This-n-That Update

I’m not sure what’s wrong with me lately.  I keep thinking, throughout the day, “I need to write about this.”  But then, when I have down time, I just can’t seem to bring myself to write.  Because of that, I now have a whole collection of thoughts, feelings and updates that I can’t possibly catch-up on in this blog…unless I suddenly start writing multiple posts per day.  In an effort to get myself back on track, I’m going to try a quick “this and that” kind of post today…telling you all a little bit about a lot of different stuff. 

THE GREAT DR. BREAK-UP

Yesterday, I had my first appointment with Dr. C.  It wasn’t easy for me to switch OBGYN’s.  I hate conflict and Dr. B didn’t make it easy on me to switch.  She was very nasty about it and charged me 50 cents per page to have my records transferred to Dr. C.  Then, Dr. B didn’t even send the records, so The Prince and I had to wait an extra hour while Dr. C’s office harassed Dr. B’s staff into faxing over the most important records during yesterday’s appointment.  We even had to redo our 20 week scan because Dr. B hadn’t dictated her report of my scan yet (even though it was performed two weeks ago)!  Don’t get me wrong.  I always love seeing our little boy…but I am a little concerned that the insurance company is going to give me a hard time about having a second scan, as they don’t like to pay for duplicative procedures.  I really don’t have the energy to go through an insurance appeals process.

I can’t get into all of the details of my reasons for leaving Dr. B.  That would be a three-part post in itself.  I will say that the straw that broke the camel’s back for me was Dr. B’s insistence that I change my insulin protocol because she wasn’t happy with my blood glucose numbers.  I asked Dr. B to call my endocrinologist, as I didn’t want to have to choose which doctor’s instructions to follow.  I didn’t feel I should be put in the middle.  Dr. B told me she didn’t have time to be calling my endocrinologist and that I always should follow my OB’s advice.  I called my endocrinologist and explained what Dr. B was doing and asked that, if the endocrinologist had issues with the change, she call Dr. B to work it out.  I got three frantic phone messages that day from the endocrinologist.  Dr. B had prescribed a different type of insulin…one that could cause a spontaneous miscarriage in pregnant women.  Had I taken that insulin, I may have lost the baby.  Thank God my endocrinologist is so diligent (it was her day off, too).  The endocrinologist was so unhappy, she called Dr. B…who refused to talk to her, saying she was too busy.  The endocrinologist did something she NEVER does…she strongly recommended that I change OB’s.  She agreed that I should never be put in the middle of a disagreement between doctors and she felt that what Dr. B did would be like the endocrinologist walking into the hospital and announcing that she was going to do a C-section on me, so not to listen to Dr. B’s recommendation.  Specialists aren’t supposed to have their toes stepped on by non-specialists.  So…that was what pushed me over the edge (although my appointment with Dr. C was already set up before that event).

Dr. C was good.  As I remembered from my law firm days, he has a calm demeanor (a little too calm…The Prince said he felt like Dr. C was drugged).  Dr. C is a tall, thin, 70(?) year old man with a huge mustache, which curls around in circles at the ends.  He looks like a cartoon character.  When you ask Dr. C a question, he is quiet for a couple of minutes, flips through the chart, and then gives a short one or two sentence answer.  I have a hard time with silence…and brevity…but I like Dr. C’s attention to detail and I trust his professional judgment (except about cervix-ripening with seaweed sticks…an issue for another post).  He wants to see me every 2 weeks (instead of every 4 weeks, like Dr. B recommended) and he feels that my labor is pretty high risk (he said that in the same tone he would say he is ready for lunch).  I wish there was an OBGYN who was warm and fuzzy (and coddling) and an expert…but I think I just have to choose what is most important to me.  Right now, competence trumps the stuff I cared about before.

DIABETES & DEHYDRATION

I am still dehydrated every time I get tested.  Sometimes the dehydration gets so bad, I have horrible cramps and feel dizzy.  I really am trying to drink more water, but apparently I’m not trying hard enough.  I was read the riot act by Dr. C’s nurse, yesterday.  She told me that I am to set out 3-16 oz. bottles of water each morning.  They must be gone by noon.  Then, I need to do the same thing again and have them gone by dinner time.  I should try for 2 or 3 more before bed.  To me, that seems like an impossible amount of liquid to drink (especially when I feel queasy), but I’ve agreed to try harder (I say, as I sit here sipping a couple of ounces of juice…having taken in no water so far this morning).  Shame on me.

