How Bizarre

We have baby stuff. 

In OUR house. 

And not just tucked away in one room, it’s like, spread out all over. The nursery is being painted, so everything was pulled out. The crib is in the office, along with the haul of gifts we received at my family shower this past weekend. Stuffed animals are on our dresser, because Parker thinks they are his, and would love nothing more than to massacre them in 6.4 seconds flat. Items to be returned to BRU are in the living room. Handmade gifts that will be returned so that a name can be embroidered on them are sitting on the kitchen table. Larger items like the car seat and bouncy chair and swing, are in the garage. So everywhere I look there is something for this baby growing inside of me. And it’s bizarre. 

The shower went remarkably well, I’d say. As much as I imagined that day to basically be my worst nightmare, my MIL’s friends did a very good job of orchestrating every detail so that the guests weren’t held hostage all day.


 Appetizers, Chatting, Lunch, Gifts, Cake, DONE. 


While it felt like several hours due to how much attention I was receiving, in actuality it ran about three. Pretty good for 37 women in one room.  We got a lot of wonderful gifts, and I am overwhelmed by everyone’s thoughtfulness and generosity. We had quite the car load to take home. And now we actually have enough clothing to do a full load of laundry! Up until Sunday I’d only had four onesies put aside. 

CAKE!

Me.

Our first Christmas outfit!

A super snuggly little one piece suit, perfect for winter.

A super soft blanket to remind me that we are having a baby. 




I hit the 32 week mark last weekend, and emotionally it gave me a little breathing room. I do realize that if our little one came today they would probably be in the NICU for several weeks, but just the knowledge that the survival rate is SO much higher at this point, brings me a bit of peace. And it's really truly finally starting to set in with me that we are actually going to have a baby. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY.


Pregnancy wise, things continue to go well. The bladder infection seems to have cleared up, and while I'm still up at least twice a night to pee, it's better than four times a night. Although the other downside to the antibiotics is that they gave me a yeast infection. I guess part of what they did is killed some of the other necessary bacteria in there, resulting in a YI. Boo. 


My belly is definitely getting A LOT bigger. I've started to bump into more things with it, as well as spilling on it. The baby is getting more and more active and stronger each day. Last night Brian and I were laying in bed watching TV when all of a sudden the baby started going ape. And because I was laying on my side, my belly was really soft so the kicks looked and felt even stonger. The look on Brian's face made me fall in love with him and the baby even more. It was just priceless. Then we watched my belly moving for a little while. It's indescribable each time I re-comprehend (I make up words) that there is a little person in there. 


I definitely feel like I'm slowing down. Which at 8 months, I suppose, should be the case... While I miss being able to kick ass, I am still loving every second of what makes me so tired and lazy. And I'm just so very grateful. 

What Day Is It???

Holy Schinikies it’s almost November. Sorry for the lack of updating, it’s been an eventful few weeks for me. Swamped at work, various social obligations, a bladder infection, my anniversary, my very first shower will be this weekend AND I have NOTHING to wear for it!

Work is a little banana’s just because well, it happens. But also because I am trying to wrap up all of my loose ends on top of preparing various folks in the office to take over my duties while I’m out. My last day of work will be December 2^nd. WOOT. 

I had another check up this week. I’m on the every two weeks schedule now. This time I saw a different Midwife in the practice. She seems to be a little more technically skilled than the other one I've seen, but personality wise she’s a big dull dud. Whattaya gonna do? Based on my tales of bathroom trips, something caught her attention and she had me checked for a bladder infection. Turns out there was a small infection brewing. BOO. I’m not thrilled about being on Antibiotics, but the alternative is spending the rest of this pregnancy running to the loo (even MORE), and risking preterm labor. No thanks. 

Brian and I celebrated our EIGHTH wedding anniversary on Tuesday! I scheduled the midwife appointment for later in the afternoon, so that I could skip out of work early and we could just head off to dinner afterwards. Dinner was delayed a bit by my inability to produce a urine sample to have tested for the infection. One giant red Solo cup full of water, and 25 minutes later I claimed victory. In the mean time we gave lots of love to the office dog- Newie, and chatted with the midwives about restaurant recommendations. We were there after the office had closed, so the staff had time to chat. Afterward we went to a lovely Italian place. I had Farfalle Pasta with chicken and prosciutto in a cream sauce, and we shared chocolate cake. SO GOOD. Happy Anniversary dear, I love you!

My MIL and her best friends are throwing me a shower this weekend. I’m excited and moderately terrified at the same time. There will be almost 40 women there. Aye Carramba. Brian has a large extended family, and his mother in particular is quite social. I think I only have about seven people coming from my side to this blessed event. It’s a little larger than I had hoped for, but I realize this is a very good problem to have. I tend to fall on the less is more, intimate gatherings are best, pleasegodplease don’t let me be the center of attention, philosophies. That’s totally out of the question here. But at least I was able to talk them out of doing games! I hate shower games. Sorry. 

We’re finally making some progress with the nursery. The walls are being painted with primer as I type this. Then we just need to throw up a few of the sample colors we got and go from there! The furniture is almost ready. And I’ll just have to wait and see what we get from the shower to find out what else we need! I am actually having one more shower after this one. My bff Teresa is throwing it, and 98% of the guests are girlfriends seeings how the giant one this weekend will consist mostly of family. That one is in two weeks.

Pregnancy wise everything is pretty great. It's definitely getting a little tougher physically. My hips, and back hurt at night. It's hard to turn over and or get out of bed. I get winded doing some simple activities just because my chest feels like there is less room for my lungs to expand. But all of that is part of what I signed up for and I'm incredibly grateful for it. 

For Those Who Have Lost...

In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

When You Get Here

30 Weeks this week. I can’t believe you’ll be here in less than three months! Well, not to jinx it  - I should say there are less than 70 days left until you’re due date. Which just seems bananas. But I know you’ll come out whenever it is you’re ready. (hopefully not too soon!)

