The Husband Post

This is certainly long overdue, but I feel it necessary to brag about my amazing husband for a bit, so if you get queasy over that sort of mushiness, this post is not for you.

I used to think I knew what a good relationship consisted of, based on my observations of other "perfect couples" and the experience I had with my ex. However, once that relationship died, I saw that we were not, in fact, a perfect couple. Not even close, even though we appeared to be from pretty much all who knew us. Or at least, if they thought there were detrimental flaws, they didn't express as much to me. We didn't fight. We went out a lot together with our friends. We had (what I thought at the time were) open lines of communication, even about the sticky subjects. So, it took me MANY years to realize that the relationship was doomed, but once I did, I was out the door lickity split. No use prolonging the inevitable.

Thus began the craziest and most wonderful year of my life. In July 2005, after cutting ties in State College and trying to save what little money I could, I haphazardly threw as much of my belongings as I could gather into my car, and drove to Delaware to meet up with Leslie (one of my lovely BFFs) and her fiance and friends at a weekend party being thrown to introduce the attendants of their wedding to each other (it was happening almost exactly a year later, and I was a bridesmaid). Even though all of this was going on with her, when my life turned upside down and I didn't know what to do with myself, her response was simply, "well, I have a couch." And with that, I was moving to Brooklyn! We drove from Delaware at the end of the weekend into New York in a torrential downpour, which seemed to fit my sense that I was washing myself clean of the past and starting fresh in the one place I had always dreamt I'd live. Since I was carting the smokers in my car, I must have nervously inhaled half a pack while trying to stick to Leslie's bumper like glue (I even tapped it at one point and got a phone call from her saying "I said stay close, but not that close!"). Finally arriving, they made room for me in their house and their lives for six weeks and always. I quickly found a job, and shortly after, with Leslie's help, an apartment. If you had told me ten years ago that any of this would have transpired, I would have probably laughed in your face, but though wistfully, "damn, that would be sweet."

The room I rented was in a very nice, remodeled house with what turned out to be perplexing roommates. I worked crazy hours with people who would never be my friends (too young / weird / geographically inconveient) and scraped money together to make myself something pitiful to eat at the end of the day. Cooking for one is harder than you think, especially on a tight budget. I cried... a lot. I did manage to make one friend, Maya, an Israeli bartender/waitress at the neighborhood French restaurant where I would hide after work in an effort to avoid my roommates and my way-too-quiet bedroom (to which I was basically confined since the tv was stashed in another bedroom and it was seriously frowned upon to sit on the white couches in the living room, blurg). I was so disappointed that I had finally made it to New York, but coudn't figure out what to do with myself. Leslie and Brian were there, but comfortable with staying home, and also in wedding-planning mode, which I now know is incredibly all-consuming at times. In telling Maya about all of this, it was brought to my attention that I should go to Moe's and meet all of the neighborhood regulars. Apparently, it's a pretty cool bar and I vaguely remembered one of my coworkers at the bank mentioning it. It was mere blocks from my apartment, but since I had no idea where I was going in general, I had never even ventured over that way. At any rate, I went that Saturday night and sat down next to Justin, and the rest is history.

To say that we hit it off is a massive understatement, but I was afraid. I had only gotten out of a ten-year relationship less than six months prior, and I was so unhappy that I warned him that if it didn't get better, I was planning to move back home by the end of the year (we met in late October) and figure out my next move. Basically, I told him he really didn't want to get involved with me because I was a hot mess. Clearly, he didn't listen. We spent more and more time together, and due to my crappy roommates and his better apartment location, I stayed over more often than not. Four months in, when his roommate situation had become equally unbearable, we got wind of an apartment opening up. We took one look and they offered it to us on the spot (though I didn't really understand what had just gone down and Justin had to explain it to me, lol! Things move pretty fast in the city.) I took a deep breath and jumped in head first and moved in with my new boyfriend. Sure, it was probably insane, and I know my family was concerned, but once they met him, they trusted that I was making wise choices for myself and would be just fine.