I am now having to test my glucose in the middle of the night (during a midnight pee break).  I also am supposed to eat something in the middle of the night.  Dr. C feels that my blood sugar is very well controlled (another Dr. B screw-up) and he wants me to keep working with the endocrinologist.  We’ve had to keep raising the dose on my insulin, but my body responds well to the dose changes.  The only issue I’m really having is that I am still losing weight…although only a little.  My weight is still down a lot from when I got pregnant.  The morning sickness is still coming and going.  I think this may just be how my pregnancy is going to be.  The doctors are putting a lot of pressure on me to try to consume over 2000 calories a day, each day.  That just isn’t happening right now.  The baby seems okay and my belly has gotten appropriately large, so I’m not terribly concerned.  Still, I felt horrible when The Prince sat me down two nights ago and told me that he is concerned about me not trying hard enough to take care of myself.  He said that he wants me to be around for a long time with him and the baby because he loves me, and he worries that I am going to leave him to do this on his own.  I had no idea he was so concerned.  I promised to try harder.

UPDATE ON THE BABY

Dr. B had told me the baby was small.  Not so.  At yesterday’s ultrasound, the baby measured in at 1.1 pounds…putting him in the 78^th percentile for weight.  He is over a foot long.  Everything looked great, structurally speaking.  My placenta is “in front,” which the nurse said would likely lead to me not feeling strong movements and would mean I wouldn’t feel the baby move as early in the pregnancy as most women (wrong and wrong).  The baby is in a head down posiiton, against my pubic bone.  Dr. C isn’t worried about the position.  While it isn’t comfortable, it isn’t indicative of the baby coming out too soon.  We didn’t get any cute 3D shots of the face, although Dr. C and the ultrasound tech tried really hard.  There is a sufficient amount of amniotic fluid in the sac, but not much of it in front of the baby’s face.  We did get a great profile shot, in normal black and white.  I will probably post it later on…but I’ll give a warning in case people want to avoid it.

During the scan, Dr. C did a close-up on the baby’s ears.  They stick out…just like The Prince’s did before his surgery.  The Prince is adamant that, if our baby has “stick out” ears (we’re not talking a little…The Prince’s were almost straight out on the side of his head), we will have surgery done when he is still a baby.  It was too traumatic for The Prince as an adult, and The Prince’s doctor told him that it would have been much easier to fix when he was a baby and the cartilage was still soft.  I pray we don’t have to make that decision.  Dr. C said all babies have big ears at 22 weeks…but I’m skeptical.  Still…no matter what his ears look like, our baby is really beautiful.  I know I’m biased…but his features really looked adorable on the scan.

WORK

I’ve been working from home for two weeks, and will continue to do so for the rest of the pregnancy.  It is SOOOOO much better than dragging myself into work and sitting at a desk, leaning over to type on the computer all day.  I am more productive at home and I love wearing pajamas all day (not sure The Prince loves my new wardrobe as much).  I am disappointed with myself in that I am already having a tough time getting motivated some days.  I still work…but I had hoped to ride the wave of appreciation a little longer.  Still, I am not having to leave work all of the time, so I am finally accruing some decent leave time for maternity leave.  I wish I had pursued working from home sooner.

DUE DATE

So, I saved the best for last (a reward to those of you who have stuck with this marathon post).  I asked Dr. C if I would be able to have him, personally, deliver the baby.  He works on Tuesday’s at the hospital we chose to deliver at (the large teaching hospital with the great NICU…Dr. C would rather be safe than sorry, so he recommended we go with the best NICU).  He wants to induce or do a C-section (depending on the baby’s size later on in the pregnancy) between 38 and 39 weeks, so …we will likely be having our baby on January 10, 2012 (unless the baby gets impatient and decides to come out earlier).  It is so surreal having a tentative arrival date, as opposed to a due date that we knew we would never be allowed to reach.  Things seem more urgent with that steadfast date.  I’m trying to chill out about it.  I am really excited, and it is great timing for us.  The Prince doesn’t start his evening job until January 17^th that semester, giving him a week to help me out at home before I’m on my own in the evenings.  His Mom can take time off from school that week, too…so I feel more secure about being able to handle the transition. Still…1/10/12….less than 4 months!!!

CONCLUSION

Okay.  I don’t know how many people will actually read this whole post, but to those of you who did…THANK YOU!  I feel so much better having caught-up on this.  I feel like I’m gabbing with friends when I write this stuff.  I know I’m supported and not judged by my blog readers, and I can’t tell you how comforting that is. 

The Great Gender Reveal

For weeks (make that months) I have been anxiously awaiting my 20 week anatomy scan so that I could finally know our baby’s gender.  I am not a patient person and waiting all these months has been killing me.  I don’t know why it was so important to me to know the gender.  I know that lots of women…even fellow Type-A women…wait the whole pregnancy to find out and love their choice to wait.  I couldn’t do it.

