3 weeks, so I suppose I am as prepared now as I'm ever going to be.
I am also less anxious this week, as we have finally acquired the last of the truly necessary baby items--a car seat we can bring her home in! After three baby showers, we have been graciously gifted with so many wonderful things for our daughter that I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Her room is almost completely set up and ready for her arrival--even if the cats are not. I finally quit freaking out about the "what-ifs" and washed some of the new items so that we can actually use them. It's been such an amazing ride so far, it's hard to believe that this part is almost over and "the rest of the story" is about to begin. It just turns out that "the rest of the story" is going to happen sooner, rather than later.
Sooner? Yup--based on my doctor visit today, when I learned who "won." First, because she's my official doctor, her opinion rules. Yay! This was the answer I was hoping for. Second, because I am an insulin dependent diabetic, they will induce me sometime in week 39--provided my dear daughter has not decided to arrive sooner. Whether we are closer to the front end of week 39 or the back end of week 39 will depend in part on my visit next Monday, when my doc will check to see if I have started making any progress on my own.
There are good and bad things about induction. The good--we're almost guaranteed to get my doctor for delivery, and I will know what day things will happen (again, baby willing). Also, she will definitely be here for Thanksgiving, so I don't have to worry about my family showing up and me being at the hospital giving birth. The bad--induced labors tend to be more difficult and more often lead to additional interventions and c-sections. Obviously there are plenty of women who have induced labors who don't have problems, and that will likely be my experience, but that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the idea that medicine will jump start the process rather than letting it occur naturally. Still, the planner in me can't help but be a little excited about this turn of events, which only leads me to believe that she'll come early just so she can do it on her own terms. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the stubborn wars I sense in my future.
Ultimately, however, all of the information I received today and the emotions that have come along with it have left me feeling like a kid playing a game of tag. Ready or not, here she comes.
I am also less anxious this week, as we have finally acquired the last of the truly necessary baby items--a car seat we can bring her home in! After three baby showers, we have been graciously gifted with so many wonderful things for our daughter that I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Her room is almost completely set up and ready for her arrival--even if the cats are not. I finally quit freaking out about the "what-ifs" and washed some of the new items so that we can actually use them. It's been such an amazing ride so far, it's hard to believe that this part is almost over and "the rest of the story" is about to begin. It just turns out that "the rest of the story" is going to happen sooner, rather than later.
Sooner? Yup--based on my doctor visit today, when I learned who "won." First, because she's my official doctor, her opinion rules. Yay! This was the answer I was hoping for. Second, because I am an insulin dependent diabetic, they will induce me sometime in week 39--provided my dear daughter has not decided to arrive sooner. Whether we are closer to the front end of week 39 or the back end of week 39 will depend in part on my visit next Monday, when my doc will check to see if I have started making any progress on my own.
There are good and bad things about induction. The good--we're almost guaranteed to get my doctor for delivery, and I will know what day things will happen (again, baby willing). Also, she will definitely be here for Thanksgiving, so I don't have to worry about my family showing up and me being at the hospital giving birth. The bad--induced labors tend to be more difficult and more often lead to additional interventions and c-sections. Obviously there are plenty of women who have induced labors who don't have problems, and that will likely be my experience, but that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the idea that medicine will jump start the process rather than letting it occur naturally. Still, the planner in me can't help but be a little excited about this turn of events, which only leads me to believe that she'll come early just so she can do it on her own terms. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the stubborn wars I sense in my future.
Ultimately, however, all of the information I received today and the emotions that have come along with it have left me feeling like a kid playing a game of tag. Ready or not, here she comes.
10.25.2010
Gonna Need a Tiebreaker
So this week started my twice-weekly visits to the doctor's office. Mondays are long visits where I have an ultrasound, NST (non-stress test), and doctor visit. Thursdays are short visits where I have another NST.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
10.16.2010
Just Testing
I did not intend to have a trial run, yesterday. The universe, however, had other plans.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
10.14.2010
100% Natural
Ever since I was diagnosed with GD and had measurements where I seemed to be ahead of schedule, not to mention discovering that many doctors want to induce when you're insulin dependent, I have had some anxiety about what was going on. Add in the anxiety I already had about the fact that I had a low-lying placenta that might require a c-section, and I was pretty nervous going to my visit today. (Truth be told, a lot of my anxiety was probably because there were only questions--no answers and no plan--and you should all be quite familiar with my love of a plan by now).
So, we started with an ultrasound for the growth check. Turns out, everything is going extremely well. The GD has not made my daughter too big. She is currently measuring 5 1/2 lbs, which puts her in the 71st percentile in terms of size, and a mere 5 days ahead of schedule. She is head down and facing my back--the ideal position (an overachiever already!). She refuses to move from this position, even when prodded by the ultrasound tech in order to try and determine whether the placenta moved.
The tech also confirmed that the placenta had moved. Although she couldn't tell exactly how far it had moved, given my daughter's stubborn refusal to move, she could determine that it was far enough away that it was no longer considered low-lying, so a c-section is not required.
After the ultrasound, I met with another one of the docs in the practice (they are busy having me meet as many of them as possible since there's no telling who will be on-call when my daughter decides to arrive--so far I have liked them all, though I'm still holding out hope I get my doc--she's the best!). The doc upped my insulin some, but thought things were going well. When I expressed my frustration that some of my numbers did weird things even though I ate the same thing everyday, she assured me that those were perfectly normal. She said that when people don't have those wild outliers in their numbers, they are usually faking their numbers. Yay! I can stop beating myself up about that.
I was also reminded of why I love this practice so much, as they dealt with my last concern--whether being insulin dependent made it likely they would have to induce me early or not let me go past my due date. They do not subscribe to that theory. As long as there is nothing going on (high blood pressure, issues with the baby, etc), they will wait for the baby to make her appearance and not induce early or even on my due date.
So, with the exception of the need for insulin, I am having a normal, healthy pregnancy and everything is on schedule for a spontaneous, natural childbirth on baby's schedule. Now the only thing left to do is rein in my control needs and quit worrying about that. :)
So, we started with an ultrasound for the growth check. Turns out, everything is going extremely well. The GD has not made my daughter too big. She is currently measuring 5 1/2 lbs, which puts her in the 71st percentile in terms of size, and a mere 5 days ahead of schedule. She is head down and facing my back--the ideal position (an overachiever already!). She refuses to move from this position, even when prodded by the ultrasound tech in order to try and determine whether the placenta moved.
The tech also confirmed that the placenta had moved. Although she couldn't tell exactly how far it had moved, given my daughter's stubborn refusal to move, she could determine that it was far enough away that it was no longer considered low-lying, so a c-section is not required.
After the ultrasound, I met with another one of the docs in the practice (they are busy having me meet as many of them as possible since there's no telling who will be on-call when my daughter decides to arrive--so far I have liked them all, though I'm still holding out hope I get my doc--she's the best!). The doc upped my insulin some, but thought things were going well. When I expressed my frustration that some of my numbers did weird things even though I ate the same thing everyday, she assured me that those were perfectly normal. She said that when people don't have those wild outliers in their numbers, they are usually faking their numbers. Yay! I can stop beating myself up about that.
I was also reminded of why I love this practice so much, as they dealt with my last concern--whether being insulin dependent made it likely they would have to induce me early or not let me go past my due date. They do not subscribe to that theory. As long as there is nothing going on (high blood pressure, issues with the baby, etc), they will wait for the baby to make her appearance and not induce early or even on my due date.
So, with the exception of the need for insulin, I am having a normal, healthy pregnancy and everything is on schedule for a spontaneous, natural childbirth on baby's schedule. Now the only thing left to do is rein in my control needs and quit worrying about that. :)
10.08.2010
Be Careful What You Wish For
We've all heard it said--be careful what you wish you, you just might get it. For me, it's not the fervent wishes I make over and over with my whole heart that come true. No, it's the off-handed little wish I make on the spur of the moment and never think about again. In fact, it usually turns out that I didn't think enough about it at the time I made it, either.
The best example of this is from my time in college. I was having a rough week. Okay, a rough few months. I really wanted to be able to opt out for a little while, so I made a small wish. Not a "real" wish. Just one of those, off-the-cuff, spur-of-the-moment thoughts we've all had, only I really meant it when I made it. I wished for an appendicitis. Yes, I thought this would be the simple answer to my problems. A quick trip to the hospital, an easy fix, and a few days off. I never really believed it would happen. It was just one of those thoughts. And I totally forgot about it after I did it. Flash forward two years. Boom! I get a ruptured appendix along with a week stay in the hospital and months of recuperation afterwards. I got what I wished for alright, but not when I wanted it, or how I wanted it. Worse, I had no idea until, oh, last year, that "getting" my wish had caused infertility. Needless to say, I got a lot more than I bargained for with my wish. Had I but known, I would have been much more careful about what I put out there.
You would think that I would learn a lot from that experience. And you would be mostly right. But that doesn't stop me from being stupid. See, it turns out that, much like wishes, prayers often work in ways you don't expect. For example, if you pray for patience, you don't magically receive patience. Instead, you receive lots of opportunities to develop and practice patience. Not exactly what you want when you're already frustrated and low on patience.
So really, I ought to have known better--I mean really, really known better--before I informed family, friends, the universe, God, and whomever else, that part of why I wanted to have children was to learn how to go with the flow and be less of a control freak. Because that's precisely what is driving me crazy right now about GD and my daughter's "due" date. I am so not the one in control. Turns out, there was nothing I could do to prevent the GD. Structuring my diet didn't work. Taking insulin this week has resulted in only 1 good fasting number and some good after-meal numbers, but nothing that I can hang my hat on. For goodness sake, I ate a brilliant low-carb dinner this evening with all the food groups but dairy, and ended up with a frickin' 134! I am not in control of my body. No matter what I do, I can't make it do what it's supposed to. And this frustrates me to the very core of my being.
On top of it all, there's this whole thing about the baby coming when she's ready. This makes it hard to plan maternity leave and get all my ducks in a row. How will I know how much leave time I will have saved up? How do I know when to call the disability insurance people so I can get the paperwork started so my doctor's office can fill it out and get it back to me in time when I don't know when the disability will actually start? Will my daughter be here before Thanksgiving when all the family comes to visit, or will she wait? Will she come too early--like in the next 25 days or so, before she's considered term? Now that I have GD and am on insulin, will I be allowed to progress past my due date, or will they induce me? Too many questions, not enough answers or control.
Also, I have discovered that I am more frightened of natural birth than I am of a C-section. Why? For starters, I have had enough abdominal surgery in my lifetime that a C-section feels like the known entity while natural birth is the scary unknown. But, I know deep down it's also that C-sections are controlled. In some cases, they are scheduled, so you even know when they will be. How great is that for a compulsive planner, right? There's also no big mystery of how long will it take (about an hour), what will it feel like, will it hurt, etc. And it is precisely for all of these reasons that I'm fairly certain I will not end up having one. Because for me to truly experience this lack of control that I requested, I have to experience the surprise of labor and delivery on my daughter's terms. She picks when and how long and how hard and everything else. I requested the opportunity to learn to go with the flow and that is precisely what I got. No matter how frustrated and infuriated I get with these issues, this is, in fact, what I signed up for. I really ought not be surprised.
The best example of this is from my time in college. I was having a rough week. Okay, a rough few months. I really wanted to be able to opt out for a little while, so I made a small wish. Not a "real" wish. Just one of those, off-the-cuff, spur-of-the-moment thoughts we've all had, only I really meant it when I made it. I wished for an appendicitis. Yes, I thought this would be the simple answer to my problems. A quick trip to the hospital, an easy fix, and a few days off. I never really believed it would happen. It was just one of those thoughts. And I totally forgot about it after I did it. Flash forward two years. Boom! I get a ruptured appendix along with a week stay in the hospital and months of recuperation afterwards. I got what I wished for alright, but not when I wanted it, or how I wanted it. Worse, I had no idea until, oh, last year, that "getting" my wish had caused infertility. Needless to say, I got a lot more than I bargained for with my wish. Had I but known, I would have been much more careful about what I put out there.
You would think that I would learn a lot from that experience. And you would be mostly right. But that doesn't stop me from being stupid. See, it turns out that, much like wishes, prayers often work in ways you don't expect. For example, if you pray for patience, you don't magically receive patience. Instead, you receive lots of opportunities to develop and practice patience. Not exactly what you want when you're already frustrated and low on patience.
So really, I ought to have known better--I mean really, really known better--before I informed family, friends, the universe, God, and whomever else, that part of why I wanted to have children was to learn how to go with the flow and be less of a control freak. Because that's precisely what is driving me crazy right now about GD and my daughter's "due" date. I am so not the one in control. Turns out, there was nothing I could do to prevent the GD. Structuring my diet didn't work. Taking insulin this week has resulted in only 1 good fasting number and some good after-meal numbers, but nothing that I can hang my hat on. For goodness sake, I ate a brilliant low-carb dinner this evening with all the food groups but dairy, and ended up with a frickin' 134! I am not in control of my body. No matter what I do, I can't make it do what it's supposed to. And this frustrates me to the very core of my being.
On top of it all, there's this whole thing about the baby coming when she's ready. This makes it hard to plan maternity leave and get all my ducks in a row. How will I know how much leave time I will have saved up? How do I know when to call the disability insurance people so I can get the paperwork started so my doctor's office can fill it out and get it back to me in time when I don't know when the disability will actually start? Will my daughter be here before Thanksgiving when all the family comes to visit, or will she wait? Will she come too early--like in the next 25 days or so, before she's considered term? Now that I have GD and am on insulin, will I be allowed to progress past my due date, or will they induce me? Too many questions, not enough answers or control.
Also, I have discovered that I am more frightened of natural birth than I am of a C-section. Why? For starters, I have had enough abdominal surgery in my lifetime that a C-section feels like the known entity while natural birth is the scary unknown. But, I know deep down it's also that C-sections are controlled. In some cases, they are scheduled, so you even know when they will be. How great is that for a compulsive planner, right? There's also no big mystery of how long will it take (about an hour), what will it feel like, will it hurt, etc. And it is precisely for all of these reasons that I'm fairly certain I will not end up having one. Because for me to truly experience this lack of control that I requested, I have to experience the surprise of labor and delivery on my daughter's terms. She picks when and how long and how hard and everything else. I requested the opportunity to learn to go with the flow and that is precisely what I got. No matter how frustrated and infuriated I get with these issues, this is, in fact, what I signed up for. I really ought not be surprised.
9.30.2010
Approaching the Great Unknown
So, today I got the news I didn't want. I'm being put on insulin. I'm not terribly surprised by the news, just frustrated. Now I have to go to another class to learn about giving myself injections. On the bright side, it's only once a day, likely in the morning. On the downside, although I am extremely good at giving myself shots in the stomach, that is not currently an option. I think I'll have to do them in the thigh--something they'll teach me in the class.
Otherwise, my daughter is doing well, although she is measuring big. There's this neat trick they do late in pregnancy where they measure how many centimeters high your uterus is. The number is usually a rough estimate of your weeks of pregnancy. So, if you're 28 weeks, they expect to see you at plus or minus 2 cm--so anything in the 26-30 range. Well, I previously measured larger, but within the range. First I was 1 cm ahead, then 2. Now, it's 4. I'm officially outside of the normal range. Ironically, the nurse said I ought to be scheduled me for a growth ultrasound, but I told them I was already scheduled for one because of the IVF. So, now I'm being monitored because I have one risk factor for an underweight baby, and one risk factor for an overweight baby. I have decided that this simply means she's going to be the perfect size. Still, it's all a little overwhelming.
