Not Without My Daughter

We have a wedding to go to in April. Brian is in it. So we have to go.

Why am I making it sound like a bad thing? Because it will be my first night away from Leah. Or first two nights. That part is up to me. Whether it's one night or two. 

The wedding is only a little over an hour away, but it's an evening wedding at a vineyard. So driving home just seems silly. The rehearsal dinner is up there the night before, next day is the wedding, and of course brunch the day after. 

My choice is that Brian goes up Friday, for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Stays at the hotel that night alone. And I come up early Saturday, leave Sunday late morning. OR we both go up Friday and come home Sunday Afternoon.

A weekend away? With my husband? Sounds pretty fricken great. 

Now you know what I'm going to say; I don't want to leave Leah. 

I would not have planned a weekend getaway for us. 

Not yet. 

But the time with him sounds lovely. And I'll be honest, occasionally I miss the me-time. Don't mistake my incomparable gratitude and love for my daughter. But sometimes? When I leave her with Brian to run to an errand, I get in the car and blast my stereo, and it feels so good to have that little piece of time to myself, even for just a half hour or so. I know this is normal.  I know that a weekend away with my husband is a good thing. That it will be good for us. And I know I will rcover from being away from her. 

And Leah will be fine. I know this. We'll have Brian's mom stay at the house with her. I know we could bring my MIL up there, and get a room for her too. But it sounds more stressful. Taking her up there, she'll be all out of her element, and then it'll be much harder on all of us than it would to just keep her at home; in her own environment. 

This is great problem to have, I KNOW. And most certainly not the end of the world.

In theory, I want to go up for the whole weekend. And while yes, Brian will be busy with the wedding in part. It'll be nice to have some extra time alone with him. And I know I of course, will not regret it. I just haven't been away from her for more than 9 hours and I'm struggling with the thought of 48.

What did you do the first time you let your baby???

It's Not You, It's Me.

And just like in real life breakup's, that means it's actually you. 

Meaning Leah. 

Still with me? 

K. 

Every time I start to think about researching which formula to start her on, I feel like I'm breaking up with her. I get this heaviness in my chest reminiscent of my late-teen dating era. And then I suddenly remember what having my nipple slammed in a drawer feels like. Except the drawer has two teeny tiny razor sharp baby teeth and a cute hiney. But still, I go back and forth. The day that I published my last post was the day after a really bad nursing day. And then miraculously the day I posted it was almost perfect. Like old times. Wanna know what I did differently? Not a damn thing. Then yesterday was horrible again. Horrible. Bitten every single session. I swear by the skin left on my right nipple that I watched her every move. And there is no way I could have prevented any of them. otherwiseIfuckingwouldhave,right?!. Most were caused by distractions that I had no control over, nor did I see coming. The only sessions that seem to go smoothly are in the morning. Because she is half asleep and starving.

Last night I slept terribly. I was haunted by dreams of formula. There were apparently three cans of formula in Leah's closet, and I HAD to choose the right one. But I couldn't get in there because she was asleep. But I had to choose one already. But she was asleep. And then it was 5 am and I was wide awake.... 

Please understand my trepidation with Formula is not entirely about her health, or possible nutritional variances. I know she will be just fine with formula. This is not about milk. It's about nursing. I loved nursing her and I am grateful to have been able to do it at all. Because I personally know several women who weren't able to for various reasons - inadequate supply, severely inverted nipples, medication. Believe it or not, I have a friend who was on a walk with her husband and her two month old, and she was attacked by a raccoon. (around dusk) Then had to get a rabies shot, which meant no more nursing... Crazy right?  

Every time I think I have made peace with one direction or the other, something changes my mind. Nursing her first thing in the morning goes smoothly, and I think: Well maybe I can just nurse in the morning and pump the rest of the time. Then I think, damn pumping takes up a lot of time and I have no qualms with paying for convenience not to mention pain free nipples. And I have to be honest there are a few selfish reasons floating in the back of my head. One, I could eat dairy again. GOD I MISS DAIRY. Two, I could go back to my REAL bra's. Since Junior High I have bounced between a 34DD,and a 36F. So nursing bra's fundamentally lack the fortitude - if you will - to keep my girls up where they should be. I am really looking forward to getting them into my Le Mystere's and back into the correct Hemisphere. And for the record, breastfeeding didn't wreck them. Being a 34DD before the age of 16 did. Perky went buh-bye a LONG time ago. I digress. 

Then switching to formula means money I didn't count on spending (though we can afford it), and also? I'll start getting my period... I haven't had anything since postpartum. 

Anyhoo, I want to thank all of you for your wonderful comments. And especially the wonderful ladies over at PAIL for featuring my post and sending extra support my way. It was super validating to hear your stories, and to remind me that I have to let go of the guilt. HAVE TO. Really, your comments meant a lot, and I hope to get over to your blogs soon!