As with every other ultrasound we’ve had, the baby was extremely uncooperative during yesterday’s scan.  I had been in the hospital again over the weekend (suspected preterm labor that “luckily” ended up being just tearing of abdominal adhesions that I have from all of my endometriosis surgeries) and so I knew that the baby was okay, as they had a fetal heart monitor on me during my entire stay.  What the baby would let them see during yesterday’s scan looked great.  The baby is a little small, but that is typical for a mother with diabetes in the second trimester.  Plus, I still haven’t gained any weight.  I’ll gain a pound or two and then have a bad day and take it back off.  Once I can start putting on some of the pounds I lost, the baby should get a little bigger.

The scan lasted over an hour and the baby wouldn’t allow the technician to see the head or face (no cute pictures…our baby is definitely camera shy…always with the hands and arms in front of the face), so I have to go back in 2 weeks to have the scan finished.  The technician kept saying “Come on Little One, your Mommy and Daddy want to know which color they are painting your nursery.”  But the baby wasn’t listening.

The technician was making her apologies because she didn’t think she was going to be able to tell us the gender when, as if the baby knew what we had wanted and had just been toying with us the whole time, the baby flipped over and displayed the goods to the ultrasound in spread-eagle style.  Apparently our baby BOY is not as modest as he first seemed.  My mother’s intuition was correct (although The Prince is quick to point out that I did have a 50/50 chance of being right no matter what).  We are having a BOY!

I had worried that I would be disappointed if they told me I was having a boy.  I love pink and bows and frills, and I would be lying if I said I haven’t day dreamed about having a girl that miraculously would look like me…or at least the best parts of me.  But my worrying was for nothing.  When the technician said we were having a boy, a flood of relief washed over me and I started crying.  I was so happy and felt this immediate bond with the baby, beyond anything I had already been experiencing.  There was no hint of disappointment…I love that I am having a boy. 

For me, knowing the gender made this all more real.  My baby has an identity now, beyond “the baby” or “Baby Hamish,” and I am thrilled.  Speaking of “Baby Hamish,” the only bad thing about the baby being a boy is that The Prince is now dropping the name “Hamish” in just about every sentence that comes out of his mouth.  In an attempt to diffuse that situation quickly, I made The Prince go through name possibilities with me last night.  We’re pretty confident we have the short list all set (it helped that I had been cheating and working on a “girl list” and “boy list” for a couple of months)…and Hamish is not on that short list (although I relented and am allowing The Prince to continue calling the baby “Hamish” during the pregnancy).  We are keeping the names we have chosen a secret, as there is nothing worse than having people shoot down your favorite names with negative associations they have with the names.  People can judge our choice when there is a cute little baby boy attached to that name…let them try to scrunch up their noses at our choice at that point.

I think things get fun now.  I can now plan the nursery theme, start buying baby boy clothes and maybe even get going on my baby registry/shower (something which I’ve let fall by the wayside the last couple of months).  Just typing this, I’m seeing blue.

The 12 Week Sigh of Relief

***WARNING – I am sharing my joy today by including ultrasound photos at the end of this post.  I hope this is not hurtful to any of my readers and encourage you not to scroll down the page if you want to avoid seeing the pictures.***

Yesterday was my 12 week ultrasound/nuchal translucency scan.  I had hoped that the baby would be active so that The Prince could see it do its little dance.  I should have been careful what I wished for.  The baby was so uncooperative.  The ultrasound tech got a little frustrated (although she was very nice about it) because the baby kept doing barrel rolls, making it impossible for her to get the measurements she needed.  When it did stop rolling, it would put its arms up over its face and head, like it was hiding from the “camera” (we have some great “pictures” of that).  The baby also would bend its little legs and then kick as hard as it could so that its head hit the other side of the uterus and it bounced back.  The baby seemed to be having great fun for awhile.  Then, it yawned (or at least opened its mouth really wide) a few times and settled down enough for the tech to get the measurements she needed (45 minutes after we had started).  We got some great 4D pictures and a CD with parts of the ultrasound on it.  I begged the tech to make an educated guess about the gender, but she said the baby was way too active to get a good look at the relevant area.  However, she jokingly guessed that it must be a boy, given the baby’s “inside” temperament and activity level.

The Prince didn’t react quite as dramatically as I had hoped.  There were no tears or almost tears.  There was a little nervous laughing by him at the beginning of the scan, and he was glued to the television screen.  But the excitement he had shown during the other ultrasounds was missing.  Each time I see our baby it is such a miracle to me, it is hard for me to understand why he isn’t in total awe as well.  I think he’s settled into the idea of the pregnancy and has become, for lack of a better word, complacent.  The work on the nursery has halted, even though The Prince isn’t working his second job for the next 6 weeks.  When I talk about the baby or the pregnancy, he quickly changes the topic or watches television while “talking” to me.  I am hoping that he is just processing the pregnancy at a different pace from me.  I’m trying to be understanding and patient, but the pregnancy hormones aren’t helping me out with that.