In any event, I have now entered the phase where they will see me every two weeks, instead of every month. But, starting in 4 weeks, I go to 2 visits a week, one of which lasts about 2 hours. Holy cow! How can anyone get anything else done with all these doctor visits?! But, I can be (and am) grateful that I am not in pain, have not been given bed rest, and everything is otherwise going extremely well. I can't really believe how close we are to done. I am less than 2 months away from the baby that has been 3 years in the making. It's amazing and mind-boggling. I am equal parts excited and terrified. For as crazy as this ride has already been, it's really just starting. I am about to bring a tiny person into this world. And if she's anything like her parents, we're in for quite a time.
Otherwise, my daughter is doing well, although she is measuring big. There's this neat trick they do late in pregnancy where they measure how many centimeters high your uterus is. The number is usually a rough estimate of your weeks of pregnancy. So, if you're 28 weeks, they expect to see you at plus or minus 2 cm--so anything in the 26-30 range. Well, I previously measured larger, but within the range. First I was 1 cm ahead, then 2. Now, it's 4. I'm officially outside of the normal range. Ironically, the nurse said I ought to be scheduled me for a growth ultrasound, but I told them I was already scheduled for one because of the IVF. So, now I'm being monitored because I have one risk factor for an underweight baby, and one risk factor for an overweight baby. I have decided that this simply means she's going to be the perfect size. Still, it's all a little overwhelming.
In any event, I have now entered the phase where they will see me every two weeks, instead of every month. But, starting in 4 weeks, I go to 2 visits a week, one of which lasts about 2 hours. Holy cow! How can anyone get anything else done with all these doctor visits?! But, I can be (and am) grateful that I am not in pain, have not been given bed rest, and everything is otherwise going extremely well. I can't really believe how close we are to done. I am less than 2 months away from the baby that has been 3 years in the making. It's amazing and mind-boggling. I am equal parts excited and terrified. For as crazy as this ride has already been, it's really just starting. I am about to bring a tiny person into this world. And if she's anything like her parents, we're in for quite a time.
9.29.2010
Seasonal Preferences
I'm not really a fan of fall. In best to worst order, I rank the seasons as follows: spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Spring is best, hands down. It has my birthday (presents and candy), Easter (bunnies and candy), my favorite flowers (iris), my favorite weather (rain), and the green comes back! Plus, given how long winter lasts around here, I am always more than ready for the green to return. It can't come back soon enough. Spring is rebirth. It's cute baby animals, fewer layers of clothes, and warmer weather. Spring rocks.
Summer comes next because it is warm and, as a person who is perpetually cold, I am a fan of warm. I particularly love the warm rain. Plus, at least here in Michigan, the world is generally still green (unlike the lovely brown grass I had Texas). Were it not for spring, summer would be my favorite. In fact, I prefer warm so much, I made Phil promise not to move me to snow unless he really felt called to the job (and true to his word, even though he moved me to snow, he really is in the right place. But I digress...)
Fall is third. Although fall is arguably similar to spring (it even has its own candy holiday), I can barely rank it above winter. Fall is all about the colors of the world leaving and winter lasts so long it feels like they will never reappear. Fall makes me depressed just thinking it. I think this is mainly because I see it only as the portent of winter. Bad by association, I guess. Still, I do love the leaves changing colors, and it does often involve more rain. In fact, seeing the colorful leaves against the gray rainy sky is probably what redeems fall for me.
Winter is, has been, and will likely always be last. I don't care how many paid holidays it has, or how good the presents are, winter will never make it out of 4th place. I dread winter and count the days until spring. The only time I ever like snow is when it's coating everything, still pristine and white, and I don't have to be anywhere near it. If I can look at it through my window and not have to leave my house, then fine. Just make sure I have plenty of cocoa and books; warm, fuzzy socks; and my down comforter to wrap up in. But if I have to venture out into it, whether walking, driving, etc. I get frumpy and angry and all kinds of bad attitude. No thank you. And, since winter up here has asserted itself all over what are rightfully months belonging to fall and spring, it only exacerbates the dislike I have.
So, imagine my surprise when I discovered I was looking forward to fall this year. Sure, there's the obvious--my upcoming baby's birthday. But that wasn't it. I was actually looking forward to fall weather. This is unusual behavior indeed. After all, until this year, as far as I was concerned, anything below 70 degrees was cold. Period. So, the fact that it was 39 degrees this morning and I said nary a word, but went to work without a coat on, resulted in Phil making sure I wasn't a pod person. No, it turns out, I'm just a pregnant lady trying to stay cool.
I have actually never been more thankful to live in the North, where the summer temps that I usually found lacking became reasonably bearable. I have discovered that fall is a great season, at least this year, because it is perfect pregnant lady weather--highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Heaven! I know it's all hormonal and pregnancy-based, but given that I've spent a fair amount of time discussing the things I have suffered through with my pregnancy, I wanted to make sure to point out that I have found a few joys. And not being cold all the time is one of those. So, here's to hormones finally making me comfortably warm in places that are over-air-conditioned as well as the cool, fall outdoors.
And one final note: Although I doubt that this newfound love affair with cooler weather will last beyond the birth of my daughter (at least until either another pregnancy or menopause), I would like to thank her for timing her arrival so that my maternity leave falls during what is generally the snowiest part of the year. It is very thoughtful of her to keep me from having to drive to work in all the yucky weather. :)
Spring is best, hands down. It has my birthday (presents and candy), Easter (bunnies and candy), my favorite flowers (iris), my favorite weather (rain), and the green comes back! Plus, given how long winter lasts around here, I am always more than ready for the green to return. It can't come back soon enough. Spring is rebirth. It's cute baby animals, fewer layers of clothes, and warmer weather. Spring rocks.
Summer comes next because it is warm and, as a person who is perpetually cold, I am a fan of warm. I particularly love the warm rain. Plus, at least here in Michigan, the world is generally still green (unlike the lovely brown grass I had Texas). Were it not for spring, summer would be my favorite. In fact, I prefer warm so much, I made Phil promise not to move me to snow unless he really felt called to the job (and true to his word, even though he moved me to snow, he really is in the right place. But I digress...)
Fall is third. Although fall is arguably similar to spring (it even has its own candy holiday), I can barely rank it above winter. Fall is all about the colors of the world leaving and winter lasts so long it feels like they will never reappear. Fall makes me depressed just thinking it. I think this is mainly because I see it only as the portent of winter. Bad by association, I guess. Still, I do love the leaves changing colors, and it does often involve more rain. In fact, seeing the colorful leaves against the gray rainy sky is probably what redeems fall for me.
Winter is, has been, and will likely always be last. I don't care how many paid holidays it has, or how good the presents are, winter will never make it out of 4th place. I dread winter and count the days until spring. The only time I ever like snow is when it's coating everything, still pristine and white, and I don't have to be anywhere near it. If I can look at it through my window and not have to leave my house, then fine. Just make sure I have plenty of cocoa and books; warm, fuzzy socks; and my down comforter to wrap up in. But if I have to venture out into it, whether walking, driving, etc. I get frumpy and angry and all kinds of bad attitude. No thank you. And, since winter up here has asserted itself all over what are rightfully months belonging to fall and spring, it only exacerbates the dislike I have.
So, imagine my surprise when I discovered I was looking forward to fall this year. Sure, there's the obvious--my upcoming baby's birthday. But that wasn't it. I was actually looking forward to fall weather. This is unusual behavior indeed. After all, until this year, as far as I was concerned, anything below 70 degrees was cold. Period. So, the fact that it was 39 degrees this morning and I said nary a word, but went to work without a coat on, resulted in Phil making sure I wasn't a pod person. No, it turns out, I'm just a pregnant lady trying to stay cool.
I have actually never been more thankful to live in the North, where the summer temps that I usually found lacking became reasonably bearable. I have discovered that fall is a great season, at least this year, because it is perfect pregnant lady weather--highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Heaven! I know it's all hormonal and pregnancy-based, but given that I've spent a fair amount of time discussing the things I have suffered through with my pregnancy, I wanted to make sure to point out that I have found a few joys. And not being cold all the time is one of those. So, here's to hormones finally making me comfortably warm in places that are over-air-conditioned as well as the cool, fall outdoors.
And one final note: Although I doubt that this newfound love affair with cooler weather will last beyond the birth of my daughter (at least until either another pregnancy or menopause), I would like to thank her for timing her arrival so that my maternity leave falls during what is generally the snowiest part of the year. It is very thoughtful of her to keep me from having to drive to work in all the yucky weather. :)
9.26.2010
The Ultimate Frustration
It's been a rough few weeks for me with this whole gestational diabetes thing. Initially, it seemed like it might be alright. After all, all of my numbers responded well, except for the morning fasting number. But, the dietitian had said that was the most difficult one to get in order, so I was frustrated, but I still felt properly motivated by the proper response of the after-meal numbers.
Then came the day I almost met the fasting number. I need to be below 95 and I got a 96. I was ecstatic! Then came my after-breakfast number. 121. What?! I eat the same breakfast everyday. How could that number suddenly be outside the acceptable range (100-120)? Worse, it also managed to throw off my numbers most of the day. So, after running high all day, my fasting number the next day was high again--but the others cooperated. Then, I discovered that lunch is almost always below my range. I get in the 90s. So, I started eating more carbs at lunch. I got as high as like 80 carbs (I'm only supposed to have 60) and was still getting around 109. Weird, but everything else (except the fasting number) seemed fine, so I just added more fruit to my lunches. I also discovered that not all carbs are created equal--and I'm not just talking about the junk food kind. I could eat 40 carbs for a late-night snack if I ate pretzels with peanut butter and get great morning numbers, but have only 30 carbs of ice cream and get much higher numbers. Turns out that milk and fruit sugars hit me harder than the others and my blood sugar just doesn't recover the same way.
So anyway, I think I've finally hit a good groove with getting all my numbers but my fasting one within range. About a week later, I again achieved the magic 96. As before, I ate the exact same breakfast I had eaten for the previous 2 weeks. Breakfast number--164! I didn't even get a number that high the morning I had eaten 3 McDonald's breakfast burritos and a 32oz Sweet Tea! At this point, I was ready to go out and get myself a nice big meal from McDonald's and chuck the whole plan. If the numbers refuse to have any correlation to what I'm eating, what is the point. Well, the point is that I would be hurting both myself and my daughter. But that didn't really stop the frustration.
See, I am almost entirely motivated by results. If I work my tail off and get nowhere, I don't see the point in working that hard anymore. With my willpower failing and my frustration at an all time high, I called the dietitian. I told her my problem and she reiterated that morning numbers are the most difficult to get into line. I told her I understood that, but what I didn't understand was why the same breakfast gave me such wildly different numbers, especially when I would get so close to the fasting number, and yet could carbo-load at lunch with no consequences. She suggested trying to eat a few more carbs on those mornings when my number was lower, counter-intuitively. She suggested maybe my body thought the number was too low and was pumping out sugar to compensate, thus raising it too high. I have not had the opportunity to try this theory out yet--hard enough to find that magic 96 in the first place--but I plan to try it when I do.
The best thing she said to me, however, was that this sometimes happens and that she understood how extremely frustrating it was for me. Turns out that there isn't necessarily a one-to-one correlation between what you eat and what your blood sugar is. Eating the same thing at the same time every day can give you wildly different results. She also indicated that as my daughter grows, I'll need more and more insulin, meaning that my numbers may get progressively worse without my doing anything different--I'm just getting more resistant. Frustrating, but nothing I can do anything about, except keep doing my best to follow the rules. I'll see the doctor later this week to go over my numbers and see what they think about how I'm doing. I'm hopeful that they'll tell me my numbers are close enough. If not, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Then came the day I almost met the fasting number. I need to be below 95 and I got a 96. I was ecstatic! Then came my after-breakfast number. 121. What?! I eat the same breakfast everyday. How could that number suddenly be outside the acceptable range (100-120)? Worse, it also managed to throw off my numbers most of the day. So, after running high all day, my fasting number the next day was high again--but the others cooperated. Then, I discovered that lunch is almost always below my range. I get in the 90s. So, I started eating more carbs at lunch. I got as high as like 80 carbs (I'm only supposed to have 60) and was still getting around 109. Weird, but everything else (except the fasting number) seemed fine, so I just added more fruit to my lunches. I also discovered that not all carbs are created equal--and I'm not just talking about the junk food kind. I could eat 40 carbs for a late-night snack if I ate pretzels with peanut butter and get great morning numbers, but have only 30 carbs of ice cream and get much higher numbers. Turns out that milk and fruit sugars hit me harder than the others and my blood sugar just doesn't recover the same way.
So anyway, I think I've finally hit a good groove with getting all my numbers but my fasting one within range. About a week later, I again achieved the magic 96. As before, I ate the exact same breakfast I had eaten for the previous 2 weeks. Breakfast number--164! I didn't even get a number that high the morning I had eaten 3 McDonald's breakfast burritos and a 32oz Sweet Tea! At this point, I was ready to go out and get myself a nice big meal from McDonald's and chuck the whole plan. If the numbers refuse to have any correlation to what I'm eating, what is the point. Well, the point is that I would be hurting both myself and my daughter. But that didn't really stop the frustration.
See, I am almost entirely motivated by results. If I work my tail off and get nowhere, I don't see the point in working that hard anymore. With my willpower failing and my frustration at an all time high, I called the dietitian. I told her my problem and she reiterated that morning numbers are the most difficult to get into line. I told her I understood that, but what I didn't understand was why the same breakfast gave me such wildly different numbers, especially when I would get so close to the fasting number, and yet could carbo-load at lunch with no consequences. She suggested trying to eat a few more carbs on those mornings when my number was lower, counter-intuitively. She suggested maybe my body thought the number was too low and was pumping out sugar to compensate, thus raising it too high. I have not had the opportunity to try this theory out yet--hard enough to find that magic 96 in the first place--but I plan to try it when I do.
The best thing she said to me, however, was that this sometimes happens and that she understood how extremely frustrating it was for me. Turns out that there isn't necessarily a one-to-one correlation between what you eat and what your blood sugar is. Eating the same thing at the same time every day can give you wildly different results. She also indicated that as my daughter grows, I'll need more and more insulin, meaning that my numbers may get progressively worse without my doing anything different--I'm just getting more resistant. Frustrating, but nothing I can do anything about, except keep doing my best to follow the rules. I'll see the doctor later this week to go over my numbers and see what they think about how I'm doing. I'm hopeful that they'll tell me my numbers are close enough. If not, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
9.15.2010
Needles Redux
As some of you know, I was recently diagnosed with gestational diabetes. For the woman whose diet is pretty much all carbs, this diagnosis turned my world upside down. Whether it's my love affair with all things dairy, my favorite vegetables (sweet potatoes, carrots, corn, peas, beans), my sweet tooth, or the fact that I love breaded meat, my whole diet is pretty much shot. Worse, I have to poke myself 4 times a day. I honestly thought that once the IVF was over, my needle days were done. Apparently not.
Ever since the diagnosis, I have been feeling frustrated and anxious. I saw the doctor today about unrelated matters, and asked her whether I had done something to cause this. She reassured me that my eating habits were not to blame. I didn't do anything wrong. This just happens sometimes. I keep reminding myself of this, but I'm still feeling responsible and internally beating myself up because I feel that I have put my daughter at risk. However, I do recognize that beating myself up about it won't change anything, so while I am working on remembering that this is "just one of those things," I am also working on altering my diet as instructed.