Your dad and I are enjoying getting ready for you. We’re taking a birth class wherein your father has been dubbed my “Coach”. But I’m pretty sure in Dad-speak he believes that equals being the boss of me. And he’s loving every minute of it.  We’ve slowly begun to acquire what our friends deem to be necessary items, most of them second hand. Which is just fine with us. We’ve spent close to what would have been your freshman year at Stanford’s tuition just to get you here, so I’m not going to freak out about a previously swung in swing. We’re just grateful for the lengthy list of super awesome people who've helped us with said items. Don't worry, you'll meet them soon enough. 

I’ve started my list for the bag(s) I’ll bring to the hospital when you’re born. You should be forewarned - I am a profoundly daft over-packer. I’ve pulled various suggestions from online forums and books that seem like they will apply to us. But even in keeping with valid recommendations, I’m pretty sure your dad will have to tow another vehicle to haul all the crap I’ll bring.

Most of the preparations feel exciting and appropriate. But a big part of me doesn’t care about the rest of the pomp and circumstance of showers and decorating. Because all I can think about is finally meeting you. And more than that I am just looking so forward to the moment I realize that I don’t remember what our life was like without you. See you in December.

Love,

momma

Is It Too Late To Start These?

I’ve been so super swamped lately, but I dread the idea of letting too many details go about this pregnancy. So I figured this would be a good temporary solution, since I have three half written posts lingering as drafts. The one on Child Birth classes being the most important to me thus far. I will try to dedicate more time to getting them done, I SWEAR. 

here goes:

How far along? 29 Weeks, 2 days

How big is the baby? About 2 ½ pounds. At the Biophysical Profile u/s I had two weeks ago during our little scare, the tech said baby g was measuring in the 50^th percentile. Which she also said was a good thing.

Weight gain? Yes, have some.

Maternity Clothes? Clothes are fine. I’ve started to notice some things that used to be big fit just right now, and others that were just right are running a little snug over my belly.

Sleep? Sleep is getting quite inconsistent. I wake up with hip pain a lot, and have had overall a tough time keeping my mind quiet. Not to mention it’s getting a lot harder to roll over. I still pee two –three times a night. I really enjoy when I can squeeze in a four hour stretch of not having to pee. Oh, and I’ve been getting a pretty significant case of Restless Leg Syndrome. Sometimes I can walk it off, but if not I usually end up taking a hot shower. That usually cures it.

Gender? Duuno. But Brian is pretty convinced it’s a boy. Whatev’s.

Movement? Plenty. Most of it feels like the baby is stretching an arm or a leg out. I think I can also feel the hiney, it feels too big to be a limb and not round enough to be the head. Also, the baby switches sides a lot. Always head down, and moving to my left or right side. Though I always wonder how they got there without me noticing…

Food? My appetite is MUCH better. I’m starting to enjoy most of the old stuff I normally love. Just a little more of it though. =D

What I miss? Not a damn thing.

What I’m looking forward too? Getting the nursery together. I suddenly feel a very strong urge to have all of that done. Plus I can’t wait to have baby clothes to wash and fold and put away!

Milestones? Every single day feels like a milestone. I marvel at movements, my reflection, and just the simple knowledge of it all on a daily basis.

Symptoms? Swelling. Starting to get a little of the hand and foot swelling I was desperately hoping to avoid. I also noticed my rings are starting to feel tight. 

Okay, more to come!


Oh, P.S. I added two pictures from my brothers wedding to the post from September 21st, so's that you can all see my not terribly flattering bridesmaid dress. 

Seriously???

Well I got to spend the rest of my afternoon yesterday with my feet up, in bed. The bad news is, it was in Labor & Delivery... Let me preface the rest of the story with the baby is fine, and so am I. But we did have a scare.


My appointment started off great, I remembered the list of questions I'd had for my midwife and she answered them all succinctly. Then we went over my Gestational Diabetes test results - which I passed with flying colors. Wooo! However, my lab results showed that I am pretty anemic. Which makes sense. I've been really tired lately, more so than normal. But I chalked it up to being on the cusp of my third trimester, and the fact that I haven't been sleeping great lately. My hips are starting to hurt more in bed, and it's getting harder to roll over. I also use about four pillows each night, so when I do turn over, I have to rearrange all my pillows every time. On top of getting up at least twice to pee... Anyhoo, to wrap up the appointment she checked my fundal height and grabbed her doppler. It took her a minute to find the heart beat, but that didn't worry me because I'd been feeling some movement. When she did find it though, the heartbeat was on the low side of normal. Around 121 bpm, where as my last appointment it was at 156. Early in our meeting when she asked about movement, I mentioned that the baby had been moving like crazy the two days prior, but a little more "mellow" that day. More movements, less kicks. So with that combination, she was a little concerned and let me know she wanted to send me over to L&D for a Non Stress Test. They monitor your BP, check for contractions, and monitor the baby's heart rate. They also wanted me to go down to radiology to check my amniotic fluid levels. My midwife, did her best to make it sound like no biggie, but when she suggested that Brian meet me there, I started to panic a little more. 


I drove myself across the street to the hospital, and made my way to L&D, shaking my head. After our little fender-bender last month I SWORE I wouldn't be back there until December... I handed them my paperwork, and they set me up in a monitoring room - not a delivery suite. Still it happened to be the same monitoring room we were in last month. Boo. By the time the nurse was hooking me up to the monitors, Brian was walking in the door. We had the sweetest nurse. She was an older Irish lady, with a thick but discernible accent. She explained what the print out and numbers meant on the monitor, then tilted her head a little to the side and told me not to worry, that everything would probably be fine. And that's when I lost it. Brian squeezed my hand and explained to her how it'd been a very long road for us, she put her arm around me offering a squeeze and a pat on the shoulder. They kept me there for almost an hour then sent me down for the u/s. The tech we had there was very nice, and was very honest about everything she was seeing. Baby looked great, fluid levels looked great. I guess between the NST, and the u/s they give you a score based on certain parameters. We got a perfect 10. So they sent on our way. It had been a very long day, and we didn't get home until almost 8pm. My appointment was at 3:15...


