Indigo Girl

Jinx

E and L have been doing a hilarious thing where they will be saying the same thing at the same time on purpose - like singing the same song - and keep interrupting themselves/each other with "JINX!" "JINX!" "JINX!" We've tried explaining that jinx is when you are not purposely saying the same thing at the same time, but they are uninterested. So they'll be practicing the Santa Lucia songs and saying "JINX!" after every line. Nerds.

I told C that a nerd is a silly person and she has been proudly declaring, "I'm a nerd!" We pulled into our driveway this week in time to see a squirrel eating one of our Halloween pumpkins and she exclaimed, "That squirrel is a nerd!"

I worked last night and slept a bit this morning and then we got the rest of our yard work done. Leaves are raked, flower pots put away, Christmas lights hung up. DON'T WORRY. I won't actually turn on the lights until the day after Thanksgiving. I am strict about that. It was just so much nicer to put up lights when it was 60 degrees and not when it's snowing and my fingers are freezing off. After we finished everything, I drank a glass of wine on the porch and yelled, "TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!" at A while he mowed the front lawn. I think the neighbors appreciate the colorfulness we bring to the neighborhood.

I took a couple pictures I like to call "Girls in Leaves." I still am overwhelmed sometimes thinking that these are MY daughters. I feel full of cheesy gratitude every single time they rush me screaming, "MOOOOOOOOOM!" whether it's at school pick up or when I get home from work. I'm a mom! How cool is that? I feel self-conscious in front of other people because I know how lucky I am and I hope that everyone else has a chance to feel the same way. I wonder if parents loving their children so openly is painful for people who are still going through infertility or if they find it comforting. I think I was so jealous that it wouldn't have made a difference. Now that I'm here, I want to tell you that I never stop being aware and thankful.

We are a Miyazaki household and we celebrated the end of yardwork by watching Castle In the Sky and eating popcorn. Yesterday I made chicken legs for dinner and accidentally defrosted one package of chicken legs and one package of chicken thighs. I roasted the chicken thighs anyway and after the girls were in bed tonight, I went all Caroline Ingalls on those thighs and made chicken broth and chicken soup. 

Tubing

I had to work Saturday and Sunday night, so that leaves very little time for blogging. On Saturday night a patient in the surgical ICU kept coding. She was young and had just had a baby and it had been FINE until she started bleeding uncontrollably 24 hours later. They did an emergency hysterectomy and kept giving her blood but couldn't get on top of everything and she went into multi-system organ failure and died. THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANT TO WORK IN SURGICAL. GAH. Of course, last night my patient had a nice case of perianal warts, so I'm not sure I win.

One of my coworkers told me that she was in the middle of her 4th miscarriage and we had a long talk about infertility. (We are against it, for the record.) (Also, she knows we conceived E and L with IVF. I'm quite open about it.) She said she "blew off" the first THREE miscarriages, just getting progesterone treatments and working with her OB during this latest pregnancy and miscarriage. I listened to her story and then asked if I could give some assvice. She said yes. I said, "You are thirty and are now classified as a habitual miscarrier. Go see your OB, see what she says, and then don't eff around. See a reproductive endocrinologist." Her OB wants her to take a month off, up her progesterone, and have her try again. I was like, "Go to the RE. They are experts at getting people pregnant. You may have a great OB, but her main education is in women's health and pregnancies and deliveries." I was having flashbacks. We talked about how frustrating it is to watch everyone else in the freaking world get pregnant and the feeling that THEY ARE TAKING ALL THE BABIES! which you KNOW is irrational, but it still feels that way. Ugh.

I was getting ready for work last night while A was filling me in on their day. C climbed up into his lap and snuggled in. When he got up, she pulled the blanket up over her and promptly fell asleep. We tried to head it off by making her get up to pee and calling out "Don't fall asleep, C!" to which she would sob, "I'M NOT!" A and I stood looking at each other and looking at her and finally he shrugged and said, "I'll put her to bed," and I dished up dinner. As I left for work, I said, "Good luck!" because we both fully expected her to be bright eyed and bushy tailed around 3 or 4 am, but she slept until the normal 0700. She has been NOT NAPPING AT ALL during our quiet time and then falling asleep in the car on the way to school pick up. It's annoying and I'll be glad when this "maybe nap and be up late, maybe not nap and be fragile and tired" phase is done.