So, yeah, about that diet-altering stuff. I was initially under the impression that this would not be terribly difficult. After all, only 2 of my 4 numbers during the test had been elevated and they weren't that high. I attended a class at the diabetes clinic on eating where they informed me that even though some things had carbs, I did not have to count them in my carb totals. Cashews, for example, were a free food. Carrots and tomatoes could also be eaten as often as I wanted, as could cheese. Anything that had fiber numbers in the carb count I could subtract out. Let's say a slice of bread has 9 carbs, but 2 g of fiber, I could count the bread as 7 carbs in my meal total. Hooray!, I thought to myself. I might be able to manage this after all.
Even so, I knew I had to make sacrifices. I gave up my Oreos and Cheez-its, french fries, and chips. I also gave up my sweet tea(!), soda, lemonade, and anything that wasn't water, V8, or unsweetened, decaf iced tea. Since my carbs were limited, I really wanted to make them count. The only junk food I permitted to remain was ice cream, as I could have a single scoop for my evening snack, as both a treat and a serving of dairy. Win-win!
I knew breakfast would be hard. It was not only my biggest carb meal of the day and now had to be the smallest, but it was pretty much just that--all carbs. I had to throw out everything I usually ate--a bagel, coming in at a whopping 50 carbs, before the cream cheese and jelly (I'm only allowed 45 at most for breakfast); breakfast cereal (all carbs); and orange juice (this is, after all, what is given to those suffering from hypoglycemia). No problem, I meandered through my freezer and located breakfast sandwiches that came in at a lowly 26 carbs. My breakfast range is 30-45, so I was clearly under, but I was determined to see a good number, particularly since I'd only managed 1 good number so far. I was left VERY hungry, as one small breakfast sandwich does not a meal make (I used to eat at least two), but having not been able to go to the store yet had made finding things in the house to eat rather difficult, and eating out was way worse.
So, I had my little sandwich and waited the requisite 2 hours before testing. Got a 119--cutoff is 120. Crap. I ate less than the minimum amount of carbs and was barely in the range. Coming after two consecutive high readings, I was not happy. Still, I was starving and it was time for a snack. I elected to have a V8, coming in at a whopping 15 carbs (snacks are 15-30). Although technically V8 is a "free" food, I elected to go ahead and count it in an effort to keep my numbers in line. Lunch time came. Range for lunch is 45-60. The previous day I had eaten 56 carbs and my lunch number was 100. Feeling pretty good about lunch, I ventured again into the 56 range. Lunch number--134! Crap part deux.
I had Greek yogurt for my next snack (19 carbs) to get some dairy and protein in, but was still feeling peckish, so I dipped into my bowl of cashews--a free food, so this should be fine, right? Wrong! As I am refilling the bowl, the bag informs me that each serving has 9 carbs. Aragh! So, since free foods aren't really carb free, and given that I can barely keep my numbers in line when I'm eating below the low end of the carb range, I'm not sure there's really such a thing as a free food--except maybe water. Harrumph.
It's now dinnertime. With the exception of my broccoli (which, although technically free, does, in fact, have carbs as my Google-Fu has just informed me), I managed to eek out a dinner with dairy, veggies, meat (chicken and fish), and bread that came in at 50 carbs (although I probably have to count it as 59 with the broccoli). Now, I must wait two hours and see what happens. Hopefully, my numbers will be in range, although with the cashew debacle from snack time, who knows what will happen. I will eat my snack tonight and then tomorrow will eat the minimum carb at each meal, making sure to count every carb. I will not count anything as "free" and will not subtract out dietary fiber from the count. I am hopeful that by doing so, I will get my numbers under control. If not, I have the sinking suspicion that I will soon be on insulin. More needles. Oh, joy. To this, I have but one reply. L'Oreal.*
*See previous post for reference.
Ever since the diagnosis, I have been feeling frustrated and anxious. I saw the doctor today about unrelated matters, and asked her whether I had done something to cause this. She reassured me that my eating habits were not to blame. I didn't do anything wrong. This just happens sometimes. I keep reminding myself of this, but I'm still feeling responsible and internally beating myself up because I feel that I have put my daughter at risk. However, I do recognize that beating myself up about it won't change anything, so while I am working on remembering that this is "just one of those things," I am also working on altering my diet as instructed.
So, yeah, about that diet-altering stuff. I was initially under the impression that this would not be terribly difficult. After all, only 2 of my 4 numbers during the test had been elevated and they weren't that high. I attended a class at the diabetes clinic on eating where they informed me that even though some things had carbs, I did not have to count them in my carb totals. Cashews, for example, were a free food. Carrots and tomatoes could also be eaten as often as I wanted, as could cheese. Anything that had fiber numbers in the carb count I could subtract out. Let's say a slice of bread has 9 carbs, but 2 g of fiber, I could count the bread as 7 carbs in my meal total. Hooray!, I thought to myself. I might be able to manage this after all.
Even so, I knew I had to make sacrifices. I gave up my Oreos and Cheez-its, french fries, and chips. I also gave up my sweet tea(!), soda, lemonade, and anything that wasn't water, V8, or unsweetened, decaf iced tea. Since my carbs were limited, I really wanted to make them count. The only junk food I permitted to remain was ice cream, as I could have a single scoop for my evening snack, as both a treat and a serving of dairy. Win-win!
I knew breakfast would be hard. It was not only my biggest carb meal of the day and now had to be the smallest, but it was pretty much just that--all carbs. I had to throw out everything I usually ate--a bagel, coming in at a whopping 50 carbs, before the cream cheese and jelly (I'm only allowed 45 at most for breakfast); breakfast cereal (all carbs); and orange juice (this is, after all, what is given to those suffering from hypoglycemia). No problem, I meandered through my freezer and located breakfast sandwiches that came in at a lowly 26 carbs. My breakfast range is 30-45, so I was clearly under, but I was determined to see a good number, particularly since I'd only managed 1 good number so far. I was left VERY hungry, as one small breakfast sandwich does not a meal make (I used to eat at least two), but having not been able to go to the store yet had made finding things in the house to eat rather difficult, and eating out was way worse.
So, I had my little sandwich and waited the requisite 2 hours before testing. Got a 119--cutoff is 120. Crap. I ate less than the minimum amount of carbs and was barely in the range. Coming after two consecutive high readings, I was not happy. Still, I was starving and it was time for a snack. I elected to have a V8, coming in at a whopping 15 carbs (snacks are 15-30). Although technically V8 is a "free" food, I elected to go ahead and count it in an effort to keep my numbers in line. Lunch time came. Range for lunch is 45-60. The previous day I had eaten 56 carbs and my lunch number was 100. Feeling pretty good about lunch, I ventured again into the 56 range. Lunch number--134! Crap part deux.
I had Greek yogurt for my next snack (19 carbs) to get some dairy and protein in, but was still feeling peckish, so I dipped into my bowl of cashews--a free food, so this should be fine, right? Wrong! As I am refilling the bowl, the bag informs me that each serving has 9 carbs. Aragh! So, since free foods aren't really carb free, and given that I can barely keep my numbers in line when I'm eating below the low end of the carb range, I'm not sure there's really such a thing as a free food--except maybe water. Harrumph.
It's now dinnertime. With the exception of my broccoli (which, although technically free, does, in fact, have carbs as my Google-Fu has just informed me), I managed to eek out a dinner with dairy, veggies, meat (chicken and fish), and bread that came in at 50 carbs (although I probably have to count it as 59 with the broccoli). Now, I must wait two hours and see what happens. Hopefully, my numbers will be in range, although with the cashew debacle from snack time, who knows what will happen. I will eat my snack tonight and then tomorrow will eat the minimum carb at each meal, making sure to count every carb. I will not count anything as "free" and will not subtract out dietary fiber from the count. I am hopeful that by doing so, I will get my numbers under control. If not, I have the sinking suspicion that I will soon be on insulin. More needles. Oh, joy. To this, I have but one reply. L'Oreal.*
*See previous post for reference.
9.12.2010
Strong Women
As my pregnancy has progressed and my little girl gets more active, I have become much more attached and bonded with her. It has also helped me understand things that previously frustrated me about adoption.
Let me take a few steps back. Simply put, pregnancy is natural. That does not, however, equate with easy. It is hard on the body. Even the easiest pregnancy takes its toll. Indeed, I have taken to calling my little one "L'Oreal" anytime I am experiencing pregnancy-related hardship (because she's worth it). And, because I had so much difficulty getting pregnant, I often think that whatever I must endure for 9 months will surely be worth it. I found it interesting, then, that it was precisely because I had to work so hard and endure so much to become pregnant, that I suddenly understood why women would back out of the adoption process.
When Phil and I were researching our options once we were told that medical intervention would be necessary for us to have biological children, we considered adoption. The research indicated that the cost would be roughly the same for adoption or IVF and neither was a guaranteed success. Although there were unknowns and financial risks involved in either decision, what frustrated me most about adoption was that I was sinking a lot of money into a woman who could change her mind, leaving me in debt and without a child. Although cognitively, I understood that IVF rendered a similar risk, the difference was that if IVF didn't work, it was my body or medicine that let me down, not the whims of another person. I found myself frustrated and angry at all the stories of women who would offer their children up for adoption, only to change their minds at the last minute, leaving the prospective adoptive parents mourning the loss of another child. How could they do that? They made an agreement--they ought to be held to the agreement.
Well, I get it now. At least, I think I do. The emotional pull created by feeling the baby kicking is indescribable. I would imagine that knowing cognitively that giving up the baby is the right thing to do has little to no power over the emotional pull of wanting to see, hold, nurture, or raise the baby. Having this new understanding has led me to marvel at the birth mothers who have been able to go through with handing their children over for others to raise. I finally have some small insight into just how difficult that must be. These are very strong women, indeed.
My amazement is even greater for those women who become pregnant from rape or incest and choose to have the children--whether keeping them or giving them up for adoption. This amazes me in large part because every time I feel my daughter kick, I am reminded of how much I want her and the experiences I had that brought me to this point. How would I feel if the experience that created her had been violent or horrific? My mind cannot even fathom what feeling the baby kick under those circumstances must feel like. Women who can carry these children must be strong indeed.
And so I want to offer thanks to these women, and honor them for their sacrifice--giving of themselves, their time, their emotions, and their bodies, to birth these unintended children. I am truly amazed and awed at the level of strength they must have. And I am grateful that my pregnancy has allowed me the opportunity to recognize their sacrifices.
Let me take a few steps back. Simply put, pregnancy is natural. That does not, however, equate with easy. It is hard on the body. Even the easiest pregnancy takes its toll. Indeed, I have taken to calling my little one "L'Oreal" anytime I am experiencing pregnancy-related hardship (because she's worth it). And, because I had so much difficulty getting pregnant, I often think that whatever I must endure for 9 months will surely be worth it. I found it interesting, then, that it was precisely because I had to work so hard and endure so much to become pregnant, that I suddenly understood why women would back out of the adoption process.
When Phil and I were researching our options once we were told that medical intervention would be necessary for us to have biological children, we considered adoption. The research indicated that the cost would be roughly the same for adoption or IVF and neither was a guaranteed success. Although there were unknowns and financial risks involved in either decision, what frustrated me most about adoption was that I was sinking a lot of money into a woman who could change her mind, leaving me in debt and without a child. Although cognitively, I understood that IVF rendered a similar risk, the difference was that if IVF didn't work, it was my body or medicine that let me down, not the whims of another person. I found myself frustrated and angry at all the stories of women who would offer their children up for adoption, only to change their minds at the last minute, leaving the prospective adoptive parents mourning the loss of another child. How could they do that? They made an agreement--they ought to be held to the agreement.
Well, I get it now. At least, I think I do. The emotional pull created by feeling the baby kicking is indescribable. I would imagine that knowing cognitively that giving up the baby is the right thing to do has little to no power over the emotional pull of wanting to see, hold, nurture, or raise the baby. Having this new understanding has led me to marvel at the birth mothers who have been able to go through with handing their children over for others to raise. I finally have some small insight into just how difficult that must be. These are very strong women, indeed.
My amazement is even greater for those women who become pregnant from rape or incest and choose to have the children--whether keeping them or giving them up for adoption. This amazes me in large part because every time I feel my daughter kick, I am reminded of how much I want her and the experiences I had that brought me to this point. How would I feel if the experience that created her had been violent or horrific? My mind cannot even fathom what feeling the baby kick under those circumstances must feel like. Women who can carry these children must be strong indeed.
And so I want to offer thanks to these women, and honor them for their sacrifice--giving of themselves, their time, their emotions, and their bodies, to birth these unintended children. I am truly amazed and awed at the level of strength they must have. And I am grateful that my pregnancy has allowed me the opportunity to recognize their sacrifices.
8.30.2010
Progress Report
Today we went to the doctor for an ultrasound to check both baby's growth as well as placenta placement. The growth checks are because we used IVF. Studies have shown that IVF babies are more likely to have low birth weight, so they check growth progress. Our little girl is now 2 lbs, 15 ozs--she's in the 76th percentile and measuring about a week ahead of schedule. She had the hiccups during the ultrasound--I couldn't feel them, but it was cute to watch.
There was mixed news on the placenta front. The good news was that it had moved up. Last time it was partial-previa, indicating it was partially covering the cervix. Now, it is 1 cm away, which classifies it as "low lying." They will check me again in 6 weeks to see if it's moved anymore. The goal is to have it at least 2 cm away. If it reaches that point, then they will let me try natural childbirth rather than scheduling a c-section. So, yea for movement, but we need more.
On the preparation front, things are going smoothly. We started prenatal classes and have scheduled a hospital visit. This coming week we will finish cleaning out the nursery and get it painted. Then we will start moving things into the room, like the bookcase and the rocking chair. Also arriving this week are a crib and changing table, courtesy of Phil's parents. Thanks to hand-me-downs, we are totally set on clothes and bibs. Between the huge bag of clothes from my cousin and the three tubs of clothes from Phil's sister, we are more than set. We also got a huge tubs of books. I am so grateful for everyone's generosity.
I waffle between wanting to have my daughter here right now and knowing that it is much better for her to continue to bake. But, all in all, things are going well and feeling more real.
There was mixed news on the placenta front. The good news was that it had moved up. Last time it was partial-previa, indicating it was partially covering the cervix. Now, it is 1 cm away, which classifies it as "low lying." They will check me again in 6 weeks to see if it's moved anymore. The goal is to have it at least 2 cm away. If it reaches that point, then they will let me try natural childbirth rather than scheduling a c-section. So, yea for movement, but we need more.
On the preparation front, things are going smoothly. We started prenatal classes and have scheduled a hospital visit. This coming week we will finish cleaning out the nursery and get it painted. Then we will start moving things into the room, like the bookcase and the rocking chair. Also arriving this week are a crib and changing table, courtesy of Phil's parents. Thanks to hand-me-downs, we are totally set on clothes and bibs. Between the huge bag of clothes from my cousin and the three tubs of clothes from Phil's sister, we are more than set. We also got a huge tubs of books. I am so grateful for everyone's generosity.
I waffle between wanting to have my daughter here right now and knowing that it is much better for her to continue to bake. But, all in all, things are going well and feeling more real.