To Be Continued....

A Tale of Two Tata's

I'm starting to rethink how long I will Breastfeed Leah. Which simultaneously makes me want to jump off a bridge. Because I feel like a quitter and a failure. While I know that’s technically not true I can’t help but reflect on how significantly being able to physically provide milk for my daughter effects my sense of self-worth. It's hard to quantify the amount of pride I feel from filling a little storage bag to the brim with wholesome milk that I know is for her.  I look upon my stash of frozen bags of milk as though they were bars of gold. Not to mention how very much I love snuggling and being so close to her. Watching her suckle while her eyes slowly close.  It makes me fall more and more in love with her.

Last weekend I met with a Lactation Consultant for the blister on my right nipple that just wouldn’t heal. Not only was there pain from the blister, but it started to hurt even when I wasn’t nursing. It was sore and throbbing, and would stay hard all the time. And it was so very painful. Then I started to suspect suspect thrush. And it got to the point where I was pumping every feeding instead of just nursing her. 

The lactation consultant was very helpful, she watched Leah nurse and immediately saw the problem. Aside from Leah being incredibly easily distracted (which is very common at this age), she's been doing this thing where she pulls her neck back then pushes against me with her hands and legs at the same time. Which results in a shallow latch. Which causes in a blister. Which leads to a clogged duct. And this has been going on WEEKLY since she was about six months. So for the last three months straight I have been dealing with blisters that would develop only days after the last one healed. And now? Well now she has teeth. And I've been bitten several times. I've read up on how to handle biting, but it's hard to react in a controlled manner when you're caught off guard and then bitten on an already very tender spot. This is the suggestion: "If baby bites, it can be very effective to calmly remove baby from the breast and say nothing (or perhaps make a calm comment like “oh? don’t want to nurse right now?”), then end the nursing session for a bit."  Umm, my reaction is no where near as graceful. It's typically a yelp or gasp and it takes everything I have to remember not to pull away without breaking her latch first. There are behaviors to look for that typically happen before a bite, and sweet Jesus, can I tell you I look for them. But it happens anyway. Usually before my letdown when she seems vaguely annoyed by how much more work nursing is compared to how easy the flow is with her sippy cup. She can pound five ounces of milk from her sippy cup in like two and a half minutes... 

The lactation consultant gave me similar advice for bitting but said the pushing away is a lot harder to break, and isn't always something that can be corrected.  I love nursing her so much, and had truthfully planned to nurse until about 18 months. But it's just so fricken painful and pumping all the time is exhausting. And inconvenient. 

I was able to get a prescription for APNO, which is All Purpose Nipple Ointment. It has components that help heal wounds, and an anti-fungal to help prevent yeast issues (thrush). Because when you have a wound you are much more susceptible to thrush, especially when you are wearing a bra all day and even one at night - warm, dark, moist places and all. The APNO has made a huge difference, and while I am not completely healed, I am MUCH more comfortable. And I am nursing her again, but also pumping. Though my supply has dropped a bit.  I'm just feeling so conflicted. Because I want to keep nursing, so much. I really do love it. But the physical pain and frustration of her behaviors just feel like they are becoming too much to bear. And I don't want to be frustrated with her... And I have to wonder if my want for this connection (which isn't really there much anymore) is truly only torturing us both.  

Man, I did not see this coming. 

The One Where I'm All Over the Place

I spent the last two days in bed. Watching the heinous excuse for entertainment that is daytime television. Not to mention two movies that equal four hours and fifty-two minutes of my life that I'll never get back (Valentine's Day and Sex and the City 2). AWFUL movies, in case you were wondering...

The two days in bed were brought to me by a hellacious cold, courtesy of a co-worker. I can't completely fault her though, I seem to get sick whenever anyone around me has something. (Elevated Natural Killer Cells, MY. ASS.) Please don't correct me if I'm way off base on the NKC thing - it was a joke and I'm still entirely too foggy to reply with much more than a hand gesture, which you'll obviously never see.. So let's save each other both some effort, yes?

So at the very least I was able to cross a few things off my list. I got the 'Clean bill of health" (ironically) from my GP, along with a copy of my last Pap Smear results. And sent them over to my Nurse Coordinator at Dr.3's office. Whom by the way, is not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, I'm sorry to say. But more on her later.