A showed the girls scenes from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and said they were immediately "MORE. I NEED MORE OF THIS." They watched a few less violent fight scenes and while the subtitles moved quickly, they could read enough to get the gist of the plot. When C saw part of it today, she asked, "Who's sensei?"

 We have a four day weekend, so tonight we took advantage of cheap Monday at a local tubing place. Juanito and I sadly skipped ZUMBA! class. The kids were very excited and I was excited not to walk back up the hill time and time again - there's a tow rope. C went down the little kid hill for a while and then I talked her into going down the big hill. She went down a few times, but the snow flying in her face dissuaded her from going anymore. After that, A and I switched off staying with her while the other rode down.

Near the end, L tried going down on her stomach, but was too light to hold it down and was tossed off her tube. At first I had visions of a head injury or broken arm, but she got up and immediately started racing after it. There was no way she was going to catch it, though, and I felt bad for her. She recovered almost immediately and seemed no worse for wear.

At one point, L and I were riding up the tow rope and we were by two junior high boys. One of them started telling a story that involved a friend putting a "breadstick between his legs to make his dick bigger" and you guys know that I am not a prude (right? I'm not!) and pretty liberal in terms of language, but I said, "HEY! My six-year-old is RIGHT THERE!" and pointed to L. He muttered, "Sorry" and their talk turned to whether there'd be a snow day tomorrow. It gives me SUCH SATISFACTION to do the "it takes a village" thing and remind kids of socially acceptable behavior.

Now they are warm, fed, and sleeping (oh! they were exhausted! I love it!) and it's vodka o'clock as Ali says. It's also Super Mario Brothers time.

How I Can Resist

You guys. Seriously. I have received only positive or respectfully inquisitive comments on our embryo donation. Thanks. I'll answer the donation questions in a separate post, I think. I wrote before how people who are Catholic and believe IVF=not Biblical have said hurtful things. I know I have some wonderful Catholic friends out there who are probably abstaining from commenting (which is FINE), but I was bracing myself for judgement/hate and the fact that I haven't received any is relieving.

Today, I woke up in the middle of a sleep cycle. I heard A start the snowblower outside and then I had a dream about L coming in and waking me to tell me that she had lost a tooth. Wait. Maybe that's the end of a sleep cycle? Whatever. I was all slow and crabby when I got up.  L has TWO teeth that are hanging on by a thread (ew) so I blame her.

A left with the older girls and I threw C in the bathtub while I drank my first beloved cup of coffee. I browsed my regular sites and then she and I put laundry away. It is so much easier to do it myself, but how do you say no to a three-year-old who asks, "Can I help, please?"

I dropped her off at preschool and looking back I have to tell you that I actually warned her teacher, "She not focused! She's easily distracted!" and, God bless her, she just said, "Oh, we all have those days, don't we?" instead of saying, "OMG, you crazy mom! What do you expect from A THREE YEAR OLD?" Honestly, it was because she puts her coat and shoes on when I ask and then starts playing again. Thirty seconds later when I say, "Let's go!" she cries, "But I don't have my mittens!" I know that a 3yo is not always capable of remembering the next thing to do (shoes->coat->mittens) but for some reason it annoyed me more than usual. Unreasonable, I know.

I came back home and took Lucy for a run. I tweeted about how I look at her anus (not an anus picture) for the majority of the run. It hurts after I run - do you think it's running specifically? I am not nearly as sore after my cardio classes, but I only have one set of risers beneath my step. My heart rate gets up there without a problem with one step and I'm also in possession of a pair of LARGE feet. I'd rather not trip as I'm trying to step up two sets of risers. I'm guessing it's the hard sidewalk as I run that makes me sore.

I picked up C from preschool and we went grocery shopping. At Meijer I bought a silky soft Sherpa Blanket because it was on sale and I'm slowly replacing the threadbare throws we keep in our living room. We use them a lot in our old, drafty house. It was not on sale enough for Swistle, but I've been coveting one for a while. I think 30% off + coveting for months + last good color in stock = buy one! It looks like this and is probably made out of newborn baby skin but I don't care and I won't give it back!

C and I came back home and I had time to unpack groceries while she played on the PBS website and then we jetted off to pick up E and L from school. At our school there is Homework Club (LAME) Monday through Thursday every week, so pick up went well. We ran over to Costco and got a few important things (vodka, coffee) before coming back home to play in the snow.