8.13.2010
Getting to Plan
So, as many of you know, I like to plan. Ok, I love to plan. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that there's something called a birth plan. This was about the most exciting thing I had heard. It was not only something I could do while waiting for the weeks to pass by, but I could plan! I knew that my week 32 visit would include a discussion with my nurse practitioner to go over my "plan" and put it in my chart, so I wanted to be prepared. I did what I imagine most people do--I Googled "birth plan." Yowzers, are there lots of results. Ultimately, I found what I thought was a good site and began to look around. They had this nice checklist of things--do you want an epidural (yes), an episotomy (no), special music (how should I know), etc. I didn't quite understand all the options, so I didn't make an "official" plan at that point, but I certainly thought I was well on my way. I began to feel slightly smug--Look at me, I am informed and I have a plan. Then, my friend posted a link to an article about birth plans. Imagine my surprise when the first tidbit of advice was:
1) It is better to call this document "birth preferences," rather than a "birth plan," because it helps us all remember that birth pretty much happens the way it will and there's not much you can do about it (a VERY important point for us control freaks). The point is really to have done the research ahead of time, so that it doesn't all have to be explained to you while you are in pain and/or on drugs.
2) You are better off selecting a practitioner that already automatically does 90% of the things you want. Spending more time researching and selecting the right practitioner for you will provide better results than a detailed birth plan, because you won't be fighting an uphill battle. It also means that you can include fewer things in the plan, because they are already SOP for your provider.
3) Make it a single page and only include the most important things. To me, I inferred that this also meant, if you don't really have a preference, don't include it.
4) Make it personal. Above all else, don't just copy someone else's plan and make sure you know exactly what it means to have made the selections you have made.
Armed with this information, I did what I do best. Research! I went to lots of sites and discovered that there are lots of things I don't really care about one way or the other. There are other things, however, that I didn't even know I had a choice about, but quickly discovered I had a preference for or against. Putting this research in context with viewing various sample plans, I was able to craft one that I think really suits me. Phil and I then discussed and adjusted it until we understood why we had made the choices we made and were in agreement (another important point). I am still open to persuasion on some of these issues and we may change our minds about some things as time goes by, or discover additional information we didn't have before, but at least we have something to take to the doctor's visit to start the conversation. Always a good thing in my book.
At this point, I feel more in control and more informed. Both good things. But I think the most important lesson from all of this is, don't plan. The truth is, my daughter will arrive when she is good and ready, and I have no control over that. I also can't control whether I will be able to birth naturally or need a C-section. The only thing I can control is how knowledgeable I am about my choices so that when the time comes, I make them with informed consent. It's not much, but for a control freak/planner like me, I'll take what I can get. Bring on the knowledge!
1) A birth plan does not replace the need for birth preparation.Ack! I thought to myself. This is precisely what I have done. As I continued to read the article, I realized that I was doing precisely the wrong things. I wasn't exactly researching my options, which is really the point behind birth plans. I found a link at the end of the article to a blog called Nursing Birth. It's written by a labor and delivery nurse, and she had two great posts about birth plans: Writing your birth plan and Top 10 Dos. I found her tips extremely instructive. She also provided links to other great sites with sample birth plans. Ultimately, I distilled all the information from various sources down into four main points:Going to an online “birth plan mill” and checking off a bunch of boxes (“yes” to the epidural! “no” to the episiotomy!) is not the same as preparing for birth.
1) It is better to call this document "birth preferences," rather than a "birth plan," because it helps us all remember that birth pretty much happens the way it will and there's not much you can do about it (a VERY important point for us control freaks). The point is really to have done the research ahead of time, so that it doesn't all have to be explained to you while you are in pain and/or on drugs.
2) You are better off selecting a practitioner that already automatically does 90% of the things you want. Spending more time researching and selecting the right practitioner for you will provide better results than a detailed birth plan, because you won't be fighting an uphill battle. It also means that you can include fewer things in the plan, because they are already SOP for your provider.
3) Make it a single page and only include the most important things. To me, I inferred that this also meant, if you don't really have a preference, don't include it.
4) Make it personal. Above all else, don't just copy someone else's plan and make sure you know exactly what it means to have made the selections you have made.
Armed with this information, I did what I do best. Research! I went to lots of sites and discovered that there are lots of things I don't really care about one way or the other. There are other things, however, that I didn't even know I had a choice about, but quickly discovered I had a preference for or against. Putting this research in context with viewing various sample plans, I was able to craft one that I think really suits me. Phil and I then discussed and adjusted it until we understood why we had made the choices we made and were in agreement (another important point). I am still open to persuasion on some of these issues and we may change our minds about some things as time goes by, or discover additional information we didn't have before, but at least we have something to take to the doctor's visit to start the conversation. Always a good thing in my book.
At this point, I feel more in control and more informed. Both good things. But I think the most important lesson from all of this is, don't plan. The truth is, my daughter will arrive when she is good and ready, and I have no control over that. I also can't control whether I will be able to birth naturally or need a C-section. The only thing I can control is how knowledgeable I am about my choices so that when the time comes, I make them with informed consent. It's not much, but for a control freak/planner like me, I'll take what I can get. Bring on the knowledge!
8.05.2010
Just for Kicks
Well, my daughter has finally made her presence known. Not only can I feel her move, but I can see her kick. It was crazy the first time it happened. I was resting my hands on my stomach when, suddenly, one of them jumped. I looked down and, sure enough, my stomach was moving by itself. Crazy! Phil managed to experience one of these kicks as well--which is good, because ever since then, she's been messing with him. She'll be kicking me pretty good, but the minute he puts his hand on my belly to feel, she stops. She's already an independent-minded little bugger. Wonder where she gets that from? :)
We've also reached a new milestone this week--viability. If born now, she has at least a 40% chance of survival. That, to me, is amazing. Even so, it is my fervent hope that she stays in the oven to bake a while longer. It's strange. Some days, November can't get here fast enough. Other days, I can't believe it's August and wonder where the time went.
I was talking with a friend at lunch today, and was surprised to realize it hasn't even been a year since I was told I couldn't have biological kids without fertility treatments. In fact, my daughter is due roughly a year from our first visit to the fertility center. Looking back on what I've been through this past year, I'm amazed. Not only at myself and what I've accomplished in terms of personal growth (and I don't just mean my stomach), but amazed at how everything lined up exactly right. From finding an amazing, top 5% fertility center fairly nearby, finding a way to get a loan, our IVF cycle being moved up so I'm not due at Christmas, and being successful on the first try. It seems clear with hindsight that this was meant to be, but having read so many stories of women who undergo 4 or more cycles unsuccessfully, I remember being so afraid. I feel extremely blessed that I was not only successful, but on the first try. I am also grateful for having had a remarkably easy and uneventful pregnancy thus far. My life is truly full of blessings. These days, all it takes is a little kick to remind me.
We've also reached a new milestone this week--viability. If born now, she has at least a 40% chance of survival. That, to me, is amazing. Even so, it is my fervent hope that she stays in the oven to bake a while longer. It's strange. Some days, November can't get here fast enough. Other days, I can't believe it's August and wonder where the time went.
I was talking with a friend at lunch today, and was surprised to realize it hasn't even been a year since I was told I couldn't have biological kids without fertility treatments. In fact, my daughter is due roughly a year from our first visit to the fertility center. Looking back on what I've been through this past year, I'm amazed. Not only at myself and what I've accomplished in terms of personal growth (and I don't just mean my stomach), but amazed at how everything lined up exactly right. From finding an amazing, top 5% fertility center fairly nearby, finding a way to get a loan, our IVF cycle being moved up so I'm not due at Christmas, and being successful on the first try. It seems clear with hindsight that this was meant to be, but having read so many stories of women who undergo 4 or more cycles unsuccessfully, I remember being so afraid. I feel extremely blessed that I was not only successful, but on the first try. I am also grateful for having had a remarkably easy and uneventful pregnancy thus far. My life is truly full of blessings. These days, all it takes is a little kick to remind me.
7.10.2010
Waiting For a Message
Tuesday was ultrasound day. It was absolutely amazing to see my daughter flipping around, sucking her finger, yawning, and trying to hide her face while the u/s tech tried to get a good picture. She's 12 oz, putting her in the 54%. I was initially concerned she wasn't bigger, until I remembered she has to come out--average is good! They said she had a small nose and Phil and I joked that the fertility center must have given us the wrong embryo because neither of us has genes for that. We'll have to wait and see if she comes with curly, red hair.
They were also able to explain why I hadn't felt her move yet--my placenta is anterior, meaning it attached to the front of the uterus, so it acts as a cushion keeping me from feeling her kicks and turns. They said I should feel something in a few more weeks. My doctor also advised that I have placenta previa, meaning it's attached down low, very close to the cervix. At this point, it's nothing to worry about because 1 in 3 pregnancies experiences this at 20 weeks. However, if it doesn't "move up" as my uterus grows, then I may have to have a c-section. Luckily, less than 1% of pregnancies still have this problem at delivery, so I'm feeling very positive. I'm scheduled for another ultrasound in 8 weeks to see if it's moving.
For those of you keeping track, the general message I received was that everything was fine and we'd just have to wait and see how things go. If you recall, I'm not a patient person. To say that waiting is not my forte is being far too kind. Still, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm roughly half done--with this part anyway; there are at least 18 more years to consider. I guess the take home message is the same as it often is for me (funny how stubborn people keep getting the same message, as though we're actually supposed to learn it rather than ignore it). But I digress. The message is, take each day as it comes. Enjoy the moment. Tomorrow will be what it will, so make the most of today. The truth is, if I keep waiting for the next thing, I won't enjoy the current one. I should enjoy not feeling the baby, because at some point it will wake me up. Enjoy being pregnant, because soon the baby will be less portable and less quiet. Enjoy summer, because fall and winter aren't fall behind. Enjoy Saturday because Monday will soon be here. So, my goal is to actually do this. And I'm going to start by enjoying today.
They were also able to explain why I hadn't felt her move yet--my placenta is anterior, meaning it attached to the front of the uterus, so it acts as a cushion keeping me from feeling her kicks and turns. They said I should feel something in a few more weeks. My doctor also advised that I have placenta previa, meaning it's attached down low, very close to the cervix. At this point, it's nothing to worry about because 1 in 3 pregnancies experiences this at 20 weeks. However, if it doesn't "move up" as my uterus grows, then I may have to have a c-section. Luckily, less than 1% of pregnancies still have this problem at delivery, so I'm feeling very positive. I'm scheduled for another ultrasound in 8 weeks to see if it's moving.
For those of you keeping track, the general message I received was that everything was fine and we'd just have to wait and see how things go. If you recall, I'm not a patient person. To say that waiting is not my forte is being far too kind. Still, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm roughly half done--with this part anyway; there are at least 18 more years to consider. I guess the take home message is the same as it often is for me (funny how stubborn people keep getting the same message, as though we're actually supposed to learn it rather than ignore it). But I digress. The message is, take each day as it comes. Enjoy the moment. Tomorrow will be what it will, so make the most of today. The truth is, if I keep waiting for the next thing, I won't enjoy the current one. I should enjoy not feeling the baby, because at some point it will wake me up. Enjoy being pregnant, because soon the baby will be less portable and less quiet. Enjoy summer, because fall and winter aren't fall behind. Enjoy Saturday because Monday will soon be here. So, my goal is to actually do this. And I'm going to start by enjoying today.
6.26.2010
Parental Decision Making
Now that I'm almost half done, it's about time for the big day. Ok, not *the* big day, but the next closest thing--the 20 week ultrasound. This is the one where they will tell you, presumably only if you want to know, if you're having a boy or a girl. Over the last month or two, we have been asked lots of questions about this. Are we going to peek? Will we share what we find out? Along similar lines are questions such as, have we picked names? and will we share them? These are standard questions and I have no problem with people asking. What is amusing is the responses to the answers.
Are you going to look? A "yes" answer meets with lots of head nods and statements about excitement, but is also occasionally met with a barely concealed disappointment. Really? You're going to take the shortcut and look?! However, "no" answers breed, "are you crazy" or "suuuuuuurrrrrre" looks.
Are you telling? A "yes" answer generally provides happy faces, whiles a "no" gets you some heated and hated looks. You know and you're not sharing? How could you. It turns out that if you look, people feel entitled to know and can feel personally sinned against if you don't tell.
Have you picked names? Generally, a "yes" or "no" answer to this question only determines the follow-up questions. Yeses lead to questions about sharing. Noes lead to offers of help and suggestions.
Will you share them? This is a tricky question. Really. If you tell people what you've chosen, you can get vague stares or "how could you choose that" looks. People also feel it is their right to try and change your mind if they don't like what you've selected. There are also considerations for sharing with people on social networking sites (I have discovered that sharing one's children's names is generally frowned upon.) A "no," on the other hand, leads to even more trouble. People feel entitled to this information--after all, you have to tell them once the baby is born. Why not now? Some of them almost visibly bristle with indignation. Others will try and guess and hope your facial expressions give it away. Guessing? Really? Like there aren't more names on heaven* and earth to go through making it very unlikely that someone would ever pick correctly?
Ultimately, what I have realized about all of these questions is that they are my first opportunity for parental decision making. Selecting a name, more than any other thing I do with as a parent, is guaranteed to last the child's lifetime. In some cases, longer, like if they get passed down. Answers and actions taken in relation to the other questions are not only the first opportunity to set limits, but also my first chance to hold my ground in the face of opposition. No one is ever going to agree with all of my parenting decisions (although I like to hope that Phil and I will agree on most of them). Learning how to stand firm in my decision in the face of dissent, whether direct or passive, will help me when I have to explain to parents, teachers, friends, etc. some parenting choice I have made with which they disagree.
So, in the interest of disclosure, here are my answers to these questions:
Are we going to look? Yes. I don't think it ruins the surprise. It was still a surprise; I just opened my present sooner.
Are we going to tell? Yes. I have always hated when people tell me they know a secret but won't tell me. Either tell me the secret, or don't tell me you know one.
Have we picked names? Yes. Long before we got pregnant, actually. We picked early in the process, not realizing how long this journey would be.
Will we share them? Yes, but not here.
*I am restraining from sharing my personal opinion about the latest trend to name girls "Neveah"--heaven backwards.
Are you going to look? A "yes" answer meets with lots of head nods and statements about excitement, but is also occasionally met with a barely concealed disappointment. Really? You're going to take the shortcut and look?! However, "no" answers breed, "are you crazy" or "suuuuuuurrrrrre" looks.
Are you telling? A "yes" answer generally provides happy faces, whiles a "no" gets you some heated and hated looks. You know and you're not sharing? How could you. It turns out that if you look, people feel entitled to know and can feel personally sinned against if you don't tell.
Have you picked names? Generally, a "yes" or "no" answer to this question only determines the follow-up questions. Yeses lead to questions about sharing. Noes lead to offers of help and suggestions.
Will you share them? This is a tricky question. Really. If you tell people what you've chosen, you can get vague stares or "how could you choose that" looks. People also feel it is their right to try and change your mind if they don't like what you've selected. There are also considerations for sharing with people on social networking sites (I have discovered that sharing one's children's names is generally frowned upon.) A "no," on the other hand, leads to even more trouble. People feel entitled to this information--after all, you have to tell them once the baby is born. Why not now? Some of them almost visibly bristle with indignation. Others will try and guess and hope your facial expressions give it away. Guessing? Really? Like there aren't more names on heaven* and earth to go through making it very unlikely that someone would ever pick correctly?
Ultimately, what I have realized about all of these questions is that they are my first opportunity for parental decision making. Selecting a name, more than any other thing I do with as a parent, is guaranteed to last the child's lifetime. In some cases, longer, like if they get passed down. Answers and actions taken in relation to the other questions are not only the first opportunity to set limits, but also my first chance to hold my ground in the face of opposition. No one is ever going to agree with all of my parenting decisions (although I like to hope that Phil and I will agree on most of them). Learning how to stand firm in my decision in the face of dissent, whether direct or passive, will help me when I have to explain to parents, teachers, friends, etc. some parenting choice I have made with which they disagree.