The nurse practitioner/midwife assured me that the scan looked great.  I won’t get the results of the genetic screening (blood work) until 17 weeks.  That seems like a long time to wait but, I have to say, the reassurance of yesterday’s scan has made me feel  like I can breathe out the breath I’ve been holding in for months.  On my way home from yesterday’s appointment, I let out a sigh and felt like a 20 pound weight was lifted off of my chest.  I am well aware that there are still many things that can go wrong.  But I now have a reason to believe that they aren’t going to.

The only way I could keep the ultrasound photo from showing up with my post abstract was to put another picture in front of it.  So, disregard this photo.

Baby Hamish needs a bigger "apartment."

Camera Shy

One More Week To Go

At this time next week, I will be having my 12 week ultrasound and (hopefully) watching my baby bounce around in my belly.  The Prince wasn’t at the last ultrasound, so he didn’t get to see our baby do its little dance last week.  I can’t wait to watch his face when he sees it.  Everything is so new and exciting to us.  I love sharing that with him.

I broke down and bought a home fetal Doppler to listen to the baby’s heartbeat.  Who am I kidding…there was no breaking down.  I never really had any intention of not buying one.  But I promised myself when I ordered it that I would not freak out if I didn’t hear the heartbeat early on.  I made a deal with myself that I would just use it for reassurance between ultrasounds. 

Well, the Doppler arrived on Monday.  I tried for half an hour a night, on Monday and Tuesday, to find the baby’s heartbeat.  I found mine with ease, so I know the Doppler works.  But I couldn’t find the baby’s.  I even filled my bladder as full as I could and tilted my pelvis in the air with four pillows, trying to get the uterus as far up into the abdomen as possible, in hopes that I could find the baby more easily that way.  No such luck.

I’m not exactly freaking out about the situation, but I am frustrated.  I still feel pregnant (whatever that means), so I am holding onto that.  Plus, the directions that came with the Doppler said that it can detect the heartbeat at 8 weeks, but will definitely find it by 12 to 14 weeks.  I am only at 11 weeks…so I’ve got a little ways to go before I can really be too concerned.  Still, I would be lying if I said that not hearing the heartbeat didn’t make me more impatient for next week’s ultrasound.

On a side note, my friend from Bring on the Babies could use a little extra support this week.  She has been so supportive to me and my fertility friends during our journeys.  It would be great if she got some extra bloggy love during her tough time.

Not Gone

There was something significant about Monday’s OBGYN appointment that I forgot to talk about. Actually, I didn’t truly forget. It was more like I ran out of room because the post was already becoming a short novel. I initially thought it would be better for me not to talk about “the other thing”…sort of a “stick your head in the sand and it will go away” strategy. But it hasn’t gone away and so, maybe talking about it is exactly what I need to do.

When I had the ultrasound on Monday, there was initially a scare. The technician tried to do an over-the-belly ultrasound but couldn’t see anything inside of the sac that was showing up. So, she moved to an internal ultrasound. Immediately, a large empty sac showed up. The technician and the nurse turned and looked at me and looked very relieved when I said “There was a twin that was lost early on, but I thought the sac had gone away.” It took the technician awhile to get around the empty sac, so that she could get a good look at the sac with the baby in it. I held my breath the whole time, terrified that there wasn’t an “other” sac…that the baby was just gone. I was so relieved to see our baby and its little heart flickering. But, after the ultrasound was over, I was also really sad that the empty sac was still there.

Apparently, at the fertility center, they did a good job at avoiding the empty sac, so it looked small on the ultrasound screen. But the ultrasound technician in Dr. B’s office didn’t know to avoid that sac, and so I got to see that it has continued growing. It is not “going away” like I was told. I’m not upset that I didn’t know or that I was potentially misled by omission. I’m only upset that there is still a reminder of what was lost inside of me. I’m upset that, at the next ultrasound I get, I will more than likely see that empty sac again…a visual representation of the void in my heart that I try so hard to forget about.

I asked the nurse that was in the room during my ultrasound why the empty sac was so big. She said that, in all likelihood, my body hasn’t recognized that the sac is empty yet. It will likely continue to grow until the baby that is alive needs the space, at which time the empty sac should go away. Even if it doesn’t, it won’t harm the baby. Am I an awful person for wanting the empty sac to just go away right now? It is physically painful to think that my body is refusing to recognize the loss that my heart is still struggling with. Every time I see the empty sac, there is a little part of me that struggles to see whether there is actually a tiny baby in there. Every time we listen to the baby’s heartbeat, a little part of me is listening for any trace of a second heartbeat. I guess maybe my body is just following where my mind is at…still in a bit of denial that one of our babies is gone. But maybe if my body took the lead and made that visual reminder of the loss go away, my mind could let it go too, so I could just be peaceful and happy with the amazing blessing I’ve been given.

