SILLY SILLY GIRL

I did something just now that I have only done one other time in my entire life. That other time I confirmed that I was pregnant.

This time, not so lucky.

It wasn't like I was cycling. If I was, trust me-you'd be hearing about it.

But.

My boobs were hurting like crazy, and a few days ago I had the teeniest bit of spotting. So I thought: maybe...?

I really should know my body better. After all these years. Seriously.

So. Of course the test was negative. I sat on the toilet feeling a bit foolish. With a smattering of other self deprecating words thrown in for good measure.

It's not a TOTAL waste. I have prescription of Provera to take, which I will start while on vacation (we're off to Portugal for 2 weeks), so that I can cycle when I get home. My doctor highly recommends taking a pee-stick test before starting the pills, so now that's done. Won't have to do it while on vacation and staying at the in-laws. So at least one bird is killed with that plastic stick...

Will be back soon. Hopefully relaxed and ready to go.

ANGRY

I'm just so... ANGRY. Frustrated. Mad, annoyed, deflated. And I feel stupid.

Like I really, actually, truly thought that it would work the first time. How ridiculous is that?

I want to blame someone. I need to blame someone. My husband, my doctor, myself. Other pregnant women. (How horrible a person does that make me?)

I am in a foul mood. This just isn't fair.

More blood today, and by my calculations we can't cycle again until September. I don't know how I'm going to make it that long. I know i will make it, and then we will have another failed cycle. And another, and... It's just shit not knowing when, and how long I will need to endure, how long I will have to keep up this brave face and act like "nothing" is going on.

Treatments are such a mindfuck. I can't take it. But I can't not take it.

THE END?

It's 11dpo, and this morning when I went to the bathroom there was a slight orange-y tinge when I wiped.

Too late for implantation, too early for my period.

At least I'll save money on an hpt- that's an upside, isn't it.

Just... ugh. I really thought this had worked. I'm so naive.

Sadly, I liked this bit of naivete (why don't my accents work??). I just fear becoming that jaded, cynical, angry infertile again. Which I never stopped being, per se, but I do realize that the degree is starting to meter is starting to measure higher again.

A mom friend (a woman I really am only friends with because our kids play together), who swore up and down to me that she was done with her one and only because her husband is such an ass, told me she bought a "baby making monitor" (ovulation monitor) and some lingerie. I'm bitter about this for so many reasons. So many. Just thinking about it now is making my blood boil.

I really don't want to be this way. It's not nice to begrudge people their babies.

8dpo

Or maybe it's 9. I can't be sure.

I'm obsessing and somewhat too busy to think about it all at the same time. The wait has been a strange one this go-around.

All I keep thinking about is how much my boobs were freaking killing me during the 2ww with my pregnancy. It was most painful to even put on my bra. I don't remember what day it was the the hurt started. Certainly not this early? Because there is no pain today, let me tell you.

The only difference between the cycle I got pregnant and this one is that I took progesterone last time. The RE didn't offer it this time and when I called the clinic post IUI because I suddenly remembered that I didn't have a prescription, the nurse called me back and said we would do without this time. I don't quite get why- if it was part of the cycle that worked last time- but I can't even go there now. Certainly if this cycle is a bust it will be one of the first things that I bring up for the next one.

And I know that progesterone can mimic early pregnancy signs, so last time I tried really hard to discount them- I didn't want to hope too much.

This time... well I wouldn't say that I feel nothing going on. But I also recognize that it might be all psychosomatic. This is what is going on: I have odd joint pain in my ankles, and increased carpel tunnel tingly-ness in my hand. And sporadic mild cramp-like-something-is-going on-in there feelings. And increased runny nose (which I had last time- my nose ran like a tap the whole first trimester.) And headaches. And I'm tired.

All this can be attributed to other stuff most definitely.

I will probably test on Sunday (which is 12dpo- I think), so that I have the day to lie in bed and mope if need be while my husband is home to support me and take care of Sacha.

I hope. And sit. And wait.

I have thoughts that I can't put into words. Dealing with IF this time around isn't easier per se. Even saying "this time around" doesn't seem right, because I never stopped "dealing" with it. I always knew that we would have to revisit the clinic when we wanted another baby.

