Stupid Stress Strikes Again

Today I had my 30 week check-up.  It didn't go as planned.  I thought I would listen to the heartbeat, get my belly measured, and be off to do some grocery shopping.  Instead, three hours after my appointment started, I was talking with my OB about how the non-stress test indicated some cause for concern.

As an initial matter, I should note that a couple of things came up in the last couple of days which were really stressful for me.  I don't want to get into what those things were, but they probably weren't as significant as my pregnancy hormones made them.  I didn't sleep at all on Monday night/Tuesday morning and neither did the baby.  My stress seems to make him spazzy.  On Tuesday, the initial stressor had resolved for the most part, but there was a new one that took its place.  I was too exhausted to be as upset on Tuesday as I had been on Monday, but still, it was a long two days. 

So, when the baby wasn't moving much Tuesday night or today, I wasn't horribly concerned.  I thought he was probably just tired out from all of the "excitement."  But, when the nurse listened to the heartbeat at my appointment today, she said "Is it always this fast?"  I asked how fast the heartbeat was and she told me the baby's heartrate was 174.  He hasn't been that high since he was a tiny bean.  He usually runs around 135 now.  The nurse asked if I had noticed any changes in his movements, and I told her about the stress and subsequent lull in his kicks.  The nurse went and got the doctor (one of Dr. C's colleagues), who felt around my belly for awhile and listened to the heartbeat herself.  She said "we need to put you on the monitor."  My heart sank a little, but I had felt the baby move in the waiting room before my appointment, and we had just heard the heartbeat, so I wasn't too frantic.

After 20 minutes on "the monitor," which is a machine that reminds me of a giant EKG...with the electrodes on the belly instead of the chest (actually...that's basically what it is), the doctor came in and said she wanted Dr. C to take a look at the "strips" (the printouts of the baby's heartbeat, measurements of movements, and measurements of my contractions).  Apparently, the strips showed that I was having contractions and the baby's heartrate was being affected by them.  I stayed strapped into the monitor for another 20 minutes (after a quick potty break) and then the machine started beeping...indicating no fetal heartbeat.  When no nurse immediately came into the room, I started yelling...without shame.  The nurse practitioner came in and explained that the baby is still small enough that he can move and that is all that happened...he moved so far away from the monitor that they couldn't hear his heartbeat.  The nurse practitioner found the heartbeat again and, upon confirming that it was steady, said there was no point in monitoring further because they knew what was going on.  I had to wait for Dr. C.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. C came into the room and looked at the strips.  He said that I was having contractions, but they weren't as strong or regular as what one would expect with active labor.  The baby's heartrate was showing inconsistencies, especially around the time of the contractions, but the baby did not appear to be in distress.  Dr. C said that I need not worry, as that was his job.  He wasn't "worried, per se," but he felt an abudance of caution would be prudent because women with insulin dependent gestational diabetes have a higher rate of stillbirth (no matter what the context, the phrase "stillbirth" feels like a knife through my heart).  He told me he wants to see me again on Friday evening for another session of monitoring, just to be sure that this is a matter of the baby and I having "an off day," which he assured me happens all the time.  I'm glad that he is being cautious and I believe him when he says he isn't worried.  I think if he was worried, I would be in the hospital tonight.

While I wait for Friday to arrive, I am supposed to take it "very easy."  I am supposed to avoid anything stressful or upsetting, even if it is just something on the news that bothers me.  I am supposed to lay on my left side as much as is comfortable and do kick counts for twenty minutes at a time, three times a day.  If the baby doesn't move in the first twenty minutes, I am supposed to get up and drink a cold sugary beverage, and lay back on my side for another twenty minutes.  If there is still no movement, I need to call Dr. C and go to the office immediately.  The baby should move three or four times in the twenty minutes following the sugary drink and change of position.  I'm really going to try to relax.  It is hard when there is so much to do.  Sometimes I will do something that I think is going to be relaxing, like starting to plan the furniture arrangement of the nursery, only to find myself panicking 30 minutes into it about something stupid (like how the furniture won't fit in the tiny room).  It is tough to avoid stress right now, but for the sake of having a great appointment on Friday, I'm going to try my hardest.  Maybe the baby just needs a spa day...via mommy having a spa day of course.  