My First (Ever) OB Appointment

You can’t always get what you want.  But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need…

After the first half hour of my appointment with my OBGYN, I couldn’t get that song out of my head.  I didn’t stop to think about why until I was lying in bed last night, trying to sleep.  At that point, the events of the day sunk in and I could see why my mind chose that song to fixate on.

When I arrived at the OBGYN’s office, at 1:10 p.m. yesterday, but didn’t get to see the doctor (let’s call her Dr. B) until after 2:00 p.m.  When I finally saw the doctor I was extremely anxious.  I had too much time to sit and think about the spotting and cramping over the weekend, and how The Prince wasn’t with me at the appointment, to get me home if the news was bad. 

When Dr. B entered the exam room, she brought this great, calming presence with her.  I blurted out what happened over the weekend and she told me she wasn’t overly concerned because the high level of progsterone I am taking can cause those symptoms.  I expected her to stop my appointment and say that she would talk with me more after doing an ultrasound to make sure the baby was okay, but she didn’t.  Instead, she forced me to sit and answer questions about my medical history, The Prince’s medical history, our families’ medical histories and the egg donor’s medical history.  She forced me to listen to all of the instructions about what to eat and not to eat, what activities to avoid and what activities to increase.  We talked about my hospital choice and how it is a great choice, but can be changed if I ever become uncomfortable with it (she has privileges at all three of the area’s hospitals).  We talked about how she performs all of her deliveries personally, unless there is an emergency, in which case there is only one other doctor that she allows to handle her clients.  She explained that she schedules her vacations around her clients’ due dates.  She only missed two births last year, and worked 351 days out of the year.  The whole time she was talking to me, I could feel my tension easing…but I still kept bringing up that I was worried about the baby and the pregnancy.  She just kept on making me talk about other issues.

I about died when she said there will be no ultrasounds between week 12 and week 20.  Dr. B explained that you don’t really learn anything by viewing an ultrasound between those weeks.  I blurted out “You learn if everything is okay with the baby…that it still has a heartbeat,” and I started crying.  Without getting angry with me or looking at me like I am a basket case (which I clearly am), she said that she understood my worry, although she didn’t share my increased concern.  She said that we will listen to the baby’s heart beat at 16 weeks and more often if I really need to.  She calmly but firmly explained that she sees no medical indication that I am going to be at a higher risk for losing the baby.  She did say that she won’t allow me to go to 40 weeks of pregnancy because, in her opinion, babies conceived through IVF shouldn’t go past their due date because the placenta becomes more compromised the further along the pregnancy progresses.  So, if I haven’t gone into labor by January 12, 2012 (the week 39 date), we will either induce or do a C-section.  Dr. B also said that I will likely be able to try natural childbirth.  I had previously been told that, because of my multiple uterine surgeries, I would have to have a scheduled C-section, because no doctor would take a chance of me going through labor.  Dr. B said that the three uterine suspensions (a procedure that she made it very clear that she is appalled that anyone would do anymore, as it is archaic in her opinion), will be pulled out during pregnancy and that my pregnancy and childbirth will likely be much more painful because my round ligament is currently tied off and stitched to other structures.  Dr. B strongly recommended that I begin considering what pain management methods I am comfortable with for labor and delivery, as I will likely need some assistance.  However, Dr. B likes to take the most natural route possible for bringing a baby into the world, within reason, and so she isn’t just jumping to a scheduled C-section.  

Dr. B also said that she feels the least invasive prenatal screening is appropriate right now, as we have worked too hard to have a baby to risk a miscarriage because of CV testing.  Dr. B only uses 3D ultrasounds and the ultrasounds at week 12 and week 20 will each last 45 minutes to an hour, so that every possible measurement can be taken.  Dr. B feels confident that the ultrasound testing, in combination with blood work screening, will provide a reliable assessment of the same things that a CV test would test for.  If anything comes up suspicious, Dr. B recommends an amniocentesis, rather than CV testing. 

When Dr. B essentially laid out what we were “going to do” instead of asking me what I wanted to do, I thought “this isn’t going to work…I need someone who will let me run the show.”  But then I realized that I actually trust Dr. B’s opinion and experience, so her confident approach may actually be the best thing for me.  Will I get frustrated when she tells me “no”?  Of course.  I am apparently still a petulant three year-old at heart.  But, will it be a relief to have the pressure of making all of the “right” decisions off my shoulders?  Oh yeah!

At the end of my appointment, as I was packing up to leave, Dr. B smiled and asked if I would like them to do a quick ultrasound for me…just to reassure me that the baby is okay.  If I was still had any doubt about whether Dr. B was the best fit for me, that moment eradicated the doubt.  I am amused that Dr. B appears to have used the “Dog Whisperer” technique on me (display a calm assertive nature until the agitated dog/patient becomes calm and then, after you are done interacting, reward the dog/patient with something it really wants). 