Just because I have my Sacha doesn't make me want another baby any less. And people who say "well you already have one, so if this doesn't work out, at least you have him" are missing the mark.

Most of my life I pictured myself with two children. (Except for the 10 month or so following Sacha's birth- at that time I couldn't, beyond my wildest imagination, understand how people ever were able to care for more than one child!) So my dream is my dream, and I still want it.

I don't think that my feelings are unusual. Sacha is my "proze" for the child that I wanted first. I still long for my other little one.

Yesterday we had our IUI. Unlike last time it didn't hurt at all. Mostly I was distracted because Sacha was with us. And he was babbling on about mommy getting her engine fixed. I'm still not sure how he came up with that idea on his own. But he wasn't too far off the mark. Smart little boy.

So now... the two week wait. The time will pass- it always does. I hope and I want. But try not to hope too much or want too much. Lest I jinx it.

CYCLE LA DE DA

This cycle has been a whirlwind, and after my great weekend away (yay!), I had a week from hell.

Tuesday's u/s showed a nice thin lining (thank god... it meant all that heavy bleeding was doing something), and a follicle at 11mm. Good news.

Thursday the leading follie was at 15.5, and there were 1 or 2 trailing around 11. The doctor decided that I should keep up with the 60IU of Puregon, and trigger on Sunday with an IUI on Tuesday (cd14). I was surprised that he didn't want to see me (or my ovaries!) again before the trigger, but when I asked him he seemed confident that the follicle would grow well to 19mm or so. I'm not sure if he is "rushing" it because Wednesday is the last day the clinic is open before it closes for a 3 week holiday. I'm trying to put that though out of my head and have confidence in this doctor.

The main reason for my questioning is that we did the IUI when I got pregnant with Sacha on cd17. But bodies can be different, follicles can grow at different rates, etc, etc. It's so hard to not over think this whole thing!

What does seem to be different this time is that I can really feel my ovaries. They seem heavy and full. I don't remember this from 3+years ago, and don't know if this is a good sign or not.

A few other things are different too. Like how I have had to bring Sacha with me to a couple of appointments. It's just been impossible to leave him with someone. The staff at the clinic is great, and they seem to love all the kids that come in, but I can't help but think about the women and the couples who are there who are still trying so hard. I have such a mixture of thankfulness (is that a word?!) and guilt. I want to let everyone know that this doctor helped us get our precious little boy.

Also, the focus that I find that I have put on this cycle seems different. This time I have Sacha who takes up so much of my time and energy. Most of what I do during the days is focused on him- food, naps, playing... I find I don't have the same brain power to devote to thinking about what's going on and what can be. (Except when I do have time to sit and think: then I over analyse and over think.)

All this is not to say that I want a baby any less now than I did the first time around. But just like I couldn't imagine what life dealing with IF was like before we started TTC, there is no way that I could have anticipated what secondary IF would be like. Of course, this is what I am feeling on the eve where I am triggering for my first cycle. If I have to do more- who knows what I will be feeling then...

On a separate note, we have had a great day spending father's day as a family of 3. My husband I have been remarking to each other all day that it's all thanks to our little guy that we are so lucky to be able to celebrate this day. This day, and every day. Really- thank god. And our doctor.

WEEKEND AWAY

I'm still bleeding like crazy. And it hurts! Ohhh the craaaamps. But, I'll try not to complain because....

I'm off today for the weekend with my girlfriend!

"Weekend" may be taking it a bit far, but we are leaving in an hour and won't be back until Sunday night. So it's one night, but pretty much 2 full days. We are going to have fun!

(If I can stop moaning about my period!)

This is the second time since Sacha came into our lives that I am having complete time off. I can't wait. We are going to drive a couple of hours away and stay up north for the night. We both get to sleep in a bed alone and we won't have babies waking us up at 6 am.

Pure bliss. Yay!

Gotta go pack...

YUCKIES

Today is cycle day three.

Yup- my period came, maybe just in time, maybe a day late. We never know with my ovaries.

The cycle I conceived I had my IUI on cd16. The first day that my clinic is closed for vacation is my cd16. Let's hope we can see some nice stimming to make it a cd15 insemination. Cuz otherwise we will be doing it the old fashioned way. Which didn't work the 2 times we tried it. Oh, and we will likely be out of town staying at a friend's house on cd 16.

