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pregnancy

Third Times a Charm

This is me and my little (almost) 15 month old D-Man.

Me and my little D-Man.

Tomorrow I’ll be 16 weeks. For the last few weeks, about once a week, I pull out my at-home Doppler and give a little listen to the newbies heartbeat. Once a week I’m all smiles to hear it thump thump thumpin’ away. Everything is going great and in 24 (omg-that’s-not-so-far-away!!) weeks, we’ll be welcoming the newbies arrival. This pregnancy seems to be flying by. Perhaps it’s my days spent chasing my little D-Man around the house that is making this all fly by so fast. Whatever the cause, the days are flying and it has me thinking about some big decisions I’ll be having to make soon enough.


When I had Dublin I wasn’t really nervous about the birth. I kept telling myself that I’d done it before, I can do it again. This time, however, I’m sort of freaking out. Perhaps it’s because instead of a nineteen year gap to cushion pains memory, I only have 14 months. I remember vividly my thinking, during the middle of it all, this HURTS. THIS REALLY F*#!ING HURTS!!!


Both of my previous deliveries were fast and furious– as in, the room isn’t even ready and I’m about to plop out a baby, F-A-S-T. With both of my previous deliveries I experienced the panic that comes when you see your baby’s heartbeat drop drastically with each contraction. With both of my previous deliveries, before the doctor arrived, the nurses dropped the “C” word (c-section) a few times. Both of my previous deliveries ended with lots of stitches to repair down there (ouch!). So this time around, when the doctor put the option of an elective c-section on the table, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.


I love the idea of scheduling my due date. It would make arranging child care for Dublin sooo much easier. I love the idea of not feeling the pain of contractions. I love the idea of not having to see my baby’s heart rate show signs of distress. However, the thought of a needle in my back makes me want to hurl from fright. Also, the thought of being numb from my waste down and feeling the tugging as they pull the baby out of my stomach into the world… Fright. Hurling. AWK.. So any way I look at it, I’m a bit nervous and scared. BUT… not as nervous and scared as I am at the thought of being a mom to TWO children under TWO. Now that… THAT thought gives me night terrors! 😉

Feeling Lucky

For the past 13 weeks and one day I have been “cautiously optimistic”, tempered with a lot of fear. Though I got off easy with the first trimester symptoms (morning sickness, what’s that???) I think those around me would have traded in my crabbiness for my having a few pukes in the toilet.


13 weeks! This is the last week of my first trimester and in one week the “honeymoon of pregnancy “starts. Isn’t that the magical period that brings back my energy, when I will make less bathroom trips (hallelujah!), and most importantly: miscarriage rates drop significantly. WHOOT!!!


I feel so amazed and blessed that I’m actually knocked up and it’s sticking. When I revisit the statistics, the ones that talk about the percentage rates of woman who get pregnant after having a tubal ligation reversal, then combining those rates with the statistics of woman of a certain age (cough40cough), not to mention some other unmentionable fertility factors….. It just makes me feel like I should have had sex AND played the lottery on THAT fateful night.


I still feel fear, but it’s not nearly as strong as it was for the past several weeks. It still feels unreal. Sure, I’m getting “bigger” and starting to show, but instead of feeling pregnant, I just feel fat. Though don’t you dare insinuate that I’m fat, because I’m hormonal and won’t take kindly to it! Only I’m allowed to imply I’m anything other than svelte. I think that’s in the pregnancy rule book, somewhere.


The biggest change since my last blog entry is my newly acquired Doppler. How cool is that?!?!? I won it off an auction on EBAY. Now, despite not being able to feel the baby yet, I sure can hear it! And no, I am not OCD’ing my heartbeat checks! You’ll not find me checking the heartbeat a dozen times a day, most of the time it’s just once a day that I take a quick listen and that’s enough to keep me feeling tranquil.


I think most people at my work know I’m pregnant, if the stares at my stomach are any indication. I suppose at some point I’ll wear some sort of “I’m not fat, I’m pregnant” tee-shirt and squelch any remaining doubts on the curiosities of my expanding waist line.

Does this pregnancy make me look phat??

