Making Peace

It's been three months since I last wrote. I was in a bad place last time, but I'm happy to report that life has moved on, and I've come to a place of peace with the end of our infertility journey.

Taking anti-depressants turned out not to work for me. I don't understand why everyone else seems ok on them, but two different types both made me violently ill. I wish it had worked for me, but it didn't.

What did work: time, space, and therapy. Being patient with myself. Ending couples therapy so I could go to individual therapy and focus on healing my own self through healthy behaviors: exercising more, thinking about how to make the life we have as happy as we can, and actually, slowly getting rid of maternity and baby items as I've felt ready.

I've also been focusing on slowing down to really, really enjoy the time I have with our son. As he gets older (he's turning three soon!), he gets more and more fun, and I have a harder time envisioning going back to the baby days. I realized I don't even want a baby, I have no desire to ever be pregnant again, and I am mourning a big unknown: a life with two children. There is no way to know if that life would have made me happier or more fulfilled than I am now, but I have to let it go. I still feel sad when I think of those embryos and the lack of another child to call as I get older and to visit and to love, but actually I am quite happy in my NOW life with my child and my family. I was mainly mourning the unknown of the future, not the known quality of my life now.

I'm posting a photo below that highlights one of the wonderful things about having a one and only: the time, freedom, financial means, and attention that I can lavish on my family as it is. We recently got home from a glorious trip to Costa Rica! We swam in the ocean, hiked in the woods, lounged in the hot tub on our balcony, drove through the beautiful mountains, and watched our son delight in playing with local children on several playgrounds. We would not be able to do this with a larger family. I savored almost every moment with my toddler and had such a good time with him. We have another family vacation planned for June and I am looking forward to that too.

So, my story didn't end up the way I had initially wanted. I still feel pangs of sadness and jealousy when I see pregnant women, but honestly, the pain is getting less and less. I would call it acute and heart-breaking back in July... still bad in October.. and a mild ache by now. I did give away some of his baby clothes to a woman from my old infertility support group, and another woman came to take away all of my maternity clothes. We have not yet made a decision on our embryos, but I am feeling more and more at peace with finally, permanently, and willingly letting go.

Many Months Later: An Update from our Single Child World

Well, it's been nearly four months. I have been meaning to post an update here for a long time, but first I felt too miserable to recount it all, and then I got very busy at work for the last two months.

But. Here I am. And in a very different place than last time I wrote.

Right after July 4th, I went back for another lining check, and my cycle was canceled. Ended. Done. The weird thing is, I never actually spoke my doctor in Atlanta. But in previous phone conversations and by email, he confirmed that there is something going on in my uterus (more endo, or scarring from my c-section) that is preventing a lining from growing, and the next steps are to consider a surrogate, or get the hysteroscopy and see if it's something that can be addressed or not. I still feel I don't 100% understand all this. I also feel there were inconsistencies in my lining readings, and miscommunication between the local clinic and the doctor in Atlanta.

In any case, my husband had already made it known that he's done. Absolutely done. Sadly, he didn't even call me or return my desperate calls or texts that morning of the final appointment. Not for about an hour and a half. That's a horribly long time for me to not have had that support. He was out of town, visiting his parents, with our toddler, and I was alone.

Me? I don't know. I have not been doing too well over the past three months. I was bad, then got some therapy and went back on the birth control pill (because I have endometriosis, and also I don't want the "what ifs" nagging at me) and then seemed to be doing better. But then a few things happened: I stopped individual therapy because my husband and I were fighting like crazy so we started couples therapy, and I simply didn't have time for both. I believe we hit such a rough patch because of his lack of empathy and support. To be fair, he's never been as emotional as I am. When I was struggling for 2.5 years to get pregnant with my son, I leaned heavily on my support group friends. This time, I don't have that support. I know they are out there, but I don't seem to know anyone in real life who is my boat- wants a second, but can't. Also, getting back to my husband, he says he's thought for years that a second child might not work, because we had so much trouble getting to #1. I was.. more optimistic. And he was more realistic, as it turns out. So I don't think he faced the crushing surprise and disappointment that I felt. He had always said he wanted a second if it was just the case of a few transfers, but my cycles had turned out to be immensely stressful, expensive, and chaotic.

So, his lack of empathy and wanting me to get over it faster than I could have been so hard. My lack of support from people in a similar place is a big contrast from previous infertility treatment cycles. Then, my best mom friend got pregnant really, really easily, and was incredibly insensitive in complaining and talking about it ad nauseam. We haven't spoken in over a month, haven't hung out since August, and I've been taking it really hard. Although we had differences- she seems to view being pregnant as some big accomplishment, like it's her major contribution to society- we were also good friends, our kids got along, and we hung out 1-3 times a week. So I am very lonely on top of everything else.

Writing all this out is actually making me feel kind of ill, so I'm going to wrap it up. I've been spiraling downwards for awhile, but now I am making some positive changes. Just last night I started a low dose of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medication (the big Z), and today I feel sick, drunk, and unhappy. But I have heard that if I stick with it, it will be worth it. I've been trying to keep exercising 1-2 times a week, I've been reaching out to other friends who are empathetic and kind people, and I've ended our couples therapy because I felt it was doing more harm than good. Right now, if our relationship is going to work, first I need to pull myself out of this unhappiness.

I still wish it had ended differently. I wanted, I dreamed of another child. But from a practical viewpoint, there are huge benefits to having one. We're more financially secure than we've ever been, now that we're not doing endless treatment cycles and worrying about another daycare payment. We've decided to take two nice vacations a year, starting with Alaska this June and maybe Costa Rica or Mexico this January or February. We can do these things, logistically and financially, with one child. We both get plenty of precious reading and solitary time, since we can trade off with childcare on weekends and give each other breaks. Our son is now at the age where he is not so needy, he can play with the neighbors or by himself, but he's also super fun to do interesting things with. We have real conversations and adventures, and my attention doesn't have to be divided or diverted by a baby.

Probably no one is even reading this anymore, and sorry to not have a happy ending, but I hope and pray that someday I will feel like this had a happy conclusion- at least, that I made the right choice in stopping the endless sinkhole of fertility treatment, and that I can have a happy, satisfying life with my One and Only child, who has taught me a kind of love that I am amazed by every single day. Here's to a healthier outlook, this medication helps me quit obsessing over what could have been, and my marriage recovers this rocky stage.

More later, perhaps.

Where Did Hope Go? Update on FET

I'm not doing any work anyway, so may as well post an update on my fertility saga here.

Today I had another ultrasound to see if we can try to get me pregnant again- when I think of the most recent series of event, I include the negative pregnancy test in March after a frozen embryo transfer with a five day delay due to lining problems, then a cancelled cycle in May when my uterine lining absolutely didn't respond to medications, then three weeks of antibiotics, and now ten days of using the estrogen patches instead of pills.

I went in today fully expecting no growth again, and for today to be the end of medications, ultrasounds, and for us to be a single-child family. Well, my lining DID grow. Not a stellar result, but enough to do a few more days of meds and check again on Tuesday.

So you'd think I'd be happy, right? Instead I am.. tired. Tired of all this crap. It's been months and months of ups and downs- mostly downs- and both of us are actually really coming around to the idea of stopping treatment. Having one child is sounding very appealing to me. I was an anxious pregnant lady, and the newborn days were not kind to me. Financially we can afford a second, but it will be tough, and we can afford some awesome vacations with our only kid and to retire much earlier with only one- I've been checking out Alaska trips with the refund we'll get if we quit treatment. And a few days ago I held my friend's newborn and I was happy to cuddle her.. and then equally happy to hand her back.

So, what does this mean? I feel like I have to at least continue meds till Tuesday and then see what my lining is like, but I'm trying to figure out what is going on with me, who so desperately wanted another child just a month ago. Am I insulating myself from hope by blocking all positive thinking? Or did I really just change my mind? How does one decide to have or not have a second child? Will I regret not moving forward, if we decide to stop, because the infant days are short and a family is for life? I am on a waiting list for a therapist because I honestly cannot figure out what I want. It's very confusing. I endured years of infertility and surgery and treatment to have my now-28 month old, and cried my heart out when the March pregnancy test was negative, so why am I so ambivalent now? WTF is wrong with me?

Update on lining troubles and FET future plans

Fertility update and mind dump coming.

Since our last cycle was canceled due to my uterine lining not growing enough, I have been ok. Sort of. I've been taking more Valium than I should, and crying more often than I'd like. But, I don't want to focus on that right now.