The Princess's New Clothes



As many of you know, I have been toying with the idea of a full blown weekend retreat for a couple of months now.  I’ve looked at monasteries, ashrams, yoga retreat centers and hippie tent camps out in the middle of nowhere, in search of something that felt like it might be a road to inner peace.  Every day I’ve spent at least an hour thinking “Should I go or should I stay home and save my money?”  A couple of times, I even filled out the registration form for a yoga center in the Berkshires, only to chicken-out when it came time to hit “send.”  Figuring out how to de-stress has been a very stressful endeavor.

Fast forward to yesterday.  Immediately after writing yesterday’s post, I thought about how, even if I am able to love myself a little, in spite of my weight, I am never able to love how I look.  Every day I wake up and squeeze myself into clothes that are either too small or simply unflattering to my new body shape.  I spend each day feeling a bit like a sausage, pulling at hems and sleeves and waist bands, willing the clothing to grow bigger.  As many women do, I have refused, for some time, to buy replacement “fat clothes.”  It feels like buying new bigger-sized clothing is equivalent to admitting defeat and rewarding myself for bad behavior, all at the same time.  I’ve bargained with myself for many months – “If you lose fifteen pounds, you can get a new outfit.”  Needless to say, I haven’t gotten a new outfit in a long time. 

Then, when the mail came yesterday, I received: a girly magazine containing a feature story about a department store’s new line of plus size clothing; a flyer for that store showing all of that store’s cute plus size spring line; a coupon for 50% off my purchases at the store; a coupon for an extra $10 off my purchases at the store; and, a gift certificate (from a friend of mine who knows I’ve been feeling down) for that same store.  Okay God of All Things Retail…you have my attention.

I’ve decided that it is time to stop punishing myself for my weight gain by denying myself clothing that fits.  I have decided to stop fretting over spending money on a weekend getaway that may or may not make me more at peace going into this donor cycle.  I have decided that I can kill two birds with one stone by spending the money I would have spent on a weekend getaway on clothes that make me feel pretty and happy each day.  I will no longer be stressing every day about whether I should go away the next weekend because that money will already be gone.  Decision made.  And, in return, I will get the inner peace that comes from being confident about how I look.  Good bye Sausage…Hello Saucy.  At least that’s the plan.  Who knows?  Maybe the confidence boost will even motivate me to get out and get some more exercise so that I feel even better about myself.  I am also able to rationalize this decision by saying, “If I do manage to lose some weight, I will have cute maternity clothes lined up for awhile.”

You heard it here first…a royal decree has been issued – Today is Retail Therapy Day!  This Princess is getting some new clothes…and not the invisible kind!



He said...She said...But They Really Meant...



There are no fairy tales (or at least none that I know of) in which the princess and prince speak different languages until magic steps in and causes the language barrier to crumble.  There should be.  With all of the other analogies to real life situations that fairy tales cover, why not an analogy for the most common problem between couples – miscommunication.

Last Saturday, the Prince and I went to marriage counseling.  The Prince, as usual, threw a bit of a fit about going…picking a fight as soon as I woke up and stating that he wasn’t going.  He openly admits to our counselor that he hates coming to counseling.  He even understands that he hates counseling because he is very uncomfortable dealing with feelings and emotions, whether they be mine, his, or someone else’s.  However, the Prince went to our appointment on Saturday and, as usual, he admitted at the end of the session that the counseling was helpful and that he wanted to schedule another appointment.  And I have a theory about why he values marriage counseling even though I think he does actually hate it.

My theory is that the Prince recognizes the magic that is occurring in the counselor’s office when the counselor translates between Man Speak and Woman Speak.  I also think that, somewhere buried deep inside the Prince, there is an “observer” that recognizes that being forced to sit in a room, as opposed to running away, while I cry and express my feelings about infertility is a valuable exercise for him.  He needs to hear what I have to say, but he doesn’t want to because it makes him feel “too much.”  Having to hear it in a safe and controlled setting must make him feel more connected as a husband, whether he is able to fully understand what he is feeling and why, or not.