Dr. B’s ultrasound technician is one of the nicest people I have ever met.  A nurse came in “for moral support,” as she had heard that my husband wasn’t able to make it to the appointment.  And as I watched the giant ultrasound TV screen that is hung in front of the table…there was our baby…with a nice strong heartbeat…waving.  I know how crazy that sounds, but the nurse pointed to the waving hand and we actually have a couple of really great ultrasound pictures where you can make out the baby’s little fingers pointing up and then curled over.  I kept laughing an crying at the same time, as the baby would hold still for a few seconds and then wiggle like mad, kicking out its tiny, stubby little legs like a crazy person (apparently, the baby got The Prince’s dancing ability…or should I say…inability). 

Dr. B was right…about the baby being alright and, I want to believe, about our good chances of having a successful pregnancy.  She wasn’t the compliant “whatever you want” doctor I had wanted, but she just might be exactly what I need.  

It's Friday, I'm in Love.

When I went through infertility treatments, I was always waiting.  Waiting for AF or for my medications to arrive.  Waiting to start my stimulation medications or for my ultrasounds and blood work.  Waiting for egg retrieval.  Waiting for the phone call to tell me how many eggs fertilized.  Waiting for transfer.  Waiting for my beta test.  I thought all of the waiting would be behind me when I finally got pregnant.  I thought wrong.

I spend every day waiting for Friday.  Friday is my ultrasound day, and starting four weeks ago, Friday became the most important day of the week to me.  All week long I second guess my symptoms or the twinges (sometimes more than twinges) in my belly.  I have little mini-panic attacks and am overcome with the feeling that something is terribly wrong.  It’s easy to do when, for every week of pregnancy through week 12, I know at least one person who has lost her baby at that stage.  Every week, I need the reassurance of seeing the heartbeat on the screen and so every week I watch the clock slowly tick towards Friday.  It doesn’t tick nearly quickly enough.  Friday is still an eternity away.

To complicate matters further, this Friday will be bittersweet.  Not only will this Friday be my week 8 ultrasound, if everything looks good this Friday, I will be discharged from my fertility center to my OBGYN.  In other words, the doctors and nurses that have become like family to me over the last three years will no longer be involved in my care.  They have put up with my almost daily emails, emotional breakdowns, misdirected anger and generally neurotic behavior.  They have put up with me without ever complaining, telling me to calm down, or making me feel like I was a “problem patient.”  I think that I cannot reasonably expect the same treatment from my OBGYN.  Her office has a reputation for being very friendly and very patient, but how patient can she possibly be?  Surely she will not be as patient as the healthcare providers at my fertility center.  She doesn’t know what I’ve been through.  She won’t understand why I am irrationally fearful of losing this baby.  She won’t understand how hard I’ve worked for this baby.  She won’t give me an ultrasound every Friday so that I can survive the next week without being crushed under the weight of my own fears.

I wish I could tell all of you that the fearful anticipation that haunts many women throughout their infertility journeys ends with pregnancy.  But it doesn’t.  No matter how hard I try to be Positive Polly, I am stuck in the same familiar struggles with my own inner demons.  The one piece of good news that I can give you is that I now have an amazing secret weapon that is more powerful than any negative thoughts that plague me.  My secret weapon is the enormous amount of love that I feel for the tiny little peanut growing in my belly.  Somehow, I already have an emotional bond with the tiny form that I see on the ultrasound screen each Friday.  So, when the negative thoughts seem to be crushing down on me, I put my hands on my belly and thank that baby for giving me the gift of a love that I’ve never experienced before. I’m still impatient and I’m still afraid, but I am also filled with love and gratitude…feelings I had a hard time mustering during my infertility journey.  Maybe that is why I really count the days until each Friday…because I desperately want to be as close to that baby as I can be, even if “getting closer” is simply seeing a flicker on the screen or hearing a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh on the Doppler.  Is it Friday yet?   

*****P.S.  I am so sorry that I haven't been leaving comments.  Blogger and I are having issues...mainly that Blogger won't let me sign into my account when I am trying to comment.  It just keeps shipping me back to the sign-in page over and over.  So, as soon as I have time to look into it, I will...and I will catch-up on comments.

Seven weeks

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write about yesterday’s ultrasound.  It may sound strange, but I haven’t really known what to say.  There were no huge surprises.  We have one very healthy baby, with a healthy heartbeat that was flickering away on the screen.  We have one empty sac that can barely be seen anymore. 

