Tuesday, July 31, 2007


Did y'all read the last comment of my previous post? No? I'll wait while you do, but don't forget to come back here.

Ok done?

So. I have no qualms about what I'm going to write because I know she's not going to read it. You see, it goes something like this: This is my blog, and if I want to express my anxieties over my current situation, it is my prerogative to do so. My bog, my feelings. I'm part of this community because of the support-both the giving and receiving. If anyone else has a problem with this, picture me opening my humble door wide and wishing you adieu.

Oh, you're all still here? Great. Let's get on with the show.

People of the infertile blogshere: I love you. Your words of encouragement mean so much to me. I know how hard it is for most of you to come here these days. OH LORDY ME, do I know. I have been there and have been doing that for close to two years. In some ways I feel that I am still there, and that I will forever be doing that. It is amazing to me that through all that is tough and all that is wonderful I know that you will empathize. Again and again you have shown me so much compassion and kindness. I get teary just thinking about it.

This blog will inevitably change over the next weeks and months. I do not know into what it will evolve. I just hope that it doesn't fall into the miscarriage category. What I know for sure is that these few weeks of being-deep breath-pregnant have changed me, and I will never be the same, so neither will this space.

A few things I know for sure: I will remain sarcastic and bitchy. I will not curb my swearing. It will have always taken me longer than 3 months to get pregnant, and I will never stop being annoyed with my friend's husband for saying such a stupid thing to me. Also: it is very likely that I will ever stop worrying about shit, even if everything is ok. It's just not in my nature to do so.

Right... that's where we left off last week. The freaking anxiety.

The rest of the week saw a steady increase in the stress. I barely slept, and pretty much worried at every moment that the pregnancy wasn't progressing. My clinic didn't let me change the u/s date, so I pretty much sat here counting the minutes day by day. I did have a bit of a respite this weekend as we went to Ottawa for a friend's wedding. It was good to be away from here. I thought dead baby thoughts only about half as often.

My scan was supposed to be this morning, but yesterday afternoon I had some light pink spotting when I went to the bathroom. Of course I freaked. The C came home and called the clinic as I was barely sane by that time. (Man, I love that guy!) The receptionist told to come in immediately, so off we went. By the time I was in the stirrups I thought I was going to puke from anxiety (which I now know is much different from pregnancy induced nausea.) I couldn't look at the screen (a 40" plasma mounted on the wall right at my head), I couldn't look at the doctor, I just lay there shaking holding The C's hand. I swear I did not breathe until I heard the doctor say: "you can see the heartbeat right here".

In a nutshell: at 6w4d the size is measuring right on, but the doctor was not able to get a "count" on the heartbeat. On one hand this makes me ill with nerves, on the other I have to keep reminding myself that he has not proven himself to be a very good sonographer. I can't help myself, I sit here thinking that it's a weak heartbeat and the signal of a demise.

You know, really, I'm sorry if my anxiety is offensive to you, but I there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. So again here I sit oscillating between fear and feeling that there is not much I can do at this moment anyways. It is such a fucking roller coaster.

The bleeding seems to be due to a small clot in my uterus. I haven't googled it because I don't want to know. The doctor says that because it is positioned below the embryo he isn't as concerned as he would be if it was above. He has told me to really take it easy and to rest as much as possible. I am scheduled for another u/s next Monday, but I was assured that if I felt like I needed to come in sooner that I could.

In the meantime, I just keep hoping that everything is ok.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007


All my life I've been nervous about things. The first day of school, the first day of camp, and OMG, that first day when my parents dropped me off at my college dorm! It seems like every momentous occasion in my life has been filled with worry. It's no wonder that I'm feeling a huge amount of anxiety these days.

Don't get me wrong- I am excited. And once in a while the "holy shit there's something growing inside of me"-edness overtakes the anxiety. And those moments are great. But...

Then there are the times when I sit at my desk and poke and prod my boobs. I swear to myself that they are less painful feeling than the day before. And so that is cause for a freakout. I will find, that on another day, I could barely keep my my eyes from shutting while working, when the following day I run around full of energy. Surely this is freakout-worthy as well. And let's not forget that icky-gicky nausea that sometimes is felt in my stomach, and other times at the top of my throat, and of course, every day at a different time leaving me wondering if it's simply related to something that I ate that didn't agree with me. How can that not freak me out?

And so every night I evaluate all of the above, trying to decide if what's inside is still alive. I can't help myself but think about this. I go through my symptoms wondering if they are signs of anything going wrong. And I toss and turn, all the while wondering how I'm going to deal when this ends before it's supposed to. I know of course there's a chance that it won't. But there's also a chance that it may.