I have been offered two choices: surgery to evaluate and possibly repair my uterus, which may have sustained unknown damage during my c-section two years ago or might just be invaded my endometriosis again (Asherman's Syndrome is a possibility), or simply try a different form of estrogen supplementation- the patch, which is what I used back when I got pregnant with my now-toddler, and see if that thickens my lining.

We had a long talk and we've decided to try the estrogen patch option to see if that does anything, but if not, to stop. The surgery option is outpatient surgery and I've had surgery before, but neither of us is excited and frankly I am terrified. Furthermore, it will cost a lot, and is no guarantee either- ie. it could be for nothing, and it's totally unnecessary beyond fertility. My long term health is fine, beyond regular endometriosis symptoms that I can control by staying on the pill till menopause.

So, these are the facts. We'll try this one last option, but not go to extreme lengths. These are my husband's wishes and he was the one who originally wanted a larger family. As for me? I don't know. I keep asking God and the universe and myself: what do I want? I know I am scared of surgery. I know I want another baby, but I also can see the myriad benefits of just one, and of moving on with our lives. I do not especially want to be pregnant again. I never want to breastfeed again. I am worried about the finances of having two kids and working.

But: how do you KNOW what is best for your future? How do you choose something that will affect you the rest of your life? How do you turn down the unknown path? What do you do when you squint into the distance and it's just... murky? I don't feel that I am being called to have another child, but I also think of those could-be embryos and what they would be like and I feel sharp, deep, intense grief and longing. Of course, we might find out because we plan to donate them to a family that can't afford the treatment we did, but still, they won't be our children once we turn them over. So, I guess I need to sit with this, but I don't want to sit too long. I want to move on and I just need to figure out how to turn away from the road not taken. How does one do this?

Second FET Cancelled

As I wrote last time, my first FET resulted in a negative beta. My lining was thin, but they let me go forward. My doctor was convinced that it was just bad luck. Even in the best case scenario, FETs only have a 50/50 success rate.

But, the bad news wasn't over with that cycle. We tried a non-Lupron protocol this time, just estradiol pills, and unfortunately my lining was even thinner. Like, a 4. Nothing. We canceled this cycle.

So, it looks like I might be at the end of the road here. My doctor is trying one last thing, which is three weeks of doxycycline and then re-checking my lining to see if it made any difference. Sometimes inflammation can cause lining to not respond to estradiol. I don't know why I'd have inflammation though. 

But despite this treatment, he said it's likely that I might not be a candidate for further transfers. He didn't have any really great explanation why. Perhaps my uterus sustained some infection and/or scarring during my c-section to have Leo. He said this is not common knowledge, but actually scarring and adhesions can result in infertility in more than 2% of c-sections. But, he's not sure, and I'm not interested in exploratory surgery at this time.Frankly, I am terrified of more procedures. And tired. Oh so tired. 

Amazingly, I have had someone offer to be my surrogate. But I don't think we are interested. Honestly, having an only child is looking better and better, the more we think about it. Though I have moments of intense sadness when I look at my toddler and wonder what the other four embryos would have been like.

At this point, I'm just taking my doxycycline and waiting for my next lining check in about three weeks and if it's a no-go, we'll be seeking homes for our embryos. 

I am feeling... so confused. Why can't I grow a lining? I have never had great linings, but a 4?!!?  Also the argument that my uterus is scarred doesn't sit that well with me, since my last lining was enough to move forward with FET #1. So why now the sudden non-response to the estradiol? Why isn't my doctor interested in other forms of estrogen?

Dr. F, my former doctor and the one who I saw again when I had my monitoring done, seemed taken aback and called my uterus "special." My Atlanta doctor also said this is unusual. I have not gone down the google rabbit hole.

I am not distraught like I was before, with the first FET. I am constantly thinking about it, but not feeling the same sharp, biting grief. It's more like a dull thud this time. I can't quite explain the change. I just feel... tired. So tired of the constant struggle. And though I do not believe anything is "meant to be," I wonder if there isn't something positive about stopping now, and focusing my energy and love on the child I already have. My head says yes. I am not sure what my heart says. My heart leans towards fighting this lining issue. I don't know what will happen, but I will have some answers in about three weeks. 

One Week Post Failed FET

As expected, my beta last Friday was negative. Zero, zip, nada. I quit taking my progesterone even before the doctor called me, because why waste the $20 each suppositories for nothing.

It was a hard, sad weekend. My mom was here and she just does not get it. She didn't say anything wrong per se, but she was fine with just having one kid and doesn't understand my yearning for another, or my sadness when I think of that perfect, lost embryo. So I tried my hardest to not talk about it, which maybe was for the best anyway.

Things I have been doing to take care of myself:
-letting myself just be sad, mostly on my own, in my own head. I have informed my friends who knew I was doing a cycle, though mostly by email because I don't feel ready to talk to most people about it yet.
-eating well but also allowing myself more treats than usual. I lost several pounds from having pneumonia but I predict I'll gain it back just through chocolate consumption this week alone.
-being sure to get 8 hours of sleep a night.
-after a frustrating attempt to find a therapist because my former one and two others are all not accepting new patients, a therapist neighbor got me connected to someone who can see me on Tuesday and I'm grateful for that. I need time and space to talk and cry and not feel guilty for my feelings or making someone listen to me. The sad part about where I am now in life is that my husband and I have very little kid-free time to actually sit down and talk, and he's not the best at this sort of thing anyway, since he's very focused on not giving up and just moving ahead. I am still stuck in the feelings of now. I had a great group of friends from my infertility support group when I was trying last time, but of them, two don't think they want another child and three did manage to get pregnant again with no intervention. They are good people but not what I need right now.

Things I haven't been able to do to take care of myself:
-exercise. I love and rely on the gym to make me feel better, but I am only 3 weeks out from a walking pneumonia diagnosis, and still feel a significant amount of discomfort in my chest/lungs. So as much as I want to go tire myself out with intense cardio, I am not sure when I will feel ready for that. I am not really a yoga person because I get bored and fall asleep, or would rather relax with a book or Netflix if I'm not going to be exercising anyway.
-really talk to anyone about this. Of course my husband gets it, as he deeply desires another child too. But his ability to be supportive is limited by his intrinsic nature of cheerfulness, and propensity to look forward to the next cycle instead of dwelling on the failed one. This is too hard for me right now, so we just avoid talking about it too much. I hope that I will find the therapist helpful next week.

My current plan is to take this month off. When I had the WTF talk with my doctor on Friday when he called with the negative beta results, he seemed surprised I'd want to take a month off. However, then he heard me cough, and agreed that some time to heal is not a bad idea. He did tell me that the pneumonia did not cause my negative pregnancy test, but these are precious, expensive embryos and I don't want to have any doubts that I'm not giving them the best possible chance, so for me that means waiting.

Another thing that came out of my phone conversation with him is a new, lowered expectation. I knew my chances of success with the fresh embryo were about 60%, but at transfer he had given me a 70% chance because I had such a stellar quality embryo to transfer. So I foolishly kept that in my head as my odds this time. And then felt totally crushed when it was negative. Dr. S told me on the call that with a frozen, the odds are only 50/50. That is much lower than I had been assuming.

So now we're in the place of paying another $5k, by the time travel and meds are included, for what is only a 50/50 chance. And with my third best embryo at this point. This does not feel good, but what choice do I have?

I am now on cycle day 5, and when I get my period I will immediately begin the estradiol again, and transfer will be around day 19. I'm a little worried this will fall right when I am due to be out of the country for a work trip, but I am trying my hardest to not stress until I know. I hope my period is early  or late and it's a moot point, but we will see. I only stare at my calendar a few times a day, willing it to work out so I don't have to wait till freaking June to try again.

So overall, I am not in a great place. I'm eating into our precious savings, and finding myself too sad to look forward to things that normally made me happy. Of course, being with my toddler is still wonderful, but it doesn't make the sadness go away in those long hours I am trapped at my desk at work or during the long evening hours after he goes to bed. My husband keeps reminding me that we are in such a better place than before we had him, and that we have plenty of frozens left, but hope and money do come in limited amounts for me. I feel sad, and disappointed, and bitter at the unfairness. Wasn't three failed IVFs and one canceled one enough, universe? Wasn't having to forgo my own genetic child and pay for donor eggs enough? Wasn't my years of wanting a child enough? I am beyond grateful to have one, but as three of my former-infertile friends have gone on to conceive on their own, it leaves me feeling bitter and confused all over again.

Enough moping. I have a plan, and I am not going to pretend the next seven weeks will be anything but long, but I will do what I can to feel as good as possible. I hope therapy helps, and I hope this dark sense of hopelessness is not completed by another negative test. Sigh. This is so hard.