So, in the interest of disclosure, here are my answers to these questions:
Are we going to look? Yes. I don't think it ruins the surprise. It was still a surprise; I just opened my present sooner.
Are we going to tell? Yes. I have always hated when people tell me they know a secret but won't tell me. Either tell me the secret, or don't tell me you know one.
Have we picked names? Yes. Long before we got pregnant, actually. We picked early in the process, not realizing how long this journey would be.
Will we share them? Yes, but not here.
*I am restraining from sharing my personal opinion about the latest trend to name girls "Neveah"--heaven backwards.
6.20.2010
Fathers Day 0.5 (beta)
It is Fathers Day.
This is the first year when Fathers Day applies to me, even though the title remains imminent for a few more months.
I am reminded of all the men, starting with dad, who have had a nurturing, challenging, important role in my life.
Some have said that parenthood is the most important job for which there is no owner's manual. While this whole parenting thing is more than just a little frightening, I have a lot of examples. Of course, everyone can serve as an example: some of how to, and some of how not to. I am especially thankful that I have so many good examples.
So to all the fathers out there, especially those by whose presence, example and persistence your children have been blessed, I thank you. To my own Dad, thanks, and sorry for all the messes.
Here's to you (and soon to us).
This is the first year when Fathers Day applies to me, even though the title remains imminent for a few more months.
I am reminded of all the men, starting with dad, who have had a nurturing, challenging, important role in my life.
Some have said that parenthood is the most important job for which there is no owner's manual. While this whole parenting thing is more than just a little frightening, I have a lot of examples. Of course, everyone can serve as an example: some of how to, and some of how not to. I am especially thankful that I have so many good examples.
So to all the fathers out there, especially those by whose presence, example and persistence your children have been blessed, I thank you. To my own Dad, thanks, and sorry for all the messes.
Here's to you (and soon to us).
5.17.2010
A Million Dollar Idea
So, having experienced the reactions of people to the Mrs.' pregnancy, I have an idea for t-shirts that would probably sell:
If you are helping to pay for college
you get to touch the belly without asking.
5.15.2010
Anniversary
Today is my anniversary. Phil and I like to joke that we are saving two other people a lifetime of misery. But the truth is, Phil is a very good match for me. We got engaged because Phil fed me. Really.
It started when we were dating; he wooed me with homemade cheesecake. After I graduated from college and moved to within 4 hours of Chicago (instead of 15!), I would spend many weekends driving up to visit him. One weekend I was scheduled to visit, I got home from work on Friday and I was tired. I didn't want to drive 4 hours, so I called Phil and told him I wasn't coming to visit. He was upset, but understood. I spent the next few hours trying to discuss with my 3 housemates (my brother, sister, and brother-in-law) what was for dinner. I would get no response. Knowing that if I went to Chicago, Phil would feed me, I called him up, told him I had changed my mind, and drove the four hours to see him. Yes, that's right, I drove four hours to be fed rather than cook for myself or go to a drive-thru. And I was right. When I got there, Phil fed me. I knew he was a keeper.
So, at some point that weekend, I proposed to Phil (I didn't think he was getting around to it soon enough). He swears to this day he was going to propose the following weekend, but we'll never know. Anyway, he said yes, but made a counter-proposal, on the off-chance that I was merely asking for information rather than actually asking to get married (Oh, you'll marry me? Good to know. Let me file this away for later). I agreed, we planned and had a wedding and *tada* here we are eleven years later.
What brings this up (outside of the fact that it's my anniversary and we're going to a wedding this evening)? I watched a cute romantic comedy yesterday called "Leap Year." Yes, it's predictable, but I loved it for several reasons. First, the heroine is a planner and likes to be precise. It should shock no one to learn that I'm a bit of a planner. Okay, okay. An extreme planner. When the heroine starts walking places because she has no other form of transportation, I could totally relate. When I want to get something done, Lord help whatever gets in my way. But the best part was the end. *SPOILER WARNING*
Ultimately, our heroine goes back to Ireland to propose to the right guy (again, I could relate!). Her proposal is wonderful. Having been such a planner, she doesn't ask him to get married. She asks him if he would like to not make plans with her (I love this because there are many times when I have had to struggle to not make plans). Ultimately, he rejects her proposal and makes a counter proposal. He says, "I don't want not to make plans with you. I want to make plans with you." I'm sure I melted.
At this point, my dear husband pauses the movie, looks over, and says, "That was probably the most romantic proposal you have ever heard. I'm sorry I didn't come up with that line myself." Turns out I was right. He's definitely a keeper.
It started when we were dating; he wooed me with homemade cheesecake. After I graduated from college and moved to within 4 hours of Chicago (instead of 15!), I would spend many weekends driving up to visit him. One weekend I was scheduled to visit, I got home from work on Friday and I was tired. I didn't want to drive 4 hours, so I called Phil and told him I wasn't coming to visit. He was upset, but understood. I spent the next few hours trying to discuss with my 3 housemates (my brother, sister, and brother-in-law) what was for dinner. I would get no response. Knowing that if I went to Chicago, Phil would feed me, I called him up, told him I had changed my mind, and drove the four hours to see him. Yes, that's right, I drove four hours to be fed rather than cook for myself or go to a drive-thru. And I was right. When I got there, Phil fed me. I knew he was a keeper.
So, at some point that weekend, I proposed to Phil (I didn't think he was getting around to it soon enough). He swears to this day he was going to propose the following weekend, but we'll never know. Anyway, he said yes, but made a counter-proposal, on the off-chance that I was merely asking for information rather than actually asking to get married (Oh, you'll marry me? Good to know. Let me file this away for later). I agreed, we planned and had a wedding and *tada* here we are eleven years later.
What brings this up (outside of the fact that it's my anniversary and we're going to a wedding this evening)? I watched a cute romantic comedy yesterday called "Leap Year." Yes, it's predictable, but I loved it for several reasons. First, the heroine is a planner and likes to be precise. It should shock no one to learn that I'm a bit of a planner. Okay, okay. An extreme planner. When the heroine starts walking places because she has no other form of transportation, I could totally relate. When I want to get something done, Lord help whatever gets in my way. But the best part was the end. *SPOILER WARNING*
Ultimately, our heroine goes back to Ireland to propose to the right guy (again, I could relate!). Her proposal is wonderful. Having been such a planner, she doesn't ask him to get married. She asks him if he would like to not make plans with her (I love this because there are many times when I have had to struggle to not make plans). Ultimately, he rejects her proposal and makes a counter proposal. He says, "I don't want not to make plans with you. I want to make plans with you." I'm sure I melted.
At this point, my dear husband pauses the movie, looks over, and says, "That was probably the most romantic proposal you have ever heard. I'm sorry I didn't come up with that line myself." Turns out I was right. He's definitely a keeper.
5.13.2010
Mother's Day
Mother's Day has tended to be an odd holiday for me. When I was younger, it was a day to celebrate my mom and grandmas and godmother. It wasn't a big day, but it didn't go by unrecognized either. Then college graduation fell on Mother's Day. My parents dutifully traveled out of state to share my graduation with me, and mom never complained that my celebration had taken her day. When I finished graduate school, commencement once again fell on Mother's Day. This time, my family and my in-laws all traveled out of state, but none of the four moms who came to celebrate made me feel as though it was anything other than my day.
Over the years, I had seen how emotional people got during church on Mother's Day and, although I could rationalize why it happened, I didn't really get it. I couldn't understand why certain hymns would make grown women bawl during service. It was just another holiday to get a card and a present and celebrate some annual event.
Then came last year. I had been on one or two rounds of fertility medications by that point, and all tests had indicated that this should be all we needed. I was feeling quite hopeful. Whether it was a byproduct of the medication, or the disappointment, or some combination of both, when I woke up Sunday morning to discover that we had failed again, I became an emotional wreck. Having learned a while back that when I was in such a place, going to church to be surrounded by those who loved me was a better option than sitting home alone, I pulled up my big girl shorts and went to church. I think I cried throughout the entire service. It didn't help that I felt like I was on display because I was sitting with the choir up in front of everyone. The hymns made me cry. The prayers made me cry. Everything about that service was an affirmation of my failure to become a mother once again. It felt like the worst form of emotional torture.
After service was over, there was a time for special prayers in the sanctuary. A dear friend (and dynamic pray-er) laid hands on me and prayed over me. Although she never remembered the words, they washed over me and worked to heal my heart and soul. Among other things, she asked God to "let this be the last Mother's Day that Mary is not a mother." I clung to this prayer a lot in the past year. Month after month as things didn't work out, I kept telling myself that I still had time--it wasn't Mother's Day yet. I remember calculating out that if I had gotten pregnant in August, I would have been due Mother's Day. I became certain that August would be my month. When it wasn't, it took me a while to realize that it didn't mean the prayer hadn't worked. So long as I was pregnant by Mother's Day, the prayer had been answered. I was still leery, though. I remember telling Phil that I wasn't sure I could go to service on Mother's Day if IVF didn't work. But Phil is an amazing man.
In between all the surgeries and information sessions and everything else we did, Phil and I talked about how to make Mother's Day service welcoming for all women. It is a day to celebrate our mothers and grandmothers; those mother's who birth children that others raise; the women who raise others' children, whether as adoptive moms, step-moms, guardians or foster moms; those women who conceived children that were born in heaven; sisters who mother their siblings; aunts who mother their nieces and nephews; and the women who mentor, teach, console and comfort children. It is also appropriate to recognize the infertile women who suffer, as did several prominent women in the Bible. And so Phil put together an amazing responsive prayer for Mother's Day that set out to remember and honor all of these types of mothers. Even though I knew it was coming, it still made my cry. It was amazing. I felt in that moment that, even if I hadn't been pregnant, I would have felt like the day honored me.
But this Mother's Day was even more special, because I got to give thanks for answered prayers. As it turned out, last year was the last Mother's Day that I was not a mother. I am blessed, grateful, humbled, and terrified. So as I take my place among the ranks of mothers, I want to thank all of the women who have mothered me. I wouldn't be here without you. Thank you for not only sharing your day, but your lives with me. And to my mom--thanks for sharing my first Mother's Day with me.
Over the years, I had seen how emotional people got during church on Mother's Day and, although I could rationalize why it happened, I didn't really get it. I couldn't understand why certain hymns would make grown women bawl during service. It was just another holiday to get a card and a present and celebrate some annual event.
Then came last year. I had been on one or two rounds of fertility medications by that point, and all tests had indicated that this should be all we needed. I was feeling quite hopeful. Whether it was a byproduct of the medication, or the disappointment, or some combination of both, when I woke up Sunday morning to discover that we had failed again, I became an emotional wreck. Having learned a while back that when I was in such a place, going to church to be surrounded by those who loved me was a better option than sitting home alone, I pulled up my big girl shorts and went to church. I think I cried throughout the entire service. It didn't help that I felt like I was on display because I was sitting with the choir up in front of everyone. The hymns made me cry. The prayers made me cry. Everything about that service was an affirmation of my failure to become a mother once again. It felt like the worst form of emotional torture.
After service was over, there was a time for special prayers in the sanctuary. A dear friend (and dynamic pray-er) laid hands on me and prayed over me. Although she never remembered the words, they washed over me and worked to heal my heart and soul. Among other things, she asked God to "let this be the last Mother's Day that Mary is not a mother." I clung to this prayer a lot in the past year. Month after month as things didn't work out, I kept telling myself that I still had time--it wasn't Mother's Day yet. I remember calculating out that if I had gotten pregnant in August, I would have been due Mother's Day. I became certain that August would be my month. When it wasn't, it took me a while to realize that it didn't mean the prayer hadn't worked. So long as I was pregnant by Mother's Day, the prayer had been answered. I was still leery, though. I remember telling Phil that I wasn't sure I could go to service on Mother's Day if IVF didn't work. But Phil is an amazing man.
In between all the surgeries and information sessions and everything else we did, Phil and I talked about how to make Mother's Day service welcoming for all women. It is a day to celebrate our mothers and grandmothers; those mother's who birth children that others raise; the women who raise others' children, whether as adoptive moms, step-moms, guardians or foster moms; those women who conceived children that were born in heaven; sisters who mother their siblings; aunts who mother their nieces and nephews; and the women who mentor, teach, console and comfort children. It is also appropriate to recognize the infertile women who suffer, as did several prominent women in the Bible. And so Phil put together an amazing responsive prayer for Mother's Day that set out to remember and honor all of these types of mothers. Even though I knew it was coming, it still made my cry. It was amazing. I felt in that moment that, even if I hadn't been pregnant, I would have felt like the day honored me.
But this Mother's Day was even more special, because I got to give thanks for answered prayers. As it turned out, last year was the last Mother's Day that I was not a mother. I am blessed, grateful, humbled, and terrified. So as I take my place among the ranks of mothers, I want to thank all of the women who have mothered me. I wouldn't be here without you. Thank you for not only sharing your day, but your lives with me. And to my mom--thanks for sharing my first Mother's Day with me.
4.24.2010
Pregnancy 101
I haven't blogged recently because I wasn't sure I had anything to say and I was fairly certain that you, my readers, weren't looking for a daily laundry list of symptoms, complications, etc. I will, however, share what I have learned these past few weeks in broad, generalized chunks.
Food: When it comes to food and hunger during pregnancy, anything is normal. Want to eat everything in sight? Normal. Don't feel like eating anything? Normal. Can't eat anything when you try? Normal. A combination of these that changes from minute to minute? Normal. This is both reassuring and frustrating. Although, as a good friend wrote on my Facebook page when I asked if something was "normal," did I really think being pregnant would make me normal?! He had a point. I haven't ever really been normal. Why start now? In that vein, we have renamed saltines in my house. They are known as "cake" because they always taste wonderful, as does cake. When I told the nurses at my initial OB appointment, they not only laughed, but when they were advising me on things to eat, they told me to try and eat peanut butter with my cake. They got bonus points for that!
Worry: I had read that women who undergo IVF tend to worry most of their pregnancies about everything and don't have a chance to enjoy them. Therefore, I have worked very hard not to freak out about things. I am not considered high-risk and everything has gone smoothly thus far. I have no reason to expect that this will change. However, I did make one decision that is, arguably, out of worry. I decided not to undergo any genetic testing. There in nothing in our backgrounds to suggest a real need for it and, although small, all of the testing has an increased risk of miscarriage. We decided that, since the information we got wouldn't change what we were going to do, there was no reason to risk miscarrying a kid we paid to get to find out that information. Other friends have shared that finding out that kind of information can lead to needless worry if a marker does show up. So, not getting the testing seems like the best plan all the way around.
Swag: This is a term I first learned at GenCon. It means "free stuff." Pregnant women are swag generators. Promotional magazines, tote-bags, planners, samples, coupons. There's tons of stuff you can buy and the retailers are all about tempting you into buying it. That brings me to the related area of baby registries.
Registries: Phil and I started a registry and I discovered that there are all kinds of unnecessary things that people will convince you are vital. Some things, like a highchair, will be necessary in the future, but won't do me much good in the beginning. Other things, like clothing, I need to wait to register for because I don't have any idea how big my child will be. Better to wait until the third trimester to register for these. Finally, there are the things the checklist tells me are essential, but I have no plan to buy, ever. Included in this category are plastic covers for my tub faucet and a special thermometer to determine how hot the bathwater is. Having a baby will increase the amount of stuff in our house exponentially. There is no reason to include unnecessary things.
Advice: Everybody has some, but it's not always welcome. It generally falls into one of the following categories, although they are not necessarily mutually exclusive: Useful in the future, but unhelpful at the moment; Horror stories (often given as, don't worry, it can't possibly be as bad as my friend who experienced x); What to buy/what baby will need; You're doing it wrong already; and lastly, Ignore everyone else and just listen to me. Don't get me wrong, there is good advice. It's just more precious for its rarity.