At Costco, the guard at the door watched me tell C that she wasn't allowed to carry the receipt into the parking lot and asked, "Aw . . . look at that face! How can you RESIST?" and I swear to God, C turned up the shimmery puppy dog eyes ten million percent. I smiled wryly and replied, "I've had a lot of practice."

When we got home, C and L played outside. E had forgotten her homework yesterday and therefore had four pages (versus the normal two) to do. She worked on that and once she was done, she went out with L. In the meantime, C had come in, asked me to tie a scarf around her neck, and gone back out. Not two minutes later, L came in and said defensively, "C is crying. She told me to throw a snowball at her neck and I did, but now she's CRYING."

In between putting away groceries and check on the girls, I made this amazing salsa (here's the recipe - I did not add avocado, but I did add regular diced cherry tomatoes and salt) for tomorrow's burrito dinner and then rather than have roast chicken and baked potatoes, I ate tortilla chips and that salsa for dinner. I have no regrets.

A had to work late tonight, so after dinner, I bribed the girls. I told them that if we had the house clean by 7, we could watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas which I had just bought on sale at Amazon. I forgot how the Grinch had freaky evil red eyes, but they did a great job picking up, so freaky red eyes for everyone! L said, knowledgeably and with an eye roll, "He does not look AT ALL like Santa."

I put everyone to bed. C ran out of her non-fluoride toothpaste, so I had to spend time coaxing her to spit out the fluoride containing one. I know she's old enough, but it's just one more thing I have to remember.

Embryo Donation 2

The first step in donating our embryos is to fill out a huge questionnaire with a variety of questions.  Some were really basic: hair and eye color as infants, hair and eye color now, medical history, family medical history, and daily medications taken.  They asked if our skin burns or tans, if we have musical or athletic abilities, what our jobs are.  There were "Describe your personality" types of questions and "Why do you want to donate these embryos?" and the hardest: "What do you want to say to the recipients of your embryos?"  I already mailed everything back in, but I told them "I'm so sorry you have to go through this, but I hope your ending is as wonderful as ours was" or something like that.

It's hard to describe yourself in just a few lines.  I tend to list adjectives "Perfectionistic, critical, demanding, anxious" and then I realize I sound AWFUL and try to balance it out.  They're going to think I'm insane.  It would have been easier for me to describe A and for him to describe me.

We had to include a picture or two of ourselves as toddlers for the recipients to see.  I had to also send current pictures of us for just the clinic.  We had the option of specifying our embryos go to the next person in line or to the next married couple on the list.  We chose the next waiting person.

There is a long informed consent that we have to sign once it's determined we're eligible to donate (not sure what would deem us ineligible or what we'd do then) that was interesting.  It seems like we COULD donate to someone we already know, but that's the only way this clinic does open donations.  I can call in a year or two to see if a pregnancy or birth resulted.  I don't know that I would - I'm very okay with ambiguous endings, Inception.  The consent acknowledges that "there may be unknown psychological risks both to us and our offspring in connection with our decision and we agree to assume those risks." At the end, we also agree to report serious changes in our health and our children's health to the center so that they can report those changes to the recipients.

The next step is to go in for a physical and counseling appointment.  From there, there is a three month waiting period. Then we stop paying storage fees and the embryos are matched with recipients.

(TIME PASSES, ABOUT 3 MONTHS)

Hello again! Last month A went in for his physical and counseling appointment and I went in this morning. Now I can wrap this up.

Because he has been well trained is thoughtful and sensitive to my needs, he called me on the way to work and told me about his appointment. Mine followed a similar path. The counselor asked some general questions of A that she did not ask of me: how we met and how we got to IVF. I guess she didn't want to hear the same story twice, so I didn't get to tell it. Here's what she asked us both:

Have we told E and L that they were conceived with IVF? Will we? Will we tell them about this embryo donation?

    Kind of. We haven't had the sex talk yet even though L has asked some roundabout questions. They do know that we had a doctor help us get pregnant and he put them into my uterus when they were really really tiny. He used a skinny straw. They've seen the pictures of themselves at 4 cells big.

    Yes, we will tell them (and C, obviously) about this. I'm not interested in being a family of secrets. Infertility and infertility treatments are not shameful. There are a lot of different ways to make a family and our story is just that: our story. Ten years ago, I wouldn't have chosen it, but I love it and would never change it. I claim it; it's mine.

Do we have any specific requirements for who gets our embryos?