Now, more than six years later, we have grown a lot, both individually and as a couple, and helped each other through life's challenges. We are truly equal partners. If I ever thought I knew what a good relationship was supposed to be like, I now realize that I didn't have a clue. I have one now. We are kind to each other and consider the other's feelings like second nature. We disagree, but don't fight. There is a balance in our differences that makes us work. He makes me want to be more patient and I encourage him to be more assertive. We're that disgusting couple who want to spend every possible moment together and never get tired of it. I love his face. It says so much to me beyond just physical features.

But besides all of that, we just have fun together. How sad it is to me to see couples who have forgotten how to have fun together! And there are so many people living this way. Life gets complicated. You go to work, you have kids, you pay your taxes... and it can all suck the joy out of you if you're not careful. Remembering that the family we are creating and the day-to-day lives we lead are all a product of a boy and girl meeting and falling in love is essential. Otherwise, what's the point?

Another hurdle... hurdled

Well, yet another thing has gone our way! Despite dealing with the bitchy OB and bloodwork confusion, we went ahead with the NT scan as scheduled. I, of course, was just excited to possibly get really good pics of the baby, but my brain simply would not think about the part that involved the genetic issues they were truly looking for as the purpose for this test. Unavoidable as it is, Justin and I sat with the genetic counselor beforehand and listened to her walk through our family histories and come to the estimation that there were no red flags... other than my age. As usual. Cuz I'm sooo old.  *eye roll*

So, off we go to the ultrasound room. This was by far the coolest moment in the pregnancy to date. The baby was moving all around and stretching out its skinny little legs (just like Mom and Dad, lol!) and waving and yawning(?). Too cool for words, but still surreal. She gives us her semi-professional guess at what we're having (though it is admittedly too early to say with certainty at only 12 weeks) and prints out some awesome shots for us to take home and add to our collection:

J says it looks like s/he is saying, "feed me!" Accurate, considering how hungry I've been.

After staring in amazement as the tech took the necessary measurements, it was back to the waiting room to hear the results of the scan plus bloodwork. After what seemed like a painfully long wait (really, probably less than ten minutes), we went back to the genetic counselor's office. Before we could get in the door, she said everything looked great! Whew! Apparently, my labs and the 1.5mm measurement of the nuchal fold (anything over 3mm is cause for concern, it's the fluid at the back of the neck) gave us such slim odds of Downs Syndrome and Trisomy 18 (which is fatal), that they were literally off the chart! I am so grateful for such definitive results so we don't have to make any tough decisions on whether or not to do more invasive testing. Now we will switch to the new OB on March 9th and get the anatomy scan at the end of March. That'll be half way already!!!

As for me, I am feeling pretty darn good. I have my moments where I am still worried that something will go wrong (I got a home doppler cheap from a friend today, but am so scared to use it and not find a heartbeat), but otherwise, I love window shopping / nursery plotting on Pinterest and looking cute in my maternity gear. I am already up 6 pounds! Leggings and dresses are my best friends right now. I refuse to look frumpy just because my waistline is expanding. My lovely office bathroom self portrait:

I'm starting to get more energy and even had trouble napping this weekend *gasp!* But all in all, I am enjoying this crazy trip so far.

A Note to Doctors Everywhere

Dear Doctors of the World,

I am "that" patient. You know the one. The one that you like, but also dread dealing with.

Perceived Positives:

• I am not afraid to make an appointment to get help if I am sick.

• I am open to alternative treatments, but understand that sometimes a Z-pack makes life simpler.

• I trust your judgement and education, but also like to be my own advocate.

• I know a good bit about the kind of care I need and what options are available, so every little thing doesn't have to be explained.

Potential Negatives:

• I may know too much for my own good. I blog, I google, I ask friends and family for advice. This usually leads to me asking a lot of questions which you may or may not have expected / have time for. I still expect you to answer them and not shoo me out the door. I have been the patient waiting in the other room for my turn and I fully understand that my wait time may be caused by someone asking a lot of questions, and I am fine with that. I don't really care if the patient after me gets this or not. 

• I expect YOU to know what I need to know. If something needs to be done, tell me. I cannot read minds and have no medical degree like you do to fall back on.