I'm trying not to count my chickens before they hatch. But I can't help it.

In totally disgusting news, though I have had bleeding on and off every couple of months since I stopped breastfeeding, I'm pretty certain it never was a "period" per se. Let me tell you- I am bleeding like a mofo. No freaking joke. I am going throough tampons like... well I don't know what. But I'm using a lot of them. And pads. And ugh- just gross.

Given all that, the wanding this morning was pretty grossitating. I will spare you the details (frankly, it's not something that I need to write more about for posterity either). My heavy bleeding corrolates with a thick lining. The Dr would like to have seen thinner, but he's ok with starting the cycle. Given that I am bleeding so heavily he is confident the lining will thin out. Yuck.

So... our protocol is the same as where we left off: 5mg Femara days 3-7; and 60IU Puregon starting cd 6.

I hope, but I'm trying not to invest too much.

In other news my husband and I had a big fight at the end of dinner. Wow, I am so realizing that he learned nothing from last time we did treatments. Add stress of treatments to the stress of running a family with a toddler, and we have explosive situations happening 'round here. I'm not even sure what to do about it all. With out getting into more detail I am just left with a complete feeling of "he sucks" tonight. Not great considering we are embarking on something "together".

Given all this, I am less excited that I should be. Which is just another "ugh" to add to doday's list of yuckies.

ANNOYANCE

Ya... that's what I thought about the Provera- it would take about a week after my last pill for CD1.

I'm annoyed... withthe RE and with myself.

See, the clinic is closing on the 24th of this month for 3 weeks. But when we met with the RE last week he prescribed the Provera telling me there was "plenty of time" to complete the cycle before then.

Umm.. ok... not so much.

Today is Provera day 7, which means CD1 will likely be nex Thursday or Friday. In the past I have had my IUI on CD 16, which would bring us to... June 26.

And so I'm annoyed with myself for a number of reasons. Firstly for not thinking about the lag time between the last pill and CD1. Second for blindly following the RE's instructions. And third because I was hoping and thinking and what-if-ing.

So now I will get my period for nothing. Really. I induced a period for no reason.

And we can't cycle again until September.

Stupid me.

(Ok, maybe-maybe-my period will come on, say, Tuesday. But I'm already kicking myself that I am allowing myself to think that.)

PROVERA

The RE prescribed 7 days of P.rovera. I have take 5 pills.

But I seem to have forgotten- how many days after I finish the pills should my period come? I would google it, but I'm worried I'll get a whole whack of info that I don't want and don't need.

So... your knowledge is my power today.

Please weigh in! (Thanks!)

DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN

Walking back into the clinic was so surreal. And exciting. And nauseating. And scary.

It's been two days since our appointment with Dr. Who Got Us Pregnant Last Time*. The appointment was fine. Actually it was quick. And pleasant. We decided we would just start with the same protocol that got us pregnant with Sacha. And that we can start any time. We walked out with our blood test requirements, and a prescription for P.rovera.

My husband had his blood drawn right away, and I went back in the morning because I had to have fasting glucose levels taken.

While I am excited that we could start right away, for some reason I didn't expect that it would be so fast. Hence the excited and scary feelings.

The nauseating feeling: well that I got for having to shell out $1200.00 for the labs. Not that I forgot how much this whole process costs... I just put it in a rarely-used corner of my brain for the last 3 years.

Of course the surreal-ness comes from the fact that this rarely-used corner of my brain became active so very instantly. It was like: HELLOINFERTILITYANDYOUR TREATMENTSANDALLTHESTRESSANDUNCERTAINTYTHATYOUBRING.

Look. I never forgot what it felt like last time. But now I truly have to admit how much the feelings faded once I held Sacha in my arms.

And now, only 2 days later I am faced with all the emotions flooding back in full force.

Here's a sample of whats going on inside my head:

Issue 1: Should we jump right into a cycle? Or should we wait? If we don't cycle immediately then we won't have the chance again until September. The clinic is closing for 3 weeks from the end of Jun until mid July, and we can squeeze a cycle in right under the wire. We would have to wait until September otherwise because of vacation plans, and because the due dates of July or August-conceived babies would be undesirable due to my husband's work schedule. Which leads directly to issues 2 and 3...