     I wasn't quite sure what she meant by this, but it turns out there are people who have made it their goal to "adopt" frozen embryos, like it's the Humane Society and they're adopting a puppy. She said this is NOT adoption - the law clearly defines adoption - but with the hullabaloo about "Snowflake babies" or whatever GWB called them, there are people who are trying to "Save the Embryos." A and I - in our individual appointments - were both immediately, "NO. DON'T GIVE THEM TO THE CRAZIES." It turns out that we can specify our embryos go to a couple with an infertility diagnosis - can you believe we have to SPECIFY that?! We declined to offer a preference on sexuality or marital status.

Any history of depression or antidepressant usage?

    I told her that I probably had undiagnosed depression while we were going through IF treatments. She nodded with understanding.

Do we think that genetic parents are superior to non-genetic parents?

    A had told me about this question and we had talked about how sneaky (and smart) it was, but she totally slipped it casually into conversation and I didn't realize I was answering it until my mouth was open and words were coming out. I said, "No. You can't tell me that parents who adopt are inferior. Genetics does not make you a superior parent." I imagine answering yes would be a huge red flag for them. I wonder what would happen.

She was very honest about the degree of anonymity that they offer. They used to promise complete anonymity, but as the first generation of kids conceived through donor eggs/sperm/embryos gets older, some are vocal about knowing their whole story. There is no guarantee that a child/children that result from this donation won't find us some time in the future. There are entire websites out there that attempt to match children and genetic donors. All kids are different. One kid may need to know and another may not. She pointed out that OUR kids may need to know a genetic sibling, once they find out there is one. It's an unknown and we have to be okay with that.

The recipients may be able to get a court order to find us in the event of a catastrophe where genetics matter, like a bone marrow transplant.

Then I had to have a physical. They're looking for obvious STDs and since embryos are regulated by the FDA, there were a bunch of questions like when you donate blood. I think it's just a hoop to jump through, probably unnecessary since our embryos were created in 2003, but all boxes needed to be checked. I was sitting there, nekkid from the waist down with a CLOTH SHEET NO PAPER covering me, and in walked the doctor. I said, "I know you!" and she said, "I know you, too!" FABULOUS. She did a month long residency on my unit, I took care of her grandma recently, AND I work with her sister. PERFECT. She did offer to find someone else, but I declined. Then she asked me a bunch of invasive questions, stuck her fingers up my hoo-ha and checked my ovaries, and I left, hoping that she remembers HIPAA and doesn't mention our encounter to her sister.

They drew a couple tubes of blood, I signed the HIV consent form, and the embryo donation coordinator told me that they would mail us a check for $100 to compensate us for our time/gas/work loss.

I left, again, with a feeling that I would love to work in that office. I think about what I would do if I leave acute care, and a ferility clinic would be awesome.

To sum up: we have three months to change our minds and then they'll match our embryos with a recipient couple. The thaw and transfer usually takes place within 3-6 months of that. We can call any time to find out if a pregnancy or live birth resulted. Right now, I lean toward not finding out. A doesn't have a preference.

Questions? Legitimate ones, please.

Embryo Donation

Earlier this week I emailed our reproductive endocrinology office to ask how we go about donating our 4 unused embryos that are hanging out in their cryopreservation chamber.  I tried to do this 3 years ago, but I was pregnant, had twin 2-year-olds, and was still reeling from my mom's death, so the thought of undergoing medical and psychological evaluation at the RE office was too much for me to handle.  But the time has come and now we'll donate them to a waiting couple.*

*There's a waiting list, you guys, and the knot I feel in my stomach when I think of those people . . . well, I get all teary and remember when we were waiting and how horrible it was.

I am well aware that this is not the choice a lot of people would make.  I am very open about our IVF and I mention it casually, unasked, but I don't usually talk about the 4 embryos we have left.  A coworker happened to ask me directly once and I told her we were going to donate them and she gasped, "But they're your CHILDREN!"  I think that's a valid opinion, but it's not mine.  I think of them as embryos.  They're our genetic material and they are potential people, in my opinion, but not yet people and certainly not our children.  Our children are doing a yoga DVD together as I write this.  I feel a moral obligation to allow the embryos to reach whatever potential they can, but I do not see them as people/my children.

I am not comfortable donating them to research.  That is another option, but I am uneasy when I think of it and A immediately vetoed it.

