apron strings

Houston, We Have A Heartbeat.

And I am measuring-spot on--6 weeks 5 days.

We basically spent the whole day--3.5 hours-waiting for an u/s. It's a long story. And, I have been on the verge of puking all day. And sick with an awful cold. Which Cate has too. And is breaking five teeth. 

But, we're pregnant. Again. And there is a heartbeat. Not so much else matters.

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p.s. The ultrasound screen mesmerized Cate. She clapped when we saw the heartbeat--but that's because she always claps when I say "yea!!!!!!!!!!"

Tomorrow is The Day.

I am simultaneously  excited and terrified. Though, less terrified than last time. Also, I am feeling more and more pregnant-namely more and more pukey and tired. 

And with a 10 month old who suddenly doesn't want to sleep at night and a job that has me working 9-10 hour days--who has the time? (BTW I work from home two days a week on average--which means I can sneak upstairs and take Cate breaks.)

My mom and k are going. And Cate! And his mom will be on speaker phone. The only person I am weird about sharing this with--is his mom.  My mom is a must. She earned her keep during my first ultrasound with Cate. When the doctor said "no h/b detected" and that her "yolk sac measured small" and that "it didn't look exactly hopeful." My mom swore she saw a h/b--an itty bitty flickr of hope.  Her absence would have equaled my curling up on the elevator floor in a fetal position. She held my hand and told me over and over--that she saw a h/b.  

So, ,it's tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. EST. I can't post from my iphone and I am not coming back to work either way--so, I may just update in the comments on this post if you are interested. 

Until then, twenty-three hours from now-I'll be holding my breath. Or puking. 

A Change of Heart

I am completely excited about this pregnancy. This said merely hours after puking on the side of the highway in rush hour traffic--in view of half of Atlanta. I think this new total excitement from a lot of things-but most of all--just daring to say that I wasn't initially thrilled. It just felt so damn cathartic.  

A great fellow infertile friend told me when I had the audacity to complain about all the puking during my last pregnancy--"just because you are infertile doesn't mean that puking has to be fun." And she's right--being infertile doesn't mean that you've signed your right to voice worry, pain or fear away. 

This new feeling is even more a turnabout than you think--I am also convinced that I am pregnant with twins. Ok, not convinced but think there is a chance. And I am embarrassing myself to tell you this. Twins--sort of run in my family. My Great Aunt and Uncle are twins. Yes, it's a stretch. And(!) I told my mom before I had any idea I was pregnant that I dreamt that I had twin boys eventually--and she had had the same dream.  I can't believe I am telling you this. I don't believe in dreams predicting jack. 

And, I am showing already. Which is probably because I was, I dunno, pregnant ten months ago. But, it isn't bloat-like last time. Bloating tends to be more of a mid-section-all around kind of thing--mine is just my belly. So, yeah, I'm DEFINITELY HAVING TWINS.

I know you're thinking "WTF is wrong with her!?!?!?" Don't feel bad--I am thinking the exact same thing.  

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U/S 10:30 EST 7/31

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updates and other posts I want to write-

-for the record--k and I aren't fighting. We're actually being really nice to each other. It's not that. And had I not watched a mother die of cancer as a teenager and friend die recently--we wouldn't be having marriage problems at all. 

-we are going to counseling--we are just working out the details. 

 

I Don't Want To Be Pregnant

Or so I felt for the first couple of days. I can't articulate how horrible I feel about that.  For a recurrent miscarrier and someone who struggled to get pregnant for years and cares so very much but those of you who joined me in the struggle. 

I know that may suck for you to read. But it's honest. Even if ugly. 

I am excited now. Worried. Anxious. So much so that I am not sleeping at night. 

It's not the timing-not having two children so close in age. It's not even that I-didn't breast feed or pump or wasn't pregnant-for about two days before I got pregnant again. (By the way--that's no exaggeration--two days.)

It's not that I will likely puke three-four times a week for the next ten months. 

Or that I am about to gain the 40ish pounds that I have worked and worked to lose. 