So I'm thankful to say everything is great, but man did yesterday suck. Please commence hoping and praying that the next twelve weeks remain remarkably uneventful... 

Because I'm Grateful

I’m hoping with all I’ve got that I didn’t come across like a complete spoiled brat in my last post. The reality of it is that I like to write ranty posts. And in those posts I tend to blow things out of proportion. Not to say that we didn’t encounter the world’s biggest tool in the form of a BRS employee, or that I didn’t cry while filling out the application for our registry. Because I did. I cried because I couldn’t believe we were finally in the position to do this. For years that store had been a source of heartache and misery for me, and I couldn’t fathom the concept that we were sitting in it. Registering for products. For our baby. And please know that I completely understand that being overwhelmed by all of that is a great problem to have…

And also for reference, blowing things out of proportion; usually funnier. 

I’ve done a little more registering, all online. And we did register with Amaz.on, which is cool because you can register for products universally – like for things on Etsy. By the way is it EEEEtsee or Ehhhtsy? I also want to thank those of you who recommended the baby bargain book. Which reminds me I have to give a shout out to Shelby who personally recommended it to me MONTHS ago, and I forgot. Until I saw it in all of your comments… Go me. 

There’s been a shift in perception for me. I think part of it due to feeling the baby constantly move and kick – Brian has too! And also just from the simple act of counting each week, and how far along I’ve made it in this pregnancy. It’s mind blowing and I am so fricken thankful every day. While I’m of course overjoyed with the idea of meeting our baby, I’m starting to feel a little sad that this pregnancy is almost over. I have less than 13 weeks left. And this will probably be my last. Yes, we have one frozen embryo, but who is to say it will make it through the defrost, and then take. The other part is, I’m not sure I want to go through the treatment rollercoaster ever again. Mostly because it fucking blows, but also because we’re still paying off this first one. And all of the factors as to why we might just have the one, is a perfect reminder of exactly how far we’ve come and how much it pains me to think about how there are so many of you out there who are still elbow deep in it.  Several of whom I am friends with IRL. I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten. Because believe me, it never goes away. 


I guess I also just want to convey that on top of being grateful, I am actually very much enjoying this pregnancy. And now that the baby is more active, I'm starting to realize we'll actually have an infant to bring home in a few months. And the more I think about it, and the more I watch my tummy move from kicks and turns, the more in love I fall. It's breathtaking. 

Well my brother's wedding is done. It was beautiful and fun, and I've gained a fabulous new Sister-in-Law. You might remember I ordered a regular dress two sizes too big, because I was 10-12 weeks or so at the time. Then I got it and it was a tent. I think the alterations lady did the best she could, but it still kind of looked like a moo-moo. The bottom line is that it was just not meant to be a maternity dress. I loved the color, and it was definitely comfy, but flattering - not so much. 


And my most exciting update. I have a new Doctor! Or better yet, Midwife! She is part of a practice with three OB's, and one other Midwife. While she plans to be in town for Christmas, there is a small possibility I could end up with someone else in the practice on the big day. But anyway, she's FANTASTIC. My first appointment with her was two weeks ago, and when we first sat down they hadn't gotten my charts from my other OB yet. So we just talked. I told her all about my IF history, and every step of my pregnancy along the way. And  when I told her about wanting to pursue natural child birth, do you know what she said to me? "Wow, good for you. I can see how doing it naturally would be so healing after everything you've been through".. OMFG, SHE GETS IT. And I didn't even have to explain myself! She was so friendly, and so compassionate. And took the time to explain little things that are going on with the baby, that no one else ever has! She checked my fundal height - right on target! And showed me how to tell exactly how high my uterus is. And holy crap, get this: They have an office Dog. A sweet little female black lab, who wanders around looking for the next most comfortable place to sleep. Maybe hoping for a little love on the way there. SO COOL. I know that might sound strange, believe me, their office is in a large medical facility. Not some alley. Anyway, the rest of the staff seems really cool too. 


I go back again this afternoon because I'm so far along and because she didn't have my records, she wanted to see me again in two weeks so that we could review everything. I also had my Gestational Diabetes Test last Thursday, so I'll probably get the results then. I'm SO hoping that no news is good news and that they didn't bother to call me since I'm coming in. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The stuff tasted like flat sprite with about a cup of sugar added to it. This coming from someone who rarely drinks soda. Drinking the stuff at least took the edge off being hungry, but at the same time gave me a bit of a sour stomach. All and all, not the worst experience...


Our first birthing class will actually be this weekend. It was supposed to be last week, but it's long story that I will fill you in on after the class. Sorry, I've been MIA... I've had so many posts in my head, but you know how it goes...


Update: Per request, here are some pics from the wedding. =)

Brian talking to the baby

Me and the Maid of Honor

See, it's not awful, just not flattering. I don't look pregnant, I look thick. Ahh well....

Registered Imbecile

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the 17 year-old fuckstick behind the registry counter at babies.r.us, for helping to make our registering experience remarkably awful. Not only did you ridicule our choice to keep the sex of our unborn child a surprise, but you also managed to be completely useless in the mean-time. Well done, idiot. 

Okay, our experience wasn’t entirely awful. But you have to know me well enough by now that you understand my penchant for chastising stupid people. That is not to say that I never find myself in the position to feel completely useless and idiotic. Because I can be. And four years of infertility has helped make sure of that. You see, during those four years going anywhere near the vicinity of a baby-centric store brought forth so much pain that it was literally difficult to breathe. Hell, if I’m being honest, it sucked just to pass the baby food isle at the grocery store.  So I should have had some idea that after years of not needing said products, on top of years of avoiding them, that it would pretty much guarantee that I’d know JACK SHIT about any of it now that the time has come that I actually do need it. Jack. Shit. 