I thought about this briefly as we were doing IVF and shrugged, "Yeah, we'll donate any extras to another couple," because the thought of extras or a successful IVF seemed out of this world.  When we got to IVF, I was already researching adoption and figuring out how we could make that work; I assumed the IVF would fail.  Even I - someone who overthinks and overanalyzes every freaking thing - didn't delve too far into this situation.  I just wanted to be a mom.  Unfortunately, in the US, the nature of insurance companies and cost of infertility treatments fuel that desperation.  I would not have changed my mind about IVF if I had thought this through at the time, but it bothers me that I didn't.

Here is what I wonder: someday, 20 years in the future, will I answer the door and find a person there, a person who is genetically a sibling to my children, who will ask me, "Why did you give me away?"  That is the question I struggle with.  Women who gave up children for adoption years ago thought those records were sealed, but they ended up being opened.  Will the same thing happen with these situations?

Before C, we had an appointment with my RE to discuss a FET and the cost/details involved.  He told us that a lot of his patients do single FETs because of the low success rate.  They don't want to leave the embryos frozen, but they don't really want any more kids.  That would be an option for us, but, frankly, I don't think that's morally superior to donating them.  And it seems kind of silly.  So, instead, we're going to donate them to someone on that waiting list and if, someday, I answer the door and that person is standing there and asking me questions, I hope I can answer for my actions.  Choices have consequences and I am willing to answer for ours.

Instead

It occurred to me yesterday that our original family planning decision - post E and L - was to just wait and see if a full-term pregnancy had cured my ovaries of their attitude.  We thought we would wait and if nothing happened by the time E and L were five, then A would have a vasectomy.  We would be content as a family of four and move into the age of school.  We would close the door on the idea of pregnancy and going through it all again.  I would change my work schedule, maybe one of us would go to graduate school. We're at that time now.

I like it better as we are now, with an almost two-year-old who likes to choose her own dress for maximum twirl or maybe the t-shirt with a lion on it so she can look at it and roar quietly to herself.  I like how she climbs up next to me on the couch and suggests, "Hug? Snuggle? Blanket? Read?"  It's like she knows all my favorite things.  I like how she hunches her shoulders and grins widely at me.  I like how E was showing me one of her lego creations and C admired it with, "Wow! Cool!"  I like how with each stroke of her crayon/pen/marker, she asks me, "See? See?"  Oh, and how L finally has a name: Ooo-lie.  Previously she just referred to them both as E.

Yes, this is much better.

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The two school drop-offs this week have been far and away better than last week.  There has been just a bit of "My stomach hurts!" in the car but no flailing or becoming boneless or crying.  A talked to her about her nervous stomach and told her about how he gets butterflies when he has to do something he hasn't done very much, like public speaking.  I told her about my butterflies when I was 9 and my mom signed me up for soccer.  I moaned and whined and was all, "I'm too sick to go!" on the drive there because I was scared - would the kids be mean? would I know what to do? would the coach be nice? - but then everything was fine, even though I never became a soccer star. 

Her teacher has been great and sent me a reassuring email last Friday to tell me that E was having a good day.  She and L have recess together twice a week, their classes do other activities together, and they see each other in passing regularly.  They are also allowed to leave their respective classes at pick-up time and wait together.  E's teacher said a lot of older kids come to wait with their younger siblings.  She also reassured me that this separation anxiety happens a lot with twins and it gets better quickly.  I know that and I know we made the right decision for our kids, but it was nice to hear.

This morning she got out of the car of her own accord (direct quote from A: "She didn't try to start any shit.") and walked in at such a pace that L had to sprint to make sure she went in ahead and alone.  E saw a boy on the way and waved at him and he turned out to be one of her classmates.  I wonder if he is TJ - her friend she told me about yesterday.  She was full of TJ this and TJ that and then told me, secretly, that she told TJ he was "a handsome prince."  It was hard not to laugh at that, but I'm glad she's making friends.

Eyeroll

Amusingly, I get the occasional email with the suggestion that I get off my whiny ass and actually care for the children I have.  A sort of "stop bitching and start appreciating" kind of thought.  Now, I wholeheartedly agree with the suggestion, but do you know how hard it is to heave myself off the couch to refill the Coke in their sippy cups?  And do you think the TV turns itself on?  I work hard around here and deserve to relax.  My children receive excellent care when I'm sober.

I got an email like that after my entry last week where I dared suggest that sometimes it's hard to take care of two 3-year-olds and a newborn, that sometimes I wish I could shower regularly or wear cute clothes, that maybe the fact that none of my pants fit is discouraging and I'm jealous of a fellow mom who looks put-together in the morning, that sometimes those wonderful children are annoying and drive me up a wall.

