Perhaps It's Time for an Update?

I have recently discovered (due to T's sharp eyes) that the invisible ink trick doesn't work on Bloglines. Ahem. So, screw it. I am having enough trouble talking about this without losing the blog haven too.

I am now 13 weeks, 4 days and I seem to be having a weird reaction to this pregnancy thing. I can't talk about it with pretty much anyone. I have been planning to tell people at work--and actively trying to do it--for several weeks now with very very little success. You may remember when I couldn't say the words, "I want a baby," on command to my therapist? It's a very similar feeling. I cannot seem to get the words out of my mouth. And so day after day after day passes and very few people know.

What in the hell is this about? I know that some of it is that I don't really want the oohing and aahing that seem to be inevitable and I especially don't want the suddenly intimate questions about bodily functions, etc. But I don't know about the rest of it. I don't feel especially paralyzed with fear these days--we've made it to the second trimester with basically no problems past the early days and I have no reason to think we won't end up with a baby at the end of this. So, that's not really it. I'm honestly somewhat baffled.

But the baby which A. has named Baby Peach (her size a couple of weeks ago) is doing just fine and waved to Grandma during an illicit u/s at Grandma's hospital last week.

There are most certainly no words for that.

Good News, for a Change

This has turned out to be a banner week in Blogland. Three IVFs, two positive betas so far. If you haven't already, please stop by the front porch of the lovely and talented Suz and the brilliant and gorgeous Bugs to give them your congratulations. I think I am more excited than I was with my very own positive beta, if that is possible.

And Jen darling, it's your turn next. Good things come in threes you know.

Akimbo

To my dearest Bugs, and Jen, and Suz, the internets and I are anxiously waiting with you for The Day to come, and we'll be here the day after, no matter what.

Meet the Stephanies

[photos edited due to excessive google interest]

Do you remember when you were 5? Did you have a partner in crime, fellow pirate and best friend forever? A. has one. His name is R. And together, they are the Stephanies.

No, that's what they call themselves. Really. They are twin brothers and they are both named Stephanie.

Aren't you jealous? I know I am.

Invisible Ink Is Pretty Techno-Geek, No?

I am still uneasy talking about my pregnancy, on this blog and IRL. So, in attempt number 4,027 to find some middle ground, I am going to outright steal this idea from T. at Good Times, Good Times and use some invisible ink for the most egregiously pregnancy-related stuff. Or at least I'm going to try it and see how it goes. Highlight the space below if you want to read such things:

My anxiety-ridden belief in all things bad (again, see T.'s most recent post for elaboration) led me to shell out hard-earned cash to rent a home doppler machine a couple of weeks ago. Not surprisingly, this led to even more anxiety because I couldn't find the freaking heartbeat! Everywhere I looked I found only mine. Stupid and plodding and slow and why in the hell do I have so many blood vessels in my pelvis? I mean, shouldn't two or three do the job? Sheesh.

Last night, in a fit of optimism, I tried again. No dice. K., sweet man that he is, tried to convince me that the machine was defective, not the baby. My belief in technology remains strangely unshaken so I argued with him (as I am wont to do these days), and in mid-sentence, THERE IT WAS! I found it! Eureka!

Baby G. is alive and well in there. What an overwhelming relief. I will admit to crying a little.

Fair Warning: Irritability Ahead

I should explain at the outset of this post that since becoming a stepmother who is deeply involved in raising a 5 year old, I have discovered myself to be much more traditionalist about discipline than I would have expected. Not quite a Victorian sensibility but firmly in the I am the adult and I make the rules kind of parenting category. Another way of saying it: I think it is our job as parents to teach children how to control themselves (to the extent possible depending on age, maturity, etc) so that they can use their emotions constructively rather than destructively. There is probably a fancy name for a parenting theory attached to this, but I am speaking strictly from the gut here.