Issue 2: Already the planning of vacations around treatment and looking at EDD is driving me batty. I mean, people! We haven't even started! And I have spent too much time looking at the pregnancy calculator. I need to be banned from those websites. And also! The fact that I thought: well... if we don't go to Europe (to visit my husband's parents) in August it would be a great time to cycle.

Issue 3: The gall I have to think that I can actually "plan" this pregnancy. I mean, who do I think I am?! A fertile chick? I should be shot for thinking this way. It's only going to lead to more stress and heartbreak, I'm sure.

Issue 4: My period. Since I stopped breastfeeding last August, my period has been wonky at best. I guess the fact that I have even had something that I could call a period is remarkable, but their frequency and length have been crazy. To sum up, I have had my period about 3 or 4 times since last summer, but all of them have lasted about 2 weeks and are on and off. Not a major problem, But... this is kind of what is going on with me right now. Problem: I have to start my P.rovera tonight (if I want to get this cycle in before the clinic closes for the holiday). However: I may actually be starting a period (after days of on and off spotting), which means I don't need to take the P.rovera. The catch: if I wait to see if I am starting my period, I will miss the window to take the P.rovera.

Oy. OY.

It's all this thinking and planning and thinking... It takes so much energy. And it's so circular in nature.

I feel like I'm already up to my eyeballs in this necessary evil.



*Dr. Who Got Us Pregnant Last Time took over our clinic right before we did our cycle where we conceived Sacha. We didn't work with him much, so I never named him (I think). I'm sure a name will come to the fore quickly once we have a couple of appointments.

If you want to know why my clinic brought on a new medical director, you can read about it here.
If you are joining me as a new reader, or want a refresher, you can read about my PCOS here and here.

MY 2 YEAR OLD

While I came back to write about the baby that may be, I thought I would just re-introduce Sacha.

I'm hoping the gods of fertility treatment will also look down and remember what delicious children my husband and I create, and grant us the chance to have another.

So... here is Sacha a 2 years (and a month-ish).

I can't say enough how lucky I am to be a mommy to this little boy. Believe me it's not without it's difficulties, but having this chance to parent is the most amazing thing ever.

ORGANIZING

I have been lurking around and reading all this time. There really is no excuse to not commenting, though. And I feel bad!

Yes, I'm busy, and stressed, and tired, and I have an active toddler to care for day in and day out. Other people seem to have no problem writing and commenting and staying current.

But from now on I'm going to post. I'm going to write and comment and be active.

I'm back because I feel the need to be here, to have a space to share what I am about to embark on in the quest for another baby.

And I miss you guys.

Which brings me to my point (I know... so long in getting there!): My blogroll is woefully out of date! If I don't have you there, or I have an old link for you, please let me know how to find you.

Thanks, friends.

MAKING THE CALL

This morning I looked up the website for the clinic. And I left my browser open with the contact info page up.

Then I took Sacha to preschool, brought him home, fed him lunch and put him down for his nap.

Then I picked up the phone and dialed the number. And made an appointment to see the RE.

Our appointment is set for May 26. Which is three years less 2 weeks from the date we started our cycle that became Sacha.

I am scared and nervous. But also so excited.

I have hope because it has already happened once for us. But I also have so much knowledge and have read about so many peoples' experiences. I so not naive. But in a way I wish I was...

So many what-ifs. It's deja vu.

ADMINISTRATIVE NOTES

My friend Shlomit asked me to post the following:

"Somehow, who he F*** knows how, my entire blog is GONE!!!! GONE!!!!
I finally posted yesterday after two months and as of this afternoon it is gone. Grrrr.
Anyway, would you mind posting on your blog that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth; I'm still here. If I can get up the energy I will start a new blog at http://www.facebook.com/1/ab0da;www.yourestillyoung.blogspot.com "
*the link doesn't seem to work, but that's what she gave me.

That's right from the woman's mouth herself. (You know it has to be, I would never swear with asteriks! ;) )

Around here life has sort of gotten in the way of blogging. Which, post IF, I guess is a good thing. We are doing great, and Sacha is the most delightful little 19 month old. Somehow it doesn't feel right to go on and on here.