It's money.  It's that my business has brought in about 40% less revenue than it did this time last year. Which means I had to cut my assistant's hours. The economy is only a part of my lost revenue--a big part of it is--that I just couldn't network very much when I was pregnant. It was all I could do to get to work and get my work done. Not to mention the months I worked less to recover from a c-section and to spend time with Cate. 

So, next year I'll struggle even more. 

Which sucks because k and I are sort-of struggling financially. I say sort-of because our struggle is brought on ourselves-and you can't say you are "struggling financially' when you are a six-figure income family. It's our lack of perspective that got us here. Our mortgage is too big. We can afford it- easily. But not enough to save. Or to pay down our massive student loan debts. The other big deal-which is my stupid fault-is that I bought an orange Mini convertible and got a six year loan. It was too small for a child-so I sold it two years later. Because I got a six-year car note (never, never a good idea by the way-unless you pay it off) when I had to sell it I was owed more than it was worth.  To remedy that stupid situation--I financed my new car in a three year loan.  Which in the long run-is a great idea. But in the short time....my car note is like a mortgage. K needed a new car-which I too financed on a three year note. So, yep--we basically have three mortgage payments. That on top of childcare, my diminished income....well, you get the point. 

Though, the most troubling and serious--k and I are having issues at the moment. If you know us in real life please don't say anything to anyone. And I don't mean little issues. Basically, he's fvckin up and I am reacting in the worst possible way. 

I should have taken birth control. Because as crazy as it sounds-I was pretty sure I'd get pregnant relatively soon. (I know that sounds crazy-a post with an explanation is forth coming). But then I thought I might not and that my thinking that I would was a pipe dream and delusional. 

Ultimately I was in denial of our situation. There's nothing like a pregnancy and the thought of another child to make you swallow your reality. 

I know money won't be an issue in 10 months. To have a child-I'd let the house go back to the bank and live in the $225/month apartment I did in college. 

I know k and I need to go to counseling. But it's so expensive. (I think our insurance may cover it-but then it would be in his employment records and doctors release that stuff all of the time.)  Though, how much is our marriage worth to Cate? And this-ultimately- very wanted child. 

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**u/s on Friday. 

My Best Kept Secret.

Cate is great. 

I don't know why I've failed to write about her more. Maybe because I've just exhaled. To begin to believe that she is real. And here. That while she seems too good to be true-she is. 

Or maybe it is really just now that she shows such personality. 

Cate lives to socialize. She exhibits gregariousness beyond anything I've ever seen. She claps when perfect strangers talk to her. And reaches for everyone who looks at her. Including a dirty (God bless 'em) hairy, homeless man. She also offers, with an outstretched hand, her pacy and bottle and toys with anyone who looks potentially in need of comfort. She wants to make everyone smile.  She will need a baby chiropractor eventually because she twists her neck to all contortions to get someone to look at her. She tackles every baby she can because she wants to hug them. I know she'll go through the 'stranger-danger' phase typical of toddlers-but I doubt it will last long. 

She cries when I leave. When the nanny leaves.  When her dad leaves. When her grandmother leaves. And fusses when I won't let strangers hold her. Even the homeless man thought it was funny. 

Maybe all babies are this insanely social--but every stranger who she reaches for says that they've never seen such a social baby. 

This is a picture of her baptism-she'd just been woken up by cold water being poured on her head-she is being held by a strange lady in a robe surrounded by all strangers. My niece and nephew-at her age-would have gotten very upset. This is how she'd prefer to wake up from every nap-being paraded around to with hundreds of people to socialize with. Look at the congregation mimicking her expressions :

  She only cries when she is hungry or hurt. If then. Usually it's a fuss whiny "uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................"  In fact, five teeth broke through her tiny gums without a single complaint from her. 

She likes to cuddle but mostly she wants to entertain herself. She hangs out in her crib talking to her stuffed animals for about an hour in the morning before she fusses for us to get her. 

In fact, she makes herself laugh.  I watch her on video shaking her little shaky thing and giggling and giggling. 

Physically-she is long and lean. She is the only baby I've ever seen with chicken legs. She is longer than average but always in the 10th-25th percentile for weight. Even though I feed her like an olympic athlete-avocado and cream cheese, real cheese mac and cheese. etc. 