Failed FET

I have not updated this in over a year. I am sure no one is reading anymore.

But I need to write today. Twelve days ago, I flew back to Atlanta and we transferred a perfect embryo, same quality as the one that made my son. Today, I took a pregnancy test and it was negative.

This cycle was far from perfect. I had lining problems. I lost hundreds of dollars on airfare when I had to delay my transfer at the last second, because my lining was too thin again. Or was it too thin? I will never really know. My local clinic thought so, my Atlanta doctor couldn't tell from the grainy ultrasound photos, then he was gone on a critical day, and so I was delayed.

In the meantime, right after I was on estrogen for an extra five days, then given the go ahead once he saw better images, and after I re-booked the flights, I came down with walking pneumonia. I spent a week in bed. I took five days of antibiotics, overlapping with the five important days leading up to transfer and the medications I was taking for that. Then I lugged my exhausted tush down to Atlanta, when I had barely gotten out of bed for a week.

We transferred one perfect, five day blastocyst. And apparently it did not take.

I had a bad feeling, but I have been telling myself that I was being irrational. I had no spotting or cramping, as I did with my first pregnancy, but I know most people do not. The lining issues were a problem but then seemed not to be. At my transfer, the nurse commented that my lining looked good. I used such a beautiful, strong embryo. I don't know, and will ask, about the possible effects of the pneumonia, but they didn't delay my transfer and they knew about it.

So I think that the end story is, I just fell on the wrong side of the statistics this time. Even with a decent lining, adherence to meds, and a perfect embryo, someone has to fall in the failures.

The pain is sharp and numb at the same time. I held my two year old this morning and felt his warmness, and I know what a miracle he is and how he has changed my life. At the same time, I feel the loss of that embryo, that could-have-been sister or brother, son or daughter. I am staunchly pro-choice and I believe an embryo is not a child, but at the same time, it could have been my child. My much loved, much wanted one. It could have been a sweet, smiling, cuddling child. This loss is as painful as my first three IVF disappointments were. I am so grateful to have a child; at the same time, I feel the loss of a child in a more defined, concrete way. I know the smell of a new baby, and the first smile.

It's not over. I have four precious embryos left in Atlanta. I am considering: do I take a cycle off, or do I plow ahead, starting the Lupron again in three weeks? How much of a factor is this pneumonia, and will I feel better in six weeks for transfer- I assume I will by then. Can I wait and see how I am doing in two weeks? I think that is the answer.

Beta is tomorrow. I will get through today. In six hours, I will be holding my little monkey boy again. He is the best medicine, both reminder of why I am doing this and what I don't have but want again. Life is so unfair. There is no reason, no cure, nothing else I can say.

One Year Old

Ten days ago, my little boy turned one year old! He is no longer a baby, but officially a toddler. I can't believe how fast this year has gone, and that I have not updated this blog in almost 9 months. I always mean to, and then get busy at work or home. But the one year mark seemed as good as any of a time to check back in.

What can I say? This year has been one of the most challenging yet one of the sweetest. From an easy pregnancy yet an upsetting birth and even more distressing troubles with breastfeeding, we moved on to my return to working full time and some of the typical challenges: trouble with sleep, missing him during the day, exhaustion at night after very full days, and never being more sure that I made the right decision. This boy is my sweet, sweet answer to why I struggled for so long to have him.

I was lucky enough that many of my friends from my infertility support group had babies around the same time as I did, and many of my regular friends also experienced a baby boom. So at his 1st birthday party last weekend, there were at least 10 other babies who had been born within a few months of mine. It's so interesting to see them reach their milestones at different times, and have such different personalities. I am so curious to see if how we view them now remains the same. For example, a friend with a baby a month younger than mine has a boy who is way bigger than my son, and way more rough and tumble. L is very gentle, very much still the baby, and though he loves to play and explore, he is most content in my arms. He's very cuddly and I'm not sure if it's just his nature, or if I've somehow made him this way. Nature versus nurture is an interesting question.

Anyway, he is exactly the boy I had wanted (well...I guess I do wish he slept a little better, but you can't have everything). He's gentle and sweet and loves to cuddle up to me at night, reaching out an arm or a leg to make sure I'm there, and nuzzling my face with his when I pick him up at the end of the day. He loves his buddies at the nanny share, but he loves to sit in my lap when we get home and have me read to him. Yes, we're still cosleeping, though only after his first wake-up, which can be anywhere from 10 pm- 3:30 am. And though it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, giving up breastfeeding was also one of the best, and I have zero regrets. And now that's not even drinking formula anymore, it seems so long ago that it was even something I agonized over. He's big into every food I offer him now, with his favorite being sweet potato puree with coconut milk. He also loves blueberries, pineapple, and my morning oatmeal. Well, pretty much anything I am eating! He gives me those big eyes and his little bird mouth, and suddenly he's eaten half my food.

I am selective in who we talk about donor egg with. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's also his story just as much as mine. The infertility is my story, but his origins are his. So I don't want to post a photo of him, but he does look remarkably like our donor. He has my husband's coloring- his olive skin has lightened as he's gotten older, so he's now quite fair, with sandy brown hair and blue-grey eyes. But his features- those are the donor's, no doubt. When I compare photos, I see the resemblance. Although people are always saying they see me and my husband, I don't. I see the donor, and it does not bother me. I am grateful for her gift of her egg. But this boy, he is clearly my boy. He's cuddly and sweet and reaches for me and sleeps with his head tucked under mine. We're attached, deeply attached.

Of course, I am still me. Now that's older, I've gotten more of my life back. No doubt that it's definitely not my old life. I find it hard to make it to the gym once a week, unlike my old three times a week goal. I do still cook a nice dinner many nights, and we watch Netflix now that he's sleeping better, and I still read a ton and work full time and make yummy food to send with him to the nanny's. We see friends, though it tends to be playdates, but sometimes I sneak away for brunch with a friend who doesn't have a little one. I am looking forward to spring and returning to walks in the woods as a family. He loves to be worn in the Ergo and we love to take him along to see the trees and hear the birds and spot some deer. Although having a baby can stress a marriage, we are good most of the time. Not like the old days- no travel, not many dinners out or movies or shows, and no lazy Sunday mornings in bed. We spend quite a bit of time talking about cute he is, even after he's in bed.

So, overall, things are pretty good. We have jobs, a beautiful boy, and life is more or less stable. But no, no I cannot imagine having a second child. We are stressed much of the time. Two working parents is hard. I end up missing a lot of work just to get life done- doctor's appointments, rushing to and from the nanny's, basic house maintenance, etc. Although we do intend to have a second, it seems unimaginable to me right now. We said we'd discuss in the summer, but I don't know. Sigh. Life is busy, and there are always things to do, and I'm slacking at work and sick with colds all the time.

But overall, life is sweet with this baby. I have something to look forward to each afternoon. This baby was worth the wait.

Back at Work

This is the middle of my second week back at work. The first day was hard. I bawled when I shut the door of the house where my son is staying with the nanny. I cried and cried, and had to force my feet towards the car. I felt as if something had physically been taken from my body.

Okay, that was dramatic. The good news is, things got much easier! And now, eight working days later, I'm actually rather enjoying being back at my job. This is how our daily schedule goes:

7:30 am: the three of us get up, and I feed the baby a bottle while my husband showers and eats. lots of baby giggles and smiles ensue (morning is his best time)/
8 am: we trade- husband dresses and changes the baby, I get ready for work
8:30 am: leave the house
8:40 am: drop the baby at the house of the family we share the nanny with, and I drive to work
9 am- 3 or 3:30 pm: I work. I try not to look at photos of him because it makes me sad, but I know I can look forward to seeing him before too long.
3:30-ish: I leave and pick up the baby. Reunited! Hugs and cuddles and we drive home.
4-10 pm: baby and I hang out. Sometimes he takes a short nap. I make dinner if my husband is home and can hold the baby. If not, I am bad and eat nuts for dinner. After dinner, maybe some Netflix with him on one of our laps, usually napping.
10:30-ish: we feed him one last bottle and go to bed
4:30 am: baby wakes up, has a bottle, we go back to bed
7:30 am: it all begins again

So, life is not too hectic. And on a good day, this schedule actually works! On a bad night, like last night, he was up three times, not once (not sure why, maybe teething...). But I don't really mind.