• Miscommunications happen, but it should be safe to assume affiliated offices know each other are up to. If there is a difference of opinion and it creates a problem for me, then YOU need to fix it. You are my doctor, so again, that's your job.

If any of the "negatives" are a problem for you, then you can watch my ass walk right out the door to the rival clinic.

Today's PSA is brought to you by a crappy obstetrician who just got fired.

Back story: Everything went beautifully at my appointment on Monday, including a quick ultrasound that showed a happy Jellybean wiggling!

Today I took time from work to have my TB test "read". This took all of 5 minutes and involved me showing her that my arm had not ballooned or turned funky colors in the last three days. As I waited, I got a call from the genetics center regarding my NT Scan, which is scheduled for Friday and must be done before I hit 14 weeks. She claimed I have not had all my blood work done. As she listed said tests, I noticed that they were simple ones that had been done ages ago (blood type, etc.) that should already be in the computer system. When I ask why this needs to be done and why I was not told about it or given a lab slip when I was at my first OB appointment TWO DAYS AGO, the doctor says, "you told me you did that already, so that's not MY fault". Wrong, I told her I did the First Trimester screening bloodwork that was ordered as part of the NT Scan. I don't have a clue what these labs are about. When I explain this and the fact that I cannot go to the lab right this second, as was not-so-politely suggested, because I was due at work hours ago, I am met with, "yet you're wasting time here now?" Nice, right?

A form of torture?

Friends, let me start by saying that I am not known for my patience, nor am I good at just letting things happen and hoping for the best. "Everything happens for a reason"?? Blech. I think not. I am a planner, a details person, and a worrier by nature... though the latter did not manifest itself until recent years. I used to have the attitude that I could handle anything and roll with the punches and that everything would work out, but somewhere in my journey to adulthood (and actually having a lot to lose for the first time in my life), that all changed, resulting in the paranoid mess you see before you.

The fact that I have not had an ultrasound since "graduating" from the RE on 1/6 coupled with not being able to get an initial consult with the OB until 2/6 is just torturous for someone like me. I was doing well until yesterday, when I felt a little queasy, but otherwise, really good. Too good? I'm worrying about feeling TOO good... again? What is my problem?! Why can't I be happy that I'm not barfing constantly? Because that doesn't convince me that everything is ok in there. Neither do the 4 pounds of belly and boob that I've gained so far. Or being super hungry, even in the middle of the night. Or having to pee all-the-time. Or that my acupuncturist can detect a fetal heartbeat through my pulses. 

Sure, I could buy one of those at-home doppler machines off the internet for $50 plus shipping to give myself some reassurance, but I hesitate to make too many baby-related purchases before we can SEE that all is well. That, and it's difficult to find the heartbeat early on and I don't want to make myself crazier than I already am. We even postponed taking pictures for our big Facebook reveal (which, I promise, will not be obnoxious) because it seemed premature. Oh the insanity! 

Let's not forget the little fact that nothing has happened to make me think anything is wrong. I have not miscarried, therefore, I am still pregnant.

The only conclusion is that I am a lunatic. Please don't let me pass this on to my child. It's not fun to be your own worst enemy.

Thank you for listening. I will now go count down the days, hours, minutes...

(7 days, 2 hours, 12 minutes)

Trucking along

So, my posts will probably be less frequent now that the daily insanity of the IVF process has subsided. Since hearing the news that we are expecting, things have been good, bad, and weird... sometimes simultaneously.

The Good: Due to some spotting and bleeding (see The Bad below), we got to have a few early ultrasounds. At 6 weeks, we learned that there is one baby and it was measuring pretty much on track. At our "official" dating ultrasound a week later, we got to see the baby again, and this time it was measuring 3 days behind and had a heart rate of 120! That little flicker is awesome to see, and a little of the weight came off my shoulders at that moment because this significantly reduces our odds of miscarriage. Yay! Two days after that (again with The Bad), we got even better images to bring home and saw its little stubby arms and even a dark space at the top of its head where the brain would soon be forming! Truly amazing.