But... I also don't feel like I want to close up shot around here yet. I figure I may need this space for IF related issues to come. Like, say, if we um go for a number 2. The issue of which is off the table until the new year, but it isn't completely off my mind. There are so many factors involved with having another child, not the least of which is having to return to the clinic.

So... you are not rid of me yet. Cue ominous music (it IS Halloween and all!)

Please know that even if I don't comment often I AM still reading and thinking about you all.

Oh! Thanks for validating me! Really, I'm only coming back to blog because I love the comments.

Ok- kidding.

Sort of.

Anyways, let's move on to the heart of the matter. The post part of the post, if you will.

Can we play catch-up? Let's! Why don't I first tell you about Sacha in all his almost-sixteen-months glory, and then I'll tell you about me.

All about Sacha in 7 points:

Sleeping: At 11 months or so we did some massive sleep training, which was not for the faint of heart. It has 6 days of hell, but pretty much since then Sacha has slept through the night. Though the guy likes to wake up early- 5 or 5:30 on a regular basis, and 4:30 if he wants us to have a specially good day. He still naps two times a day on good days. Morning naps are an hour and a half to two hours. Afternoon naps range from 20 minutes to an hour and a half (or... not at all). On the days when he doesn't fall asleep in the afternoon I contemplate cutting out the morning nap and re-adjusting his schedule. Maybe soon.

Eating: While Sacha used to eat everything under the sun, it seems that each day there is a food that he decides that he will no longer eat. The foods that he will eat are becoming more limited, and I am having to be more creative in order to get him to eat some veggies. I have made up my mind that once I plan my meal for him, that is what he is getting, and if he doesn't like it, and chooses not to eat most of it, he will just have to wait to until the next meal for food. (Of course i plan meals around what foods are in favour for the time being- I am not that cruel!) I have concluded that he definitely eats when he is hungry, and I am not in danger of having a malnourished or starving child.

Drinking: Can we say hallelujah? Sacha drinks all his milk from a cup, and we have cut out almost all breastfeeding. (There are about 2-3 times a weeks where he just pulls and pulls at my shirt and bra, and I don't have the heart to refuse him. Not that there is much left in the boobs...) The sippy cup was not a hit in our household, and what finally helped make the transition from breast to cup was a specific one with a straw from Playtex (the only one that he will use!) Liquids are still an issue, though, as Sacha drinks very little water, and is not too fond of juice either.

Personality: Sacha is a happy, smiley, giggly guy. Everything makes him laugh. Even when he falls, he laughs. He is easy going and adaptable (traits he certainly did not get from me!), and doesn't complain too much. He plays well on his own, and for extended periods of time, too. And he knows how to make a joke and poke fun- it's hilarious to see him try to communicate this way with us.

Development: Sacha has met his milestones pretty much on a textbook level. He took his first step about 2 weeks after his birthday. But, being the cautious guy that he is he wasn't anywhere near "walking" until 7 or 8 weeks later! While he babbles like a madman and is very expressive, he doesn't use any words yet. I know this is a bit late, but I'm trying not to worry. We speak 2 languages at home, and he is exposed to a third on a regular basis.

Sacha Loves: The park- the slides, swings and sand. Water- both baths and swimming. Giving hugs- to people and to stuffed animals. Riding in his stroller and observing the world. Coming to bed with Mommy and Papa in the morning and sitting on our faces. Unfortunately he also like to bite (but only the people that he loves)- I have tried many things but can't seem to curb the enthusiasm.

Sacha Hates: The grass, getting his hands dirty on the grass, having to walk on the grass. (Funny, he seems to have no problem falling face-first, mouth open into a filthy sandbox!) Umm... he is also not fond of being ignored when he wants to be picked up. (But what kid isn't?!)

Oy- this is longer than I intended! I think that I will post now, and save all the enthralling items about myself for the next post.

I do do do feel bad that my first post back to my IF blog has been all about my baby! It's a hard thing I tell you- I want to tell you all about Sacha, but having been there, in that deep childless despair, I don't feel quite right going on and on about my baby. Over a year later I am still struggling with where this blog would go (and that's pretty much primarily why I didn't post for so long...)