One thing I've been surprised at is how judge-y people are. I've gotten over any lingering guilt about not breastfeeding or pumping, but now it's our sleeping arrangements that people like to criticize. For the first few months, the baby slept in his co-sleeper half the night, and in my arms half the night. Since I've been back at work, I want to breathe in his sweet baby smell as much as I can. Also, he settles a lot faster when he's in bed with me. So we sleep together, me on my side, him in my arms, and the blanket holding me so I don't roll backwards (I have a bed that's just a bit too soft). But I've learned that people think I'm spoiling him, and that now he'll "be in bed with you when he's 10." Ummm, no he won't. We just sleep better, and I am at work all day, so what's wrong with being close when we are both home? And no, he won't be in bed with me when he's 10. I promise. I figure in a few months he'll be sleeping better and probably want his freedom, and anyway once he starts rolling over, it might be safer to have him in his own space. So, lesson learned: don't tell people how we do things. Everyone has an opinion, and thinks they have a right to express it. I don't care. This is what works for me, and works for my baby. I waited many long years to have this little guy, and I can sleep with him if I want to.

As far as him being the result of donor egg, we still have kept this information mostly to ourselves, my family, and a few friends. It's funny though, I am still occasionally told how much he looks like me. I guess we chose our donor well! I personally do not see a resemblance, other than the fact that he has my hair and skin color. His eyes seem to be staying a grey-blue, which is surprising because both his daddy and the donor have green eyes, but they are pretty so I think it's nice. I am now the only brown-eyed one in the house- even the cat has big blue eyes!

He's not quite as big as the cat, but getting close...

I am slowly getting back into cooking and watching Netflix and even occasionally reading, and being at work is kinda nice, but I do think about my baby all the time. I guess that's what being a parent does. And I am convinced- CONVINCED- that this baby is the cutest baby in the world. When people who are in the know ask if I've considered trying for baby #2 naturally- you know, just to see if it could happen- I almost feel like laughing. First of all, I do not believe it's likely it could happen. But second, this baby is SO great, that using my own eggs might be foolish! How could I do any better than what I was given??

I am not a religious person, but I feel truly blessed to have had this work for me. Infertility was the worst, but it has made me appreciate this time, now that the dark days of pumping and depression have passed. Even the cat has come around to accepting the baby (see photo above). All in all, this is a very sweet time in my life. It's not perfect- I still can't wear pants since my c-section and my husband recently was laid off at work- but the major problem in my life is now a thing of the past. It's not gone, I still feel a twinge when hearing about someone who easily conceives or has five kids or complains about their children loudly- but the pain and bitterness DO get better.

11 Week Update

Today is my son's 11 week birthday. I'm sitting in his room, which I used to never go into. It was a dreaded empty room, waiting for years to have a baby for it. But now it might be my favorite room in the house. We've fixed it up cute, and though he doesn't sleep in here yet, I spend plenty of time changing him, dressing him, and rocking him in here. Right now he's happily gurgling away in the swing next to me.

After the heavy last entry, I thought I should give an update. To summarize: life is pretty good. It was a dark, dark time for many weeks there. As I wrote last time, his birth went differently than expected, and we struggled with major feeding issues. At around six weeks, I made the hardest- and best- decision of our brief acquaintance. I quit pumping. I quit breastfeeding. It just wasn't working, and I was becoming non-responsive to the pump. I dreaded every pumping session, because sometimes he would cry, and once I was hooked up, there wasn't much I could do. I'd pray he wouldn't cry, and if he did, I'd have to jiggle him on my lap, trying desperately to get enough milk for his next meal. At night, we were forcing him to get up on the pumping schedule, not letting him wake naturally for meals. I was barely sleeping more than 2.5 hours at a clip. I was exhausted, and still mostly having to use formula anyway. This arrangement was making me a really unhappy mama.

So, I quit. It took almost three weeks to wean from the pump, because my breasts are really... responsive? I don't know. I just am really prone to clogged ducts and so I had to take it nice and slow. But life is SO MUCH BETTER NOW.

In a way, I think breast pumps are a scourge of modern life. I know many women who exclusively pump, and while some are willing to do anything to give their babies breast milk, many of us are miserable and live guilty lives, thinking we have to keep up these unrealistic schedules, trying to pump and care for a newborn. And I am totally not convinced breast milk is really the be-all, end all anyway (article link here, if you care). My son is healthy and thriving on formula, and my bonding has increased in a major way since I made the decision to stop forcing the issue. He's happy with a bottle, I'm happy with not being chained to my pump, and we've made the best of it. I chose donor egg partially so I could breastfeed, but it didn't increase our bonding, it just stressed us both out. Perhaps it will be different if I am fortunate enough to have another baby. They seem to think it's related to his breech presentation, and there's not a huge likelihood I will have another breech baby (though with my luck, I wouldn't be surprised...).

Anyway, enough about pumping. Being a mom is about more than feeding.

I LOVE MY SON SO MUCH.

I believe my postpartum blues clouded this for a while at the beginning, and it's only in the last three or four weeks that my love has fully blossomed, unclouded by the anxiety I struggled through at the beginning. I am now more deeply bonded to this little creature than I ever thought possible.

And you know what? This is weird, but he looks nothing like my husband. Okay, maybe his bad hair, ha ha (he has a weird receeding hairline at 11 weeks old- maybe the hair will still grow in!). He has my coloring, dark hair and olive skin, because we picked a donor who looks like me. But my son- he looks a LOT like our donor. He has her nose, for sure. My husband kinda has a big honker, and I have a medium nose, but my son has this cute little button nose that turns up at the end. And when I look back at the donor's photos, it's an exact replica of hers. It's unmistakable.

But this bears emphasizing: I do not care one bit. I see her every time I contemplate his features, and it matters not one bit to me. I really thought, while pregnant, it would be a bigger loss. But it's not. I remain grateful to her every day, and thankful we could pursue this treatment, but this boy feels 100% mine. I grew him, I sleep curled next to him every night, I cuddle him all day long, I feed him bottles while he stares deeply into my eyes and rewards me with the cutest, sweetest smiles. This boy is a true miracle child.

I go back to work in one month and I cannot imagine being apart from him. Unfortunately I can't quit, due to the expense of donor egg and also the scarcity of jobs in my field if I wanted to find a new one later. But I do hope I can cut my hours a bit so I can leave at 3 and spend some extra time each day with him. I'm not sure if I can, but I'll deal with it once I am back there.

And a parting word: postpartum depression is real. I'm not sure I had true depression, but certainly more than the regular baby blues. And having gone through infertility is a true risk factor for experiencing the dark places I went to. I think it's because we try so hard to have a baby, and then when it arrives and it's so hard, we blame ourselves for not only experiencing rainbows and unicorns. Add in a hard birth and some medical issues, and there's a recipe for trouble. I wish I had known this, and I plan to be as open with my hard times as I try to be about the struggle to get pregnant.

As a parting word, I'll say that this has been the hardest 11 weeks of my life. But when I wake up with the baby in my arms each morning, I know it was worth it. I'd do it again, I'd struggle through infertility and IVFs if I had to, but this boy is the best thing that's happened to me since marrying my husband. I thank the universe, my perseverance, and the donor a million times over. Thank you.

Finally, an Update: My Birth Story, my Baby, and My Postpartum Life

My little one arrived at 38 weeks and 1 day, on February 20th, 2014. His name is Leo and he is a sweet, sweet little boy.

Leo, on day 4

Today he is already 5.5 weeks old. I know, I know- I have been really bad about updating this blog. I have multiple reasons for this.

First, his birth was really hard. I had been receiving care from a midwife practice throughout my pregnancy, and other than some spotting in the end of the first trimester/beginning of the second trimester, I'd had a really healthy, easy pregnancy. This all changed when I went in for my 38 week check up. I had missed my 37 week check up because it had snowed and the roads were too icy. Since I'd been so healthy, they said not to worry about it. But when I went in at 38 weeks, my blood pressure was high. I've always had borderline normal to high blood pressure, but I had crossed the line where they start to worry. I think it was around 138/95. Not awful, but not great. They did test my urine and I had no protein in it, which was good. But they told me to get some lunch, and then swing by the hospital for a quick blood draw and an ultrasound to check the fluid levels. Okay, no big deal. So I did that, and the bad news is that my blood pressure remained high. So they turned on the ultrasound and as it flickered on, the midwife let out a gasp and said, "That is NOT a head!"

Yup. Although I'd been told for weeks that my baby was head down, they had been WRONG. And the shitty thing is, I think I had always known this. I'd been feeling a really, really hard thing up under my ribs on the right side. The midwives had never done anything but a cursory feel, and proclaimed it to be a butt, but I was always skeptical, and then always brushed off my concerns. And then, sure enough, I had a breech baby.