I think we all know that it's not about the fellow mom.  For all I know, she was on her way to work or an appointment, maybe she's a crazy morning person (not that I'm judging! Oh wait, yes I am!  Morning people are crazy!) and to be up and showered by 8:30 is normal.  Or, as Summer suggested, maybe she'd be jealous of my multiple children and the circles under my eyes.  It's entirely possible.  She is probably a lovely woman and definitely a stylish dresser.  I never had any bad thoughts about her, just a sort of wistfulness.  No, the issues here are my own insecurities.  I'm six weeks postpartum~none of my clothes fit, I shower every other day if I'm lucky, I'm tired and don't cope well with exhaustion.  I am allowed to be jealous of someone else.  Of course, I would never trade C for a less flabby belly or more frequent showers!  That's ridiculous.  But the envy sometimes flares up.

My guess is that the emailer is going through the hell that is infertility and she witnessed me not appreciating my children to the extent that she thought I should.  I know I had the same thought multiple times as I watched exhausted parents talk about how hard parenting was.  I would think, "I would never complain about my kids.  I would constantly appreciate everything about them and be unendingly patient and loving."  Because you know what?  It hurts when you witness someone behaving callously toward something that you crave desperately.  Despite my sarcasm above, I know.  I really, really do.  So, no hard feelings on my end, anonymous angry emailer with a fake email address and close relationship with the word "fuck."  Good luck to you and please ignore all future bitching.

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C smiled for the first time.  At my boob.  I refuse to count that.

It is such a good thing that A gets up in the middle of the night with our kids.  He is usually* able to wake up, tend to needs, and fall back asleep without difficulty, even if those needs are ridiculous.  If I was confronted with a child who (sweetly, I admit) "just want[s] a hug!" or to say "I love you," I think my head would explode.  Seriously, darling, 3 am is not the time for this.

*He is not always able to wake up coherently.  Recently, I was shifting in bed to nurse C and I watched him leap out of bed and stand there, unmoving.  I asked, "Um, what are you doing?" only to receive a snotty "Standing" reply.  His tone was such that it implied I was stupid for not realizing that.  "Why?" I asked and he sighed heavily, the weight of his wife's idiocy crushing his manly shoulders, and huffed, "Never mind," while climbing back into bed.  He doesn't remember a thing.

Anyway, sometimes I ask him what E and L wanted so badly that couldn't wait till morning and sometimes I don't even know he's gotten up.  When I do ask him, though, there's a plethora of potential answers.  Sometimes it's normal stuff: I had an accident, I'm thirsty, I'm scared of the dark.  Then there's some of L's complaints: I'm getting old, E won't talk to me (never mind that she's sleeping), there's an [imaginary] bug in my room, I have an [imagined] owie.  Last night she wailed, "The bananas are old!"  She must have stunningly vivid dreams.  (Oh, and their preschool pictures are tomorrow and she STILL has a black eye.  It's faded, but very visible.  It got worse after I posted those pictures.  Sigh.)

My brother and sister and 7-year-old niece were here last week and we had a great time.  Well, my brother painted our stairway and office but he insists that he enjoys painting.  And my sister held C while simultaneously doing the dishes and letting me read a book.  It was fun to watch my niece interact with E and L.  When E and L are 7, C will be their age and I'm sure she'll hang on them just as much.  My niece read to my kids, directed their play, and enjoyed being the oldest (she's the youngest of four).  E and L constantly hung on her, hugged her, requested that she play with them . . . I'm thankful she had such patience with them.

Entertain Me With Your Labor/Delivery Stories

I find it amusing that a lot of birth stories start with the mom-to-be waking up out-of-sorts and irritable.  Once you make it past a certain point in pregnancy (and I'm sure that point varies with everyone), don't you wake up every morning out-of-sorts and irritable?  Or is that just me? 

I'm not sick anymore, and I think astute commenter Michele is right in that the eye drops were causing the problem.  Apparently my sinuses had to get used to the prednisone because after 48 hours all I have is a little excess nasty-tasting drainage after I use the drops (gross, I know).