Today I’m 10 weeks pregnant. I’m still holding my breath. A week from today is our next doctors appointment and we’ll get to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. There is a fear inside me that when we go, the doctor won’t hear anything and we’ll be told that the baby stopped growing. I will have momentary rushes of peace and a feeling that everything is going to be alright…. but then my neurotic side takes over and become the nay-sayer of “what if’s”. I wish I could bitch slap my neurotic side, I really do.

Meanwhile, my energy returned somewhere near the end of week 8. I had a very brief period where I flirted with nausea, but it really never turned into anything. At this 10 week mark, the most obvious “symptom” I have is extreme mood swings. Everything irritates me or makes me want to cry. For example:

HIM: Are you irritable today?

ME: Are you going to ask me that every day?!?

HIM: Well….are… you…??

ME: WELL, I am now!!

My clothes are beginning to scream at me. From an expanding bosom, to a waist that is pushing the limits of my jeans…. I am seeing CHANGES. My closet is now full of clothes that no longer look appropriate on me, unless I’m trying to pull off the stripper-tight look. I have dabbled in maternity clothes shopping, but I’m still too scared to commit. What if this pregnancy doesn’t take?? I can’t stand the thought of being stuck with a bunch of maternity clothes. So instead of full out shopping, I have bought a few items on the cheap off the internet, at a consignment shop and from ROSS.

Physically I feel great at the moment, which is really freaking me out…. which doesn’t help my irritability! I am counting down the minutes until next Thursday and hoping hoping HOPING that we hear a thump-thump-thump-thump thump. Until then, WATCH OUT…. don’t look at me wrong…. because I’m in a mood.

Sunshine on my mind…

I have repeatedly said this, but it’s so true: I am solar powered. When the sun comes out, my energy increases and my outlook brightens. The sun is shining bright today and I’m feeling rather sunny.


After the mini melt down of last Thursday’s appointment, I received a phone call that night from the nurse practitioner I’d visited. She called to give me my blood work results. She said that, though she didn’t know how to interpret them, she thought I would like to know the results. (How awesome-nice was that?!?!) So she gave me the numbers, I thanked her for her call… and I immediately scrambled to find my past results to see how they compared.


Damn. They had changed. Stupid turning-40-age-thing.


My Estradiol levels have jumped to way above the normal range, which might explain why I haven’t been seeing any double blue lines on the gazillion pregnancy pee sticks I’ve gone through. Obviously I’m not a doctor and will not pretend that I can self diagnose myself….. but here it is, the scribbling figures I had written down, and there is an obvious and glaring blip on a previously spotless blood test results. A year and a half has made quite a difference.


I called and asked the person in charge of registering applicants for the research IVF study if my new numbers would have an effect on our being accepted into the program. She said that they wouldn’t. So one test down, a few more to go.


I have another doctors appointment on Monday and then ANOTHER one on Thursday. Thursday’s is the biggie though, because it’s the one at the fertility clinic and we’ll be able to discuss the tests results with the doctor and hopefully get a better idea of where we stand in regard to being able to participate in the study program.


It feels like a bit of a whirlwind, all of these doctors appointments and hoops that need jumping through. The good news is that, just like all whirlwinds, before we know it, we will arrive at whatever destination we’re to arrive at.


Whether or not we are accepted into the program or not, I think there will be a sense of relief knowing if I’m officially “infertile” and if I am, is there anything we can do about it. Seven months ago it felt like it was my destiny to get pregnant. Now, not so much. I think all along the knowledge that I am not capable of getting pregnant was there lurking, subconsciously, in the back of my brain and that’s why it was never too much of a shock not to see those double blue lines appear on any pregnancy test.


Every time someone told me to “just relax” and it will happen, it made me feel so much pressure. It made me feel judged. It made me feel like this not having a baby was some how all of my controllable fault. Though the test results are seemingly not at all good… at least now I know that even if I had become master of all things zen, so relaxed that I appeared to be sleeping…. I would STILL probably NOT be pregnant! I feel like holding up the piece of paper with the newly scribbled numbers, running it around and waving it, while yelling…. “seeeeee I told yooooou, I. AM. JUST. OLD!”