On Saturday, I brought up my intense fear that the Prince is going to run away emotionally when things get tough this cycle…which they will.  The Prince feels that I am being pessimistic about the cycle and that he thinks it is going to work this time (yeah…at least one of us is Positive Polly).  I explained that I’m not talking about the outcome of the cycle, I’m talking about hormones swirling through my system as we go through our most critical cycle yet…right before mother’s day.  I need a plan for us to handle my mood swings and any potential set backs, so I can feel some security going into this cycle of the unknown.  The counselor pointed out to me that the Prince is being optimistic that this time is going to work and that I should feel comfort in that, using him as a rock when my hope falters.  The counselor also made the Prince remember a time when he was terrified of something that was out of his control (of course the Prince chose an example from when he was six years old), and asked him to remember that feeling every time I cried or asked for comfort.  At one point, the counselor even forced the Prince to follow the source of his aversion to answering a certain question until the Prince finally blurted out “It sucks that I can’t fix this!  What does she want me to do?  I can’t fix it.”  I started crying…tears of joy.  I’ve waited three years, hoping to hear the Prince say that.  Not because I want him to be frustrated or uncomfortable, but because every other IF husband I know of will say how badly he wants to fix the situation to spare his wife pain.  This counseling session was the first time the Prince indicated that his avoidance behavior was about his own pain and feelings of helplessness, as opposed to irritation with me.  It was the first time I heard him say that he wanted to make this easier for me and recognized that he couldn’t.  I know that’s not the exact words he used, but as the counselor pointed out…that’s really what the Prince said.  The counselor was able to break down the language barrier, turning Man Speak into Woman Speak for just a little while…and that takes magic.



On the Other Side of the Castle Walls

Because the retreat fell through, I thought a nice quiet weekend at home was in order.  However, the Prince has been in an increasingly difficult and distant mood lately, so by Saturday morning I realized that my weekend would not be restful “inside the castle.”  To avoid the discomfort of staying at home, I decided to “leave” for a day.  I found a great deal on a nice hotel room in the same city that we live in and I booked it.  I came up with a weekend schedule for myself, full of yoga and indulgence, watching movies at the theater and in my hotel room, ordering room service and just relaxing in general.  I also threw in the shopping trip that I have been putting off for weeks - getting a gift for the first of many baby showers that I will be attending in the near future.

I decided to go get the baby gift out of the way first, so I would have time to recover afterwards.  I walked into Buy Buy Baby and was immediately engulfed in a world of baby toys, clothing, furniture, potty chairs, diapers, etc.  I’m not going to lie, at times it was hard to suck in a breath.  I couldn’t tell you what one other person in the store looked like because I had to just focus intently on the list I brought from my friend’s baby registry in order to avoid a panic attack.  I made it through the experience, but the rest of the baby shower gifts are getting purchased online.  That was simply no fun.

So…jump to the hotel room a few hours later.  I was all settled into my very nice room when, at 5:00 p.m., I noticed that I was stressing out.  I kept wondering, should I order room service or drive to the mall and get take out.  I had planned to get takeout, but them I didn’t want to leave the hotel room once I got there.  I was so distressed over the idea of veering from my plans, I literally spent over an hour making myself a sick because I couldn’t reach a decision.  Then, I started thinking about my husband and my problems with how things are progressing, or not progressing, in our relationship.  Before I knew it, I was tense and unhappy…bouncing from one negative topic to the other…the very things I was running from.  And then…I heard a baby crying.  Apparently, a family with an infant had been put in the room next to me and, as babies do, this baby cried…a lot.

I got so stressed out that I actually became angry because my “weekend of relaxation” was being ruined.  I could have just stayed home if I wanted to be stressed.  While sulking about my bad fortune, I ran a hot bath and I soaked.  I went for a late swim in the pool at the hotel.  Then I used a calming body scrub and gave myself a spa treatment in the room…telling myself the whole time “Just enjoy this.  The other stuff doesn’t matter tonight.  It will be there tomorrow.”  And, after repeating it enough, it was true and I did start to enjoy myself.  I ordered room service.  I ate a delicious steak and drank a root beer float (something I haven’t had since I was a child).  I ordered an in-room movie that I knew the Prince would not enjoy (not the naughty kind) and fell asleep during the movie (clearly the Prince was not the only one who would not enjoy it). 