So, with the blood pressure remaining high and the breech presentation, they called in the high risk OB and it was decided I should deliver my baby soon. The recommendation for high blood pressure is to deliver between 37 and 39 weeks, and I was right at 38. I asked if we could delay, but they really weren't excited about the risks. And after having seen the characters with preeclampsia in "Call the Midwife" and "Downton Abbey," I was scared too. I tearfully asked for one night to prepare, and they agreed. Also, the OB on call in the morning was skilled at doing external versions to try to flip breech babies, so the timing was good.

I went home, panicky and shocked, and we called our families to tell them what was happening. My mom said she'd drive down first thing the next morning. I told work that I would not be back again.

This was all a huge, horrible shock to me. I'd had such a healthy pregnancy. And although 38 weeks is full term, it's not ideal to deliver that soon. But I wanted a healthy baby, and this seemed to be what the doctors and midwives recommended.

I didn't sleep much that night.

In the morning, I remained a ball of dread and anxiety. Although some of me was excited to meet my baby, I was still in such shock at this sudden turn of events, and worried that he wouldn't be ready to come out or would need care. They told me it was unlikely but possible that he'd need help breathing, and I tried to focus on the unlikely part.

So this was the plan: get to the hospital at 7:30 am, and try the version to see if he'd flip. If he did, we'd immediately induce me and try for a vaginal birth. If he did not flip, we'd move into a c-section to get him out. If the version resulted in a problem such as a placental abruption (about a 2% risk, and terrifying), we'd have to have an emergency c-section, which was my biggest fear. I wanted desperately to be awake to meet my baby.

At the hospital, it was a lot of waiting around. Finally around 10:45, they moved me into the operating theater. I had been offered an epidural. It was just an option, because if the version worked, I would be trying a vaginal birth. Although I had always thought I'd try it unmedicated, I was such a ball of freak-out at this point that I said I wanted all the drugs they could offer. Also, the version is supposed to be very painful.

So I got an epidural and a spinal, with my husband out of the room. It was scary, but I was held by a nurse and remained pretty calm. I focused on meeting my baby.

The version took about 15 minutes, and was unsuccessful. I had not had high hopes and had already accepted the inevitable.

In a blink of an eye, I was prepped and the c-section began.

About 15 minutes in, I felt a tugging that became stronger and stronger, and then my son was lifted up and out of me, and held above the blue curtain. I cried and cried. He was perfect and healthy, and did not need a breathing tube. A few minutes later, he was brought to me and held to my chest. At which point, I decided I needed to throw up (thanks, epidural) and so my husband held him instead.

One hour from the start, I was sewn up and taken to recovery, with my perfect, healthy, small but not too small, 6.7 pound baby boy.

Just hatched!
First photo after birth

And this is where things got joyful and also really, really hard. The c-section was actually not very bad or very scary, but recovery was rough. I don't know WHY anyone would ever elect to have a section. I had a catheter in for 24 hours, I lost a lot of blood (enough to have a transfusion, though we decided against one because I was borderline), and the indignity is intense: I was wiped up between the legs on a regular basis by multiple nurses, and shaved in the operating room by a middle aged man named Diego or something, in front of at least 12 people. I couldn't get out of bed for a day or so, and I spent four nights in the hospital. Leo didn't latch on for eight hours, and I believe our breastfeeding troubles (more on this later) stem from either his early arrival or the c-section or both.

I don't want to go into the hospital stay too much, but suffice it to say I loved my baby, and hated everything else. It was impossible to get any sleep in the hospital, there were teams of people in my rooms at all time (a teaching hospital has it's drawbacks) and I was told there were multiple things wrong with my baby, none of which turned out to be true (heart murmur, failed hearing tests, and something much worse which I will also discuss later). But at the same time, I was in a fair amount of pain from the surgery, and I was having a horrible time with breastfeeding, and the hormonal swings were nearly incapacitating, so it was nice to be in a hospital with services available.

After four nights we returned home, and this was challenging too. One of the main problems was my unhelpful mother, who criticized our decision to bottle feed our baby. This was not our choice: he was not gaining weight from breastfeeding, and I was horribly engorged and needed to relieve the pressure with a pump, and I needed my baby to gain weight so we were using a combo of SNS, a syringe, and the breast. It was a nightmare, and he kept losing weight, and we saw so many lactation consultants... it is all a blur to me now, but it was a hard, dark time. I never understood postpartum depression, and this is an entry for another time, but it hit me hard, and I continue to struggle.

I mentioned earlier that we were told he might have a serious medical condition. It's still hard to talk about it, but the summary is that the peds teams said he might have a skull condition that would require surgery. Thank goodness, three weeks after he was born we met with a reconstructive surgeon and Leo was cleared as not having the condition. His head was just a little funny shaped because he was breech. It's already starting to get better as he grows up and his head re-forms. We have a follow-up with the specialist in three months.

The breastfeeding issue remains. We are not sure why he has such a lousy suck, but he lost about 12% of his weight, which is not good. So we had to try lots of different things, but ended up with me pumping my breastmilk and feeding him from bottles. Where I had a very ample supply to begin with, it's been reduced through his lack of sucking at the beginning and my bitter hatred of pumping. So now we give him about 60% breastmilk and about 40% formula. And I breastfeed on occasion, but I spend a vast chunk of time pumping and bottle feeding. I am struggling with what to do about this. I can't pump forever, and I don't believe formula is evil, but I feel a lot of guilt in my considering giving it up. I am still undecided.

His birth did not go as I had hoped or expected, and the feeding is very disappointing and stressful. But, there are shiny moments in all of this. I love, love, love to wear him close to my body in the Moby wrap, since I don't get the closeness from breastfeeding. It took me awhile to be okay with this, but I now sleep curled up around him, with his little head on my shoulder and his body pressed to mine. True, I have to sleep in the guest room because the bed is harder/safer than my cushy bed, and I now sleep separate from my husband so we all get a little more sleep, but sleeping with my baby is one of my favorite parts of the day. I always mean to get stuff done during the day, and I do, but I also spent long amounts of time just rocking him and staring into his tiny face. This is love, and despite my crying almost daily because of stress and sleep deprivation and sore breasts and being chained to the pump, this is my son, and this is why I endured all those years of infertility, tests, and heartbreak.

For all of you out there still struggling, I can't say it's been easy, but it's worth it. Though to be terribly honest, childbirth was not what I'd hoped, since really, I didn't experience it, just had a surgery. And I can't breastfeed as a primary nutrition source, so that's not working out how I hoped either. On my dark days, I wonder if adoption would have been an equally fulfilling road to parenthood.

But then I look into my son's face, and I can't imagine having anyone other than him.

As I said before, it's not easy, but for me, it's worth it.

The Dark Side of Nesting

Up till about 36 weeks, I would say I was doing really well. Since I've only gained about 23 pounds, I haven't been lugging around too much weight, and for my whole pregnancy, I've had minimal symptoms. Most of the time this has been great, although I have mentioned on this blog that it's been a little hard to hear from other people how I don't look very pregnant. At many times, this has really hurt. It's like I wasn't good at getting pregnant, and when people tell me how small I am, sometimes it feels like they are saying that I'm not good at being pregnant either. I know this doesn't sound totally rational, but it's the way people say it.. it's like everyone wants this nice big round pregnant lady, and I'm just not that. So I always get this sense of disappointment from people.

Anyway, overall I think I was doing well. When people would ask how I was feeling, I'd always say, "Great!" And I was. Though my energy level has flagged a bit in the third trimester, overall I had been sleeping well, feeling pretty rested, and not bothered by many physical symptoms at all. As long as I didn't lie down after eating, I avoided heartburn and indigestion, and my teeth were sensitive in December but have improved about 90% since then.

And then... it hit. Almost exactly at 36.5 weeks, this past weekend, everything changed. On Friday I was EXHAUSTED after work. Like, almost crying by the end of the workday. I didn't even do much at work- I basically have a desk job. But I felt dizzy and sick by 5 pm. I spent the evening trying not to move off the couch. And on Saturday, we went to a breastfeeding class, then lunch, then some shopping, and came home. B went out with friends around 3:30. I knew he'd be with them all night. Normally, I'd have made plans with a friend. But I didn't want to do anything but sit on the couch. I am just so tired, all the time. But then I started freaking out, thinking about all the things I still have to do at work... several major projects are unfinished, and I won't bore you with details, but there's lots of stuff I really don't want to leave unfinished. Also, I went to do some laundry and realized that I have a ton of baby clothes, but they're all give-aways from one friend, one neighbor of my mom's, and my sister-in-law... and they all must have had summer babies because ALL of the clothes are short-sleeved, legless onesies. And it's COLD here, and probably will stay that way for most of March! So then I started to freak out about being the horrible mom who takes her baby home from the hospital, in a snowstorm, in a summer outfit. And THEN I started to freak out about everything else: how I am going to eat or cook with a newborn, how I haven't sorted through the cradle full of books, how we don't have a car seat yet, etc. etc. etc. It was not rational. It was crazy worrying. I couldn't even read my book because my head was literally buzzing and my heart was racing. And I was exhausted and tried to go to bed at 11:30 pm, but I didn't get to sleep till 1 am because I could not calm down.