So, on with the post. Before I became a stepmother, I had passing contact with other people's children. A day with the nieces here, a barbeque there, all very infrequent. I generally spent my time with other childless adults. But, since A. has entered my life, I have begun my initiation into the sticky wicket that is Hanging Out With Other People With Children. I think this happens because it makes having a social life with a child easier, not just because the kids mostly entertain each other.

Fast forward to present day. What does one do when you are viscerally irritated by your friends' offspring and/or their handling of said child? Irritated is perhaps not quite the word. Hmmm. Perhaps it's better described as a situation in which your friends' child is engaging in behavior that would get your child verbally corrected, at the least, or chucked into heavy duty time out, at worst. And this Other Child's behavior usually nets a very very gentle, "don't hit mommy," if anything from the friends. And this behavior is not occasional.

I could say that the major problem here is that A. will pick up the bad behavior. And, to some extent, that is an issue. But I think if we're being honest here, it's more about K. and I. What do you do when other people's parenting choices (and I do believe that's exactly what this is) drive you batty? We don't want to stop being friends with these people, as the adults in this circle are pretty close and have been for some time. And I certainly have no illusions that our opinions about anything involving their child would or should matter a whit to them. I'm even willing to go so far as to say that perhaps they are doing the best thing for their family. But, I will never ever be converted to thinking that misbehavior is charming and cute. I love my friends dearly but we have found ourselves shrinking back a bit from what once was a frequent social relationship. This has not been improved by hormone-induced crankiness.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Smack across the face?

A. Gets a Pony Ride

[edited due to excessive google interest]

Tell me that isn't the cutest cowboy you've ever seen.

Assorted Baby-Related Updates

Thank you for all of the kind and thoughtful responses to my last post. I feel sheepish for being so melodramatic but I did really mean what I said and it was lovely to get your support. I mean, it was lurvely.

On with the blog-confined baby update show then. I am now 10weeks 3days. Baby G is theoretically about two inches long and at last count had a heartbeat of 172 beats per minute. I am most definitely larger, although some of my nice friends deny it. I am freaked out by the fact that my left breast has inflated to be noticeably larger than my right. I can't help but think that this is unusual and it is certainly throwing off bra purchases.

Here are the ultrasounds that you have missed so far:

5w2d



7w0d



9w1d--you can see the little head on the right side of the blob if you look closely

A Different Sort of Longing

I know posts along these lines have caused a lot of controversy in the Blog World in the past and I have no wish to stir up any of that crap. But I want to talk about this, so if you want to read it, buckle your seat belts.

* * *

FertilityFriend.com popped up with this helpful tip today: "You may be surprised that other moms and older women now accept you as a full adult and a grown-up woman in a new way." A "full adult"? What kind of rank bullshit is that? And coming from a website that plays host to teeming throngs of infertiles? Apparently, once you're pregnant, that kind of stuff is not supposed to piss you off anymore. You're supposed to be excited about being "accepted in a new way" and move on with your life.

But that's bullshit. I can't just *poof* make this transition from an Infertile Heather to an apparently normal pregnant person. I am not normal. I don't know who those "normal" people are.

One of the greatest joys over the last year was my discovery of the Heathers and, though them, all of you. After feeling so alone and so apart from everyone I knew in real life, it was an overwhelming relief to come online and talk to my friends who understood all too well where I was and why I felt that way.

That is different now, and I don't know where to go next. Of course I know exactly how painful it is to read or see something about someone else's pregnancy when you fear that you'll never have one of your own. I don't want to cause anyone that pain. But I feel that sometimes my online presence alone, as a pregnant person, causes pain. That if I post anything at all it will scream, "She's pregnant and you're not!"

So, I feel that I should stop posting comments on your blogs and posts in the Heathers group. But I don't want to. I lurve you people. Many of you are real-er to me than my real life friends and I follow your trials and tribulations just as avidly. And I've come to depend on your support and friendship. And beginning to lose it has made me realize just how important it is.