My kids are 3.  They are acting like normal 3-year-olds and I can't stand it.  L shoves a toy camera in my face and demands that I smile so she can take my picture.  I eke out a grimace and she explodes in a massive whine of DON'T SMILE LIKE THAT! NOT LIKE THAT! that persists no matter how I mold my face.  E is more subtle and just tortures her poor sister and then throws out an I'm Sorry and a I Love You, Mama, And I Love The Baby, Too like that'll make everything better.  Lucy slinks around the house, trying to avoid my wrath, which just serves to irritate me further.  When E and L read this somewhere down the line, I want to emphasize to them that when I think of them, I love them so fiercely that my heart explodes in my chest.  It's this end-stage pregnancy combined with their day-to-day needs that make me want to run away and work at a winery in California.  Seriously, how many times do I have to say, "I can't get you a drink when I'm driving.  You'll have to wait until we get home" or "I can't hear you when you're whining.  Do you want to try asking again?"  Apparently a million isn't good enough.

I have to say that I LOVE the retroactive respect we're getting from everyone now that more of our friends and family are having babies.  I keep hearing, "How did you give birth to TWO?!" and "How did you breastfeed TWO?!" and "How did you take care of TWO?!"  It's awesome.  I will now sit back and bask in my awesomeness while all the moms of triplets and more sigh and roll their eyes.

I wonder how I'm going to deliver this baby.  I wasn't in very good shape when I got pregnant~running after 2 kids, shopping for Oreos, and a physically active job was my workout regimen.  Now a trip to the park~complete with bench sitting, 10 minutes of pushing my kids on the swings, and the occasional help with balance beam-type toys~completely exhausts me.  I hope the promised adrenaline packs a wallop.

I was watching E and L play together at the park this morning and had one of those overwhelming feelings of joy.  I ventured to think to myself, I think I am healed from infertility.  Last night I heard about a couple who got pregnant the first month of trying and I didn't feel any twinge of jealousy.  How can I be jealous?  Look at what I've got.  I can't wish for that to be me anymore.  If it were me, I wouldn't have these kids in this time with these friends.  I have two incredible mom friends with kids who are E and L's age.  By some miracle, I have a third child on the way and two more incredible mom friends with kids born this summer.  I don't know how or why it all worked out this way, but I have amazing support in my life in just the right way at just the right time.  I am being given exactly what I need when I need it.

We are so close to finishing our basement that I'm crossing my legs to keep this baby in for another week or so.  (Sorry, I didn't take before pictures.  You can mentally put dirty black tile and '70s paneling up there if you'd like.)  The painting is done and the carpet is installed.  A will buy the shelving material this weekend and those will be built next week.  I can start sorting through toys and sentencing small pieces to the basement to make room for a swing and pack-n-play on the main floor.  The girls are having such fun playing down there with only our used couches from our first apartment that I almost hate to move stuff down there.  Almost.  I doubt I'll get everything organized and pictures hung/walls decorated before this baby, but the bulk of the work is done and it's a relief.

I saw my midwife tonight; I'm 38 weeks tomorrow (for comparison: additional picture of me at 34 weeks with twins).  I declined the cervical check to avoid discouragement.  She doesn't usually do them as a rule, but she said I could ask anytime.  I told her that if I am here next Wednesday at 39 weeks, I will probably want one since Thursday is a big day (first day of preschool!  Pedicure!) and I'll want to know if anything is happening.  Not that I can do anything if something is happening, but it's always fun to worry.  Plus, a huge chunk of my job deals with numbers and trends and my urge to gather more information is difficult to squelch.

Anyway, I'm now beta strep positive, a change from when I was pregnant with L and E.  That means antibiotics every 4 hours throughout labor.  It also means I'm going to be less cavalier about getting to the hospital if my water breaks.  Newborn sepsis is not something I'm going to mess around with.  Hopefully, I can still do the majority of my laboring at home and my water won't break until late.  I lost 3 lbs (in a week!) and am still measuring 37 weeks (same as last week) so the baby might be moving down a bit. 

For the record, nothing is really happening.  Lots of BH contractions, occasionally strong and more uncomfortable.  No painful contractions, no (possibly embarrassing and/or inconvenient) water breaking, no spurt of energy, maybe a little pelvic pressure, but nothing impressive.  In the back of my mind, I remember that I was measuring 45 weeks pregnant, had 12 lbs of baby inside me, and was dilated to 6 cm without actually being in labor.  Maybe my body just doesn't know how to do it.  Maybe I'll still be pregnant 2 weeks post-my due date and I'm just borrowing trouble, aren't I?  I'll shut up now.  You talk.  How did you know that you were in labor?  Any good labor/delivery stories?  Amuse me, peasants.