Sunday was the same- though I did go out and buy some stuff, and we have a car seat arriving tomorrow in the mail, I also meant to get the oil changed in the car, groceries purchased, etc., I just had to come home and sleep for two hours. And then again I could not get to sleep till 1 am, and I tossed and turned all night, at one point waking up drenched in sweat, and even the bed was soaked in my sweat. It was awful. I showed up at work yesterday an absolute mess, and was too tired to do any work at all, and had a couple of crying fits with my door closed.

This is what I am now referring to as "the dark side of nesting." I have read about nesting- this website defines it as "a pre-labor ritual that helps get your home ready for the baby, and helps you to pass the time"- and in birthing class, they warned us that it can be irrational and excessive and is not always healthy, but I did not expect it to be something that would hit me, or hit me this early, at 36.5 weeks. But it has- along with major anxiety about everything, and an almost chain loop in my head that he could arrive in as little as one week from now (I'm 37 weeks tomorrow, and 38 weeks onward is fair game).  I could still have 5 weeks, or I could only have 1!

Anyway, it's amazing what one good night of sleep will do. Last night, instead of peeing five times like Sunday night, I managed to only pee twice in the middle of the night. I slept a solid eight hours too. And today, I feel much calmer and normal. I still have anxiety and to-do lists, but it feels.... manageable. I don't feel like a crazy person. I haven't sweated through my clothes several times, the way I did yesterday. I don't feel a slave to my hormones the way I have for the last few days.

I know that today could just be a temporary respite. I have to keep plugging away at my to-dos, and I need to let B help me with the things he can. And I have to remind myself this is NORMAL, and some of it is irrational, and I need to slow down and remember that essentially, I am prepared. When he wants to come, he will come, and it will be okay.

Throughout it all, the fears and the anxiety, sometimes the sun peeks through and I remember: I will hopefully be holding a baby in just a matter of weeks. And then the incessant peeing and the washing of clothes and worrying about work undone in the office will just have to fade away. In March, my focus will be on the baby. It won't be easier, but I hope it will be more joyful. Because quite frankly, the dark side of nesting is pretty sucky. And I know it's not over yet. Hello, hormones. Welcome to taking over my life.

35.5 weeks

I haven't updated this blog in close to two months. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, I just haven't known how to frame it. It's especially hard when two of the women whose blogs I used to read on a regular basis had negatives/miscarriages from their last cycles. I feel immensely grateful and lucky to be experiencing pregnancy. It's funny- there's this whole pyramid of how bad it can be. There are the women who come crying to RESOLVE groups about how they can't stand the thought of doing an IUI. Then they get pregnant the first time, and I'm like, oh cry me a river. Sorry you didn't get pregnant from a romantic evening of wine and dining, but you GOT PREGNANT. With relatively little expensive and invasive procedures. And then the next step up- IVF. While IVF sucks, and is expensive (I should know about both of those- I did it three times), I can only imagine how amazing it would have been if that had worked for me. Not to even mention those for whom it works the first time, and they have frozen embryos for the future.  I know it's not easy for either of these groups of women, but it's definitely a bridge I crossed a long time ago.

The final frontier in assisted reproductive technologies often feels like donor egg, though when I really think about it, it can go much beyond- for example, using a surrogate. Or moving to adoption, by choice or by necessity. So while I still strongly believe that anyone who wants a child badly enough will find a way, provided they have a supportive partner and the financial means (neither of which is small potatoes), there are so many different roadblocks and challenges to overcome for some women and couples. I count myself as extremely unlucky to have needed donor egg at the ripe old age of 32 (I'm 33 now, but was 32 on the day of transfer- and had been trying to conceive since I was 30 years old), especially when I never actually received a conclusive answer for why three IVFs failed so horribly.  But when you're in the infertility world for awhile, you realize how unluckiness takes all shapes and forms and degrees. And then I look down at my belly and thank the universe and my donor that I am able to sustain this pregnancy, no matter how much it took to get here and the tears and draining of money and greying of hair that have resulted.

This journey is not over yet. I am 35.5 weeks pregnant but no baby is here yet. I find it very difficult to connect my stomach to the idea that one of these days, hopefully 4.5 weeks from now, a baby is going to be laid in my arms. He won't be my genetic material, but he was grown and nurtured by my uterus and my healthy food choices and my love and my sheer determination to bring him to this world. I think it will be utterly surreal. I have watched my friends from RESOLVE go through the transition to being mothers, and I can't quite translate my growing stomach to this eventual event. But I know it's coming. I feel my stomach roll and see it ripple and I remind myself it's not gas- it's a human being in there.

Still, life right now is totally surreal. My hormones have mellowed a lot from when I used to cry all the time (see my previous entry on my very emotional birthing class), but I still occasionally tear up when I walk by the room we've decorated for him, or when I think of being able to introduce him to my mom and dad, or when I look through the photos of this whole journey that I am collecting in a special folder on this laptop. My physical discomforts are very minor compared to many women, and I hope birth will be the same way, but ultimately, I just feel so grateful to be experiencing this. Oh, I get tired and cranky, and I worry about daycare and money and the actual process of giving birth, but mostly, I just still am in disbelief that I am going to be a real mom someday soon. I cannot wait to sit on the couch and do nothing but hold him, and thank my lucky stars that something finally worked.

I don't know if I will continue to update this blog. I guess I will put something on here when he has safely arrived, but mostly, I just go to work, come home and sack out on the couch, and count down the days to meeting him. My infertility journey is not over- I still have fertility jealousy when women seem to come by new babies so easily, and I get uncomfortable when people want to talk too much about my pregnancy, and I know that I'll have to endure clinics and ultrasounds and shots if we decide to do this again, even for a frozen embryo transfer. But mostly, I just hope and pray that anyone else struggling gets through this too, and that it was all worth it.

Signing off for awhile, then. Good night.

His room, in progress

Birthing Class Meltdown

So this past Saturday we went to part one of a two part "Prepared Birthing" class at the hospital in which I will give birth. I'd heard mixed reviews about this class, but we got lucky- the instructor is wonderful, and we learned a lot. B took careful notes, which was super cute. 

I, on the other hand, couldn't take any notes because I spent about 60% of class time crying.

I feel pretty well balanced most of the time, mentally and emotionally. But something about being in this class full of perfectly fertile people really pushed me over the edge. At the beginning, during introductions, we were supposed to say where we'd most want to be in the world, at 10 am on a cold Saturday. So of course everyone was like, "bed." And I just couldn't help but think, "HERE." I worked for 2.5 years to get pregnant so I want to be right here! I didn't say that. But later, we had to say what we wanted to get out of the class, and I didn't plan on saying anything much, but suddenly I found myself telling the whole group how hard it was to conceive and that I can't believe I am here in this class, and that I am finding this amazing yet hard to handle. In a good way. Anyway, the instructor was great and later told me she had trouble too... but everyone else didn't react at all, and I felt like a total doofus. Then I proceeded to bawl during every birthing video we watched, and half the time in between. 

I have no idea what set me off, because I'm okay most of the time. I have even gotten to the point where I can talk about my pregnancy without mentioning IVF (except clearly not in that class, where I had to TMI everyone). 

Anyway, I got through it, and I learned a lot, but I was definitely the emotional mess in the room. Then on Sunday, B's asshole dad told us the photo we sent him for his holiday card isn't good because I don't look pregnant enough. Fuck you. I'm 28 weeks pregnant and I'm sorry if I can't look pregnant enough for everyone else. This is just the way I look. So we re-took it today, with me wearing a tighter shirt, but I can't be what others want me to be. I'm fine and healthy, I'm just not 9 months pregnant with a perfect belly. I don't even want to be on any stupid card.

Okay, end of vent. I just am totally confusing poor B, who seems to want to put the trauma of infertility behind us, and I thought I did too, but then I lost it in the dumb birthing class. I hope I can calm down for next week's class, but I'll just try to sit in back in case I'm a weepy mess again. They are not sad tears, more like happy and disbelief, but I realize I probably look like I need therapy and not birthing classes (I don't think I need therapy- I'm fine most of the time, and excited for March). 

