So, it seems I am expecting a baby.

14w 1d today.  Second trimester arrived.  Had a short little appt, where they did blood pressure, weight, pee-check, and heartbeat-listen-to.  Heartbeat is a strong 168.  The dr seems to think I am a regular pregnant person.  Fool.  Inside, I am screaming something else.  Well, I go between that scream and the blissful daydreams of a crossover vehicle to purchase, thinking of boy names or using our bestest favest girl name.  And yes, I am still scared.  But not as scared as I was when I was in the earlier weeks.  Or when I was not pregnant.  Because every single infertile person knows they hit that point where the once possible is now seen as impossible.  Yet I am the annoying cliche that I always wanted to be–I had filled out all the adoption paperwork, wrote my 8 page autobiography, and had contacted references four days before my positive pregnancy test.  I will never ever tell anyone outside of this world that story, though–no need to add fuel to the ridiculous fire of “just adopt and you’ll get pregnant.”  There’s enough of that moronic advice swirling about out there already!

I am really beginning to think I am going to have a baby in November.  IF never ever ever goes away and losses and failures shape your future experiences for sure, but things DO get put on hold for a little once pregnancy sets in.  I mean, I no longer sit and cry about what if I NEVER get pregnant (of course, I sit and worry about losing this baby and then what…) but I would be lying if I said that I feel exactly the same as I did when I was not pregnant.

I still listen to the heartbeat every night.  I still protectively cover my abdomen, from what, I don’t know.  I still worry about telling people.  I am going to take it slow–and not reach out to share the news (Hey! Its me! I’m Pregnant!  I’m Thrilled! Its so unexPECted! gush gush, gush gush…).  Instead, as it comes up, I’ll share.  How amazing would it be if I found the nerve to FB that “after 18 solid months of medical intervention, 5 failed IVFs, one failed IUI, one turn in the ICU, two units of blood transfused, two losses….I am cautiously expecting.”  But I will never ever write that because 1)I don’t think FB is a place for uterine updates 2)once it is out there it can’t ever come back and who the hell would want to have to recant that statement ever, and 3)I may be an over-sharer, but not that much.  I think I’d rather people find out via my Christmas card, rather than a post on a friend/acquaintance networking site.   But just sometimes.  Sometimes I want the world to be aware of the struggles some of us go through.  And how freaking lucky I am right now to have made it this far.

Scan was fine.

I seemed to remember my NT scan with P taking a lot longer…maybe it was walking between lab and OB area of the hospital or something…but this was done right in my office.  I waited for about an hour and 10 minutes for a “test” that lasted all of 12.  But it seems my risk looks low, and the bean has grown appropriately over the last month since my last ultrasound–measures right on target, 12w 1-2 days.  I asked the doctor to tell me the heartrate, explaining that it seemed rather high on the at-home doppler I used…and instead of just measuring and calming me, he launched into a tirade about the dopplers causing a false sense of security, etc.  He then told me a “true story” that happened to one of his patients last year–she wasn’t feeling the baby move, she felt something was off, but she used her at home doppler and could still hear the heartbeat.  She was 34 weeks.  Turns out something was wrong, the baby was already brain dead by the time she sought medical attention, the baby was born, lived a month, then died.  So this is why I shouldn’t use a doppler.

Ummm….okay.  Thanks.  Thanks for following a neat experience of seeing the bean (ok, the “large” lime) up on the huge tv screen on the wall and hearing you tell me the preliminary measurements look good–and then you end with this comforting tale.  He did tell me that “normal” heartrates range from 120 to 180 (hello, giantest range ever), and that My Large Lime was beating at 179bpm.  I guess I should be relieved that he didn’t jump out of his chair at this point with dire worry–but he also did not say a THING to make me believe that it is okay to be on the border of high-normal.  Thus, instead of leaving and staring lovingly at the picture, I left horrified that something like that story could happen.  Sheesh.  I hope if I make it to delivery, this doctor does NOT stand below me with a clear plastic visor and some rubber gloves…

If the old wives tale is true–fast hb, bad complexion (can anyone say “Pepperoni Pizzalike Chin?”) and more nausea than last time…then maybe this is a girl.  Seems the way the family dynamics have headed this year, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

Next appointment:  14 weeks.  Sure it will just be a weight/hb check.  Hopefully, I will have used the facilities by then.  I swear.  I think I was up so many pounds since the 12 week because I haven’t used the bathroom in DAYS.  And it ain’t like I ain’t eating…lordy.  It is FULL in there. 