The evening started off by me almost completely losing it while filing out the one page questionnaire to get our registry started. 

Registrants Name: Melissa G. 

Co-Registrants Name: Brian awesomely supportive, even when his wife proves yet again to be bat-shit crazy, G.

Event date: Cue unrelenting tears. 

So I made it through the rest of the questionnaire and seven isles and 83 minutes later we had to stop because I couldn’t wrap my head around the magnitude of it all anymore. It was like complete and utter sensory overload. On top of that I have never felt so uninformed as a consumer. I knew almost absolutely nothing about the products. Who was reputable, and which products were worth the extra money? Do I need to sterilize the bottles? If so, why do they sell drying wracks? How come some have straws and some have bags? I’d done research on the basics like strollers and car seats, but I know nothing of baby monitors or what makes one diaper bag more useful than the other.  Imagine going to Home Depot for the very first time and being asked to compile all the parts in order to build a water heater from scratch. And if you don’t do it right, your peers will laugh at you and also, it proves you’re going to be a bad mother. 

We went two different times, and I left there more cross-eyed each time. Thank god for my best friend, Teresa. She has three boys. So she knows. And she’s going to make it all better. Because otherwise? I’m not going back.

Busy Bee

Gah, I hate that it’s been so long since I’ve updated. I’ve had so many posts I’ve started, and things I wanted to write here, but time has not been my friend. My brother is getting married in two weeks so I’ve been caught up in showers and bachelorette planning, yada yada. Oh, and you may remember I’m a bridesmaid. I ordered the dress when I was 10 weeks along, not having any idea of what my body would do. So I ordered it two sizes too big, assuming that I’d totally have double chins and cankles by now. I have rarely been so grateful to be wrong. I picked up my dress last week and it is a tent. The alterations lady did her best to reassure me that I did the right thing since I this is my first, and that she’ll make the dress look fabulous. I really hope she’s right. These pictures will be around for decades… 


So what’s next? My Blood pressure! It’s awesome yo! And let me tell you why. It has nothing to do with medication, I’m happy to say. Not long after my last post I met with a Doula who is also a licensed massage therapist - YAY. She spent FOUR hours at my house. On a Thursday night! She was so fantastic and informative, and supportive and warm. I love her to PIECES. I mentioned the issues with my blood pressure and my new low sodium regimen. This is when the “NEED TO FIND ALTERNATIVE PRENATAL CARE- STAT” alarm really kicked in. She told me about the Brewer diet during pregnancy, and how keeping a high about of protein in my diet can pretty much eliminate any issues with High BP. So I have tripled the amount I was getting, which wasn’t much since I was having a pretty severe aversion to meat. But I’ve been able to start supplementing with Whey protein powder and dairy. I make a shake every morning and it’s making a HUGE difference! I don’t have to watch my sodium intake as closely, which is great – though I’m still very aware of it.  If you’re interested, here’s the recipe I made up: 


8oz organic OJ
2 cups frozen organic Strawberries
1 cup 2% Greek Yogurt
1 Organic banana
2 Scoops of Vanilla flavored Whey Protein Powder 


Each scoop of protein powder has about 16 grams of protein, the yogurt has about 24, strawberries have 2. So by 10 am, I’ve already consumed close to 60 grams of protein! Now the recipe I gave you there makes over 32 oz. So I usually finish it in about a two hour period because it’s pretty filling. So after that, I get my protein where I can. Usually ending up between 80 – 100 grams per day. And my blood pressure is fucking flawless now. What infuriates me is that my doctor just wanted to throw pills at me – barely giving me the opportunity to do the work myself! Yes, I’m still talking about the OB I haven’t really ever liked… Speaking of which. During the four hours I spent chatting with the doula, (two of which were in the midst of a prenatal massage, yay!) I told her about my OB situation and asked her if she was able to recommend any local OB’s or Midwives. The ironic part is that she listed my current OB as someone she’d recommend for the type of care I’m interested in. Which is when I reiterated how perfect he is on paper, but personality wise it just wasn’t there. She then told me that if I wasn’t 100% comfortable with any practitioner that I should move on. She believes that communication and trust should be completely open and fluid during labor. And anything but can break down the fundamentals of what allows your body do what it needs to do. She presented it on a spiritual level, then backed it up with a scientific explanation of how certain emotions trigger specific hormones that can hinder the production of the natural form of Pitocin, therefore prolonging/delaying labor. I can’t remember the actual break down, can I use being naked on a massage table in my living room as an excuse? Regardless, her approach? ME LIKEY.


Sooooo. I have an appointment with a new office on Wednesday. The practice has three OB’s and two midwives. I’ll be seeing a midwife first, and I am so fricken excited. The other cool thing that my doula pointed out is that the newly built hospital we’re planning to deliver in has six suites with laboring bathtubs. While I can’t really reserve one now, she pointed out that most first time Mom’s go eight days past their due dates, which puts me in there on Christmas Day, and followed up by saying in addition statistically patient occupancy is much lower during the holidays, especially Christmas. So I may have a better chance. Of course that could be total BS. Who knows? In actual baby news, there has been a dramatic increase in activity from the kiddo. Especially in just the last week or so. Which is mostly awesome, the only non-awesome part is not bad - it's just weird. Cause the baby, well it's been turned in, like facing my back, and umm. Kicking my rectum. It's the most bizarre sensation I have every felt. And on that note! Happy Tuesday Morning!

Now Lower In Sodium!

My diet so far during this pregnancy has been fairly decent, in my opinion anyway. While I’m not keeping super close tabs I think up about 13-15 lbs so far. I gained 12 of that in the first 6 weeks because the only things that didn’t want to make me yak, were dairy and carbs. But since the second trimester I’ve been able to eat better and I’ve pretty much maintained my weight in the last 10 weeks. Maybe going up or down a pound here and there, but mostly  staying the same. So I’m golden, right? Yeah, not so much.