I've read more than one post from a pregnant infertile along these same lines. Talking about how lonely it is over here. I am thrilled to be pregnant and I am so very nervously holding my breath for second trimester. I wish I could talk to you about that. I wish I could share it. You are thinking, well can't she just find some new pregnant friends and get on with it? The answer is no. The Easily Pregnant are everywhere and they are different on a cellular level. They don't know what a beta is. They don't know what a dildocam is. They don't know what it's like to want so desperately you think you won't live through it.

Yes, I know. Bitch bitch bitch. Whine whine whine. Easy for me to say and all that. I can't help it. I don't want them. I want you.

All of this just to tell you, I'm not going to disappear from IF land. I don't want to and I couldn't even if I did. And I am going to talk about pregnancy on this blog as long as I am pregnant, but I will keep it under wraps as much as possible elsewhere. I just thought you should know why I might sometimes cross the comfort line, trying to stay in your life and keep you in mine.

The Good News

is that K. and I seem to have reached a detente in our war. At least for now. And thank God.

So today we'll be taking a survey--how do you choose an OB? Here's the situation: The only OB/Gyn I have seen in years was one visit with Dr. Quiet before running to the RE. She seems pretty nice but her staff is semi-bitchy and she can't see me until July 15. I will be nearly 12 weeks. I don't like this.

Choice #2 is Dr. Hands Off, who is highly recommended by my mother the L&D nurse as a non-interventionist doctor. He can see me at the end of June at 9 weeks. This is much much much better. However, he was the OB when K and Ex were expecting A, five years ago. He did not deliver, but he was the official OB. This creeps me out a little. Particularly since it bugs me that K has already had his first baby experience--and it turns out it was with this Doctor. Of course.

Plan C was to try to find someone else entirely. It seems that all the Drs. people like and recommend are either so very popular you can't get an appointment or else they have gotten so popular they don't deliver anymore. And the rest just seem to suck. Midwives are not a real option because they can only do home births here and I don't think that's a good idea with a first timer.

Any thoughts? I think I may just have to get over it. I mean, I need to actually find an OB, right?

It Is Official

I just can't believe it. We had the repeat ultrasound today and all is well. I told Dr. All Business to double check, since I'm not used to hearing good news from him. He swore on his stethoscope that the little pea is growing as it should be. We are 7 weeks today and we saw the heartbeat winking away in there at 127 beats per minute. Can you imagine? From a single cell to a heartbeat in just 5 weeks. It is truly overwhelming.

Meanwhile, back at the Mud Ranch, me and K have been fighting like the world depends on it. We have maintained the high level of fighting discussed below from the beta testing daysand now we have even stepped it up to a whole new category. We fight about what to have for dinner and what to do with the grass clippings and what kind of detergent to use on the clothes. (I wish I was kidding). I know that my part in this drama is fueled mostly by the constant draining fatigue that I can't seem to shake. Have you ever felt so tired that you just want to cry like a little girl? That's me. Pretty much every day. I think K is beset by massive masculine insecurities now that the Pea appears to be around for the long haul. You know, how to feed and clothe this extra mouth we expect come January. You combine these two things and it seems to be combustible. Whoosh!

Would it be ungrateful to wish for a little break in here somewhere?

A Little Light Music While You Wait......

The Interview

For a little change of pace, Lindy has "interviewed" me. The Q & A:

1. What kinds of misperceptions, if any, do you think people have about you?

I think the most common misperception about me is that people think I am a lot stronger and tougher and harsher than I really am. I find this tremendously irritating, because I think it means that I am not allowed to be upset. Ever. K. thinks it's really really cool and doesn't understand why would I ever think "strength" is bad. Thus, the close-up and personal view you've had of my whining on this blog.

2. Did you have a happy childhood?

I thought it was pretty happy while I was in the midst of it and it's only as an adult that I realized some of the more fucked-up aspects. Overall, not too shabby.

3. Who's more of a catch, you or your husband?

If you like control freaks who are wound too tight but keep the lights on and the higher education degrees dusted, you would like me. If you like fun, barbeque, silly jokes, kindness or pasta, you would like my husband.