My mom asked me if it feels more real yet.  I told her…maybe by November?

In non-related news: we went to our first movie together since…The of Ha.ppy.ness was in theaters.  Yep.  We’re a fun duo.  Anyway.  We saw Ci.ty Isl.and.  Maybe it’s being a New Yawker, or maybe because it had NOTHING to do with pregnancy or little babies–but actually, I think it was just a good good movie.  And it was short-ish.  I have the attention span of an 8 year old boy…so the 1hr40min lengthtime was perfect for me.

But…when did the price go up to 11 bucks a ticket?  Oh…right…probably in the last FOUR YEARS.


I posted a brief update yesterday, along with some thoughts I had about moving forward in this pregnancy.  And then I lay (layed?  laid?) awake half the night in a panic over it all, because I was basically acknowledging I think this pregnancy is going forward…and that scared the crap out of me.  I began to panic that holy shit, if I do that, and on Monday they find something wrong, I have to un-acknowledge.  I would have come and deleted it overnight save for my ridiculous stomach pains (pregnancy induced?  e coli induced?  (yep–breakout in the region.  And I have had lettuce recently…) panic induced?)  So I delete it now, gone from the world, save for my mind.  And now I can’t forget it.  Stupid me–getting a bit comfortable and confident.  Why do I think this is going to be a good, safe thing?  What proof or reassurance do I have of this????

Now I can safely continue to obssess over what I think is a too-fast heartbeat for how far along I am (still banging out 175-180.  And I’m 12 weeks tomorrow.  Can’t be good, can it…), what they will find on Monday, how I will handle yet another appointment alone as our sitters are busy and T did not feel like asking his Dad to come help out for some reason…so I’ll be there alone.  Again.  And scared.  Argh…………


And still pregnant.  After last Friday’s panic-induced-ultrasound, it was a quick visit today, with just a step on the scale (um, hi six pounds since starting stims), a short chat with the dr, and then a challenging (yet successful) hearing of the hb via dopper.  Apparently I have some majorly strong veins thumping down there, and my racing pulse was drowning out the baby…but it eventually measured at 165, and I was sort-of able to make out the sound myself.

According to the doctor, my chance for miscarriage now is the same as the rest of the gen pub–less than 3%.  Still too high to let me rest easy, but that’s life. Buh-bye, progest shots as well.  We had a ceremonial trashing of the gross blood-dotted heating pad late this afternoon.  Nuchal scan is scheduled for 13 days from now (who’s counting?) on May 10th.  I’ll be 12w1d.  After that appointment–I will feel a lot better if all is well (ok. Noticing a pattern of my saying this with each appointment…).  But really, if I make it through the NT staying pregnant…then it is only another week and half until the end of the first tri…and then…well…I may think of this as my actual little baby.

If that time comes to be, I’ll have to take some surveys about who gives an Eff about my story once I am clearly pregnant…and what to do about the blog.  I mean, I clearly have still been effed by IVF…but not in the present, just the past, I guess.  So do I keep it up then?  Luckily, I have a few more weeks of being in the unsafe zone to keep humoring you all with my quirks, worries, and general overal insanity.


A general blogging question: Any other bloggers out there get some ridiculous amounts of spam comments that SEEM like real comments?  They are completely about the posts, etc…but there have been TONS and all from weird addresses like Tom23@ something or Joe42@ something…yep, all men…and when you click on the website they allegedly connect to, it’s not a developed site.  Any help out there, bloggers?  Where they are coming from and how can I catch it in my spam-catcher?  It’s annoying because I get all excited that so many many people care about my tale, only to be duped…I mean, how many men are really reading this and empathizing?