Speaking of Christmas tree's, we still haven't decided whether or not we're going to get one this year. (Nice segue, huh? Well that's how my cloudy little brain works while stifled by an illness- get used to it.) We've put lights up on the house and a few decorations on this inside but I still haven't come to a conclusion about a tree... We've always been hardcore Christmas fans, and if someone told me that one year we'd decide not to get one, I'd have driven off the closest bridge embankment without a second thought. But about this time last year I had begun my descent in to the sixth circle of infertile hell, and could not for the life of me find a single reason to celebrate. This year I'm no where near that state of mind, I'm listening to Christmas music regularly (not crying on the way home from work every night allows time for radio play) But I still don't feel 100% there. Brian says it's up to me, that if I want a tree he'll be on board, but I just don't know. Part of me thinks that it's a good idea just to get one, in the same way that it's important to listen to upbeat music when you're down instead of indulging the sadness by listening to the melancholy stuff. Which I'll totally admit was not my Standard Operating Procedure in the past - I have to thank cgd for finally getting me to stop that)

Will I regret getting a tree? Probably not. I guess the side of me that's holding out is the side that feels like it wants to put certain things on hold until there is a baby G (or two) to celebrate with... All the while I know it's not okay to put your entire life on hold and allow the infertility to swallow up yet another aspect of our lives. Still I'd be kidding myself if I said that we hadn't been 95% devoured by infertility anyway, because just like raising children becomes a main focus in your life: not having them, as well as the journey to get them, requires the same amount of attention. Would you agree?

Disturbing The Peace

Oh gawd, she's back. The whiny, and seemingly indecisive side of me that Infertility has capitalized on. And I'd love nothing more than to punch her square in the jaw.

I'm okay. But I think it's fair to say that last week was rough. I know that the three crappy diagnoses I've gotten in the last two weeks are not the end of the world. The hardest part for me was really that we've gone so long thinking that MFI was the only hurdle we had to jump. So hearing now that there are three significantly crappy issues on my side that could hold us back was pretty much the infertile equivalent of walking in on your parents. You turn away, alarmed, disillusioned, and in overall shock.

One more thing that sucks is that treatments could end up costing close to another 5k - worst case scenario. Which is pretty much infertility's way of pissing on the ashes that once was my retirement plan.

Now I need to clear a few things up. I'm sticking with Dr.3. I like Dr.3 (I'd say love, but we're still basically courting since I've only seen him in person once - and well, he hasn't gotten me pregnant yet - Hmm if you didn't know I was talking about IVF that statement could be misleading). AnyWAY, I believe in Dr.3. But I think it's my responsibility as a patient to question different and inconclusively proven treatments. While I'm not 100% sold on the immunological theories, my gut is telling me to go with it. Or maybe it's my uterus, since it's got a better view as to why SIX iui's failed...

Man, after taking two thirds of this year off, and away from treatments I've forgotten how truly overwhelming and consuming it is. It's like this whole other component in my marriage - it's like a second fucking job, even. Gah, I'm sort of tired of it already.

Cheese and Crackers, folks - NINE posts in one month. Are you guys sick of me yet, or what?

The Root of All Evil?

No, I'm not talking about Paris Hilton. I'm talking about money, you know that thing that makes the world go 'round and heiress celebutante's videotape themselves having mindless, meaningless sex while they make an extraordinarily bad role model to underage girls who idolize them? Yes, that. I hate money. And Paris Hilton in case you didn't catch on. Dumb bitch has killer thighs though.

I digress.

I had a good session with my therapist last night. We talked a lot about money. What role it plays in our lives, and how it means something very different to everyone. What we determined is that to me; it means security. If there's money in the bank- I feel safe. I know that if something terrible were to happen, financially I would be somewhat prepared. I am a saver. Or as Brian would call it "A tightfisted Biyatch". Brian and I pool our money, there is one bank account for the two of us, and I'm really, really careful with it. We worked long and hard to get out of debt that we had accrued when we were young and stupid and didn't have a mortgage payment or even rent for that matter. But then we got married and pulled our shit together and before we bought our house we lived with my dad for 10 (very fucking long) months so that we could bank roll some dough and pay off some debt. And believe me that moving in with my dad was a HUGE sacrifice for us. I love the guy to pieces but moving back in with a parent after you're married is not exactly conducive to newlywed status.

Anyway, speaking of my dad... Money was pretty tight growing up. We lived in a nice neighborhood, but had the ugliest, and least kept house on the block. (Teresa, you can attest to that.) I think that's partially because my dad hated yard work, but mostly because what little free time and money he did have, wasn't going to be spent sweating over a flower bed just to keep up with the neighbors. And as much as I hated the weeds peering out from under the redrock in our front yard, I sort of respect that. Money didn't have much significance in our lives, and maybe that was because we didn't have any. But I never really felt like we went without either. I just knew that money was spent carefully and tucked away for important things. (Which might explain why I went a little Catholic-School-Girl on my first credit card) I earned every penny my dad ever gave me, no allowance, I had to do chores above and beyond my regular duties. Which was fine. I definitely learned the value of a dollar, and the sweet, sweet reward that came from biking my ass to the Baskin-Robins. (I have always been a whore for ice cream.)