She smiles and goes with the flow. She eats what we feed her, goes to sleep with ease even when we've kept her up too long. Sleeps wherever we put her-in a sleep tent in a closet at a hotel. (That sounds mean-but it was the only place we had that was dark and quiet for her nap). She hangs out in her stroller or high chair when we put her there. 

I don't believe in nature so much but do in nurture. My brother has long said-that he wouldn't worry about me being in solitary confinement because I am the only person who makes themselves laugh as much as I do. And, that were a serial killer to come to the door, I'd give them a big hug and take them to the knives.  So, yeah, she may look like mini me K, but she is all chitty chatty social butterfly kind of girl-just like her mom. Poor k-he is already surrounded by two Chatty Cathy's.

So that's Cate. Our little smiley one. Who loves you. And everyone she meets. 

 

I have no idea what to say. Part deux.

I knew the test would be negative at the doctor's office. Because I wasn't that late. And I forgot to not pee all morning. Or that I shouldn't drink all the water that I do in the mornings. My sample was practically clear. A sample that I, had I been at home, would have thrown away.

After two years of trying-I know what your urine needs to look like to show enough hcG for them to say that you are pregnant. Because in two years of infertility you learn a lot. 

And because there is just no way that I could be here again. No way.

I was forming, in my mind, some sort of the explanation for the "I'm sorry Ms. _________, the test is negative....."

When I looked across the office-and saw a very dark line. On top of a cup of clear pee. Of course, when the nurse told me when I had to come back for my "pregnancy work-up" ......I asked, "so, I really am?" 

So, yeah. I am. 

I am still worried. Lots and lots of cramping. But that's it. Apparently cramping during a second pregnancy (wait, 1. did I just write that? and 2. was that about me? ) is normal especially after a c-section.  Maybe I should have asked for a beta? But that mean's less time at work. And then more time at work. And less time with Cate. 

I did con my way into an ultra-sound. (they wanted me to wait until 10 weeks!)  I remember a fertile telling me that she got an early ultrasound because she didn't know when her last period was and so they needed to know how far along she was. So, I pretended to not even know if I have had a period since 1988. Wait, I think I got it at the Def Leppard concert....no, no....it wasn't then...

Ultrasound in two weeks. 

I have no idea what to say.

WTF? 

Um, how to make the infertile blogging world hate you? (or how effin unfair is the world?)

So, yeah good thing we spent THOUSANDS on infertility treatment. 

Apparently, when the good ole' doctor-our Reproductive Endocrinologist- told us my 'eggs were crap,' and that we wouldn't likely ever have a child on our own --she was pulling a fast one-hey, who doesn't want a beach house? 

That my ovaries like to fvck with me. Because after thousands of dollars of drugs-they produced three misshappen and sooooo sad too-small eggs.  That cancelled my IVF.  

That while I'd love to give birth tomorrow and bring a new baby home.....I'm not excited about *being* pregnant. The pukiness. The sleepiness. The weight. Wearing maternity clothes. 

That I am less nervous this time-I am not running out of the door to get beta after beta. But I know that I will be doubly sad if something happens. 

That the constant cramping is freaking me out-because if I miscarry--I now know the utter utopia this could result in. 

That I didn't even know we had sex last month. 

Yep. I am. At least for now. 

The picture isn't of mine--I am too tired to download the pictures from my iphone. 

But this is what it looks like. (FMU this morning). Doctor on Friday. 

Her World. And Mine.

For other Wordless Wednesdays participants click here. 

We've won the lottery. Again.

 We hired a new nanny. Who exceeds my every expectation. At least in theory. What I love about her--and what I now realize I wanted in a nanny--

She is mature and 'gets' that when she cares for Cate-she carries everything I care about in her hands. I just know in my twenties-before I was a mother-I had no idea just what children mean to their parents. How they would die for them. So, I wanted a mother or someone with younger siblings. 

She will bring her 11 month old son with her. Which means we can pay her less-and Cate gets socialization without the germs of daycare/dayschool. 