The Crazy Fear Has Set In (and…update…)

Apparently, a week and a half is all my body can sustain its peace and positivity for.  Right now, with the 10-week mark looming ahead on Sunday, I am a wreck.  My nausea has almost completely subsided, I don’t have any cramping, and (I know I know I KNOW) I bought a cheapish fetal doppler and can’t find the heartbeat down there. (I can, however, hear my own, hear my dinner from last night, and probably four nights ago as well…you see, I am on the smaller side, thus figuring I should be hearing the heartbeat by now–two people on the ama.zon reviews heard it by now….whine, whine whine…)


I anticipate the worst right now while also secretly hoping that by expecting the worst I will be redeemed and given good news… Come Tuesday, I have visions of walking into the dr’s office, saying, “I expect you to be giving me bad news.”  I also have had horrible horrible visions of going into the bathroom and things just gushing down.  I do not like this feeling–I need to find myself an OB to move into my spare room to give me peace of mind for the next four days.  Four days!  Sounds like nothing…sounds like everything.  T said, “So nothing has happened to make you think you lost the baby, save less symptoms, you just think that” (he does sort of understand, by the way, it just doesn’t come across that way in print).  I said “correct.”  The unspoken between us, of course, is that nothing happened the last time.  No cramps, no blood, nothing (just a loss of symptoms).  And then they were gone. 


How will I make it until then?  We planned to look at cars this weekend…I planned to get some things from for storage solutions (nesting?  or just irreverent spending?) but really, I just want to crawl into my bed, take some of the anesthesia they give you before the ER, and pass out until Tuesday, 1pm (appointment is at 2.  But I’d probably be a bit groggy right away…)


UPDATE:  Crazy C gave in to Calm C, and called the office this afternoon.  Of course, I called four minutes after P went down for his nap.  They told me they could see me in 45 minutes, but had nothing else today or tomorrow.  After some advice from the trusted M and J…decided to get the answers I needed and risk a cranky 2.5 year old (incidentally, today is his Half Birthday–ice cream cake and small gifts to come tonight…) and woke him, popped him in the car, and drove up to the office.  I waited for I don’t know, FIVE MINUTES?? in the busy waiting room, and then went on back.  Dr C couldn’t find the hb on the doppler after trying for about five seconds, then went to get the portable external ultrasound machine, and eureka!  Bean is still alive!  Heart was beating, little arms were waving around…I didn’t push my luck and ask for heartrate or measurements…after all, I am back there on Tuesday.  I did, however, hug my doctor.  A first for me–someone who has been to all kinds of medical professionals.

Completely worth the piece of mind.  And I really didn’t even feel that ridiculous–what a great doctor to make me feel like the sanest person alive.  Now P is napping for a mini-nap (I think…).  I promised that if all was ok with this, I would not go back to Tar.get and ask where the Eff were the three other items on my receipt that weren’t in any of my bags…Yep, a $12 bargain with the powers that be. 


Today was the first OB ultrasound and appointment.  They were very accomodating when I explained that I really didn’t want to wait until the 10 week mark when I had called initially (throw out the phrases “missed miscarriage of twins” “almost three weeks not knowing”, and an OBs office must feel obliged to accomodate.)  Anyway.  I went in to the room by myself today (P and T stayed out in the waiting room at the request of the tech, but also, I think, it was what T was planning on doing anyway.  He was nervous as heck too, and probably didn’t want to be back in that room, reliving those memories…and P provides a nice distraction).

I started to say a Hail Mary as I waited for the tech to find what she wanted to see before she turned on the overhead ginormous screen…and I don’t believe I got in more than two or three lines til she hit the remote, and there was the bean.  She did not want any questions, so I just watched and stared until I was certain I saw the quick flitting of the heartbeat.  She measured some things, checked out other parts in there, and then called T and P in to show them via an outside scan the growing bean up on the screen.  Relief.  Relief relief relief.

After a brief hour wait, I met with the doctor (not my actual OB–he was booked) and she was wonderful.  She understood my fears, listened to me, and said to make an appointment to come back in 2 weeks.  Thanks Be to G, no making me wait the ridiculous length of time of 3 or 4 weeks to see my bean again.  I do feel so much more relaxed right now…though of course, that feeling in of itself is making me feel un-relaxed…


The stats:  All parts of bean are accounted for.  Measures 8w3d, and has a heartbeat of 175.  Can’t ask for more than Everything Looking Right (ok, I can ask for everything remaining right….continuing right…)  The doctor again reminded me that the percentage of miscarriages in the first tri is 15%…and that the odds of miscarriage drop to 5% after seeing a strong heartbeat.  (I asked my math whiz husband what that translates into…he said 1 in 20.  Shit, that seems really freaking high, I said.  Then he said, I’m thinking of a number between 1 and 20.  What is it?  I replied, 7.  He said, Nope.  14.  I then asked if 7 being a multiple of 14 meant anything.  He gave me the stink eye.)