I know this is not an original topic that I am blogging about here. I have read the same sentiments from countless women who have been in my position after their IF struggle. So I know I'm not alone. But, although the thought of being alone gives me some comfort, I feel like all the knowledge that you guys have imparted has left me with a grave lack of naïveté about my situation. Quite simply: I know too much about what can go wrong. And, horrifyingly, I have seen it happen time and time again in our circle.

Shit, you think I'm being a little too melodramatic for 8 in the morning? Let's try to keep it real here...

I haven't gone for another beta. At this point (a week since my previous one) I'm not sure it's worth it as it will definitely show an increase in hCG, but it will be over such a long period of time it might not be worth much. (as opposed to measuring it 48 hours apart to be able to see that it's doubling in that time period.) I have my u/s scheduled for the 31st, at which point I will be 6w5d. My clinic does not like to do u/s before 6w2d, but I won't be in town then, so I had had to push it forward. I am really thinking of begging for an appointment this Friday (at 6w1d), because I don't know if I can hold it together until next Tuesday. Besides, Betabase (my new best friend) says that we should be able to see a heartbeat when hCG levels exceed 6000, and by my rough 48 hour doubling calculation I should be way past that already if everything is running smoothly.

I am really trying to stay calm and level-headed about this. I know I'm not the first person to here, and I won't be the last. But this is the first time for me, and I just can't seem to keep the anxiety at bay. The C holds my hand and tells me we will just take it minute by minute, day by day, and just think that all is well until we have an indication of otherwise. I appreciate all that, but it's not his body that will be failing him, and thus doesn't help the worry recede.

But then I stop and think that being anxious doesn't always mean a bad ending for me. That day in September 1994, when I moved into my dorm? The one that had me bawling like a baby at 19, practically begging my parents not to leave me there? The one that left me thinking: how the hell am I ever going to get through this? That's the day I met The C. And that seems to have turned out alright.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


Well, I see what one has to do to get comments around here!! Thanks you, all you wonderful folks, thank you. You kind words mean the world to me. I'm so thrilled you came by and left me a personal note. It's great to have you to celebrate with.

So yesterday I went for a second beta (19do). The receptionist and nurse at my clinic basically think I'm neurotic (umm, I wanted proff that I didn't have a dead 4 week baby in me), but they were still happy to indulge me. I asked if they would think that I'm nuts if I wanted to come in again next week, and they said yes, but they would pander to my neuroses. I'm thrilled to have them on my side. So, ya. My beta. 1445. Go ahead, give that one a spin on Betabase. The median value for multiples at 19dpo is in the 1200s. Yup, I'm above that. The C is trying to figure out how we are going to fit 2 cribs in our little bedroom. I say: Let's not count our chickens before they hatch.

I oscillate between crazy elation and ugly dead baby thoughts. As I posted in my previous post I know that looking at furniture and clothes can't kill the baby (who's really still an embryo), but I can't help but think that I'm maybe hoping a bit too much. I also know that PCOS carries a high miscarriage rate, so I can't help but think about that every 10 seconds or so. I don't think that I will stop worrying until I have a real live baby in my arms, hopefully towards the end of March.

Hey Sara, want more info? Let's see... My boobs are killing me. My nipples hurt a bit, but it's the actual boob that is in the most pain. The best way to describe it is that they feel like they are bruised. I'm a triffle worried about the boob situation. On a regular day they are huge, I can't even begin to fathom what they are going to be like soon.

I'm also feeling exhausted. I regularly like to nap in the afternoon (a perk of working from home), but in the past week my napping has gotten to be rediculous. hopefully I will get the second trimester energy spurt (should I get there). And last, yesterday a bit of nausea arrived mid-afternoon. I couldn't decide if it was the nachos that I ate for lunch (not a good choice on any day), but today I feel the same way and all I had was a turkey sandwhich. No vomiting yet, but it feels like my stomach is sitting at the top of my esophogus. (Assvice welcome here.)

I am completely new at this, and though I sound like I'm taking it all in stride I am really really scared. The only IRL people who know (other than Shlomit who read it here) are my aunt and my trainer (who I felt I had to tell for medical reasons). Today as I said the p-word to my trainer I realized it was the first time that I have said it out loud in relation to me, and it pretty much freaked me out. (She was all "Mazel Tov!" and I was all "Umm ya.")

I don't know when and how this is going to feel real. For now I'm going to concentrate getting through dinner with my granparents without spewing at the table.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. It was written with such insight and love, and so chock full of information I couldn't help but warm to the idea of adoption (which I had previoulsy thought was not for me.) Thank you, Mr. Savage for opening my eyes.

One thing that got to me in this book is how these guys didn't have to go through the initial questioning of there OWN fertility. Two men can't make a baby, so they just moved straight to adoption. My question is this: Do you think the reason that you've gone so far with your fertility treatments is because you are caught up in proving to yourself that you ARE fertile? How much are you willing to put your body through in your quest for a baby before you decide to move onto adoption (if that is even an option for you)?