Rainy Day

We went to E's eye doctor this morning.  We're going every 4 months right now, down from every 3 months.  Today was the first day that she sat in the big chair all by herself.  She climbed right in and I asked, "Do you want me to sit with you?" and she said, "No."  So she sat all by herself and looked at all the pictures and moved her eyes in the right directions and I sat on the side and watched.  It's not the first time I've been sidelined and definitely not going to be the last, but it was a bittersweet moment.  The doctor mentioned that it was 2 years ago this month that she had her surgery and I had to bite my tongue to keep from begging him to promise that this gestating baby won't have the same diagnosis.  I'm sure he wasn't looking for a hysterical pregnant woman to corner him in the exam room and demand the impossible.  Anyway, everything's stable.  Her eyes still cross alternately without her glasses when he forces her to focus on close objects and she's still far-sighted, but it's not getting any worse and it's all correctable with her adorable glasses.

As we were checking out, a lady in the waiting room asked me, "Are they twins?"  I was surprised; I rarely get asked that anymore.  I'm not sure if people just assume they're twins or assume they're not twins due to the 2" height difference.  Anyway, I said yes and she pointed to her daughter and told me, "She was supposed to be a twin, but her sister died."  Argh.  How horrible and what do I say to this stranger who has shared this tragedy with me as I'm trying to sign my credit card receipt and corral my kids?  For the record, I offered an "I'm sorry, that's terribly sad."  I couldn't tell if she had lost her twin early in pregnancy~maybe at 6 weeks there were 2 and then at the 8 week ultrasound there was only 1.  That happens a lot in IVF pregnancies although how would she know that her daughter had a sister unless they did PGD?  On the other hand, her daughter was 2ish and wearing a leg brace so maybe her twins were born early, one died and this little girl has cerebral palsy from her prematurity.  I don't think either of us wanted to get into the details, but I imagine that she saw my two girls and had a stab of "that could have been me~that's supposed to be me" and reached out.  At any rate, I had a similar feeling of "that could have been me" and my heart broke for her.  Our story of infertility and IVF and twins could have turned out much different than it did.  I see it in blogs and magazines and hear it relayed through other people's experiences.

I see my midwife again tomorrow evening for my 35 week appointment and then I'll post a guess-the-baby-details entry.  Today it's rainy and gray and I'm tired-sleepy (as opposed to tired-physically exhausted) so the women of this house will nap together.

Easter

Last year on Easter, we took my mom to church for the last time.  It was a huge effort of coordination to get 3 families with a total of 8 kids plus one terminally ill woman up, showered, fed, dressed, and to a 9 am service.  We took pictures that day as well, the last ones of my family of origin.  I hate those pictures.  I hate how we're smiling and my mom is so obviously drugged, not quite looking at the camera.  I was talking to a coworker about that and she told me how her sister-in-law did something similar with her mom and then had the pictures blown up into huge portraits that she displays prominently.  My coworker hates that she has to see them.

Later that day, after lunch, my mom called my brother, my sister, and me into her room and told us that she was done.  She was done fighting.  She was going to enter hospice.  She was going to die.  It was horrible.  I had never seen my big brother cry and now I'll never forget how he looked.  At the time I didn't realize how often we'd all be crying over the next few months.

I remember an Easter sermon a few years ago.  It really spoke to me, because our time of infertility was so recently behind us.  In the Christian tradition, Jesus is crucified and rises from the dead three days later.  I'm not sure how it became a Friday that He died and a Sunday that He rose, but that's how it stands now.  Our pastor talked about how yes, Sunday, the resurrection, the life, the hope, and all that it encompasses is a powerful and uplifting message.  But if you're stuck in Friday, if you are full of death and despair and hopelessness, it does not help to hear "But Sunday's coming!"  If you are full of sorrow and depression because of whatever life has thrown at you, platitudes like "Everything happens for a reason!" and "God has a plan!" are harmful, not helpful.  I was so grateful to him for that sermon, one that acknowledged depression and sadness on what is traditionally a joyful day for Christians.

We received invitations from A's mom and grandma for Easter dinner, and it took some time for me to explain to A that I didn't want to be with people, that I know intellectually I should take comfort in Easter and the resurrection, but I can't.  I believe that my mom is alive and I will see her again, that this is what Easter is about for me, but this year it brings me no comfort.  It's Friday where I am.