But as stated before, I am not a doctor. Maybe the blood test results have nothing to do with age, I’ll let the doctor diagnose that. Meanwhile, I can’t help but wondering where the whirlwind will land. Will we receive IVF. Will it work? Will my elevated Estradiol levels be unrelated to age, can they easily be fixed? Will the end of 2011 find us under a pile of diapers and baby clothes…. oh, the suspense of it all is killing me!

Tiny Little Bubbles….

In an out-of-body sort of way, I look at how I’m responding to this baby making stuff and it shocks me. I am the one who is cool under pressure. I am mostly in tune with my logical self and my own parents described as an Ice Princess… but here I am, having emotional break downs in doctors offices.

Let me rewind a little bit to explain why I was at the doctors office this time….

After we found out about all the costs associated with the tests required by the clinic before we were accepted into the “free ivf” research program, my bubble was burst. With the burst a little bit of crazy leaked out. And when the crazy leaks out…. well, it just has to sort of dissipate before I can get on with things.

My first mini-breakdown was at home, when I informed my significant other that I am done with the baby making and wanted to take a break from it for a year. I accused him of not being involved and said I felt like I was doing this all on my own. I suggested that he was not worried about any biological clocks, probably because his was far from being up so he can’t feel my urgency. I should mention that he was just waking up and his eyes were barely open. I should also mention that I’m paraphrasing.

My guy is mellow. He patiently let the crazy talk flow and when I went back to work, he got on the computer and found another clinic participating in the same study. He made a few phone calls, asked a ton of questions…. .and now all of a sudden we’re back in the game.

Turns out, the individual clinics can decide what tests they’ll include in the study. A couple of the more pricey tests the other clinic wanted me to have before we were accepted, this new clinic will give for free after we’re accepted. There are still some tests I need to do, but this new clinic has been very helpful in sharing tips on how to cut the costs of the initial tests. It’s looking hopeful again….

And that’s how I found myself in the doctors office today, having breakdown number two. One of the tests that the other clinic said I needed to have is a Day 3 FSH test. Today was my day three… can’t have a day three test on day four…. so HAD to have it today, or wait another month. Time is ticking… TICKING …. ticking….. so I called my primary physicians office and asked if they could order the tests for me. They said they wouldn’t order the tests without my coming into the office and discussing it with a doctor. Ok, fine… I set an appointment. An appointment that I write down wrong. This meant that I was ten minutes late arriving at my doctors office. I had to wait behind two other (slow moving) people checking in, so by the time I check in, I’m 15 min’s late. The receptionist informs me that I’m late and will probably not be able to be seen. She said she’d go and ask the nurse practitioner if she’d still be willing to see me, which of course she wasn’t. I explain that I just need 5 min’s of somebody’s time to write an order for blood work. She say’s sorry, but I was late…. blah blah blah… and this is where my mini-breakdown number two starts.

I put both hands on the counter and talk slowly…. explaining that I have been coming here for 13 years and have never been late, but have often waited in the waiting room way past my appointment time. I explained that I NEED to get this blood work today. I explained that I’d been fasting since 8pm the previous night…. and all I need is 5 min’s…. so I can get blood work that a fertility clinic is requiring that I get. Again, I’m paraphrasing.

I say a bunch more, it just sort of spills out, a bit disjointed. She says she can reschedule me and after she tappity taps on her keyboard, she says that she can get me in at 10:20, that would be just another 20 minute wait. I told her I’d take it and I go and sit down….

Over 40 minutes later, I’m going into the dr’s office.

Without going into details, let me just say that my previous appointment at this doctor’s office was very unpleasant, mainly because I heard them laughing at my expense in the hallway. So perhaps it was a mixture of that last appointment and with the rudeness of how I was treated on this one, plus this feeling like everything (regarding my fertility) is just falling apart…. all these combinations of situations that have me pretty tightly wound…. it just was too much and I started crying in the room. I just lost it.

In the end, the nurse I saw was VERY nice and helped to make sure that I got the tests ordered that I needed. I went to the lab, got a needle stuck in my arm, and then quickly headed off to Starbucks to find comfort in a Venti Caramel Macchiato.

There are still hurdles and red tape…. but we’re again in the game. Maybe by the end of this month we’ll know if we’ll be getting IVF, maybe in March or April.