It's exhausting, being pregnant. But, I remember how it was not being pregnant, and fighting infertility was a million times worse. I think I can safely blame some of this on hormones, and the rest... is just me. Still infertile, now pregnant, and feeling not quite comfortable with either. 

For the Future

It's been a long time since I've written. I have been feeling fine, and nothing exciting to report. I'm 25 weeks today, and feeling more and more comfortable with this pregnancy. The baby has been kicking day and night, and I can't explain how much I love it. I LOVE it. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to tell you about the project I'm working on.

For background: I spent the last couple of nights working on one of my Channukah gifts for my husband. It's a yearly tradition of mine to make a desk calendar for him, highlighting our travels and other fun times we captured in photos. This year, obviously, there are a few recent photos of my small but somewhat noticeable pregnancy belly. I'm still not showing much, at 25 weeks, though I have gained about 14 pounds and am in the normal range. Not sure where it's all gone, but should I be relieved that if I ever become a permanently very chubby woman, no one would notice that either? Ha.

Anyway, after making the calendar for my husband's gift, I realized I have all these photos of my (barely-there) tummy, and even more photos of all the ultrasounds we've had (five total, from weeks 7-20). So I just spent a bunch of time collating the photos from my email, my phone, and my iPad into one big folder.

What will I do with these? Well, they tell a story. There is a picture of my 5-day embryo we transferred, a grinning and crying photo of me holding my first ever positive pregnancy test, records of all of our ultrasounds, and the photos of me with my little tummy, slowly growing. I put them all in order, labeled by the number of weeks I was, and sometime before or after the baby comes, I'll make a photo book using Snapfish or some other service. Then, someday when he is ready, my child will have a record of how much we wanted him, how long the process was, how excited we were every step of the way once I became pregnant, and how very special his conception was.

I want to be very open with him about his donor conception, but in a way that makes him feel wanted, loved, and precious to us. Because that's what he will be, and already is. I know we will have hard times when he may scream that I'm not his real mom, as even genetic children probably do at some point. It will not all be perfect or wonderful, and we've taken a very non-traditional path to parenthood. But I hope this book I will create helps with him understanding how intentional our choosing this path was for us. I will present it as very matter-of-fact, as one more picture book amongst his collection of books. I think this will be a really good way to normalize his unique beginnings.

And if he doesn't care, then it will be a piece of history for me. It doesn't show the heartbreak and failures I endured before we had success, or the financial disaster that infertility was, or the frustration and anger I struggled with for two and a half years. But it shows that we are (I hope) on the way to a happy ending that can come after all the struggle.

It's A....

....BOY!

Which is what we thought it would be, from the sonographer's prediction at 13 weeks, but it was still really good to learn for sure. This makes it much more concrete that this is really, actually happening. My husband was so cute... he is fascinated by the ultrasounds and almost squeals every time the baby would move. As soon as we left and were in the hall, he had his phone out and was texting everyone he knows! His friends, his sisters, his study group from school, everyone! And of course many of them didn't even know I'm pregnant, so there were several confused texts back of "?????" in response to his "It's a boy!"  I had to remind him that we've been very cautious in sharing our news, so he needs to first tell people we're expecting! Anyway, it was cute.

More importantly than the sex, the baby is very active and healthy. Since we did IVF with ICSI, they did an echocardiogram of the heart. It looks fine. My friend's IVF baby was born with his urethra in the wrong place, so of course that risk remains (those are the two things that show up in slightly higher rates than non-IVF/ICSI babies: heart defects and urogenital abnormalities in baby boys). But hopefully all is well.

The sonographer also assured me that he is very active. I'd been getting concerned because I was 20 weeks at the ultrasound and had not felt any movement yet, which is a little on the late side. But just like I am not really showing yet, I guess I was late for that too. We saw the baby kicking and moving a ton, but I felt nothing. However, on Friday evening, I started to feel a strange bubbling in my lower abdomen. I thought maybe it was gas... but no. It has continued consistently now, and seems most noticeable after I eat, and when I am sitting quietly. It is definitely kicks. I have to say, I LOVE feeling this. Between the ultrasound and the kicks, I actually am starting to feel pregnant. Sometimes it has been hard for me to accept that I am pregnant after so many years of failures, so it's really amazing to me to actually be pregnant, and to start realizing I may really have a baby in my life in a few months....

Anyway, telling people has also helped me to feel like this is really happening. My mom has now told all her friends, and I did the dreaded Facebook reveal. I had been resisting for months, but as I talked about before, my husband really did want to tell his friends. He is five years older than me and most of his friends have one if not more children already. I consented, though we ended up posting very different things: he just announced it's a boy, whereas I felt an acknowledgement that it's not easy for everyone was necessary. So this is what I wrote: [my name] is thrilled to share that we're expecting a baby boy in early March. It's been a long, long journey to get here and we couldn't be happier or more excited.

And immediately, I started getting "likes" and congratulatory comments. Nearly half of my total friends on FB actually "liked" it, which I find shocking. I usually get like four likes for typical cat pics (I can't resist! she's so cute!) or shots of what I made for dinner (yes, I am that person- cat and food pics). So this is what I am wondering: do people just like babies, or did anyone read the second part about the long journey?

Oh well, who knows. I just hope I didn't hurt anyone or ruin their day, as so many pregnancy announcements had to me for all those years. Oh, I'm sure I did upset someone, but my wish is that the second line spoke hope to anyone who is still trying or is frustrated with their situation. My pregnancy is still so tied to my infertility that I can't separate the two, nor do I want to. I am grateful every day that this is where I am, and that I was financially and emotionally able to undertake this long and harrowing path. I hope to appreciate my child every day, in ways that I might not have if I hadn't seen a future where this would not have been possible. I am grateful to my donor and to my doctors and my husband every day.

For those still considering donor egg, I can't say enough good things about this decision I made. While I mourn the loss of a genetic child, and I had these slightly sad thoughts as we tried to see the baby's face during the ultrasound, and I think of my donor quite often, this was the best decision I could have made and I don't regret it for a fraction of a second. I thank the universe every day that I live in a time where this was possible.

Today I am 21 weeks and 1 day, and grateful.

Upcoming Anatomy Scan, and Musings on Facebook Announcements

Pregnancy has many things in common with infertility. One of the biggest is waiting. I am 19 weeks today, and my big anatomy scan ultrasound is one week from yesterday.

In general, my anxiety is much better. It's been three weeks since a midwife appointment, and six weeks since we last had an ultrasound. It's easy for me to forget that I am pregnant, since my first trimester exhaustion and mild nausea have been gone for so long and my spotting tapered off about week 14 (thank goodness!). I am still not showing (well, I look a bit chunky but who doesn't nowadays?). No one can tell except me and my husband- well, okay, my stepmom pointed out my, uh, increased breast size, but that's not really something I hope people at work are noticing! I have maternity clothes but I just don't need them. I wear my regular clothes, though I do need the belly band thing every day.

I have no real reasons to worry, but I create them. I spend a lot of time thinking I am not gaining enough weight. It was really disappointing to me last night when a neighbor told me my belly looked smaller. Also I was asked if I was in the right class at prenatal yoga two weeks ago. And women weeks behind me are popping out more than me. It's a little discouraging. I am on the small side, but by no means a shrimp. I am 5'4'' and my pre-pregnancy weight was around 130. Pretty average sized. I have gained only about 6 or 7 pounds, which seems a little on the low side, but maybe I will catch up. My donor is more petite, so I'm not expecting a huge baby, but come on! It's hard to feel pregnant when I look the same.

So, I worry about my weight, and I've had some pretty bad headaches lately, which isn't helping me to feel like eating. But I did something daring yesterday: I did a 40 minute home workout tape for pregnant ladies! I really haven't exercised except for yoga, and it felt amazingly good to squat and stretch and kick. Before the transfer in June, I used to go to the gym about three days a week: boot camp, body pump, and Zumba were all my ways to relieve stress and feel good. I used to go for hikes in the woods behind my house too, but lately I've been sick, and now it's been raining for a week straight, so that's been off the table too. But the workout video felt good! I am going to try to do it again soon.