At my last appointment with the OB formerly known as my doctor, he made a comment about my blood pressure being on the high side. Like, consistently on the high side. In the past I’ve been known to refer to myself as “one of those patients” .. Meaning, my anxiety is always a little heightened at the beginning of an appointment, thus my BP elevates. So I asked that they check it again at the end of the appointment. ( FYI, I’m also one of those patients who doesn’t have a gag reflex until someone has to stick a wooden tongue depressor in my mouth… Go figure.) Anyhoo, he said if it was high one at one more appointment they were going to put me on a Blood Pressure medication. Crapola. And much to my dismay, this time it did not go down much at the end of that appointment.

So that was at my appointment last Monday. Tuesday was my car accident, so Wednesday I had to go back in for another checkup. That time I saw my favorite Nurse Practitioner and she noticed that yet again my BP was elevated. She seemed more concerned than the Dr. did, and asked me to pick up a BP Cuff at a drug store so that I could monitor my rates for the next few days, and possibly two weeks.  She told me to call in two days with my BP from that evening, then an AM and PM log for Thursday. When I called her back with the results she was still pretty unhappy, and told me I needed to start a low sodium regimen asap, and that she’d give me two weeks and if my levels didn’t drop they were going to put me on BP meds, STAT.

I have to say, I was pretty bummed. Especially when I read how dangerous elevated Blood Pressure levels can be during pregnancy. With  pre-term labor, and cardiac arrest being two of the worst case scenarios. I was terrified at the idea that my body was putting the baby in danger, and just plain hated the fact that I couldn’t have an uneventful pregnancy, just when I started to feel a little more at ease… And damn it, I didn’t want to take any more medications.

So began my low sodium diet, and my new obsession with checking my BP. My worst recorded rate at home was 138 over 87. Not. Good. And for the first three days it stayed within that range: Mid to high 130’s over mid to high 80’s. Double crapola. But over the weekend I started getting better numbers and by this morning I was 113 over 72. It hasn’t taken an exorbitant amount of effort to eliminate extra salt, but it is like any other diet – I just have to pay more attention to things like the fact that I like black olives. A lot. Like to the point where I would pretty much open a can to snack on while cooking dinner, and maybe I’d drink some of the juice right from the can… (Heathen! they shout) WHAT? It’s a healthy fat! Come on, they’re just olives. It’s not like I was snacking on Crisco, for crying out loud.

Anyway. I’m really grateful to have seen a difference so quickly, and I know it could have been a lot worse. I think it was that much harder emotionally because I had finally gotten to the point where I received fairly consistent reassurance that the baby is alive from feeling it’s kicks, to then finding out that there is potentially something that could take the baby away, and possibly me with it. Worst case scenario, I know. But still, very scary. And speaking of scary, my three hour blood glucose test is next week. I would like to think it’s going to be fine, but the truth is I have no idea what my body is or isn’t doing any more. So I’m just going to roll with it… 


(New pics to come in the photo gallery shortly!)

We're Having A...Foot. And a Car Accident!

Yesterday was our Level II ultrasound. It was...expeditious. We arrived for our afternoon appointment just before 3 o'clock, which apparently was also the last one of the day. They called us back quickly and we were placed in a small room, with a small Russian technician, with a big accent. She asked me to lay down on my back on the table and the moment I sat on it I knew I was in trouble. It had the cushy looking vinyl wrap on in, but there was NO padding. It pretty much felt like laying on a slab of granite. History here would tell you that I have a bad back, which had actually been fine, until I got pregnant and then sciatica kicked in. I'm not that big, I really didn't anticipate issues this early, but it is what it is right? So I asked our little babushka for an extra pillow to support my back, and she kindly did so. She squirted the jelly on my stomach and studiously got to work without saying a word to either of us. Brian was able to see the screen but I saw very little. At this point Brian thankfully pointed out that we didn't want to know the sex and would prefer that it didn't go in our chart. Her reply was:"Ahhh biiig seekeret". She continued taking measurements, and only offered up the fact that things were measuring well. I tilted my head to one side almost to the point where I was reading the screen upside-down and began guessing what we were looking at.


"Is that the head?"


"Yhhis."


"Is that the heart?"


"Yhhis. "


I heard the printer go off at various points and assumed we were going to have a new whole book of photo's to oogle over when we left. But when she wrapped things up a whole twenty-five minutes later I noticed that Brian only had two small slips in his hand. Oh well, I'm sure they're great, I thought to myself. Then when she left the room he showed me two pictures of a foot, a shot of a femur, and the other picture is undecipherable. That's all we got. I had Brian help me up, but the pain from being on the steel bench for so long left me almost in tears. At that point another technician came into the room, and asked me to lay back down for a few more shots, then a doctor came in. They went over all of the measurements with each other, barely telling us anything. My placenta is a little on the low side but it's not covering my cervix, and they didn't seem too concerned. All the other measurements look great. When we were cleared to leave, the lights in the rest of the office were dimmed and the receptionist was gone. We walked out of there staring at the picture of our child's foot, bewildered by how disheartening the appointment was. We were expecting someone who would give us a chance to ooh and ahh over our growing child that we worked so hard for, but instead all we have to show for my back pain is a picture of their foot.


From the day I had booked this appointment we had planned to take the rest of the afternoon off and head down to a giant baby store about 40 minutes south to do some recon on baby gear. Then we'd grab a little dinner. We started to joke on the way down there about how we'd apparently only have to register for shoes, since we're only having a foot. And that's when the stop-and-go traffic started. We only got maybe five miles down the freeway when we heard some ones breaks lock up and then BAM they hit our car. The impact itself wasn't terrible, but the sound and the feeling of the belt locking up on my belly scared the crap out me. The damage to our car looks minimal, though his was considerably worse. I actually doubt his car was even drivable afterwards but we didn't stick around to find out.


