Hello, can I get a hall pass, please?

•January 31, 2012 • 3 Comments

Saturday marked 11 weeks. The nausea had subsided and the end of the first trimester was almost in sight. And then there was pink on the toilet paper. Ok, no need to panic, well I rarely panic so, I didn’t.

And then there was red on the toilet paper. I texted the midwife, told her I wasn’t panicking, but could we pop in for a listen? We went over late afternoon, before a quick sushi dinner… but at 11 weeks when you have a retroverted uterus, it’s not easy to hear a tiny little baby. We heard nothing. At dinner, the nausea came back and so did my confidence.

Sunday dawned with nary a drop of blood so I resumed my status as happily pregnant woman.

Monday, as I adjusted my first patient I heard a *snap* and realized my crane pendant had gotten trapped under an elbow and was broken. An hour later there was blood on the toilet paper. An omen?  Egads.

Every wipe left a trail of red, and by the third time, I reached for the phone and called my donor coordinator. It was 11:45, she was on the phone with someone else. I left a message, and less than a minute later she called me back. I had had what I’d hoped was my last P4 blood draw that am, and was hoping to never set foot in the office again, but when she asked me if I wanted to come in for an ultrasound the only thing I could say was “how soon.”

It was 90 mins before they could see me, S2 was unable to get out of a meeting he had to lead, and true to form, he was cool as a cucumber. He was convinced that everything was fine, and that the US would  show a happy wiggling baby. I did not feel the same way, everything felt wrong, and I did not have a good feeling.   I texted my BFF, but when I didn’t hear back I figured I’d just go alone… and then I felt the panic set in.

Did I mention that I rarely panic? I finally convinced myself to suck it up and ask a friend to go with me. If I was going to get bad news, I couldn’t hear it alone. All of those scenarios were playing through my head and I just couldn’t do it alone. I called my friend Meg and she said in 10 seconds “I’m on my way”. I ended up picking her up, as it was on my way and we headed over the river to receive my fate. On my way there, my bff Celeste texted me back and asked if she could meet me there.  AMEN.

The three of us huddled in the waiting room, nervous, making small talk. The two of them calm occasionally squeezing my hand to remind me that everything was fine. Finally i was called back, my donor coordinator met me in the hallway and put her arms around me. It pays to have a 4 inch thick file, everyone comes out when your success is threatened. My Doc was in the surgical suite this afternoon so my favorite NP did the ultrasound. I laid down feet in the stirrups and  we got down to business. Meg on one side, Celeste on the other. As soon as they saw a baby on the screen, the two of them burst into tears, but I knew better. I wasn’t going to breathe till I saw a moving baby and a heartbeat.

Blink blink blink blink. A flip of the hand, a wiggle of the foot. And mama can finally breathe.

Measuring 11 w 3 days, 1.9 inches from rump to crown, with a perfect beating heart, wiggling arms and legs, I give you the reason I’m not curled up in a ball on the floor.

She found a subchorionic hematoma  which seems to be the soup du jour for infertiles everywhere. It’s small, will probably resolve with time, and should be  relatively uneventful.  If I have spotting, I should take it easy, bleeding and I go to bed. I’d like the rest of this trip to be boring, normal, regular. I’ve paid my dues. I’m not asking for much, am I?

My baby

•January 26, 2012 • 7 Comments

And so it begins. I had dinner and drinks with 3 friends the other night. Well I ate, they drank. These 3 friends know I’m pregnant, know all about the IVF, but don’t know a thing about where the eggs came from.
We were discussing pregnancy and loss and infertility and all those fun topics. One friend was talking about a straight couple she knew who had used donor sperm because the husband made none of his own. She was saying how even though she knew it was a donor sperm baby, and the parents knew that she knew, they always referred to the baby as his baby. She said something like “they could have been honest around me, cause I knew!!”

Gah. I muttered something about biology meaning nothing as to who’s baby it was, and there was the “yeah yeah yeah, but you know!” type of reply.

Obviously I didn’t come out of the donor egg closet that night. This is my baby. I’m the one who’s growing it. I’m the one who will birth it. I’m the one who will nurture it with my milk. This is my baby.

Right??

Fodder for therapy I’m sure!!

Holy Shitballs.

•January 19, 2012 • 5 Comments

I’m actually pregnant. At this point my risks of miscarriage are 1-2% and according to my doctor, it’s not gonna get any better.

I am pregnant. And to my utter amazement, I think this one is a keeper. This, my friends in the computer, is fucking amazing.

Holy Shitballs!

It’s a good day when…

•January 17, 2012 • 5 Comments

You start off with this:

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So you decide to wear these:

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And in the end you see some of this:

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And best of all you hear your RE say “everything looks great” and happily sends you off to work with your next (less invasive) provider.
I’m free friends, I’m free. I love that man but I hope I never have to set foot in his office again!!