So I head back two weeks from today.  Am I still nervous?  You bet.  Am I afraid of being too confident and comfortable?  Check.  Although, here are some interesting tidbits…my due date is the same day as a huge football game here at Yankee Stadium this fall–my Alma Mater v. Army.  Hmm.  Prob won’t be tailgating at that one (IhopeIhopeIhopeIhope).  Also, best pal from college…due the week before me with her second (don’t worry, M–no one else who knows you reads this!).  How fun to raise a baby born so close to each other…


So please.  Please God, let this be the one for us.  Let this be our child, not just our hope or our dream.  It is amazing that after all of the limbos we IFers find ourself in–before the cycle, while cycling, retrieval, grow-time, transfer, 2WW, beta one, beta two, beta three, ultrasound one, ultrasound 2, ultrasound 3–we never really seem to leave limbo behind.


And measuring exactly that, with a visible heartbeat of 140bpm.  I can’t complain about that.  The other small sac seems to have been reabsorbed already…and while I definitely still harbor sadness over that, I was happy to see what I saw.  I will call around to find an OB later…only a few more blood draws until I am officially “graduated” it seems.  Holy.effing.scary.  Last babies died actually while I was still under the care of my previous RE last year–after the final ultrasound, though before the final progesterone check.  But we didn’t find out until 2 and a half weeks after that, at first OB appt.  So I asked Dr IVF if it would be insane of me to expect to get my next ultrasound with an OB ASAP…and he said with my history, not insane at all.  I love that he supported me in my insanity.


I felt eerily calm on my way to the city late this morning.  P was home with a babysitter which makes the trip so much easier–no lunch, no pullups, no wipes, no dvd players, no dvds, no snacks, no books, no jacket, no sippy cups-that-wont-spill-on-the-dvd-player…no one to shhhhuush on the train when he gets excited…no 30 lbs to haul around when he gets tired, no panic that someone wants my adorable blond haired, blue-eyed monster…and no one to yell at us from the backseat on the way back (train in, lift with T back home).  Yet, of course, I missed him.


While on the train, I heard a mom call out at one point, “P….!”  as a boy walked past my seat.  I looked up, and swear to pete that I saw my future.  Mom could be me in ten years…and though her son was probably around 14 or so…I just thought, that could be me, me and my P, that could be our future, and I could be happy with that.  I made up the story of him being her only child, and they were going into the city to spend the day together during spring recess–I made their story into my story.  And I can make my happiness with that.  Me and my boy.  I thought, so whatever happens, today, I can handle it.  I can get through it.  I’m a big, tough girl (that makes me sound like an 18 wheeler.  I’m more like an adult, strong girl, I guess).  I think that was a sign for me (of course, I also welled up when the police officer directing traffic on the corner of 56th and 2nd helped move the cars so an ambulance could get through the intersection.  Huh?  Tear-inducing?  Right.  Nonsensical.  But I’m naturally a weepy sentimental person.  Hormones just make me ragin’).


So now I just wait.  And try to be hopeful.  We keep asking the little bean to please stick around.  I hope he decides to listen.  Although I know, whatever happens, I can handle it.

Ultrasound day.

I was so nervous walking uptown to the office–there were about six times I had to sit for a sec because I thought I was going to pass out.  But after about a two minute wait in the waiting area and then a three minute one in the exam room (I was still deciding whether to take off my clearly sweaty socks or leave them on when Dr came in…so they stayed on…), it was showtime.  I had my eyes squeezed closed until he said “well, you can look at this, it looks like it should” so I opened them to see a gest. sac and the yolk sac in it.  He then pointed out a smaller gest sac above it, and said it was measuring significantly smaller with no visible yolk sac and was likely a vanishing twin, but he would check it again next week. 