Hence- more about me next time. Promise!

BACK

Ok- I have to end this hiatus sometime or another.

People, I am back.

There is no "real" reason for why I left you for so long (and truthfully I didn't really leave- I have tried so hard to comment and keep in touch), but I promise to never do so again.

Hey... before I go write a long post about what been going on... is there anyone even reading? Please drop me a comment to let me know you're there. You know, give some incentive to come back again.

Oh, all is well here. We are all fine, and Sacha is just being his super duper toddler self. I'll be back in a jiffy with more tales.

BIRTH STORY

I wrote these notes a day or so after we got home from the hospital as a family of 3. I have added to it over the past few days. It was been unbelievable to recall all the details of the day Sacha was born. As I kept writing I remembered more and more. So this is a little long. But I'm glad I finally have it up here.

The tale of labour is long (both in story terms and in terms of time), but I feel that I have to get some details down whole they are still fresh in my mind...

- On Friday I went for my NST and fluid check as planned. Everything was the same as on Tuesday, but my doctor still thought it would be best to deliver sooner rather than later.

- My doctor was in the hospital on Friday and after meeting with her (unscheduled, and right away), she took us by the hand to the birthing centre. We were standing at the nurses’ station in L&D. My doctor told me the following story: A woman at my stage of pregnancy was in the very same situation the previous Friday afternoon. She decided not to be induced that day, but to wait for another NST on Sunday in order to make her decision. When the woman came in on Sunday (and I quote) “her baby was dead”. This was obviously very upsetting to me, and it did the trick. To this day I feel like I was emotionally blackmailed into being induced on the hospital’s schedule.

-We decided to start the induction process with a catheter. It was inserted, and we were sent home until it fell out.

- At home I rested (and did some work), and 3.5 hours later it fell out (meaning I was at 3cm dilation). I called the hospital and was told to return. We got there at 6pm. I called my doula (Rivka) and she told me she would arrive at 11pm, unless she heard otherwise from me (it would be hard to contact her as Shabbat had started and the only means of communication would be me calling and leaving a message that she could hear on her answering machine as I left it.)

- After I was checked (and confirmed at 3cm), I realized I was having fairly regular, but mild contractions on my own. I asked the resident if perhaps I could just see what happens, and she agreed. A whole kerfuffle erupted because I was booked for an induction. One of the nurses (I'm not sure if she was the head nurse or not), came barging in telling me basically that my doctor and I had already put them out because we were requesting an induction heading into the weekend. I will, at some point, write an entire post about this, but this morning I just don't have it in me. (Obviously I didn’t ever write an entire post about this!) I was told I would have to sign all types of forms and legal crap if I now chose not to do as I has discussed with my physician. Needless to say, I chose to start the Pitocin. Man, that was horrible. Again, not another highlight in the story of the birth of my wonderful baby! I shudder at it now… the nurses yelling, be crying, my husband trying to calm me down. The confusion, the emotion, the fear: my baby might die if I don’t do as they say! Oy vey.

- The Pitocin was administered, and elevated appropriately, and my contractions were getting stronger, but bearable. I didn't want to lay down as I knew that perhaps I would be on my back for a long period of time later on. I was happy when my doula and her student arrived at 11, the entire experience changed. I recounted what happened earlier, and she helped me set my mind to continue most positively from here on in.

- Sometime around midnight another check revealed that I was at 4.5cm. A little progress, but not much...

- Encouraged, I laboured on (while The C caught some z's). My doula provided all the support I possibly could have dreamed of and more. There are not enough amazing words for me to say about her and her practices. She helped me through 14 hours of Pitocin-induced, pain-med-free overnight labour before I started crying about the pain.

- I now know that I was experiencing some very severe back labour. My back was raw from all the rubbing. I remember labouring mostly on the birthing ball, which was amazing. I was able to squat and ride out the contractions with my head down, a position that seemed to work for me. My labour through the night was very quiet and calm. The lights were low, there were few interruptions from medical staff, and my music choices were playing in the background keeping my mind busy between contractions. This is still surprising to me today as I am definitely the calm, quiet type. I always pictured my labour to be loud with lots of swearing.