While Brian was getting all of his info, I was on the phone to my OB's office. Yes, the one I had just unofficially fired. Interestingly enough there is a little something I should tell you about him. He called me. To apologize. Well technically he called to see if I was even offended first. He said his nurse told him he was a little subversive, and that I seemed a bit offended. I told him I was glad that he called, because he did come off a little harsh. He apologized and said that no matter what his job is to help me bring this baby into the world safely, and that he would be happy to do it with the method I had in mind. I have to say I was pretty impressed. Even though it sounded like he was being poked in the back by his wife in order to get the apology out, it took some balls on his behalf to call me and follow up. But the points he earned were too little, and too late. I'm still going to look for someone else. However, I needed them at the moment. When I called they told me to go straight to the ER. When we got to the ER, they said because I was over 20 weeks, they wanted me to go straight to Labor & Delivery. Gulp. They checked me in and and put us in a room. They hooked me up to a fetal monitor and a machine to measure contractions. Double Gulp. But as it turned out everything was fine. They asked me to take today off, which I did, gladly. And to get an appointment for another u/s with my OB. All of the u/s techs on L&D had gone for the day.


I called first thing this morning and got an appointment with my favorite nurse practitioner. She's very warm and friendly, just what I needed to put my mind at ease. When she sat down I told her about our horrible Level II and she agreed that the appointment sounded unacceptable, especially since we only ended up with a picture of a foot. She gladly set up the u/s machine and snapped a few pics for us, though there machines are no where near as high tech as the other one so the pictures aren't great. She wrapped up and asked me to stay put. When she came back she just wanted to let me know that I should expect a DVD copy of our u/s in the mail within the next week. She said they wouldn't be able to get the pictures back, but at the very least we could have a movie. Man, I'm going to miss her...


So. Other than that, things are good. I'm good, baby's good. Brian was wonderfully supportive and sweet. I know it was scary dear, but you were great. New pics in the photo gallery!

You're Fired.

Well the appointment I had yesterday sealed the deal. I’m done with my OB. Nothing explosive happened, but the in-depth conversation I had with him regarding childbirth plans pretty much gave me all of the ammunition information I needed. 

O.V.E.R. 

He’s a lovely doctor, and I’m sure that our baby would be delivered safely in his care, but I evidently wouldn’t have much of a say in it. So here’s the first part of what you should know and where things went wrong. 

I’m hoping to deliver this child naturally. With no epidural, and minimal medical intervention. 

What my dinosaur doctor heard was: I hate Doctors and hospitals and I plan to be as uncooperative and insubordinate as possible during my delivery, so good luck with that. 

He started off by suggesting I stay away from reading materials. Explaining that they can be quite dogmatic and contradictory to other sources, and that my body will really know what to do because it’s programmed into our DNA. Okay, I get that school of thinking. I can appreciate the theory of the power of suggestion, and I just so happen to agree 100% that delivering a baby is probably built into my DNA. But I also believe that you can prepare yourself for something like this. I will be experiencing a level of pain to which I have never known. Not even after sitting through the entire showing of Sex and the City II. I think I should know what’s coming. And the more I sat there listening to him, the more it sounded like he was saying “This is what can happen if you let women learn how to read…” 

When I say I want to deliver with no epidural and minimal medical intervention, I do not mean: in a barn. I am not Anti- Doctor, or medicine. Obviously, we did IV-fucking F. I’ll do whatever means necessary to get my desired result, savvy? And I am also not stupid. I realize that I can make all the birth “plans” I want, and things could end up 180 degrees differently. (Hi Murgdan!) So aside from preferring a completely natural delivery, our other plan is to know our options. So in Scenario A, B, C, or Q, Brian and I will have some kind of idea of what my preferences are so I won’t have to deliberate a life changing decision in the midst of a contraction. Or if I’ve checked out completely, (not dead, but incapacitated) Brian and I will be on the same page. 

When I mentioned this to him a few months ago, I’m guessing he yes’d me on the au natural part. But today when I talked to him about studying The Bradley Method, the mood all changed. He told me that the Bradley Method was somewhat “Anti-Doctor”. Which is interesting because so far what I’ve gotten out of the book, is that it’s really about husband/partner coached labor. When I explained that my main idea’s behind using this method is that it took so much medical intervention to get me pregnant, I really like the idea of giving my body back the control. Not to mention taking some of the work load off of my poor kidneys. On top of that I think this could be a really amazing experience for Brian and I as a couple. I don’t believe that labor has to be scary and dramatic. I know it will be painful and hard work, and potentially very long. (that’s why they call it labor, no?) But I also believe that I am capable of doing it without much involvement from medical technologies. 

I asked him how many of his patients delivered naturally, he said 20-30%. And then he said the percentages were lower with his Bradley patients, and that I might want to consider getting a doula to assist us. (Which I’m totally not opposed to, I’m actually trying to find one that will take my insurance) And continued on that ‘no one really wants medical intervention, but sometimes it’s just necessary’. I interjected with: I actually know women who would sign up for an epidural now, if the release form came with their hpt kit. True Story. And then what I should have said but wasn’t quick enough to think of is: Odd though that if no one really wants medical intervention, how come 70-80% of your patients end up with

 it???? 

Please know, I am not against Medical Intervention. Epidurals. Hospitals. Doctors. Nurses. Vaccines. America’s Got Talent being renewed for yet another season, even though I truly believe it is a crime against humanity. DO WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU. To each, his own. All god’s children, yada yada... I’m just saying this is my preference and I’m going to find a licensed medical practitioner who will do their damnedest to help us prepare for it, and hopefully see us through a delivery the way we’d prefer, while in a safe and legal nature, resulting in an insanely healthy live baby being born. If there are one hundred and forty two things I've learned from Infertility, number two on the list is being your own advocate. Good day to you, Sir.