As I awoke this morning, I started to make a list of everything I had to do today, both relaxation-related and functional tasks.  And then that smart little voice in my head spoke up and said…”This is why you don’t need a weekend retreat elsewhere right now.  It isn’t going to solve your problem.”  Offended (by myself), I wondered what that meant.  So, I did some yoga and then considered what I was feeling.  The voice, as usual, is right.  Had I gone away for the weekend, I would have been busy with juicing or yoga classes or meditation, or “skin brushing.”  My weekend would be scheduled out for me and I would use the non-stop activities, not as a means of working through my issues, but as a distraction allowing a temporary escape from the issues I face each day.  While I thought escape was what I needed, now I don’t think that is right.  I needed to just creep over the castle walls for a breather, while staying close enough to the castle that I couldn’t forget what’s awaiting me when I get back inside the castle. 

This mini-retreat didn’t fix my problems, didn’t even leave me fully recharged.  But it did teach me a valuable lesson that I am going to need going in to the next cycle - let the little annoyances and obstacles (I picture them as small, child-like trolls) sit beside me while I do what NEEDS to be done, until I can focus my attention on them, one at a time.  I don’t need to carry them on my back or juggle them around.  They’ll follow me around, sometimes patiently and sometimes not so patiently, if I just keep moving along, dealing with them as needed.  Having them there clearly isn’t killing me.  I don’t have to run away to escape them…I just have to be aware that they are there and they eventually need to be dealt with.  Sometimes a trip outside of the castle walls helps you see more clearly what lives inside the castle.





Stick to the Plot Line and Stop Sweating the Small Stuff

(Images... looking out our back door this afternoon)

The big question has been answered…I am not going to a retreat this weekend.  Okay.  Maybe that isn’t the “big” question, but it seemed like a big deal to me last night.

You see, yesterday, I got more and more anxious as the day went on, waiting to hear from the people who ran the retreat about whether they still had space for me or not.  After my yoga class, instead of being calm, I was stressed because I couldn’t believe that a business would conduct itself in such a manner that you don’t get a call telling you whether you are supposed to drive four hours to a retreat until 16 hours before you are supposed to start the driving.  Finally, I spoke to the leader of the retreat and she told me that they could make space for me, but she needed to know more about my health issues.  I told her I had been undergoing infertility treatments for about three years and just needed to physically and emotionally recharge.  She informed me that I would have to be willing to stop any fertility medications or treatments, and give their natural method a chance, if I wanted to attend their retreat (a one weekend retreat mind you).  Then, she told me that every woman can get pregnant naturally on her own if she just removes the toxicity from her body.  That was when I thanked her for her time and hung up the phone.

I don’t know why that conversation hit me so hard, but it did.  Maybe it was the disappointment of not getting a “retreat” this weekend.  Maybe it was the frustration of people outside of the infertility-world having such strong opinions about something they knew nothing about.  Or, maybe it was just one small thing too many.  Whatever the reason, I fell down on the floor and bawled last night.  Even after I picked myself up and started making dinner, my crying would get so intense that I would have to stop and put my hands and head on the counter to stay upright.  Thank God that “the Prince” had to work late last night, at his second job, teaching at community college, so that he didn’t have to be uncomfortable through the three hour bawl-fest.  When he did get home, I was grumpy with him and just went to bed early to avoid a big fight.  When he asked me what was wrong, all I could say was “I don’t know, but I can’t take any more.  I’ve given every ounce of everything I have and there’s nothing left to give.”

He said “Give what?”

And I said, “I don’t know.  It’s just how I feel.”  And that about summed it up - I had no idea what exactly was wrong, I just felt defeated.

This morning I woke up and knew immediately that I felt better.  It may have helped that we were getting a foot of snow dumped on us at an alarming rate, with 45 mile per hour winds to add to the fun.  I thought “If the retreat thing had worked out, I would have been driving four hours in this mess.  Only to be stuck at a retreat in nasty weather.”  As usual, in retrospect I can see that the retreat leader’s ignorant comment and disorganization shouldn’t have been an irritation to me, because it kept me from making the huge mistake of signing up for that retreat.  But isn’t that how it always works?  In retrospect, it is always easy to see how the little things that seem so overwhelming put us exactly where we need to be in our own plot lines, so that we get from where we are to where we want to be.  I want to be safe this weekend.  Now I am.  But it is hard for me to keep things in perspective when I’m in the moment, trying not to get washed away in a sea of tiny frustrations.  So, although I am not going away for a “cleanse” this weekend, I am going to try to find a way to cleanse myself of all these little stressors that are literally bring me to tears.  I’m going to try to find away to let go of the little things and keep my eye on the proposed ending of my story.