- At 8am, when I was still 5cm dilated I made the choice to call for an epidural. I didn't freak out about this choice. With the help of my doula and The C I felt I was making the best choice for me, the baby and a safe, vaginal delivery.

- At 9am the anaesthetist showed up.
(Up until here is all I ever jotted down about my birth story. The rest of it has been in my head for an entire year. I will attempt to get it out.)

- The anaesthetist was a card. It turns out that we grew up a few streets from each other and were both surprised that we had never met before. He was truly amazing. He kept me occupied talking about my tattoo and the various tattoos that he sees while doing his job. I was scared as shit to be getting the epidural, but I have to give this guy kudos for making it as enjoyable as possible.

- The epidural took well, thank goodness. The best part of this was that I got pain relief but I never entirely lost all feeling in my legs. (Though I certainly couldn’t have gotten up for a walk.) Two things surprised me: how uncomfortable the catheter was and how disgusting it felt when they broke my water. Ew is all I can think of now… sitting in the warm puddle of fluid.

- My doula thought it best that I take this time to rest. She too went home for some sleep, but told me shoe would be back the second I needed her (she lives about a 5 minute walk from the hospital.) Finally I at around 11 I was able to drift off to sleep. Though my sleep was fitful at best, at 2:30pm or so I woke up feeling seriously refreshed. (I laugh now: little did I know that this would be my last good chunk of sleep for weeks and months to come!)

- I don’t remember much about the what happened for the next 2 hours. I know the resident (who I did NOT take a liking too, he was very rough) came to check me and I wasn’t dilated much more… maybe 6cm. It was almost 24 hours and it seemed like nothing was happening.

- The dreaded words went through my head: 'c-section'. When I asked the nurse, she conceded that given what was going one this was a possibility at this point. Not only was nothing happening, it certainly wasn’t going the way that I had hoped. I had wanted a medication-free, monitor-free, tube-free birth. I pretty much knew I could kiss that goodbye when I chose the induction (er, was scared into the induction), but now I was becoming a classic induction case that was going to end in the operating room.

- Still, though, with each contraction I continued my visualization of my cervix opening.

- At around 4pm my doula returned. Have I mentioned that I love her? Have I? We caught up on what was going on, and she assured me that we weren’t at the point of a c-section yet. She would continue to labour with me as long as I needed, and not allow any crazy hospital timing get in my way of a vaginal birth.

- About a half an hour later I started to feel something different. All of a sudden it seemed like something was happening. When I described it to my doula she told me that it seemed like I was getting ready to push. I don’t remember if the doctor came in or if we called her, but I was checked and it was confirmed that in this short time I had dilated completely.

- At the time, I honestly thought it was a miracle. I remember Rivka turning to me and saying 'Well you are going to have tour Shabbat baby after all.'

- The next two hours happened very fast and in slow motion at the same time. There was another woman pushing at this time, and every time she pushed she made these horrible loud moans and screams that echoed terribly down the hallway. It was most awful to listen to knowing that I was going to be pushing in just a few minutes. Also, it seemed to me that she was pushing forever. We found out that this woman was delivering a breech baby vaginally. (Oy vey!) This worked in my favour as it meant that all the nurses, the doctor and the residents were in her room to help or to witness this once in their lifetime opportunity.

- My room was quiet and peaceful, and I was ready to push my baby into the world.

- Again, I surprised myself. I thought I would be a loud, screaming, swearing pusher. Not to sound all froo froo on you, but it was like an aura of serenity passed over me. Each time it came to push I just did what I had to do. Granted there was plenty of grunting going on, but it was calm grunting!

- After the first few pushes (lasting about half an hour), I realized this was going to take a while. My labour was took it’s sweet time, and so it seemed it was going to be with the pushing. I really felt like I needed to know how long the pushing was going to take. Of course no one could tell me! But my husband was on one side and my doula on the other, and I felt like I had all the support in the world. One push at a time, Rivka told me.