But money came easier to me then, and not having any didn't matter like it does now. I don't mean to cry poor. We're not poor. But we do live frugally, and every penny counts. And each penny means more to me then just the numbers on a bank statement, or as of late a medical bill and credit card statement.

One of the biggest problems I have with IVF is what a huge financial risk it is. It's actually terrifying for me. Could I get the money together in a month from various family members? Yes. Would doing so go against every manor of my belief system and decimate my pride? Yes. But is a baby worth going outside of my comfort zone? HELL YES.

As evidence of my childhood, I pretty much live by the: "if you don't have the money for it, you go without". But what I discovered tonight is that that rule just shouldn't apply to having a family. I hate to think that finances has been holding us back through all of this. Not just because of a few missing zero's in our bank account, but because I haven't been able to get out of my comfort zone. To risk something I have substantial control over... I can give you reasons all fucking day long as to why we should do one treatment over the other, but I need to stop rationalizing everything. I need to find out what my heart wants.

Why is that so damn hard?

I'm sure all you number crunchers out there are wondering why I'm talking about getting the money from family as opposed saving it ourselves, when I claim to be such a penny pinching money hoarder. The problem is time. While I don't need to make a decision this month, I can't fathom waiting more than a year to move forward with another treatment. You might as well reserve my straight jacket and padded cell now, cause it wouldn't be long before what's left of my sanity jumped ship. And it's not as if we'd be getting a free ride, they would be loans that we'd most definitely pay back. God knows how long it's going to take, but we would. And while we would do it in an instant, we can't refi our house. Brian is a new small business owner and we wouldn't be able to prove his income yet.

I guess the moral to my story is that money sucks when you don't have it. And I hate that I given it so much power in our decision making process. I used to say that I couldn't handle shelling out all this money that ended up in another failed cycle. It would be so crappy to pay of debt that was all for nothing. But when I look back at three of the six dIUI's that ended up on my credit card. I don't regret them. Not one bit. Because I genuinely believed each one was going to work. The payments suck on paper, but I'm not resentful about them. Because I went against every part of my logic and followed my heart.

In my last post I talked about how my decision between dIUI and IVF with Brian changes on a daily basis, well today it's IVF.

Eventually

Thank you all for your comments on my last post. We did end up making it to our friends house, and we did give them the Sharks stuff. I wish I could say it was because I found a new source of inner strength, but the truth is I really hated the idea of putting it off any longer. I'd been dreading this visit for months now, and the thought of it looming over my head for even longer seemed a worse consequence than suffering for a single hour. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but it still sucked ass. Seeing the baby wasn't too bad (I remembered I actually like babies) it was watching the blissful grandparents and great grandparents shine over the newest family member. Just the thought of our grandparents not being around to meet our child(ren) breaks my heart. And in a way I feel like we've failed them. Seeing my friend (the daddy) all oowey gooey over his daughter was rough too. I don't blame him though, I'm sure Brian will be the same way. (SOMEDAY) It's just hard because this should have been us- two years ago.

............................................

We still haven't made any progress with making a decision about our next step. My opinion changes on a daily and sometimes hourly basis, but I'm doing my best not to burden Brian with each of my newest conclusions. God knows he's put up with enough of my crazy already.

The only good news is that I don't feel pressured by time or the pure ache to be cycling/doing SOMETHING. I am somewhat content with taking as much time as we need to figure out what is the best option. Which helps me find peace when I start to get too deep in to contemplation.

......................

Several weeks ago I was reading a post by S at Misconceptions about Conception, when she wrote about a necklace she had purchased from Et.sy. When I saw it I immediately fell in love with idea of what it represented. And at the time was in dire need for a little retail therapy...

I love this necklace. And I wear it often. I feel like everyone still in the battle should have one to wear proudly. To rub between their fingers when they walk past a pregnant woman, or visit new parents in the hospital, or dodge the "when are you having kids?" conversation.

I wish I could give one to all of you. But can't. I can only give out one. When I made this purchase before my last failed cycle I decided that I would buy two. I thought that if I finally got my BFP that month I could share this with you to say: "See? It will happen, Eventually". And if I didn't get my BFP, I knew I could still hold my head up knowing that so many of you have dealt with failures, and that you can still say: "It will happen, Eventually".

I did not get any sponsorship for this. It's just something I really want to do. I tried to come up with some really creative ways to pick a winner, but the truth is I'm just not that creative. So I'm going to do a good old fashioned drawing.

To enter, please email me with your Name and Blog address at bloggyme027 at gmail dot com. If you are the winner I will contact you via email before I post anything here, to make sure that you're okay with me posting about you. My only request is that participants are ones who are still battling IF. Please make sure your entries are in by February 15th. I will pick a winner and post about it shortly thereafter.

Good luck!