The biggest thing I learned/am learning, is that pregnancy isn't easy. I didn't expect it to be a cakewalk or anything, but I thought making it through IVF would be the most difficult part in all of this. I was wrong. Whether its mood swings, sleep deprivation, or any one of the myriad pregnancy symptoms, every day seems to bring new challenges. This, of course, is a good lesson to learn early on. After all, once the baby comes, the learning curve will be extremely high and every day will bring something new. Might as well get used to it now.
Food: When it comes to food and hunger during pregnancy, anything is normal. Want to eat everything in sight? Normal. Don't feel like eating anything? Normal. Can't eat anything when you try? Normal. A combination of these that changes from minute to minute? Normal. This is both reassuring and frustrating. Although, as a good friend wrote on my Facebook page when I asked if something was "normal," did I really think being pregnant would make me normal?! He had a point. I haven't ever really been normal. Why start now? In that vein, we have renamed saltines in my house. They are known as "cake" because they always taste wonderful, as does cake. When I told the nurses at my initial OB appointment, they not only laughed, but when they were advising me on things to eat, they told me to try and eat peanut butter with my cake. They got bonus points for that!
Worry: I had read that women who undergo IVF tend to worry most of their pregnancies about everything and don't have a chance to enjoy them. Therefore, I have worked very hard not to freak out about things. I am not considered high-risk and everything has gone smoothly thus far. I have no reason to expect that this will change. However, I did make one decision that is, arguably, out of worry. I decided not to undergo any genetic testing. There in nothing in our backgrounds to suggest a real need for it and, although small, all of the testing has an increased risk of miscarriage. We decided that, since the information we got wouldn't change what we were going to do, there was no reason to risk miscarrying a kid we paid to get to find out that information. Other friends have shared that finding out that kind of information can lead to needless worry if a marker does show up. So, not getting the testing seems like the best plan all the way around.
Swag: This is a term I first learned at GenCon. It means "free stuff." Pregnant women are swag generators. Promotional magazines, tote-bags, planners, samples, coupons. There's tons of stuff you can buy and the retailers are all about tempting you into buying it. That brings me to the related area of baby registries.
Registries: Phil and I started a registry and I discovered that there are all kinds of unnecessary things that people will convince you are vital. Some things, like a highchair, will be necessary in the future, but won't do me much good in the beginning. Other things, like clothing, I need to wait to register for because I don't have any idea how big my child will be. Better to wait until the third trimester to register for these. Finally, there are the things the checklist tells me are essential, but I have no plan to buy, ever. Included in this category are plastic covers for my tub faucet and a special thermometer to determine how hot the bathwater is. Having a baby will increase the amount of stuff in our house exponentially. There is no reason to include unnecessary things.
Advice: Everybody has some, but it's not always welcome. It generally falls into one of the following categories, although they are not necessarily mutually exclusive: Useful in the future, but unhelpful at the moment; Horror stories (often given as, don't worry, it can't possibly be as bad as my friend who experienced x); What to buy/what baby will need; You're doing it wrong already; and lastly, Ignore everyone else and just listen to me. Don't get me wrong, there is good advice. It's just more precious for its rarity.
The biggest thing I learned/am learning, is that pregnancy isn't easy. I didn't expect it to be a cakewalk or anything, but I thought making it through IVF would be the most difficult part in all of this. I was wrong. Whether its mood swings, sleep deprivation, or any one of the myriad pregnancy symptoms, every day seems to bring new challenges. This, of course, is a good lesson to learn early on. After all, once the baby comes, the learning curve will be extremely high and every day will bring something new. Might as well get used to it now.
4.12.2010
Graduation Day
Today, Phil and I went to the fertility center for another ultrasound. The news was all good. I am 7 weeks and 6 days along and the baby measures 16.1mm and has a heart rate of 160 bpm. Our doctor informed us it was graduation day. We had progressed to the point where we were being released to my regular OBGYN. I still have meds to take for the next two weeks, but I no longer have to have any shots. Hallelujah! *does a happy dance*
In other news, I have not had any morning sickness. I have some queasiness if I eat dairy in the morning, but it's fine to eat later in the day so I just adjusted my diet a little bit. My main symptom is being tired. I tend to come home from work most nights and crash, and I sleep away the weekends. I haven't gotten many chores done, but I keep reminding myself that I am actually doing a lot of work--I'm making another person! When I keep that in mind, I feel more productive. Next stop, an appointment with my regular doctor in the next 2-3 weeks.
In other news, I have not had any morning sickness. I have some queasiness if I eat dairy in the morning, but it's fine to eat later in the day so I just adjusted my diet a little bit. My main symptom is being tired. I tend to come home from work most nights and crash, and I sleep away the weekends. I haven't gotten many chores done, but I keep reminding myself that I am actually doing a lot of work--I'm making another person! When I keep that in mind, I feel more productive. Next stop, an appointment with my regular doctor in the next 2-3 weeks.
A New Rule
The Mrs. and I were at a birthday party last Friday night and learned a new rule. The rule of the house at which we were partying (and now our own house) is:
The pregnant lady can do whatever she wants.
Works for me.
The pregnant lady can do whatever she wants.
Works for me.
4.04.2010
Perplexed, Dazzled, Terrified, Dismissive and Amazed
With the indulgence of my wife, here is the sermon I preached this morning for our Easter Sunrise Service.
Perplexed, Dazzled, Terrified, Dismissive and Amazed
Luke 24:1-12
Grace and Peace to you this morning. Grace and Peace.
The first responses of the witnesses to the resurrection were not faith and rejoicing and celebration. They did not put on their Sabbath finest, show up with their Easter bonnets, shout “Woo Hoo!”
The first witnesses were perplexed, dazzled, terrified, dismissive and amazed.
The women with the spices, coming in that strange mix of obedience and grief, were perplexed by the stone being rolled away.
When the angels show up, they are dazzled by the brightness of their shining and they are terrified.
When they tell the other disciples what they have seen and heard, the disciples are dismissive – it can’t be true, can it?
And when Peter goes to see for himself, he is amazed.
Maybe we grew up with this story, hearing it at home and in Sunday School and in church. Maybe it has lost some of its power to dazzle and terrify us.
Or maybe we are more recently come to trust the resurrection of Jesus, but we are still perplexed.
Maybe we have seen healing that we can’t explain any other way, or experienced the lifting of our fear, the resolution of our conflicts, the new life that does not fit anything other than the grace of God.
It can be terrifying when we start to know we are not the ones in control.
Or maybe we have grown so used to the ways of the world, we are dismissive of the possibility of resurrection.
I used to think I knew how to pray.
I have prayed in church and at home, in hospitals and hospices, on street corners and in fire stations, in auditoriums and at a traveling copy of the Vietnam Memorial.
I have prayed with people who just lost a loved one, and with people who have just had a baby.
I have prayed alone, with one other person, in a small group, in front of tens and hundreds (I don’t think I have reached thousands yet…).
I have prayed prayers from centuries ago.
I have prayed prayers I have written, my teachers have written, my mentors have written.
I have prayed out of prayer books and off the top of my head.
I have prayed the “thou hast’s” and I have prayed the “just wanna’s.”
But last Monday, I discovered that I don’t know how to pray.
Last Monday, Mary and I had an Easter moment. After years of trying, after shots and surgeries and drugs and procedures and the great roller coaster, we looked on the monitor of an ultrasound machine and saw something that the doctor explained to us was about the size of a grain of rice, except that this little bitty thing had a heartbeat.
And I discovered I didn’t know how to pray.
I was perplexed. You see, I am a control freak. (This should come as no surprise to anyone here!) And suddenly, I realized that we were pregnant. Which means that any illusions I might have that I am in control are swiftly flying out the window.
I was dazzled. I was not ready for how amazing that moment would be.
I was (and am) terrified. I see messed up families all the time. I know my own failings and foibles. I also know that however much I want to control the world, I will not be able to make it all safe, to make it all better for this child. I will mess it up. And the world is pretty messed up, too.
I was dismissive. I had gotten so used to the roller coaster of trying and it not working, of going through the procedures, of giving shots, that I had hardened my heart against the possibility of this actually working. It was a defensive mechanism to keep me from crashing again.
And finally, I am amazed. I can quote you scripture about healing and resurrection; I can tell you stories of people whose lives are turned around, who find hope, who experience grace and forgiveness; I can walk you through the questions we ask at times such as this.
But this is different.
I can even tell you of times I have felt God’s presence, known new life, been forgiven and able to forgive, experienced resurrection.
But this is different.
No I am not ready for it. (Probably nobody is…small comfort that that thought brings.)
Yes, I know that even as I tell my story there are others who have been here before. I know that there are others on this particular roller coaster still, still stuck on Friday, not yet hearing good news.
I can’t dismiss them. I have been one of them.
Nor am I ready to proclaim that I have faith all figured out. Some days I am doing well just to get through the day.
But I am in good company. I am not the first to be perplexed, dazzled, terrified, dismissive and amazed at a resurrection.
I can add my voice in a new way to these witnesses of God’s goodness, of the hope the Gospel brings, to resurrection.
And in all my perplexity, bedazzlement, terror, dismissal and amazement at the prospect of being a dad, I am learning I need to pray a whole lot harder than I have been.
For me and Mary. For this child who is here but not yet here. For all those who know the power of the resurrection. And for all those who are still stuck on Friday or Saturday, still waiting, still hoping.
For these I am learning to pray. And I am also learning a new way of proclaiming:
Christ is Risen!
Christ is Risen indeed!
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
Perplexed, Dazzled, Terrified, Dismissive and Amazed
Luke 24:1-12
Grace and Peace to you this morning. Grace and Peace.
The first responses of the witnesses to the resurrection were not faith and rejoicing and celebration. They did not put on their Sabbath finest, show up with their Easter bonnets, shout “Woo Hoo!”
The first witnesses were perplexed, dazzled, terrified, dismissive and amazed.
The women with the spices, coming in that strange mix of obedience and grief, were perplexed by the stone being rolled away.
When the angels show up, they are dazzled by the brightness of their shining and they are terrified.
When they tell the other disciples what they have seen and heard, the disciples are dismissive – it can’t be true, can it?
And when Peter goes to see for himself, he is amazed.
Maybe we grew up with this story, hearing it at home and in Sunday School and in church. Maybe it has lost some of its power to dazzle and terrify us.
Or maybe we are more recently come to trust the resurrection of Jesus, but we are still perplexed.
Maybe we have seen healing that we can’t explain any other way, or experienced the lifting of our fear, the resolution of our conflicts, the new life that does not fit anything other than the grace of God.
It can be terrifying when we start to know we are not the ones in control.
Or maybe we have grown so used to the ways of the world, we are dismissive of the possibility of resurrection.
I used to think I knew how to pray.
I have prayed in church and at home, in hospitals and hospices, on street corners and in fire stations, in auditoriums and at a traveling copy of the Vietnam Memorial.
I have prayed with people who just lost a loved one, and with people who have just had a baby.
I have prayed alone, with one other person, in a small group, in front of tens and hundreds (I don’t think I have reached thousands yet…).
I have prayed prayers from centuries ago.
I have prayed prayers I have written, my teachers have written, my mentors have written.
I have prayed out of prayer books and off the top of my head.
I have prayed the “thou hast’s” and I have prayed the “just wanna’s.”
But last Monday, I discovered that I don’t know how to pray.
Last Monday, Mary and I had an Easter moment. After years of trying, after shots and surgeries and drugs and procedures and the great roller coaster, we looked on the monitor of an ultrasound machine and saw something that the doctor explained to us was about the size of a grain of rice, except that this little bitty thing had a heartbeat.
And I discovered I didn’t know how to pray.
I was perplexed. You see, I am a control freak. (This should come as no surprise to anyone here!) And suddenly, I realized that we were pregnant. Which means that any illusions I might have that I am in control are swiftly flying out the window.
I was dazzled. I was not ready for how amazing that moment would be.
I was (and am) terrified. I see messed up families all the time. I know my own failings and foibles. I also know that however much I want to control the world, I will not be able to make it all safe, to make it all better for this child. I will mess it up. And the world is pretty messed up, too.
I was dismissive. I had gotten so used to the roller coaster of trying and it not working, of going through the procedures, of giving shots, that I had hardened my heart against the possibility of this actually working. It was a defensive mechanism to keep me from crashing again.
And finally, I am amazed. I can quote you scripture about healing and resurrection; I can tell you stories of people whose lives are turned around, who find hope, who experience grace and forgiveness; I can walk you through the questions we ask at times such as this.
But this is different.
I can even tell you of times I have felt God’s presence, known new life, been forgiven and able to forgive, experienced resurrection.
But this is different.
No I am not ready for it. (Probably nobody is…small comfort that that thought brings.)
Yes, I know that even as I tell my story there are others who have been here before. I know that there are others on this particular roller coaster still, still stuck on Friday, not yet hearing good news.
I can’t dismiss them. I have been one of them.
Nor am I ready to proclaim that I have faith all figured out. Some days I am doing well just to get through the day.
But I am in good company. I am not the first to be perplexed, dazzled, terrified, dismissive and amazed at a resurrection.
I can add my voice in a new way to these witnesses of God’s goodness, of the hope the Gospel brings, to resurrection.
And in all my perplexity, bedazzlement, terror, dismissal and amazement at the prospect of being a dad, I am learning I need to pray a whole lot harder than I have been.
For me and Mary. For this child who is here but not yet here. For all those who know the power of the resurrection. And for all those who are still stuck on Friday or Saturday, still waiting, still hoping.
For these I am learning to pray. And I am also learning a new way of proclaiming:
Christ is Risen!
Christ is Risen indeed!
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
3.29.2010
Milestones
Went to the doctor today for an ultrasound. We do not appear to be having multiples. I am officially 5 weeks and 6 days along. Due date is Nov 23--2 days before Thanksgiving. Truly something I am, and will continue to be, thankful for.
We could see the little one's heartbeat, although it was too early to be able to hear it. The little bean is about the size of a grain of rice. So tiny and yet already has a heartbeat! Incredible. We even got a picture. According to the doctor, he is pleased with our progress. I go back in two weeks for another ultrasound and, if everything still looks good, they will "graduate" me back to my regular doctor! I have also been cleared to lift 25 pounds (instead of just 10) and am permitted to walk (very slowly) a mile a day.
In the meantime, I continue to have daily shots and pills. We'll still have to take meds after 8 weeks, but it won't be by shot. Yay! Phil has been trooper in all this. I think his phrase regarding giving shots is: I'm getting very good at something I hate doing. He's been very brave and I'm so proud of him.
For me, the shots are not the most difficult thing. As a junk food aficionado, the most difficult thing about pregnancy has been eating well. I am doing much better, and it gets easier the longer I do it, but it definitely doesn't come naturally to me. Ultimately, though, having a healthy baby will be worth it (not to mention improving my own health). I just need to see it as a challenge I can throw my stubborn behind; then nothing can stop me!
For now, I'm doing my best to live the adventure each day and savor the milestones. I know it's something I should have been doing anyway, but being pregnant has made it much easier.
We could see the little one's heartbeat, although it was too early to be able to hear it. The little bean is about the size of a grain of rice. So tiny and yet already has a heartbeat! Incredible. We even got a picture. According to the doctor, he is pleased with our progress. I go back in two weeks for another ultrasound and, if everything still looks good, they will "graduate" me back to my regular doctor! I have also been cleared to lift 25 pounds (instead of just 10) and am permitted to walk (very slowly) a mile a day.