The Bad: As I mentioned, I had some issues with spotting and bleeding, starting right around the 6 week mark. From all of my reading, I know that a little spotting is common and nothing to be concerned about, but the disclaimer is usually that it be brown and not accompanied by cramping. As is my luck, *TMI Warning* I had a big ol' blob of red and brown when I went to the bathroom at work that day, which continued as reddish brown spotting. I kinda freaked. Those who know me intimately know that I always fear that the good things in my life will be taken away from me. That I don't deserve them somehow, so of course, it would all get ruined. All of those thoughts came flooding into my head, and I immediately emailed Susan (our nurse), got impatient, called the front desk, and begged to be seen. They squeezed me in right away and I fled the office to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, Justin was in the East Bay (he had the week between Christmas and New Years off and was vinyl record shopping in Berkeley), so I would be on my own until he could get there. Thankfully, the ultrasound showed all was well with The Bean, as we started lovingly referring to it, and they could not see any reason to be alarmed about the spotting. It tapered off later that evening and I felt better, only to have incident #2 smack me in the face.

On 1/3, we had our "official" ultrasound with Dr. Huddleston. It was scheduled for that day because she was on rotation, and it would be nice to have our actual doctor for this milestone. This ultrasound machine was obviously older, so the image wasn't great, but everything looked fine from what she saw, including the heart rate. She pointed out something to the side of the gestational sac and said it could be a little fluid and the cause of the spotting, and not to worry about it, even though it may continue for a while. Understatement of the century! Two days later and once again in the bathroom at work, *TMI* I looked down to see the toilet completely full of dark red blood. This cannot be good. I started shaking and trying to keep it together as I called the RE's office, and of course, they saw me right away. Justin was at work in the South Bay, so again, I was on my own. Stephanie, a practioner that I grew particularly fond of in the IUI days because of our shared affinity for funky patterned socks and the fact that she takes the time to thoroughly go over everything with me, came into the room and asked me a series of questions. She looked concerned. But, upon further inspection, the ultrasound showed the baby was happier than ever in there and the heart rate was up to 125, and it measured perfectly at 7 weeks and 2 days! I was so relieved, I could have passed out. She looked closely around the gestational sac and saw very clearly that there was a dark area adjacent it and diagnosed it as a subchorionic hemorrhage. It was small and located on the opposite end of the sac from the baby, and the side closest to the cervix. This meant that any bleeding as it resolves itself can just escape the uterus without disturbing the pregnancy at all. The prognosis is good, but until it goes away (hopefully by early second trimester), I can experience a scary moment like this again, or just on and off spotting. Unless it doesn't taper off in a few hours or is accompanied by major cramping, I should not worry (easier said than done). I have had continued spotting, though not every day, but it seems to have reverted back to the brownish color. We go back tomorrow morning for our final visit before "graduating" and moving on to the OB on February 6th. I'm hoping that everything is still on the up-and-up, at which point, I will allow myself to be officially excited.

The Weird: Ok. I know that we have worked VERY hard to get me pregnant. The money, the anxiety, the tears, you name it. But now that I actually AM, it's very strange.  I mean seriously, there is something growing inside of me that does not yet resemble a human being. How is that not bizarre? My body is changing and my clothes are not going to fit soon. Pants are already a challenge. I cried during the National Anthem at a basketball game (WTF). I seem a little foreign to myself. Like I'm watching this happen, but it isn't really me. Well, the food aversions and crazy dreams and massive boobage (hello!) are all undeniable, but I guess it still seems surreal. And I don't really want to talk about having this baby until I can fully accept it myself. Even then, I dread the conversations where people ask me a million questions or "oo and ahh" or heaven forbid touch my stomach uninvited (Side note: I've decided that when people do this, I am going to touch their stomach right back. I mean, if they think we're cool enough to be that friendly with each other, then I should be able to do it too, right? I'll be sure to let you know how this goes when the time comes). Does everyone go through this? I think maybe to some degree.