9w2d DBTs galore

•January 16, 2012 • 2 Comments

Next ultrasound is Tuesday morning. This morning I was struck with fear and DBTs. What’s a DBT? Aw come on, do only the old timers know what DBTs are?
Dead baby thoughts. That fear that you’ll get the wand only to find there is no heartbeat. That appointment or blood draw where you’re told this isn’t a viable pregnancy. Yeah. It’s good times.
During my pregnancy with BoC I had two bouts of bleeding that sent me into bed rest and the depth of fear. Once at 17 and then at 19 weeks. With the first one I was laying on my midwife’s table within the hour hearing her heartbeat. The second I waited it out with a little less fear and saw her the next day. After the second episode I bought a fetoscope and listened to her daily. I’d considered renting a doppler, but that gave me trepidation so we went old school. Somehow I don’t know if I can get through 10 more weeks of off and on fear till I can hear with my scope.

Tuesday seems so far away.

8 weeks 1 day

•January 9, 2012 • 7 Comments

I’m still here, really. I’m just in shock. I’ve come out to my local mom’s FB group (they were guessing as many knew we were doing an FET sometime this winter, and I was talking about being tired and nauseated) and they were all excited (and sworn to secrecy). I’ve come out to my whole family (BoC showed up at our family holiday gathering wearing a shirt that said “Big Sister”). I have no interest in being completely public until at least after the next US, and probably not till after that. I almost came out to a patient at work, only because I started gagging when I bent over to adjust her. A few patients know, but only because they are also my friends.

Mostly I’m just in shock.  I’m pregnant. 8 weeks, 1 day, pregnant. I’ve been here before, but it’s been so long and there have been so many failures since then that I don’t know how to be here. But I’m here in full force. Tender and growing boobs, constant nausea (oh holy hell, thank g-d for sea bands!), insomnia, exhaustion and an uncanny sense of smell. Oh god, the smells. I could smell a vagrant on the side of the road with my windows up. At Trader Joe’s tonight someone was eating a sample and I thought I was going to throw up in the freezer section. I have every perfect first trimester symptom. I’m pregnant, actually truly pregnant.

We’ve talked about providers for the birth and have made appointments to interview. I’ve started thinking about what I’ll do for maternity leave, will someone run my practice (out of my house?), or will I just refer people out for the time I’m off. How much time will I take off? all of it.

Of course every time I think of these things I expect to start bleeding or to have some other obvious sign that I’m really NOT pregnant.  But I am. I am 8 glorious weeks and 1 awesome day pregnant.

Holy Shitballs.

123

•December 29, 2011 • 5 Comments

Apparently this cycle is all about things going wrong and making it just right. Remember the transfer day from hell? Well, today was ultrasound day, alternately known as “who we got in there?” day. Our sitter was supposed to arrive at 9:15, giving me just enough time to pick up S2 and rush to the office. I’d confirmed yesterday afternoon that she’d be here, so at 9:20 I started panicking that she wasn’t going to show (apparently she’s housesitting and when she set the alarm she set it for pm and slept till 10 am) so I got BoC dressed quickly (thankfully she’d eaten a good breakfast) packed up her backpack with some legos (or as she calls them, tiny blocks) and her iPad and rushed out of the house. S2 hadn’t left for work yet, so he took the other car and met me there.

BoC and I arrived *just* in time, and strangely the waiting room had several school aged kids, clearly it’s holiday break. I was worried she would freak out in the US room, or that she would touch something or god only knows what. We were ushered directly back into the room and the nurse said “are you alone today?” I informed her that S2 was on his way and 2 minutes later he was in the room.  We set B0C up with her iPad and I hopped up on the exam table. Less than a minute later Dr. M  was in the room and it was game on.  BoC played quietly on her iPad and didn’t make a peep till we were done and she even sat on my lap while I got my blood drawn. She blew my mind today.

My heart was beating in my throat as he input all the info into the computer, verifying my birthdate and telling me what my EDD would be should this be a singleton. (8/18/12, if you wanna know and since BoC was 12 days late, it could very well be a September baby) Finally we got the cootercam up and running and took a peek…

And there it was, a sac measuring a little behind, but the embryo measuring just right for dates and a lovely flickering heartbeat. My favorite part is when they turn on the sound… swoosh swoosh swoosh swoosh. The tears were fast and hot, and I felt S2 reach for my hand and we once again got a chance to see and hear our offspring so early on. Oh, hello there! get cozy and stay a while, a LONG LONG WHILE!  Dr.M spent quite some time measuring and looking closely at everything, reassuring me that there was *most  likely* only one.  He let me know that at this point, with what we’ve seen, I have less than a 12% chance of a miscarriage. I could focus on that 12% but instead I’ll focus on the other 88% and run with that.

We have a heartbeat. 123 beautiful beats per minute.

Right now there are two hearts beating within my body, and only one of them is mine. I couldn’t be happier.