UPDATE: The nurse practitioner I saw called me this evening… .with my 3-day level results. They are NOT as good as they were a year and a half ago. While my FSH is in a decent range (5.61), my estradiol levels have shot up. They used to be 50 and now are 92. I don’t know what that means. Also, my LH is lower than what normal range is and I don’t know what that means. But anything that is not in range…. well, that can’t be good.

ANOTHER UPDATE: Just spoke with woman from the research study and told her my newly updated levels…. she said that they would NOT disqualify us from the study. YAY! :)

Deer in Headlights….

The past weeks that I’ve stopped temping have brought me to a stand still. No longer obsessing over temps or every imaginary “symptom,” I am suddenly struck immobile. Stuck in a tic-toc-I’m-40-and-still-not-pregnant panic.


Actually, let me clarify something…. I not reeeeally all the way immobile, since we have been doing SOMETHING… we’ve been following “Scott’s Method” for getting pregnant:


Lots and lots of sex…. and just when you think that you can’t do IT again, do it some more.


Still, here I sit with all the right ingredients inside me, yet no bun in the oven. I really don’t know how to proceed. I feel so lost. I read books where these ANGELIC doctors practically take their patient by the hand and lead them down the right fertility path. A path that isn’t necessarily paved with “$$” signs. Where…. WHERE… WHEEEERE is this doctor in real life??!?


Though I truly enjoyed the doctor who performed my tubal ligation reversal, his path was definitely paved with dollar signs. And though we chose the cheapest path, it still cost us some outta pocket cha-CHING.


So here I sit, wondering what way I’m going to go next. Do we keep up the invigorating pace of the “Scott Method”…..OR, do we go….. to…… another…… fertility clinic.


There’s this pressure that I feel, regardless of whether it makes sense or not, that I’m not living up to my potential. That my body has let me down. Though I can out walk my dogs, my loverrrr and even my 18 year old daughter… the numbers four and zero still have affixed themselves like a badge on my chest.


At this point I’ve had surgery, given up coffee, have been driving an hour and fifteen minutes once a week for acupuncture and have been avoiding soy products (tough for someone who is not eating meat).


Next month will be six months of trying. Time is ticking away and I’ve got to decide what is next. Fertility clinic, taking Clomid…. or just letting “nature take its course” and hope for the best.


Hmmm….. I really don’t have an answer yet. But the clock is telling me that the Jeopardy game show music is about to end and it’s time for my final answer.


to be continued…..

Kicking the Cup…

I don’t mean to complain, but it seems to me that in this baby making business  I’m getting the shorter end of the stick. Where I’ve endured surgery, diet, needles, pills, and more than one doctors appointment that had me hearing the phrase, “This might pinch a little bit…”, the only doctors appointment Scott ever had involved porn and there was an orgasm at the end.

AND NOW, after being told by my acupuncturist that coffee (all kinds, even decaf) could cut my fertility in half, I’ve given up coffee. COFFEE!

FINALLY I have some sympathy for Scott. Because while I have to give up coffee, he’s the one that has to deal with an uncaffeinated-PMSy-I’m-STILL not-pregnant me. And that’s when our sticks seem to be a little bit closer in size… Though, probably even shorter. When I’m in THAT sort of mood, I’d be grabbing both those sticks and hitting the crap out of things… metaphorically speaking, of course!

Look at me: Day five without coffee! Yes, it’s true…. I sandy, the self proclaimed Caffeine Queen- Death Before Decaf -Starbucks is my hometown- fueled by caffeine ME…. has kicked the cup!

Someday when the twins* are old enough to ask me, “Mommy, how much do you love us?? I’ll say, “More than coffee sweeties… more than coffee.”

(*Yes, twins. I’ve decided twins are the way to go, since I’m far to old to waste time popping them out one by one!)

P.S…..

Here’s some pictorial proof….

His Appointment:

Scott actually took a picture of the Porn-O-Matic entertainment center... BEFORE he got down to business.

Scott actually took a picture of the Porn-O-Matic entertainment center… BEFORE he got down to business.

And Here is a picture of one of my appointments:

Not having plastic surgery....

Not having plastic surgery....