4. What's the last dream or nightmare you remember having? Care to indulge in a little self-analysis?

Lord no. I've already started with the pregnancy nightmare dreams and I don't particularly want to relive them. Other than that, I have the standard, feeling-inadequate-at-work dreams. Which I also don't want to relive.

5. Since you're good and knocked up now, where do you fall: attachment parenting or Ferberizing. If you aren't familiar with the two-party system of parenting, study up and let us know what you think. While we're at it, breastfeeding or bottlefeeding? Solids at 3 months or 6 months? Have you read the latest research on the effect of overuse of exersaucers on the development of your baby's back and legs? Just kidding. I'll let you leave some of those questions til at least the second trimester.

My first instinctual answer would be Ferberizing, since I believe that most kids are waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too spoiled and rotten. But then again, after reading your links, I'm torn. I guess I think that there is a time for tough discipline, but that time is not at 3 months old. So, I'm somewhere in the middle.

Definitely breastfeeding, provided I can do it. My mother, the former La Leche League leader, will see to that.

The other two questions are going to have to wait because I have no idea a'tall.

* * *

If you want to participate in the interviews, leave a comment below saying "interview me." I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Houston, We Have a Yolk Sac

All normal. Not only normal, a little ahead of schedule even--we measured nearly 6 weeks at only 5w2d. We not only have a perfectly normal gestational sac, we also have a beautifully normal yolk sac. All in the right places and the right shapes and sizes. I even obsessively insisted on writing down all measurements for later googling and, by golly, it was all good news!

I am stunned. You could knock me over with a feather. I may even plotz. Since when does good news come from the RE's office? I am not sure what to do now, but I am daring to dream a little here.

I could just kiss all of you. Really. I mean that.

"We Are Going to Stop the Doom and Gloom,"

said Smart Nurse as her opening greeting. Apparently, my high level of panic got through to even Nurse Nasty and prompted Smart Nurse and Dr. All Business to actually take a moment to review my chart. Wonder of wonders. SN says that they are "moderately concerned" at my 14dpo level of 54 because, in their experience with IVF patients at this clinic, a level of at least 100 at 14dpo is strongly associated with a good outcome. To which I respond, yes, but you know exactly how many days an IVF embryo has been growing and we don't know that in my case, right? She agreed and agreed that my relatively low hCG level could be caused by perfectly normal and legitimate reasons.

The new (or maybe old but just misrepresented by NN) spin on the numbers is that the news is generally happy but still tinged with moderate worry for now, since they don't know definitively why my overall number is low. We are still doing an ultrasound at 5w2d to look for a gestational sac, although I'm unconvinced that we'll be able to see anything at all. But we shall see, I guess. I must do more early ultrasound Google searches to prepare myself in case they try to screw me again.

I hate them with the fire of a thousand suns for fucking with my head like this. But I am grateful for the small break in the crap slinging. Now, if things can just be something approaching normal for a few days in a row, I may even be able to keep my job.

IF Irony Number 371

If you had told me that IF would have the biggest effect on my marriage after the pink line finally showed, I would have pshawed you. Not possible, I would have said. How could the glorious and long-awaited moment of a BFP possibly lead to a bad place? I am here to tell you that it is in fact possible. And happening. To me.

Nurse Nasty called yesterday with an eerie repeat of Monday's conversation, spiced up with additional confusion, inability to explain herself and sheer panic on my end of the line. The 16dpo number is 118.6--not doubling as quickly as the last test but still a perfectly respectable 42 hour time. Not surprisingly, N.N. again expresses doubt and regret about the numbers. Still too low, they say. They cannot explain to me what number they would find acceptable, the source of that number and the freaking dpo of this fabled pregnancy. I have a strong suspicion that they are looking at a 5wk pregnancy or something but this cannot be confirmed until the one nurse who controls all comments on betas is available for questioning. Theoretically, this will happen today.

