Cleaning My Way Calm

When I was younger, I had a very messy room.  If I was forced to clean it, things got shoved under the bed, or into the closet, or into drawers.  I know it drove my mother crazy.  As I got older, I began to keep a tidier room--much easier to find things that way.  Still, I was not the most organized person.  Somehow, as I grew older, my need for order increased, and I began to do crazy things like organize books, tapes, CDs, and videos, alphabetically within specific categories.  I became something of a neat freak, but only in certain areas.  Clothes could still pile up, and mail might make a big pile on my desk before I got around to looking at it.

When Phil and I were dating, it became clear that he didn't care much for organization.  His apartment and office at work looked pretty cluttered.  I figured I could live with it, and we figured out how to share space fairly well over the last 15 years.  Initially, we managed it by having separate offices and making his side of the bedroom the one away from the door.  As children arrived in our lives, I spent the first year of Lil' Bit's life trying to maintain order.  It was very hard not to undo all of her "work," which just looked like destruction and disorder to me.  Still, I read that kids get frustrated and stop trying when you keep cleaning stuff up, so I curbed my tendencies.  And, honestly, the addition of a second high-needs child has really allowed my cleaning and organization to slide immensely.  

Over time, I have gotten more accostomed to the clutter.  Still, there always comes a time, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, when I *must* clean.  I've never really understood the trigger for when it must occur--until today.  As Lil' Bit was bouncing on the exercise ball and Jellybean was screaming through another tube feed, I had suddenly had enough and began tidying the room a little.  Lil' Bit asked what I was doing and, in a frustrated voice (although I managed not to yell), I said "Cleaning up because I can't take it any more."  In true three-year-old manner, she asked, "Why?"  I took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say.  Phil managed to fill in, "Because we can only take so much chaos."

And there it was.  The answer to when I can't take it anymore.  If I am calm and having a reasonably easy time, I can handle more clutter.  Once I get stressed, I *must* have order and the only thing I can control and bring out of chaos (at least to some degree) is my house.  And, once things are cleaner, I feel calmer.  You should have seen how zen I was--for weeks--after my kitchen and refrigerator got cleaned.  I don't know if my mom feels this kind of zen when her house is clean, but, if so, I totally get why she was always doing it.  I knew my organization was tied to my need for control, but I never thought my cleaning was.  But, it is.  Cleaning is my way to stave off some of the chaos in my life and bring some needed order in to usher in some calm.  Now that I know that, I think I will try and find more time to keep the house clean.  It's hard to find the time, but given how much better I feel after it's done, it's probably one of the better uses of my time I can invest in.

Now I just have to work on not losing the zen when Lil' Bit wants to "help." :)

So Far, So Good

I went for my best test Monday with much trepidation.  Fortunately, my results arrived a mere one hour after the blood was taken, which was a relief because waiting until 4:00 in the afternoon is always torture.  My HCG level was 90.  The nurse reported that this was a "strong" number.  Yay!  Honestly, if you had asked me what kind of number I needed to feel relieved, I couldn't have told you.  But, apparently, 90 fell within that zone.  I was cautiously optimistic once again.  Still, even a "strong" initial number wasn't going to soothe my frayed nerves unless it doubled by this morning.

In the world of infertility, the two days between beta tests feels longer than the two-week wait.  So, we do the only thing we can--try and find solace and comfort on the internet.  In that vein, yesterday evening, I spent some time Googling about miscarriages and betas and all types of things.  I learned that my numbers don't rule anything out--we could have one, two, or three babies in there; I learned that my chance of another miscarriage was not a large as I believed; and I learned (again) that there is a limit to the utility of internet.  Having exhausted what it had to offer, I hung up my searching shoes and went to bed.  Nothing to do but wait.

Woke up this morning to roughly 6 inches of snow.  Blerg.  I diligently headed out in the crappy weather to attempt to get my blood drawn at roughly the same time it was taken on Monday.  Since we wanted actual doubling--nothing less would sooth my soul since Oliver had only increased 80%--the magic number we needed this morning was 180.  I said a little prayer on my way in, got my blood drawn, and then went about my day.  Shockingly, I promptly forgot that I was waiting on a phone call until the phone rang.  I immediately had a giant lump in my throat.  My results were in--quite early again, thank goodness.  The nurse chatted with me for a bit and then we got down to business.  And the answer was.....194!!!!  We had slightly more than doubled!  Woo freaking Hoo!  I did a dance of joy and immediately texted Phil.

At this point, I am feeling very good.  I know that things can still go wonky, but all indicators are that we're going to be fine.  Sometime between now and the ultrasound appointment in two weeks I might get a little nervous.  Indeed, until we see a/those tiny blinking heart(s) on the monitor, I'm not sure anything will really relax me.  But, I am definitely feeling good.  The news I got is the best I could get at this point, so I will take comfort in that.  Besides, every step we make it this time is one step further than the last FET where we didn't get anything at all, and that's something worth celebrating all by itself.

So.  In sum.  "Strong" initial HCG levels that are doubling like they are supposed to.  Whew!  Now I can quit worrying about that and get geared up for Lil' Bit's surgery next week!  Ah, the life of a parent.  Never a dull moment!  And I wouldn't change that for anything.

No Longer a Need

Lil' Bit was sitting in my lap and we were enjoying some snuggle time before I took her to daycare.  I reached around her and gave her a big hug and a smooch on the top of her head.  She reached her arms up and snuggled me back.  Suddenly, I had this overwhelming sense of peace and calm.  I realized I wasn't worried about the upcoming procedure.  I'm didn't feel like my world would end if it didn't work.  In that moment, having another child changed from a "need" to a want.  I still want a sibling for Lil' Bit.  I still want to experience pregnancy one more time.  I still want the opportunity to raise and nurture another life.  But that desperate, gnawing, insatiable need is no longer there.  When I think about pregnant women and those trying to get pregnant, there's no anger; only joy and hope.  I don't know if this feeling will last, or for how long, but I am going to do my best to keep it around.  10 shots, 13 days, and counting...