She parents like I do. Before us, she nannied for three boys-all under the age of five. And she is one of seventeen children-and cared for a younger brother with Autism. i.e. she gets stress and can handle it. A few of the other nannies we interviewed were nervous. One got up and *ran* across the room when she saw Cate crawling away. Our main level is childproofed-and open. If I am watching Cate roam I am okay with her exploring. But that is just kind of an example-maybe she wanted to show us that she was a good nanny. It was more of just a general nervousness. 

She is the kind of mother-like me-she lets her child fuss when he refuses sleep. Our nanny can't do that-which I get--it.is.so.hard. But to me-sleep matters more than the pain of a bit of a fuss. She doesn't make a big deal of a scraped knee. If I see Cate about to injure herself--I, of course, save her. But if she lightly bumps her head-I don't make a big deal out of it-if she wants to hold onto unsteady objects-then she is going to get bumped. I once watched her have a temper tantrum because she didn't want to sleep and bang her arms on the side of the crib. I didn't go stop her-and she hasn't done it again. 

She knows more about child development than I do. I asked her what she fed her son and she said that he is on table food. I had no idea that that was appropriate at this age. She said that this age is about movement and shapes. Who knew? 

She gets that a part of her job is to do a bit of housekeeping if the kids are asleep. 

Her references-10 years worth-had only compliment upon compliment to say about her. One said "she made me a better parent." 

Her name? Annalisa. Cate's middle name. Which means "graced by God's bounty." Which, at least it seems at the moment, is what's happened again. 

 

I Should Have Had An Extended Extramarital Affair.

Nursing at the Beach. Before teeth.

Because I certainly would feel less guilty. 

I did the unthinkable. The unbelievable. The heartbreaking. 

I.quit.breastfeeding. For no real reason. 

Other than I am sick of the drudgery. To the point where I kept secretly hoping that I would get thrush and have to. I know. 

Certainly no physical impediment forced me to stop. Other than Cate's refusal to nurse. Or to resist chopping down on my already sore nipple's with her FIVE teeth. To the point where I bleed and they stung for hours after wards. Every time she did it-I screamed from instinct and which scared her to scream bloody murder. Which rendered both of us shaken. 

Yes, I know. I could have refused to let her eat with a bottle and punished her in some way until she quit biting. But, I am a tough itsokayforhertofuss rather than let her lose sleep kind of mom. But I draw the line at letting a baby cry from hunger. Or 'punishing' her for anything. 

So, that let me with pumping-for two hours a day. Two hours. Which, as you might guess, sucks the fat one. 

Despite my uterus of death-and otherwise reproductively challenged (to say the least) body--my boobs produced enough milk to feed half the world's children. I never one time got less than ten ounces from a pumping session. Never once. In fact, 18 oz was the norm. Eighteen ounces people. Though, I seldom pumped more than twice a day--so to pump that much I had to carry the milk around for hours. My boobs were so big and saggy that I nearly had to quit my attorney job and apply at a school lunchroom. 

The drudgery, the biting, the lack of sweetness got me in the end. 

And--for the past FIVE years my body's survived gallons of hormones. Between fertility treatments, pregnancies and breastfeeding I am over it. I want to know that when I am in a bad mood-I am so for a reason and not because hormones are pumping through my veins. 

Plus, I lost five pounds of boob  when I weaned. (I am still pumping a bit). 

Despite the guilt--I don't know that I've felt better in years. No more pumping means that I can spend forty more minutes with Cate in the morning. Tickling, chasing, and taking her for walks. 

I tell myself that I matter too. That the WHO & APA say at least 6 months and ideally to a year. That I came so close to a year. That K supported-if not urged me to quit-my decision. That breast is best--but organic formula is not too bad, either. That soon we will start trying again. And being pregnant and nursing would be too much. 

I demand that I be a friend to myself. I know that if a friend told me all this-I would verbally give a "snap out of it slap." But I ignore said demand. 

But I know that I didn't get to a year. That my neighbor who had supply issues and worked twice as much as I do-breastfed for 18 months. That it would have saved us money. That Cate's gotten sick once. In ten months. With a slight cold. 

I wanted to make it until at least a year. But I didn't. I really, really, tried to just go the two remaining months. 

In sum, my boobs are lighter--the load of guilt--not.so.much.