Wordless Wednesday

I Haven't Read The Baby Books

I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but I’m saying it here to remind myself yet again. That I. Am Pregnant. It happens several times a day, whether it’s when I’m bending down to get something and my body reminds me that I’m not able to fold in half like I used to. Or I pass by a mirror or window and catch a glimpse of my exaggerated silhouette. But I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant. I giggle each time I remember and I’m constantly grateful, but it’s a little bizarre that at this point,  I still kind of forget that this is real. That I’m not making it up. That the soft kicks and rolls I feel are from the child growing inside of me. It’s kind of insane. 

In my dreams when I thought about this point in our lives coming, I imagined I would have read every book, been halfway through my Prenatal Yoga class, and had the nursery painted and ready for furnishing. 

In reality I haven’t finished or really even more than glanced at the books about pregnancy (that I bought so naively four years ago.)

None of the yoga classes I’ve looked into seem to fit my schedule, and I haven’t done much to make them for that matter.

And the nursery still looks like the cleanest room on an episode of “Hoa.rders”.  And is still peach. 

So for as much as I have been inadvertently dragging my feet, I’ve suddenly been given a swift kick into the “this is real, your days as just a couple are numbered and you haven’t done a damn thing to prepare for it you lazy whore”, reality. Sunday night Brian and I were getting ready to wind down for the evening, when I remembered the dvd I had ordered about Child Birth was still sitting in our living room. I checked with Brian to make sure he was game and popped the video in before snuggling up with my husband Snoogle. The moment it was over, I felt a fog of panic come over me. Not for the impending, contracting and dilating. But because it suddenly feels like we have SO MUCH to do. But the panic was short lived and I’ve found myself hardly being able to wait to get started. 

I signed us up for Birth classes, which deserves a post of its very own. And boy will that be a big one. Next week I’m going to look for a new OB, and/or Midwife. (Cue foreshadowy music) I already have my next appointment set up with my OB and the specialist for our 20 week u/s, so I’m just going to get through that and make appointments with the new options afterwards. Next on the list, tackle the bottomless pile of crap in what will be the nursery. (Cue Sanford and Son music)

And with almost ironic timing, ever since my epiphany that we're actually going to be parents this year (HOPEFULLY), the baby has started moving like CRAZY. Instead of just feeling the occasional flutter or tap here and there, I could feel it moving almost the entire day yesterday, and most of today so far. It is extraordinarily distracting and so, so fucking cool. 

My Horizon's

Warning: This is a super TMI pg post, so if you’re not in a good place, yamight wanna skip this one and I promise I’ll still love you anyway.

Lots of new developments in the last week or so. None of them extraordinary, but a few of them have taken me by surprise. I’m not going to sugar coat this first one folks, but holy crap my jugs are getting HUGE. You might remember that I usually refer to them as “the girls”, but dude, that reference is no longer applicable. They. Are. Jugs. Gozanga’s even.  A few weeks ago I noticed that I was starting to outgrow my regular bra’s so I was like, “Okay, cool, this is normal…” and I switched over to my “fat bras”. Read: Bras I had kept from before I lost 36+ lbs last year. Saved myself a little quiche right there, I did. However, not three weeks later, I am already muffin-topping out of them! Gah. My jugs are so full and heavy, and my veins read like a Metro Map. I could create an app based on my chest that would probably rival g.oogle maps. It’s out of control, really. 

THEN, the other day, I was walking through the house scratching my stomach when my finger found its way into my belly button, and cheese and crackers folks, it’s… it’s getting shallow. I used to be able to fit an entire fingertip in there, now it only goes about halfway. FREAKY. But cool. 

Oh, good news! I got my last NK Assay and TH1/TH2 follow up test. They came back: NORMAL. My favorite nurse called to tell me personally that everything looked great and I am officially released to my OB. RELEASED TO MY OB. She told me how happy she was for us, and asked that we keep them posted. I told her how very much we enjoyed working with her, and how grateful we were for all of her help. I was actually in the middle of shopping at Trad.er.Jo.es for my lunch when she called. I had a hard time staying composed in the frozen section while taking in exactly what our conversation actually meant… This is all really happening. And it’s going by so, so fast.

We’ve started looking at baby stuff. CRAZY. Brian is going to build the crib and changing table, so we went to a couple of fancy-shmancy boutiques to pilfer designs.  I know you might be picturing Brian with a glue gun surrounded by a pile of kindling, but this isn’t like a DIY project that I would get great “I told you so” satisfaction from. He is quite capable I assure you, and I can’t wait to show you how amazing his woodworking skills are…  And we’re going to choose a design that will convert to a head and foot board, so it’s something we can keep for a long time. Which makes me smile. It’s nice to feel excited and not quite as scared. I’m slowly letting my guard down, and this new world is just amazing. If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you join me very, VERY soon. 

The Sum of All Parts

Alright, I’m starting to feel a little bratty about my last post. Especially because not more than two posts ago I was bitching and begging for boring...  


I want to thank those of who validated my difficulty in transitioning, it’s really nice to hear that I’m not alone there and please know really and truly am grateful to have had an extraordinarily boring appointment. I look forward to many more of them. Really. I think the reasons for my reaction yesterday are twofold. One – I really was used to the super intense, and very goal oriented appointments that were part of seeing an RE. Two – I like the fundamentals of how this Doctor runs his practice, but I just don’t mesh with his personality. Or maybe I’m being too uptight. Expecting too much. Maybe being with someone who is so low-key is the best thing for me. Knock me out of my tightly closed shell. Or maybe I’ll start shopping for a new OB. Stay Tuned. 


So yeah, this last appointment was fairly uneventful. At the end of the appointment the nurse gave me a flyer with the name of a specialist that they wanted me to see for my 20 week scan. Twenty-flippin’-weeks. I am almost halfway through this pregnancy and still in denial. Sometimes when I say it to myself, it feels as new and as foreign as the day I saw a positive test. It’s just bananas. Anyhoo, lots of people have been asking about this scan and when we’ll find out what we’re having, and for a surprisingly large amount of people their heads are blown clean off when we tell them: December. We’ll find out in December, when I give birth. 