 It was all so clinical and practical–no congratulations, no real talk about it being a pregnancy, just kind of speaking in terms of it being another bridge to have crossed.  I know that is what it is…which is why I am probably feeling just kind of…numb.  I want to be happy–I have no more fears about it being in the wrong place, and clearly there was something there, right where it should be…so why am I waiting for the other freaking shoe to drop?  Why is it so hard to just be hugging T and celebrating, instead of being frightened to death of celebrating and then seeing something less than ideal next Thursday?  (I was given the choice of another appt next Thurs or the following Monday.  I went with the former.  Why force almost five more days of anxiety on myself?  Better to get it over with…and then I can either celebrate or mourn for the three day holiday weekend).  I hate that I look at it like that.  I want to really really try to see things in a brighter way–I really really do.  I am here, after all.  There was a time just three weeks ago I thought I didn’t have a prayer of ever being in this spot again.  Ever ever ever.  But I am.  So maybe I will try to work on that over the next seven days.  Any advice to help the process along?


And.  Today is 1 yr anniversary of D&C.  Bittersweet kind of day, come to think of it.  Hoping that it all just balances out, you know?

Still feeling happy…

Yesterday my boobs felt smaller.  And less hurty.  So I was getting worried (I do hate that IF plus losses means way too much caution and worry, but so be it) and felt sad.  I embrace the nausea and headaches when they come like they’re an old sweet grandma–because then I know all is ok.  So every morning and night, you might find me checking the fullness of each boob, left, then right, then left, then right (aren’t you loving the window I just gave you into my bathroom?).  It is so hard not to read into things.  Today though, I had beta #4 drawn, and it came back at 2892.  Sigh.  A bit of weight fell off my shoulders (onto my boobs, perhaps?) as I relaxed just a tenth of a percent.  I smiled a bit more this afternoon after that call.

I know I am not out of the woods.  I know this Thursday is important, I know the following Thursday’s ultrasound will be important, and I know also that I will be nervous in between every single one of them from here to…well…however long it takes to not feel so freaked out.  I am happy, I am pregnant, I am worried, I am nervous, I am hopeful, I am the oppositeofhopeful (just looked up antonyms for hopeful–and there really isn’t a word that describes what I feel).


But for today, I will smile and think of myself as Pregnant.

A 6am Thank-you. (and beta #3 update)

I need to give a ridic loud shout-out to Mel for her overall swellness thus leading to the swellness of all the LFCA-ers who have come by to give me some support.  My heart gets so warm every time I read a post from someone stopping by…or when I just know there are people out there knowing my story and thinking of me…so Thank You.  To everyone who reads my story and gives me some love.   It makes me feel less alone.  Andsome good news (bang your palms on your desks all drum-like…) we’re going home today!  Power was restored around 10pm last night.  So I will wake P, drive up 50 minutes to have the unnecessary-but-necessary-for-me bloods, drive us back here to the hotel, load up the car with a week’s worth of living stuff, and drive it all back home forEVAH.  Complaining about this week of no power makes me feel like a true shit when I think about actual natural disasters, instead of localized tree-fallings, house and car smashings, and power-outings…but it also makes me grateful that I’ve never had to experience that.  Really freaking grateful.

I likely won’t have cable or internet restored (come on, it took Co.nEd a week…is Ver.izon really going to be there stringing up its own perty wires immediately?) so my beta-update may not be for a bit.  But thanks to some inspiring blogs I’ve already read this morning (um, nervous much, Miss Up-At-5-Can’t-Fall-Back-to-Sleep?) as well as some reassuring comments posted here…I’m feeling okay right now.  Oh yeah.  And I think my AA boobs are pushing A.  So that’s something.


Update: beta was over 900.  maybe 920something, maybe 940somthing.  Was so relieved once I heard her start out with “nine…” and can’t recall the rest.  But I know that 834 would have been another 66% increase…and I clearly smashed that.  So I sit here, in my sun-warmed house with laundry cleaned, dried, and ready to be folded, P napping…and just happy for right now.  I can be happy this weekend now.  And then take next week’s bw and Thursday’s ultrasound as they come.  This even makes it okay that the DVR didn’t tape any of my shows this week…