I have never fancied myself as the "motherly" type. In fact, as a teenager, I insisted that I was going to to be a powerful New York City attorney and never have children. I didn't have the patience to babysit, and felt like kids in general were just not particularly fond of me. I did work full time in a day care for a few months after college, and enjoyed the experience, but let's just say that I'm not a "natural" the way some women feel they are. But that was the old me and maybe it's time to give myself more credit. At some point, I will settle into this new stage of life. I can already feel the contentment creeping in (though I am still afraid to accept it in case something goes wrong - infertility really messes with your head) and believe without a doubt that Justin and I are going to rock the whole parenthood thing.  :)

I am praying to Jesus and Shiva and Buddha and Allah and L. Ron Hubbard and all those other deities that everything goes well tomorrow. Maybe then I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And heeeeerrre's baby!

Super-wrong drama llama!

I can't possibly find words to sufficiently describe the intensity of the past week, but I will try...

In my last post, I was going through the awful roller coaster of emotions between wanting to feel hopeful while fighting the sense of dread that this cycle was a bust... spurred largely by some serious cramping on and off, with the worst of it being on Monday, 12/12. By that afternoon, I thought I might lose my marbles entirely, so after deliberating with Justin, I emailed Susan (our RE nurse at UCSF) to let her know that we would be testing at home the next morning since I was sure it would be negative and I wanted to get it over with. She requested that I get blood work done instead of using a home test, because the beta numbers are more telling, so we made an appointment at the lab for Wednesday.

The morning started out rocky because Justin had apparently forgotten where the lab was (weird, since he drove me there twice before) and I was nervous and therefore moody. But, we made it, joked around a little with each other to ease the tension, and in a few minutes, it was done. How exactly I was supposed to be productive for the next several hours at work is anyone's guess (I wasn't.) I watched and watched my phone to see if the call had come in with the results. And at around 2:30, I saw that she had called and left a voicemail. Thus beginning 4 hours of torture until Justin could meet me at home to listen to it together.

Finally, the moment had arrived, and I was feeling so pessimistic (probably a self-preservation technique), but secretly hoping for the best. As soon as I heard her voice over the speakerphone, I thought she sounded happy, but then immediately scolded myself for thinking so. However, much to my surprise, she said the magic words, "your test came back positive!" Our beta was 66 and she wanted it to be at least 50, so she was cautiously optimistic. We cried, we laughed, we high-fived.

Exhale.

Now the fun begins... We made the obligatory phone calls to family, which was a little strange since I barely believed the news myself. I had a second beta drawn and it more than tripled to 218 in 48 hours, and our first ultrasound is already scheduled for January 3rd. Don't I feel silly for being so sure that the worst was going to happen! Susan has a nickname for me: "Oh ye of little faith."

Like clockwork, my brain has kicked in and I've been worrying about all of the logistics and the what-ifs. It makes it tough to sleep at night when the thoughts are coming a mile a minute starting the second my head hits the pillow, but I am training myself to continue to take this one day at a time, just like the IVF process itself. Today, I am SO happy. I will try to stay focused on that and taking extra-special care of myself, since that is what is important in the here and now.

So, what do you think: one or two?  ;)

What a Difference a Day Makes

I seriously need to get OFF this rollercoaster! To recap:

Monday, I felt great. Really optimistic and hopeful that this had worked.

Tuesday, black cloud over my head, thinking the worst.

Wednesday and Thursday, back to the sunny side!

Today, blackest cloud ever.

I was very crampy overnight (more so then I had been, anyway) and it started to feel the same as the end of all my other cycles. I even cried when my acu asked me how I was feeling, because I had to be honest with her. Justin is worried too because he knows how this is affecting me and he would hate to have to go through this again. I know that the cramping could mean nothing or everything, and there's no way to know yet (and I sure as hell am not going to test at 7dp3dt and get ambiguous results) what the outcome will be, but I am exhausted. Maybe I just feel this way because the trigger has worn off? Who knows? I NEED to stop dwelling, but that's practically impossible!

I hope I'm just being totally ridiculous and feel like a million bucks again tomorrow. Ugh. Longest. 2ww. EVER!