My husband is also getting increasingly persistent in asking when we can put something public on Facebook. I know he is excited to be a dad, and it's cute, and he's a bit older than me so most of his friends already have kids and he wants to share his happy news with them. But this is something I spend a lot of time thinking about. While I was happy for friends always, pregnancy announcements and photos hurt me so much when I would stumble upon them on Facebook. If he wants to do this, I'd like to find some way to acknowledge it's not easy for everyone, and was a long road to success. As a message to those who are still on that hard path, and a reminder to the oblivious masses that procreation is not a guarantee. But I also don't want to be a TMI person on Facebook, as I am friends with plenty of work colleagues, relatives, even friends of my dad's. So I don't know. Has anyone seen particularly sensitive yet short postings on Facebook that touched them the right way?

18 weeks and no news is good news

I'm two days shy of hitting the 18 week mark, and I have to report, I have very little to report. My spotting stopped three or four weeks ago, thank goodness. I had very, very cautious sex and nothing happened, other than me getting bored, so a couple of weeks ago while on vacation, I gave in, shut my eyes, and made love the way normal people do (or at least, normal for a semi-cautious pregnant person who might also be considered a basket case). Then, I only checked my underwear every five minutes for the next two days, ha ha. But the spotting has stayed away, and I am so beyond grateful.

My weight was up about six pounds two weeks ago, and then I got a bad cold and I think I stopped eating. I drank a lot of tea but it was hard to breathe and eat at the same time. Anyway, I lost a few pounds and didn't realize it immediately. I am now back up to what my weight had been, but I feel very small. No one can even tell I am pregnant. Naked, I just look like I had a big meal. Sigh. I know it's not good to be pregnancy-belly greedy, but I think having a belly would make this feel more real. I go to prenatal yoga and feel like a faker. Oh well.

Nothing else much to report. I have pretty much no symptoms, which is something I'm grateful for. Other than exhaustion and then spotting and then anxiety, I really have had about the easiest pregnancy I've heard of. My next checkup is in two weeks, and the 20 week anatomy scan is two weeks from tomorrow.

My heart goes out to friends who are still trying to conceive, both real-life friends and those I've followed on the internet blogs for so long. I still feel more infertile than pregnant, though I suppose that shift will continue as this goes along. I miss my support group, though of course I'm glad to have graduated. I do often wonder if there's anything I can do to still support infertility awareness and funding. Things to think about in the future...

Becoming an (infertile) pregnant person

Depending on whether you follow my midwife's due date estimate or my own calculations, I am either 15 weeks today or I am 15 weeks on Friday. With only 10% of women giving birth on their due date, it's safe to assume I probably won't have a baby on March 5th, no matter which date I settle on.

I haven't written in awhile because I am teetering in this weird territory lately. My spotting has mostly stopped. I still spot maybe once every three days, but it's very pale pink and only when I pee. I have gone back to not needing a panty liner (yet still being afraid to wear my cute underwear, just in case!). When I spot, I descend into doubt and anxiety, but with the lessening of the spotting, those feelings are also starting to be more and more infrequent.

At the same time, I'm slowly accepting that I am indeed pregnant. I went to prenatal yoga on Thursday and Monday this week, with two different pregnant women. I have "naturally" pregnant friends too, but I still feel most safe with the women from my infertility support group, so I went the yoga classes with them. We still always come back to talking about our infertility. It seems to be something that has deeply affected us all. No one escapes unscathed. It's on our minds always, but coupled with that is the immense gratitude we seem to feel at having finally had something work. It feels safe and secure to be around women who also regard this as a miracle that needs recognition, not necessarily from the world, but from ourselves and each other. I do think of each of my formerly-infertile friends' pregnancies as something amazing and special, and something joyful that helps counteract all the unfairness I experienced for myself and for others when attending my monthly RESOLVE meetings for so long.

Other things that have moved me towards acceptance, and hopefully celebration, were having my mom come visit this weekend. She's not a crazy baby person- she only had me- but she is very excited and happy for us. We went to a consignment maternity store on Saturday and bought my first maternity clothes. I know other women often need them before this, but I haven't put on more than a few pounds. No one but me and my husband would really notice. The pants are more for the future. For now, I just stick to my looser skirts and dresses, but it's true that none of my work pants fit anymore. It will be good to have the new pants when the weather starts to cool off. We also bought this super cute tee shirt- it's of skeleton bones, and includes a little baby skeleton fetus! I don't know that I would ever dare to wear such a bold pronouncement of pregnancy, but it made us giggle.

I've also started to tell a few more people- neighbors whom I'm friendly with, mainly. I've noticed that I can't seem to tell someone I'm pregnant without saying that it took years of trying and medical interventions. I'm not sure if people think that's weird, but it's my story, and it's so tied up in my pregnancy that I still can't separate the two in my head. It's being true to myself and to those who also may have trouble. I don't want to live in a world where I'd contribute to the loneliness and despair that I often felt when hearing of others' pregnancies. The truth is that it's not easy for everyone, and it was only my perseverance, financial wiping out of our savings, and eventual good luck that got me to this place. People don't need to hear all that, but they can know that it's not simple for everyone, and that this is a big freakin' deal to me.

Anyway, it feels good to have neighbors' support (I live in a very close-knit community, where neighbors know a lot about each other's lives), and several of the older ladies I've told have almost cried when I told them, since they know a little about what we've gone through or how long we've been wanting this. This feels super nice. At the same time, I kind of can't quiet the voice in my head that imagines how very differently my life would be if that one pregnancy test had not come out positive. I'd still be depressed, yearning, worrying, making plans to head back to Atlanta for another cycle of drugs and shots and ultrasounds.

I haven't given in to the pregnancy bliss that I see when I look at my normally fertile friends, or my acquaintances who tell the world on Facebook as soon as they hit 12 weeks (or before!). I am not yet comfortable telling my coworkers, and I don't know if Facebook will ever be something I'm okay with. My pregnancy feels tenuous still, though I am working on acceptance and peace and security, and maybe even excitement. It's hard to move from infertile to pregnant, but I think I will learn to be more comfortable with being in both worlds.

Spotting

Why has my pregnancy become all about my spotting?

Because I'm pregnant, and pregnant ladies pee all the time (when was the last time I slept more than 2-3 hours uninterrupted for pee breaks? weeks ago), and apparently this lady right here has to see blood every time she pees. Okay, not every time. Like, 80% of the time. Which equals, oh, about 10 times a day.

It has even seeped into my dreams. Last night I slept fitfully, and woke up in a cold sweat. I'd had a nightmare that my constant anxiety led to the midwives "firing" me as a patient. Could that even happen? I've only called them a few times with my worries. And they have been so nice about it. But in my dream, they told me I was too high-maintenance and I'd have to see a regular ob-gyn.

Maybe some part of me wonders if the midwives are too laid back for me. Maybe an ob would order more tests, or say she sees this all the time, or do something else to put me at ease. I have no idea.

Meanwhile, this Friday I'll be 14 weeks, and most things I read say the spotting should have stopped with the first trimester, yet it's gone on now for almost three weeks. I have not had sex, exercised, or touched my cervix in any other way, other than the exam at the midwife's last Thursday. Do I just have the worst cervix in the world? Will it do it's job when labor comes? Am I not cut out for these kinds of worries for the next six months?

Sigh. I don't know. I lapse into daydreams about my future baby, and then I get up to pee and remind myself that I shouldn't get too confident. At work, my supervisor wants to discuss future planning, and thinks I am odd for not wanting anyone to know yet. She has rightly pointed out that I can't hide the obvious forever. But I've gained little enough weight that I *can* hide it for probably a good while longer, and it just makes me feel more comfortable. So we will see. I also feel bad for not wanting to celebrate and enjoy this pregnancy more. I think if I weren't spotting, I'd feel differently. And perhaps soon it will end. It's *very* light. No pantyliners needed, just a pale pink trace when I wipe after peeing, and sometimes some drops of pink/brown blood in the toilet. Nothing dire or scary, unlike how it started. It's just the longevity- almost three weeks- that continues to upset me.

I know this must seem stupid to those still trying to conceive that baby. I really do remember the grief, and though I feel I am tiptoeing around a possible loss, I know I am way further than I ever dreamed. And I know also this experience is not typical. 25% of women have spotting, which means that 75% of women do not. It's totally reasonable to take those pads and tampons and say goodbye to them for 9 months or more.

In other news... well, I have no other news. This is my busy time of the year at work, which takes my mind off myself, and I've been cooking and eating well in the evenings. I still won't allow myself to relax enough to exercise, but tomorrow I'm going to try prenatal yoga with a friend. Although yoga normally bores me, if it's gentle enough, and the only exercise that feels safe, then I think I will force myself to learn to love it. We will see.

I don't think there's anything to say about this, but my husband is growing tired of my anxiety (though he is trying to be good and comforting and is successful a lot of the time) and I just had to vent about it. Thanks for listening, anonymous blog world.