- Between each contraction I tried to recoup my energy. I was hot and itchy beyond belief. I can still picture myself lying on the bed sweaty and naked and scratching, scratching, scratching at my chest. About an hour into pushing we heard the breech baby in the other room being born. (If there was one thing that I would recommend to the hospital- aside from better bedside manner from the nurse who I had to deal with when I came in- it would be thicker, more sound-proof walls. There is nothing as unnerving as hearing another woman labouring knowing that that will be you in the next hour or so!)

- At last, after an hour and a bit of pushing, the baby’s head was starting to crown. I swear I have never seen my husband so excited. He kept going down to the foot of the bed to have a look! There were mirrors on the ceiling in my room so that I could see what was going on, but I was too scared to look. There are times that I wish that I had, but I know that I could have, I would have at the time. If there is another baby, I certainly will think about looking at this miraculous moment!

- And so, at an hour and a half of pushing, my baby was ready to be born. As everyone and his uncle was still attending to the breech baby, there had been no one in my room for over an hour, and no one there to catch the baby! (A doula isn’t legally allowed to catch a baby.) Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled to be able to have my calm surroundings without doctors and nurses rushing in and out and shoving their hands hither and nither. But, it was time for a doctor now…

- Rivka instructed my husband to press the button to call the nurse. (Quite calmly, I recall, though now I know that she was literally getting into position to catch this baby. He took his time in coming, but was ready in an instant! I do remember her taking out some rubber gloves.) Which button did my husband push? The code blue button. Boy did that get people into our room fast. Of course within a second everyone realized there was no code, but they did realize there was a baby about to be born! There wasn’t even time to get the bed prepped and just a second to put the plastic stuff that they put out.

- Then, in one push, out came my son’s head. And one more push, the rest of his body.

- Exactly as I wanted, my baby was placed immediately on my chest. He was a little bloody, but surprisingly clean. He was crying a little high pitched cry, a little annoyed to be removed from his warm and cozy womb.

- His crying didn’t last long, though. He had better things to attend to. He had people to see, places to look at. He was so alert, lifting his head and peering around at everything with his huge eyes. This guy was certainly ready to meet the world.

- Surprisingly, I didn’t cry. I just kept looking at the baby in my arms and saying “Oh my god, oh my god”. I think I was in disbelief that I had actually gotten pregnant, carried my baby safely to term (and 11 days past!), and made it through labour. And there I was, holding my baby.

- My husband kept kissing me, and stroking the baby. He was in complete awe of the little creature.

- We tried putting the baby to the breast, and we had a little success. He was definitely rooting, looking around for his source of nourishment.

- All the while, I was instructed to push to deliver the placenta, and I was being stitched up in the two places that I tore on my labia (thank goodness there was no episiotomy, I kept thinking). One thing I remember vividly is how much the injection of local aesthetic that they had to use to numb we for the stitches hurt.

- The hour or so after the birth was such a flurry of activity. When the cord stopped pulsing, my husband cut it. The baby was weighed, cleaned up, and checked out. He was pronounced perfect. All the while I was being cleaned and I somehow got into a hospital gown.

- The baby was put back in my arms, and my parents and grandmother came in to see us. I look back at those pictures now I think I look amazingly good for someone who just went through 26 hours of labour.

- A few minutes later I was rolled into the post-partum ward. It was about 9 o’clock at night. If I thought I had had sleepless night before the baby was born…

- The rest, as they say, is history.

ONE YEAR

Happy birthday my sweet, precious boy. Thank you for gving me the opportunity to be a mommy, to be your mommy. I love you with all my heart.

{Administrative note: you may have noticed that the colurs changed around here. Hope you like it. But, while making the changes it seems that my current blogroll got replaced with an old old version of itself. I am afraid that I won't recapture all your blogs. So... if you are reading and your blog isn't on my list (a list that will be rearranged into categories in the coming days), please, please leave me a comment so that I don't forget to include you! Thanks.}

THIS TIME LAST YEAR

365 days ago I was in the hospital. I was kind of in labour.

I told the nurse that this baby was going to be born by 11pm, the end of her shift.

HA! I had that much faith in my body.

Sacha was born on this nurse's shift... 24 hours later.

I can hardly believe that tomorrow it will be an entire year since I met my little prince.

Birthday post, pictures, and if you guys are really nice, maybe even the birth story, to come.

Happy 1st, my little pumpkin.