I had requested that the head nurse at the clinic perform my ultrasound.  I didn’t want to take any chances that I would walk away from yesterday’s ultrasound wondering if the nurse who did the scan was just not careful enough or just missed the twin.  Denial is a powerful thing.   The head nurse is incredibly thorough and, I know that if she says something is so, it is.  She saw our big baby immediately, but scooted around it and looked for the other sac for a long time.  It wasn’t easy to find, but when she found it, she was very thorough about making sure there was nothing in it.  Then, probably sensing that my tears were about to start pouring down, she quickly moved on to our healthy baby, and turned on the Doppler.  I thought seeing our baby’s heartbeat last week was awesome.  But I’ve got to tell you…hearing the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of a tiny little heart beating inside of your belly is truly awe inspiring!  The nurse had handled it perfectly.  I couldn’t dwell on my loss and listen to a miracle at the same time.

That feeling, of not being able to deal with both of those things at the same time has carried over, even though I’m not listening to the whoosh right now.  The mind is a funny thing.  It protects us in very creative ways.  My mind, instead of saying “Ha Ha…I was right and you were wrong Heart,” immediately decided that there never was a twin.  My mind capitalized on the fact that we never saw a heartbeat or fetus in the second sac (we only saw the sac itself), and convinced my heart that there was never a baby in that sac.  Sometimes, empty sacs form around an embryo that didn’t fully implant.  That’s what I have convinced myself happened in the case of our “twin.”  It doesn’t hurt as much that way.  We didn’t lose a baby, we just had an embryo that didn’t take.  That’s an easier pill to swallow.  I can move on from that.

Maybe someday I will feel equipped to experience the joy of my pregnancy and the grief of a loss at the same time, but today is not that day.  Right now, I need to go back to my “all-in” attitude and just start being over the moon happy about the baby I have.   If things go well at next week’s ultrasound, and there is no indication that it won’t, I get discharged from my fertility center, to my OBGYN.  The mixed emotions about being “discharged” will have to wait for another post, but for now, I am just settling in to the comfort of being truly, closer to out of the woods, pregnant.

Good News and Really Bad News

To say that I am lost right now would be a huge understatement.  We just got back from our 6 week ultrasound.  I’ve been incredibly sick all week and the nurses were concerned from the start because I had trouble staying in the room because I kept getting sick.  Then, drawing blood was almost impossible because I am so dehydrated.  By the time they took my blood pressure and heart rate, the doctor was already writing me a prescription for medication that will help me keep food and fluids down and that will also help me sleep.  My blood pressure is a little high, my heart rate is off the charts.  I’ve known all week that I wasn’t doing so great, but I just took comfort in the fact that I was so sick because I was housing two little babies…and that’s a lot of change to adjust to.

But then they did the ultrasound…and there was only one heartbeat.  It’s a strong heartbeat, especially given that we are only 6 weeks and 1 day pregnant.  But it’s one heartbeat.  The other gestational sac that we saw last week (which was actually the bigger one last week… and the one they found first) has gotten a little smaller since last week and there is no visible yolk sac in it, much less an embryo.  The nurse doing the scan was really sweet.  She said “Twins are fickle little things.  If we don’t see a heartbeat next week then we’ll know for sure that it decided not to stick around.  But don’t worry.  Your body will just reabsorb it and your cute-as-a-button baby with the healthy heartbeat will do just fine.  Sometimes these things just happen.”  The nurse also said that it isn’t guaranteed that the second baby won’t show up next week.  She said that sometimes with twins one will just be tucked up in a spot that is tough to see until the 7^th week.  But she won’t be shocked if the sac is gone or almost gone next week. If she had to bet one way or the other, she would bet that we have one baby.

I held it together and smiled until she was out of the room and then I lost it.  I started sobbing.  I was angry with The Prince because he wasn’t upset at all about losing one…he was just so excited to see the heartbeat on the one that’s doing well.  So, needing to lash out, I said “You seem a little too relieved.  I guess you don’t have to worry about daycare costs now.”  He insisted that he just isn’t going to get upset or get his hopes up about the twin because he thinks it is too early to know anything.  He said he’ll deal with it next week.  I explained that I’ve already researched the “vanishing twin” phenomenon for hours and, I can assure him, that things don’t look good.  (When I got home, I compared this week’s pictures with last week’s…the twin is definitely gone.  The sac has collapsed to about half the size that it was last week and the edges aren’t defined anymore like they were last week.)  He feels like we should be happy with one.  It is what we set out to have and we have one very healthy baby to be thankful for.  Plus, he said he’s been worried since last week that my body won’t be able to handle twins.  I have a lot of health issues and have had three uterine suspensions because my uterus keeps falling and getting stuck to my pelvic floor by adhesions…without the weight of babies in it.  He thinks that maybe this is nature’s way of taking care of what would end up being a dangerous situation for me and the babies later on.