In the meantime, I continue to have daily shots and pills. We'll still have to take meds after 8 weeks, but it won't be by shot. Yay! Phil has been trooper in all this. I think his phrase regarding giving shots is: I'm getting very good at something I hate doing. He's been very brave and I'm so proud of him.
For me, the shots are not the most difficult thing. As a junk food aficionado, the most difficult thing about pregnancy has been eating well. I am doing much better, and it gets easier the longer I do it, but it definitely doesn't come naturally to me. Ultimately, though, having a healthy baby will be worth it (not to mention improving my own health). I just need to see it as a challenge I can throw my stubborn behind; then nothing can stop me!
For now, I'm doing my best to live the adventure each day and savor the milestones. I know it's something I should have been doing anyway, but being pregnant has made it much easier.
3.27.2010
Feeling Pregnant
I've heard stories of people who just knew they were pregnant. I am not one of them. Even after multiple test results to reassure me, I didn't feel any different (except *really* happy)! And when it's this early, and you can't feel anything, and you're not showing, some days, you actually forget. At least, I do.
For example, on Wednesday, I went to lunch with a friend of mine to Red Lobster--one of my all-time favorites. Generally, we would go for dinner and I would always get a pina colada. I remember thinking to myself that I couldn't have one this time, not because I was pregnant, but because it was the middle of the work day. It wasn't until I got home that night that I remembered I couldn't have one for another reason. Duh!
It turns out that, quite by accident, I found a way to feel pregnant (without doing something stupid like going broke on pee sticks). Yesterday, I went out with a group of friends for my annual birthday gathering. We had great fun (we always do), but we did something new this year. After dinner, we ended up at a shop for maternity wear. It was exciting and entertaining. I put on a fake belly and tried on clothes. There was lots of great stuff on sale and so I decided to give in and use my birthday money to get them. As I was buying the clothes, I discovered that having the clothes made it real. I *felt* pregnant.
In that moment, I also knew why I hadn't before--I had forgotten to do something to celebrate it. I had been trying not to get too attached in case something happened instead of celebrating the moment and relishing my success and good fortune. What I needed was to get attached; to get excited. I don't have to go all out and paint the nursery or buy a crib and bedding just yet, but getting the clothes seem to be the perfect blend of acceptance and excitement. Just enough, so that I finally feel pregnant.
For example, on Wednesday, I went to lunch with a friend of mine to Red Lobster--one of my all-time favorites. Generally, we would go for dinner and I would always get a pina colada. I remember thinking to myself that I couldn't have one this time, not because I was pregnant, but because it was the middle of the work day. It wasn't until I got home that night that I remembered I couldn't have one for another reason. Duh!
It turns out that, quite by accident, I found a way to feel pregnant (without doing something stupid like going broke on pee sticks). Yesterday, I went out with a group of friends for my annual birthday gathering. We had great fun (we always do), but we did something new this year. After dinner, we ended up at a shop for maternity wear. It was exciting and entertaining. I put on a fake belly and tried on clothes. There was lots of great stuff on sale and so I decided to give in and use my birthday money to get them. As I was buying the clothes, I discovered that having the clothes made it real. I *felt* pregnant.
In that moment, I also knew why I hadn't before--I had forgotten to do something to celebrate it. I had been trying not to get too attached in case something happened instead of celebrating the moment and relishing my success and good fortune. What I needed was to get attached; to get excited. I don't have to go all out and paint the nursery or buy a crib and bedding just yet, but getting the clothes seem to be the perfect blend of acceptance and excitement. Just enough, so that I finally feel pregnant.
3.19.2010
Good News
Short and simple today. Needed 108, got 184. HCG more than tripled from Wednesday. Yay! Life is good and I'm feeling more relieved. Next stop, ultrasound on March 29. Until then, this coming week is doctor free. Woo freakin' hoo!
3.17.2010
Cautious Optimism
It's been a roller-coaster ride these last few days. Up until last Sunday, I was convinced that the IVF had worked. Once Sunday arrived, I began to have doubts. Come Monday morning, I woke up convinced it was going to be negative. I ended up deciding to work from home and had Phil take me to the blood draw because I couldn't concentrate enough to drive. The lady at the lab gave me a phone number I could call within 4 hours for the results if I didn't want to wait for the clinic to call. Although I seriously considered calling, I ultimately waited for the clinic's call, because the lab could only tell me the HCG number. The clinic would tell me what it meant. Monday afternoon dragged and, at 3:30 p.m., the phone finally rang. Good news--my HCG was 22.6 (anything over 10 was positive for pregnancy). Yay! So, the next step was to wait until Wednesday and have a second beta test done. The goal was to see the number double. Namely, we're looking for a 45. We were very excited, but decided we would wait to say anything to most folks, although we emailed family with the results. We went out to dinner to celebrate and it was sinking in. I was *finally* pregnant. The elation didn't last.
Around 8:00 p.m., I noticed that I had begun spotting and cramping. I will spare you the exact details, but it was a complete downer. I had just learned I'm pregnant and a few hours later might be losing it?! I freaked. I frantically Googled the internet looking for some solace. I found some reassuring words. Apparently spotting can be perfectly normal and, rather common for IVFers. Whew! Still, I wasn't totally convinced. The problem was, there was nothing to do but wait for today's second beta test.
This morning I had my second beta. I was not nearly as patient this time--I called the lab for my results rather than waiting for the clinic. 53.6! I had more than doubled in 48 hours. Yay! This was good news. I called Phil to share. We agreed that at this point we were willing to share the news and posted our agreed-upon Facebook status updates (a simple +). I waited for the clinic to call with the official word. The nurse finally called and advised that they were pleased by my beta and I was to continue my shots and other meds. We discussed the spotting and she indicated that it was likely nothing to worry about, but they would order another beta test for Friday just to make sure. So, we are cautiously optimistic.
Friday, I'll have a third beta--the magic number we're looking for is 108 or higher. Provided we get positive news, we'll have our first ultrasound on March 29. For now, I'm reveling in the fact that, for the first time EVER, I'm officially pregnant. That, in and of itself, is a miracle. And I am so grateful.
Around 8:00 p.m., I noticed that I had begun spotting and cramping. I will spare you the exact details, but it was a complete downer. I had just learned I'm pregnant and a few hours later might be losing it?! I freaked. I frantically Googled the internet looking for some solace. I found some reassuring words. Apparently spotting can be perfectly normal and, rather common for IVFers. Whew! Still, I wasn't totally convinced. The problem was, there was nothing to do but wait for today's second beta test.
This morning I had my second beta. I was not nearly as patient this time--I called the lab for my results rather than waiting for the clinic. 53.6! I had more than doubled in 48 hours. Yay! This was good news. I called Phil to share. We agreed that at this point we were willing to share the news and posted our agreed-upon Facebook status updates (a simple +). I waited for the clinic to call with the official word. The nurse finally called and advised that they were pleased by my beta and I was to continue my shots and other meds. We discussed the spotting and she indicated that it was likely nothing to worry about, but they would order another beta test for Friday just to make sure. So, we are cautiously optimistic.
Friday, I'll have a third beta--the magic number we're looking for is 108 or higher. Provided we get positive news, we'll have our first ultrasound on March 29. For now, I'm reveling in the fact that, for the first time EVER, I'm officially pregnant. That, in and of itself, is a miracle. And I am so grateful.
3.14.2010
N't Fair
I have always felt that the world should be fair, and been disappointed when I discovered it wasn't. When I was younger and discovered that the world did not correspond with my vision of fair play, I would have a little tirade and yell, "N't fair!" I'm uncertain why the absence of the "o" was important. Perhaps in my frustration, pronouncing the "o" simply took too much work. Whatever the reason, it became something of a signature line for me. To this day, if I get particularly exasperated, I still say it.
Why is this relevant? Because a conversation I had yesterday reminded me just how unfair the world is. Phil and I were at a party for a friend. I was already having a difficult time because I had just had my shot, my hormones were raging, the injection site was sore and beginning to create a hard lump, and I was in a room full of people, the majority of whom I didn't know--the nightmare of all introverts. I was introduced to a few people and I began to have a conversation with one of them. At some point, the inevitable question arose: "Do you have children?" Knowing that this person did not realize she had stepped on a landmine, I simply replied, "We're working on it." As the conversation continued, we asked what one another did for a living and she indicated she was staying at home helping her daughter raise six children and that her daughter was pregnant with a seventh. I was taking this all in stride until the lady said, "She wasn't supposed to be able to have anymore, but I guess God just wanted them to keep having kids." I simply nodded and continued, but inside I was seething. Because for her statement to be accurate--that God kept giving them children because they were supposed to have them--the converse had to be true--God had not given me children because I wasn't supposed to have them. I call bullsh*t. On both counts.
One couple's struggles with fertility are not an indication that they shouldn't be parents any more than some other couple's ability to get pregnant is an indication that they are worthy of being parents. There are many people who have children who have neither the ability nor inclination to take care of them. In any given month, I am exposed to stories of people who do horrible things to their children, neglecting them in large and small ways. I refuse to believe that God granted them children because they were "supposed to" have them. Because it's not about "supposed to." To buy into "supposed to" requires a belief that people are supposed to die of cancer or from a horrible car accident. It means buying into the fallacy that only bad people suffer and only good people prosper. And it just isn't true. Life isn't fair and God never promised it would be.
I don't know why some people get to take the easy road to parenthood and my path is more difficult. Maybe it is "n't fair." But labeling it as such won't change anything. I can either spend my time and energy wrapped up in the unfairness of it all, or I can make choices to move myself forward. I'm choosing the latter.
Why is this relevant? Because a conversation I had yesterday reminded me just how unfair the world is. Phil and I were at a party for a friend. I was already having a difficult time because I had just had my shot, my hormones were raging, the injection site was sore and beginning to create a hard lump, and I was in a room full of people, the majority of whom I didn't know--the nightmare of all introverts. I was introduced to a few people and I began to have a conversation with one of them. At some point, the inevitable question arose: "Do you have children?" Knowing that this person did not realize she had stepped on a landmine, I simply replied, "We're working on it." As the conversation continued, we asked what one another did for a living and she indicated she was staying at home helping her daughter raise six children and that her daughter was pregnant with a seventh. I was taking this all in stride until the lady said, "She wasn't supposed to be able to have anymore, but I guess God just wanted them to keep having kids." I simply nodded and continued, but inside I was seething. Because for her statement to be accurate--that God kept giving them children because they were supposed to have them--the converse had to be true--God had not given me children because I wasn't supposed to have them. I call bullsh*t. On both counts.
One couple's struggles with fertility are not an indication that they shouldn't be parents any more than some other couple's ability to get pregnant is an indication that they are worthy of being parents. There are many people who have children who have neither the ability nor inclination to take care of them. In any given month, I am exposed to stories of people who do horrible things to their children, neglecting them in large and small ways. I refuse to believe that God granted them children because they were "supposed to" have them. Because it's not about "supposed to." To buy into "supposed to" requires a belief that people are supposed to die of cancer or from a horrible car accident. It means buying into the fallacy that only bad people suffer and only good people prosper. And it just isn't true. Life isn't fair and God never promised it would be.
I don't know why some people get to take the easy road to parenthood and my path is more difficult. Maybe it is "n't fair." But labeling it as such won't change anything. I can either spend my time and energy wrapped up in the unfairness of it all, or I can make choices to move myself forward. I'm choosing the latter.
3.09.2010
Pink Elephants
You know the line. It's based on a phenomenon we have all experienced. Someone says, "Don't think of pink elephants" and the only thing you can think of is pink elephants. Even worse, each time you check in with your brain to make sure you aren't thinking about them, lo and behold, you are!
This is the best way I can describe the experience of the TWW. You do everything you can to not think about it (work helps), but once you have a free minute, it's the first thing you think about. My world is full of questions. Is it working? Is that a twinge? Is cramping normal? Is the fact that I'm tired all the time an early sign or just my body being worn out from all the shots and hormones? Did I eat the right things today? Have I done anything that I shouldn't have? Did having my shot a little early/late cause any problems? What will the results be? How will I handle them? Has sharing my journey entitled others to know the results as soon as I know them, or can I take time to process them (good or bad) before sharing? Even if it's positive, can I allow myself to get excited, or should I wait until after the first trimester when the chance of miscarriage is greatly reduced?
I have obsessively Googled how long implantation takes after transfer (this varies a great deal not only depending on whether you have a day 2/3 embryo transfer or a day 4/5 blastocyst transfer, but on each individual person) and what signs I might expect (any and everything including nothing at all). The truth is, after all the Googling, I have no answers; only more questions. So I have stopped Googling and am trying to ignore my body and just go about my day. It doesn't always work, but each morning I wake up, I'm one day closer to my Beta test. I may not be free of my pink elephant, but I learned that I don't have to feed it.
This is the best way I can describe the experience of the TWW. You do everything you can to not think about it (work helps), but once you have a free minute, it's the first thing you think about. My world is full of questions. Is it working? Is that a twinge? Is cramping normal? Is the fact that I'm tired all the time an early sign or just my body being worn out from all the shots and hormones? Did I eat the right things today? Have I done anything that I shouldn't have? Did having my shot a little early/late cause any problems? What will the results be? How will I handle them? Has sharing my journey entitled others to know the results as soon as I know them, or can I take time to process them (good or bad) before sharing? Even if it's positive, can I allow myself to get excited, or should I wait until after the first trimester when the chance of miscarriage is greatly reduced?
I have obsessively Googled how long implantation takes after transfer (this varies a great deal not only depending on whether you have a day 2/3 embryo transfer or a day 4/5 blastocyst transfer, but on each individual person) and what signs I might expect (any and everything including nothing at all). The truth is, after all the Googling, I have no answers; only more questions. So I have stopped Googling and am trying to ignore my body and just go about my day. It doesn't always work, but each morning I wake up, I'm one day closer to my Beta test. I may not be free of my pink elephant, but I learned that I don't have to feed it.
3.05.2010
A Thankful Heart
Having been on bed rest for the last two days, I have done lots of thinking (because there isn't much else to do). As I told my mother last night when she called, bed rest is torture to me. There's stuff I could be doing! Don't get me wrong. I love lounging, and could probably lounge all day without getting up if I CHOSE to. But being ORDERED to stay put is something entirely different, and my independence fights against being told that I have to. You'd have to ask Phil to be certain, but I think I've done pretty good.
Anyway, we'll start with the update. Transfer yesterday went very well. Of the 12 fertilized eggs, only 11 survived to become 4-celled embryos. Of those 11, they transferred 2 and froze 9. They also gave us a picture of the two embryos they transferred. I cannot even begin to tell you what it felt like to see them. What's more, I hadn't expected to feel like I did when it was over; knowing that they are in there--tiny potential children. It's rather mind boggling.
But the other thing that has occurred to me over the last two days is how lucky I am. I am lucky that Phil and I were able to get a loan to try IVF. I am lucky to have a job with vacation and sick leave and the ability to work at home every now and again. I am lucky to have friends and family who love and support me. I have never felt more loved and supported than I have throughout this process. Whatever the outcome of all of this, I have received an irreplaceable and invaluable gift. Whether its hugs, prayers, emails, notes on Facebook, surprise pick-me-up presents, whatever, I have received a tangible expression of love and support that I will never forget. So thank you, for all that you have given me. I am blessed and grateful.