I was actually surprised that adoption seemed to be a no-brainer for Dan and Terry. I know that Dan wrote bits here and there about how, prior to Terry coming into the picture, he though seriously about trying to work with a Lesbian couple as well as thinking about making a deal with a neighbour. However, once he and Terry decided (as a couple) to become dads, I found it odd that they didn’t revisit any scenarios of biological children. Or maybe they had and Dan didn’t find it relevant to the story.

For me, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the reason I persevered for the past two years was because there was no way that I felt that I could give up on the idea of one day being pregnant with a child that was biologically linked to my husband and me. So it’s not so much about fertility as it is biology. Now that I am very tentatively, ummm, there I can honestly say that I will always question my fertility; I will never see myself as fertile.

As for how much I would put myself through until I thought of adoption? To date we had tried Clomid for 2 cycles (with no ovulation) and done 5 injectible cycles (the 3 last ones with IUI). If we hadn’t gotten the desired result on this past cycle then there was no question that we would move forward to IVF. Since I haven’t had the experience of even one IVF cycle, I can’t really comment on how many I would be willing to do. I imagine it to be infinitely more difficult (physically and emotionally) than IUI, so I don’t know what lengths I would have gone to if this had become the case.

I can only imagine that I would have persisted for at least another 2 years to mirror the time that we have already spent as infertile hopefuls. Also playing a big role is that until reading this book I had previously seen myself as someone who might possibly never be able ready to make a choice about moving forward with adoption.

On p. 164, Dan is terrified of bringing baby items into the house before the adoption is finalized. Will you (or did you) bring items into the house before a birth or an adoption?

I can’t help but agree with Dan on this one!! I know it’s completely unrealistic to have nothing in the house before the baby arrives, but it really does seem like such a jinx. Of course, the “baby stuff” not being in the house will not mean that you will absolutely have a live birth, but I can’t help but wonder a bit. Also riding on this one is the fact that I know someone in real life that lost her twins at 8 months. I can’t imagine the pain that she must have felt looking at a finished nursery ready for her baby to come home alive in just a few more days/weeks.

As for us, I don’t see any furniture or other items being purchased until at least 7 months. I definitely won’t have a shower as it’s not a tradition in my family. One thing that I will admit (because it’s part of the question!) is that The C and I have already visited some big-name websites that carry baby paraphernalia. Certainly looking at onesies can’t kill our baby, can it?

What do you think DJ will think when he reads this book down the line?

I love that someone asked this!! It crossed my mind constantly while reading the book. I think that DJ is one lucky dude that seems to have 2 awesome dads, and he is so fortunate that one of them is so eloquent that he will have his whole birth story and adoption story down in writing. How many kids will get that?

All that being said, I hope he doesn’t lay his hands on it till he’s 20. I can only imagine that it’s gonna be hard for the kid to read all about his dads’ first encounter in the bathroom, as well as a number of other things that kids generally don’t want to think about their parents doing!!

Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/. You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Love, and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldman (with author particpation!).

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


I have been all over the place since yesterday morning. The line on the HPT was so faint that The C and I both were'nt even sure if it was there. We both looked, afraid to say anything, lest the one thought the other was coo-coo. Of course, we both saw, so it did exist. But an hour later when I went to look it was gone. I tried to keep it together. I don't even know how I made it to this morning.

We splurged last night on a box of 2 tests-premuim brand. I was so stressed at 5 this morning, I had worked myself into a headache by 5.30. So I got up and peed. On a stick. Let us examine:

Umm... line definately there. Totally frickin unbelievable. The relief, oh the relief. But also: terrifying. I mean, yes, it's exciting. Like an out of body experience. Like this isn't really happening to ME. I don't get positive tests. I never have.

But obviously this is me. I called my clinic (where I had to ask for a betas, they wouldn't necessarily do one, but I needed something quantitative, you know), and went in this aft for the blood test. Beta at 13dpo is 172. A strong number for a single pregnancy, or possibly twins, said the nurse. Just wow. It's real, and I don't know what to say.

Never mind going through labour and actually being a mother. I am scared shitless of being and staying pregnant. What do I do now?

Tuesday, July 10, 2007


That Ms. C, thinking (incorrectly*) that this morning was 13dpo, laid her urine upon a stick at dawn's first light.

And lo! A contol line appeared, followed by another in the form of a cross.

"A sign!" thought she, even though she was Jewish!

It was true that it was faint in colour, almost barely there. Her husband remarked that perhaps it could be due to the asparagus consumed last night. But surely not, for the accompanying instructions said nothing about vegetables.

*I realized about 2 hours later that it's actually 12dpo, which could explain the faintness. Note to self: learn to count.