I hear him, but I can’t process what he is saying.  All I can think is that I should be so happy and feeling so blessed to have one healthy baby…something I was beginning to doubt I was ever going to get…and instead I am crying and grieving a baby that we never even really saw.  I feel terrible that I wish I could go back to last week and not say anything about the possibility of twins…so that the nurse wouldn’t have moved the wand and I would never have known that there were ever two.  I have always had a “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” kind of girl.  But I’m not so sure in this situation.  If I had never known, I would just be over the moon thrilled right now, instead of bawling. 

My family is going to be here in a couple of hours and I don’t know how to stomach making my pregnancy announcement to them under these circumstances.  They are going to expect me to be so insanely happy, after everything we’ve gone through to get pregnant.  I don’t know if I can fake “insanely happy” right now.  I don’t know if I can even try.  And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have to fake it…I should just feel that way.  How ungrateful am I that I am complaining about making a pregnancy announcement to my family?  What the hell is wrong with me?  Five months ago I would have given a limb to be in this position – one healthy little baby in my belly.  But now…UGH!  I don’t even know what to say.  I’m sorry and I hope this post isn’t angering or upsetting anyone.  I haven’t forgotten my IF struggle or what so many women are going through right now.  I know in my head how lucky I am…I just can’t get my heart on board right now.  It’s too busy being broken.

The First Announcement

The announcement to The Prince’s family went really well.  I had to fine-tune the ideas discussed last week, to make it match the “twins” theme.  That included modification of the poem for the grandma and grandpa-to-be, and changing the card idea a little.  The card given to his sister had the ultrasound picture of Baby 1 on the front, saying “My belly-to-belly cell phone service stinks!  Please tell my cousin Taylor that I am available for play dates in January 2012.”  Then, on the inside of the card it had the ultrasound picture of both babies, with Baby #2 saying “Me too!  Me too!  Tell Taylor that I am available for play dates too,”  and Baby #1 saying “Okay, okay.  Tell Taylor that we both are available in January 2012.” 

The Prince’s sister read the card first, before seeing the onesie (Option A…the choice that won the vote).  I was worried because she seemed to sort of rush through without reading everything…but then she said “There’s two?”  And his Mom immediately threw her arms around me and started jumping up and down saying “There’s two!  There’s two!”  There was lots of crying as his sister took the onesie out of the bag.  The Prince even got teary…I think because his Mom was crying.  I gave a framed picture of the modified poem (it was harder to work with plurals than you would think) to The Prince’s mother and father (the father had come out of the kitchen at that point).  They looked at it, but didn’t read it.  The Prince’s Mom was so in shock, and so happy, she couldn’t stop hugging us and cheering long enough to read it (she Facebooked me last night to let me know that she had read the poem when she got home and it made her cry happy tears again).  It was so great.  I waited so long to make that announcement and it couldn’t have gone any better.

Any worry I had about the timing being awkward for his family was unfounded.  They were thrilled for us.  The only tough thing is that The Prince’s Mom is a lot like him.  He makes me open my Christmas presents the day he gets them, because he can’t wait until Christmas to see my reaction.  I’ve learned to just go with it.  I didn’t realize his Mom has the same impatience.  She wants to tell his extended family at the shower next Sunday because the family never gets together and she thinks they should get to hear the news in person.  I’ve asked her not to and explained that we don’t want to have to “untell” anyone if something changes.  I also pointed out (outside of the earshot of The Prince’s sister) that we absolutely do not want our news intruding on her day.  His mother brushed that off, saying “She doesn’t even want a shower.  Her mother-in-law is forcing her to have one.  Trust me.  She won’t mind.”  But I stuck with my insistence that the shower wasn’t the right time to tell people.  I’m hoping she can be convinced, but I have a feeling there might be conversations behind my back with a “don’t tell that I told you” addendum.  I won’t be angry with his Mom if it happens.  I adore all of The Prince’s family and I am thrilled that his Mom is so excited.  She’ll be the one having to “untell” people if she tells them behind my back, so I guess it is fine if things go that way.

My family announced to me, early last week, that they are coming to my house for dinner this upcoming Friday.  I was perturbed because I wasn’t asked if it was okay.  I was just told that they were coming from four hours away and that I could just not open the door “if I hate them that much.”  Grrrrr.  I do NOT feel like cleaning the house and entertaining.  But The Prince thinks it is fine and that we should just make the announcement to my family while they are here, so everyone is on the same page and they feel included.  I’m not thrilled at the prospect of telling my family.  I know insensitive and stupid comments will be made by my mother.  But…I understand The Prince’s position and he understands that any “untelling” of my family will have to be done by him because I would be waiting to tell them if it were just up to me.  We’re bracing, as a united couple, for what might happen on Friday.  At least it will be over then, and I will not be concerned about whether my family’s feelings will be hurt if they find out “through the grapevine” that I am pregnant and didn’t tell them.