Anyway, we'll start with the update. Transfer yesterday went very well. Of the 12 fertilized eggs, only 11 survived to become 4-celled embryos. Of those 11, they transferred 2 and froze 9. They also gave us a picture of the two embryos they transferred. I cannot even begin to tell you what it felt like to see them. What's more, I hadn't expected to feel like I did when it was over; knowing that they are in there--tiny potential children. It's rather mind boggling.
But the other thing that has occurred to me over the last two days is how lucky I am. I am lucky that Phil and I were able to get a loan to try IVF. I am lucky to have a job with vacation and sick leave and the ability to work at home every now and again. I am lucky to have friends and family who love and support me. I have never felt more loved and supported than I have throughout this process. Whatever the outcome of all of this, I have received an irreplaceable and invaluable gift. Whether its hugs, prayers, emails, notes on Facebook, surprise pick-me-up presents, whatever, I have received a tangible expression of love and support that I will never forget. So thank you, for all that you have given me. I am blessed and grateful.
3.03.2010
The Eye of the Storm
Today being the day between procedures, I thought I would take a little time and reflect on things I have learned over the past few days:
1. Phil is good at giving IM shots.
2. IM shots don't hurt when you get them, but if you fail to rub them and put a heat pack on them, the injection site will be extremely sore for at least two days after the fact.
3. Changing sides every other day for IM injections only works if you remember #2.
4. Valium doesn't do much for me.
5. Versed is a great drug--when it works.
6. Retrieval is a ridiculously painful experience. (See #5).
7. I have NO intention of ever going through retrieval again. (See #5 & 6).
8. The center harvested 15 eggs, two of which were immature. Of the 13 mature eggs, 12 fertilized. So, we're in great shape for transfer tomorrow.
9. If we decide to do this again (either because we were unsuccessful or because we want siblings), #7 still stands, because #8 means there's plenty left over for a frozen cycle.
10. Tylenol does not kill pain like Aleve, but it's better than nothing.
11. You can never have too many snuggly blankets.
12. Surprise flowers (especially Iris) make any day better (Thanks, Margaret & Dale).
13. Support makes a difference, and I am extremely grateful for all of yours.
1. Phil is good at giving IM shots.
2. IM shots don't hurt when you get them, but if you fail to rub them and put a heat pack on them, the injection site will be extremely sore for at least two days after the fact.
3. Changing sides every other day for IM injections only works if you remember #2.
4. Valium doesn't do much for me.
5. Versed is a great drug--when it works.
6. Retrieval is a ridiculously painful experience. (See #5).
7. I have NO intention of ever going through retrieval again. (See #5 & 6).
8. The center harvested 15 eggs, two of which were immature. Of the 13 mature eggs, 12 fertilized. So, we're in great shape for transfer tomorrow.
9. If we decide to do this again (either because we were unsuccessful or because we want siblings), #7 still stands, because #8 means there's plenty left over for a frozen cycle.
10. Tylenol does not kill pain like Aleve, but it's better than nothing.
11. You can never have too many snuggly blankets.
12. Surprise flowers (especially Iris) make any day better (Thanks, Margaret & Dale).
13. Support makes a difference, and I am extremely grateful for all of yours.
2.27.2010
The Facts Are These...
The doctor decided I should wait one more day before triggering, so tonight was my last set of Gonal-F and Lupron injections. Tomorrow night, Phil will give me the trigger injection, which is a massive dose of HCG. Monday will be a shot-free day. Hallelujah! Tuesday will be retrieval and Thursday will be transfer. Based on my age, they will transfer two embryos. There is a 54% success rate (my doctor describes this as the "take-home baby" rate, not just a positive pregnancy test) and within that 54%, a 30% chance of twins (which calculates out to about a 15% chance of twins).
What does all this mean? Well, short term, I'm on full bed rest Thursday and Friday, post-transfer, which I plan to spend reading and sleeping. Then I enter the dreaded two-week wait (TWW), where every gas bubble and twinge gets over-analyzed and there's nothing to do but wait. I can't do any home pregnancy tests prior to 3/16 because they will register a false positive based on the HCG trigger shot. During the TWW, I have to have daily progesterone shots. On 3/16, I'll have a blood pregnancy test. If it's positive, they'll do another one two days later to determine whether the pregnancy is viable and, if so, whether it's multiples. If the blood tests are positive, I will continue doing the progesterone shots for roughly another month and then get transferred back to my OB-GYN. If they aren't positive, then Phil and I have a lot to process and think about.
So, that's where we are. Many thanks to those of you who have been and continue to support us. We'll need that (and my Feel Better Bucket) to get through these next few weeks.
What does all this mean? Well, short term, I'm on full bed rest Thursday and Friday, post-transfer, which I plan to spend reading and sleeping. Then I enter the dreaded two-week wait (TWW), where every gas bubble and twinge gets over-analyzed and there's nothing to do but wait. I can't do any home pregnancy tests prior to 3/16 because they will register a false positive based on the HCG trigger shot. During the TWW, I have to have daily progesterone shots. On 3/16, I'll have a blood pregnancy test. If it's positive, they'll do another one two days later to determine whether the pregnancy is viable and, if so, whether it's multiples. If the blood tests are positive, I will continue doing the progesterone shots for roughly another month and then get transferred back to my OB-GYN. If they aren't positive, then Phil and I have a lot to process and think about.
So, that's where we are. Many thanks to those of you who have been and continue to support us. We'll need that (and my Feel Better Bucket) to get through these next few weeks.
2.25.2010
Make 'Em Laugh
I am a planner. It's what I do. I like to project into the future and see if I'm on target. Anytime something changes, I reassess my plan and see what adjustments I need to make to get back on goal. They say if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. God has been getting quite a few chuckles from me recently.
I went in for my second ultrasound and blood test today. Although I had intended to keep myself in the dark, the tech took it upon herself to tell me what she was looking for, what they wanted to see, and what I had. So much for keeping myself in the dark so I wouldn't obsess. Well, I apparently have lots of follicles on both sides, and three on each side are close to the magic size (20mm in case you were wondering). So, when the nurse called me this afternoon with my plan, they kept my meds exactly the same, but I am scheduled for what is likely my last ultrasound and blood test on Saturday, and it will be at the fertility center with the doctor. Obviously, it will depend on what they see, but it looks like retrieval and transfer will happen early next week, instead of late next week. That's what I get for putting in my $.02 about only have to take two days off of work. Not that any of this will make me any less likely to plan, mind you. After all, they say laughter is good medicine. And given everything going on in the world, God probably needs a few laughs.
I went in for my second ultrasound and blood test today. Although I had intended to keep myself in the dark, the tech took it upon herself to tell me what she was looking for, what they wanted to see, and what I had. So much for keeping myself in the dark so I wouldn't obsess. Well, I apparently have lots of follicles on both sides, and three on each side are close to the magic size (20mm in case you were wondering). So, when the nurse called me this afternoon with my plan, they kept my meds exactly the same, but I am scheduled for what is likely my last ultrasound and blood test on Saturday, and it will be at the fertility center with the doctor. Obviously, it will depend on what they see, but it looks like retrieval and transfer will happen early next week, instead of late next week. That's what I get for putting in my $.02 about only have to take two days off of work. Not that any of this will make me any less likely to plan, mind you. After all, they say laughter is good medicine. And given everything going on in the world, God probably needs a few laughs.
2.24.2010
IVF Husband 101
As the Mrs. is going through her various medications which regulate her body so that IVF can work, she has written about finally understanding what people mean by mood swings. As her hubby, I have been a rather constant, if usually low grade, irritant to her anyway. But when her meds are working and the hormones are flowing it is important for me to maintain my equilibrium so that I don't take personally what is shot-induced so that I can be there for her and I can not add to the difficulties.
Some things I have found helpful:
1. If you have a settled routine, now is not the time to break it. I don't mean ignoring your beloved for the sake of Monday Night Football simply because you watch it every week. I mean keep to that which helps you balance your life. If you are not a "settled routine" type, now is probably not when you are going to start. Recognize what charges your batteries and what drains them and balance as best you can.
2. Invest in your spirituality. Take the time to pray. Or meditate. Or do yoga. Or drum. Or go to Men's Group at church. Or Bible Study. Or coffee with the guys. Or whatever it is that helps you reconnect beyond yourself both with other people and with God.
3. Dote, but give her space. Make sure your beloved has what she needs, and what she wants, because she is carrying the burden of bodily and emotional funkiness. This will become even more true with pregnancy. But don't hover. Be supportive by being yourself and being there for her, but recognize that she will need time for herself and time together. Knowing the difference is good.
4. Relax and recreate in healthy ways. You will need time for yourself, time to unwind, time with the guys, time to not stare at calendars and schedules and meds. You probably know the difference between healthy ways and unhealthy ways of doing this. If not, this blog won't help. Choose the healthy ones more often. Your own health will be important both in order to be around as a father, and to model it for your kids. After all, that is the point of all this.
5. Discuss your concerns, hopes, fears, anxieties, joys and all that touchy-feely stuff with your beloved. Being honest about where you are with being a parent or going through IVF will help her be honest about where she is. If both of you are harboring reservations for fear that the other will be disappointed or worried, it is going to be a rocky road. If you never tell your beloved your hopes, she may feel alone in all of this turmoil when the hormones are turning the amp up to 11. If you aren't already communicating with each other, what in the world are you going to do when a child plays divide and conquer?
6. Make your mistakes, say you are sorry, and forgive. Now is not the time for perfection. We are lousy at it under normal circumstances, and this is certainly not normal. The more forgiveness, the more connection. The more connection, the more forgiveness. Both are important for partners and for parents.
7. Love her. As naive as King Arthur was in the musical Camelot, he knew part of the right answer. When asked, "How to handle a woman?" he answered, "Love her. Simply love her. Truly love her." And tell her.
Not much new here. Most of this is about being healthy anyway. As important as it is to be stable for her during her mood swings, it is just as important to be balanced for yourself.
Some things I have found helpful:
1. If you have a settled routine, now is not the time to break it. I don't mean ignoring your beloved for the sake of Monday Night Football simply because you watch it every week. I mean keep to that which helps you balance your life. If you are not a "settled routine" type, now is probably not when you are going to start. Recognize what charges your batteries and what drains them and balance as best you can.
2. Invest in your spirituality. Take the time to pray. Or meditate. Or do yoga. Or drum. Or go to Men's Group at church. Or Bible Study. Or coffee with the guys. Or whatever it is that helps you reconnect beyond yourself both with other people and with God.
3. Dote, but give her space. Make sure your beloved has what she needs, and what she wants, because she is carrying the burden of bodily and emotional funkiness. This will become even more true with pregnancy. But don't hover. Be supportive by being yourself and being there for her, but recognize that she will need time for herself and time together. Knowing the difference is good.
4. Relax and recreate in healthy ways. You will need time for yourself, time to unwind, time with the guys, time to not stare at calendars and schedules and meds. You probably know the difference between healthy ways and unhealthy ways of doing this. If not, this blog won't help. Choose the healthy ones more often. Your own health will be important both in order to be around as a father, and to model it for your kids. After all, that is the point of all this.
5. Discuss your concerns, hopes, fears, anxieties, joys and all that touchy-feely stuff with your beloved. Being honest about where you are with being a parent or going through IVF will help her be honest about where she is. If both of you are harboring reservations for fear that the other will be disappointed or worried, it is going to be a rocky road. If you never tell your beloved your hopes, she may feel alone in all of this turmoil when the hormones are turning the amp up to 11. If you aren't already communicating with each other, what in the world are you going to do when a child plays divide and conquer?
6. Make your mistakes, say you are sorry, and forgive. Now is not the time for perfection. We are lousy at it under normal circumstances, and this is certainly not normal. The more forgiveness, the more connection. The more connection, the more forgiveness. Both are important for partners and for parents.
7. Love her. As naive as King Arthur was in the musical Camelot, he knew part of the right answer. When asked, "How to handle a woman?" he answered, "Love her. Simply love her. Truly love her." And tell her.
Not much new here. Most of this is about being healthy anyway. As important as it is to be stable for her during her mood swings, it is just as important to be balanced for yourself.
2.23.2010
A Lack of Control
Things went well Monday, best I can tell. My doctor kept my meds at the same level for the next 3 days. I am scheduled for another ultrasound and blood work on Thursday morning. At Monday's visit, the ultrasound tech(nurse?) indicated that I had more than 7 follicles on my right ovary and she also found some on the left. She described them as "fair good-sized." I have refrained from asking how many I "should" have, what size they are/should be, and what my estradiol levels are/should be. The truth is, I can't do anything to change what's going on and I'm paying my doctor to know what he's doing. So, I am going to trust in the doctor and leave myself in the dark. It gives me fewer things to obsess about, and that's a good thing. But that doesn't mean it's easy for me to relinquish control.
Also in the losing control category, I've been on stims for 5 days now and I am well into the mood swings. I fly of the handle for small things or, even if it's something reasonable to be upset about, my response is way out of proportion. I haven't done much crying (although I have felt close a few times). Most of my problems stem from my temper. I am working hard to keep my stress levels down, but flying off the handle and getting angry is counter productive. The most frustrating part is that my rational mind knows I'm being unreasonable, but there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. I just have to ride the wave. I am getting better about saying fewer stupid things. I may be absolutely fuming, but I won't say a word until I am back under control. This is an amazing feat for me since I tend to have trouble keeping quiet about anything, but it keeps me from saying things I know I don't mean or will regret. It requires a lot fewer apologies. Needless to say, I have dipped into my bucket more frequently for candy and watched a lot more movies to make myself feel better and calm myself down, but it's definitely worth it.
Anyway, unless my body is super speedy, the most likely schedule is that I'll have ultrasounds and blood work done Thursday, Saturday and Monday, have a trigger shot on the 2nd, retrieval on the 4th and transfer on the 6th. Personally, I like this schedule because it only requires two days off of work. However, in some ways, I'd like for it to happen sooner, if only to get off stims! But, my new mantra is, it will be what it will be--both the process and the outcome. For now, I'm working on taking things a day at a time and taking pride in getting through each shot, each mood swing, each whatever. There's always a chance that, if we're successful, some of these lessons will transfer over to make me a better parent. Lord knows, once you have children, you are no longer in control. Perhaps it's better that I learn this lesson now.
Also in the losing control category, I've been on stims for 5 days now and I am well into the mood swings. I fly of the handle for small things or, even if it's something reasonable to be upset about, my response is way out of proportion. I haven't done much crying (although I have felt close a few times). Most of my problems stem from my temper. I am working hard to keep my stress levels down, but flying off the handle and getting angry is counter productive. The most frustrating part is that my rational mind knows I'm being unreasonable, but there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. I just have to ride the wave. I am getting better about saying fewer stupid things. I may be absolutely fuming, but I won't say a word until I am back under control. This is an amazing feat for me since I tend to have trouble keeping quiet about anything, but it keeps me from saying things I know I don't mean or will regret. It requires a lot fewer apologies. Needless to say, I have dipped into my bucket more frequently for candy and watched a lot more movies to make myself feel better and calm myself down, but it's definitely worth it.
Anyway, unless my body is super speedy, the most likely schedule is that I'll have ultrasounds and blood work done Thursday, Saturday and Monday, have a trigger shot on the 2nd, retrieval on the 4th and transfer on the 6th. Personally, I like this schedule because it only requires two days off of work. However, in some ways, I'd like for it to happen sooner, if only to get off stims! But, my new mantra is, it will be what it will be--both the process and the outcome. For now, I'm working on taking things a day at a time and taking pride in getting through each shot, each mood swing, each whatever. There's always a chance that, if we're successful, some of these lessons will transfer over to make me a better parent. Lord knows, once you have children, you are no longer in control. Perhaps it's better that I learn this lesson now.
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