So, this is freaking me out. I mean, wouldn't it freak you out? I think, in my heart of hearts, that everything is probably okay but it's hard to hold on to that when the medical professionals I write big checks to don't agree. Bitches. I am a bit of a wreck. Well, it goes back and forth depending on how recently I've had a totally unsatisfying conversation with Nurse Nasty.

Meanwhile, DH and I have argued and fought more in the last week than we have in our entire marriage. Exponentially more than we ever clashed during the diagnosis, consultation, and treatment aspects of this. It appears that the combination my state of precarious wreckage after this last month of huge emotional ups and downs, the essentially unknowable, unpredictable purgatorial nature of the situation, and DH's anger at not being able to fix it adds up to one disconnect after another. One conversation after another when I need comfort and he needs to pretend it's not happening. This is explosive stuff and we don't know how to get past it.

For god's sakes, I hope Smart Nurse calls me today.

Another Dispatch from Anxiety Central

The second beta was 54.7 at 14dpo. I was very happy with this--a doubling time of 28 hours (I've learned a lot about HCG in the last few days). But Dr. HeeHee and Co. remain skeptical. They talk about things like a "slow rise" and "close eye on it" and "kid gloves." All because of the 5.1 at 10dpo. From what I can tell with frantic googling and a quick consult with my friend the Dr. (no, not an RE, but he still has the textbooks!), doubling doubling doubling is the key. 5 is a perfectly normal number that early in the game and so is 54. And, again, the doubling rate was good. So, either they are being overly cautious or I don't know as much as I think I do. It must must must be the former, right?

In my mind, I am now at 15dpo with nary a spot, hardly a twinge, umpteen positive HPTs, two positive betas, and a tummy that is getting just a tad sensitive. None--I repeat none--of these things have ever happened to me before. So, I think I am okay with normal, even slightly "special" results. Dr. HeeHee can find someone else to be in his overacheiver club.

It's Raining but the Sun is Out

I am nearly paralyzed with fear as I wait for the results of beta #2 at 14dpo a.k.a. 4w0d. I guess I didn't really think that all this crap we've been continually dealing with might actually work one of these months. And on top of that, to get to avoid all the shit Dr. HeeHee has lined up for us next cycle? I couldn't possibly be that lucky. Sometime soon, the cosmos will realize that I belong on the Fucked list and scoot me right back over there. Will it be a chemical and gone as quick as it came? Will I make it to 5 weeks before ~poof~ it disappears? Get to hear a heartbeat before the bottom falls out?

Deep breaths. Beta result at 3 p.m. CST. Until then, I'll be the one in the corner obsessively comparing the lines on four days worth of pee sticks.

I May Forgive Clomid After All

I have news. Still not sure how to characterize this news, but news nevertheless.

Beta today at 10dpo after a bizarre FRER experience I will tell you about later.

Hcg: 5.1

Progesterone: 25.59

Repeat Monday.

Holy shit.

I'm not doing well; have I mentioned this?

So, my paternal grandmother committed suicide. And my dad, and my aunt, and my uncle have spent a lifetime battling serious depression. Don't think that this is unrelated to the current state of affairs.

I myself, my own precious self, have suffered through three pretty serious depressive episodes. The most intense was by far when I had just graduated from law school and I was attempting to study for the bar. The psychological effort involved in this undertaking just about did me in. But I did it. And I thought (naively) that I had conquered this crap, with the help of drugs and therapy and sheer fucking willpower.

But now, one divorce and three job changes later, fertility drugs (yes, just Clomid and Prometrium) are about to put me under. At first I thought perhaps it would quickly pass, as it seems to for others, but it has become clear that this is not so much the case. My current theory is that you need a certain baseline level before you start this evil, fucked up crap, or else it just puts you down in the nasty stinky pit. And, as previously mentioned, I am really not in the mental state, biologically and historically speaking, where I can afford much crap.

I am not quite sure what to do here, but I most certainly need some help. I have learned to ask for help when I need it, see? Anyone have some words of wisdom to spare?