I’ve never really given much thought to gender prediction when it came to pregnant women. If you think about it, it’s as arbitrary as trying to guess hair or eye color. There’s only a limited number of things it could be, so why speculate based on how someone is carrying, what they’re cravings are, or whether or not their asses got fat. My best friend has three boys and each of her pregnancies were entirely unique. I know, I’m no fun right? True story, my friends. I’m kind of a curmudgeon when it comes to stuff like that. I guess I can see the harmless fun it throwing out guesses, and I’ll admit I’ve participated in more than one baby pool. But hell, I play the in the office Superbowl pools, even though I despise football. I just have a soft spot for illegal sources of gambling. 

When people hear that we’re not going to find out what sex of the baby is, some think it’s great, but some act like we’ve deliberately chosen to disappoint them. Like it’s a plot against them or something. That usually segues into their next question of whether or not we have a preference. I usually respond with a smile and laugh about not really caring. Brian is diplomatic as always and says he sees the joy in both genders. But when prodded I usually end up cutting them off with a sentence like “ It took us four years to get pregnant, we just want A. BABY. So do I hope it’s a boy? Do I hope it’s a girl? No. I hope IT gets here safe and healthy and that Brian and I have a significant role in making sure it turns out to be a caring, sensitive, productive member of society. So go ahead and buy IT something yellow already and leave me the hell alone.” 

Okay, I don’t really say any of that.  But I think it while I smile and nod, and try not to head-butt them. The truth is I've never wanted to find out what we were having. Even back in the day when I thought sex made babies, and it would be easy for us; I always figured we'd find out when they were born. I'm more intrigued by the element of surprise than having the knowledge to plan bedding choices based on gender. That said if we ended up with twins, I probably would have caved and found out. Just seems like good common sense, no? 

So I’m looking forward to the big 20 week scan, but only because I’ll always want to have a peak at the baby before it gets here, it's seriously ridonkulous when I repeat that to myself. Twenty week scan... Also, since I have three more weeks before said ultrasound, I put up a belly pic in the Photo Gallery Tab. (Cringe) It's not a great one, but I took like 30 and posted the least awful one. Please don't laugh. 

The Whole Three Day Old Enchilada

I’ve always been one to err on the side of caution. I’m a just-in-case, kinda gal. So it seems only natural that during a pregnancy I struggled four years, endured countless needles, exams and spent tens of thousands of dollars (that we don’t have) to achieve, that I would fall into the “you-can-never-be-too-careful” category once finally in the family way. However, I think my OB thinks I’m ridiculous. And it’s not settling well with me at all. 

I had an appointment yesterday, which in retrospect seemed like, Well - A big fat waste of my time. My OB was 45 minutes late getting in to see us, and when he did finally sit down with me he made me feel like a complete moron. He wasn’t mean about my questions, just over explained (complete with family anecdotes, I should mention) about why it’s fine for me at 17w2d to sleep on my back. And have three day old homemade leftover enchiladas. I half expected him to show me a flashcard with a picture of a wheel of imported Brie with a circle and a line through it.  I guess I should be happy that he took his time answering all my questions, but that’s probably why he was forty-fucking-five minutes late to a 10am appointment when they open at 9am. I would expect the afternoon appointments to run a bit behind, but don’t overbook your patients then waste my and the next patients time because you’re busy rambling on to me about how your daughter won’t even consider leftovers while your wife eats three day old salads regardless of the wilted lettuce.  This is only my second appointment seeing my OB, every other time I’ve seen the head Nurse Practitioner, whom I love – but obviously won’t be delivering me. 

Important note: He runs a solo practice, and assured me that he won’t be going anywhere for Christmas this year. Which really appealed to me. He seems great on paper - agrees with my request for minimal intervention during labor, has a low forceps and c-section rate, and seems to have an educated staff, all of whom work well together. 

So maybe I’ve been in ‘the system” too long. Maybe I’ve just gotten too used to the formality seen in the Fertility Clinic industry. And all that comes with being closely monitored. I suppose that was because I was more of a client than a patient, since we were paying everything out of pocket, not just going where an insurance administrator told us was the closest proximity to our home address. But I want that environment back! I want a doctor who is meticulously on time, and asks relevant questions, whilst dispensing useful information. I’m not asking to be coddled, hell the first word I would use to describe Dr. 3 (after awesome, that is) would be: Cyborg. Fantastic. Efficient. Warm and fuzzy, he was NOT.  My OB seems more like a cross between a Surfer and an amateur standup comedian.  Also, he has white hair and glasses with bifocals that he looks down over when speaking to me, and it makes me think of Benjamin Franklin. But I got there, they took my vitals, the doctor made sure both me and the baby were still alive, then left.  

Am I asking too much? 

After speaking to a mom, apparently aside from the personality flaws,  the monthly appointments are pretty routine. Not a whole lot of action. Which honestly, is what I should want. Not a lot of fuss, or probing. Just the basics, like everyone else. 

I guess I’m just getting used to what being on “the otherside” is really like.  And it’s still nothing like I thought. 

Holy Crap, She's A Lazy Whore

Oh wait, I’m talking about me.  Sorry it’s been like, a millennia since I updated. While rereading through my last couple of posts I realized I’ve left quite a few things open ended. So here are a few bullet points to ease your back into your seats.

• Progesterone – I was finally able to stop my suppositories. 13w6d as my last round. I had my P4 checked four days later and my level was 19, up from 17. So no more weekly blood tests!
• Immunology – I had another NK Assay follow up, they checked my TH1 and TH2 as well. Bad news on this front, all of my levels spiked even higher after my last infusion, so I had to go back for two more weekly infusions. This kid is definitely going to Junior College. And wearing mine or Brian’s hand me downs.
• NT Scan -  I decided not to go in for the test after all. I just really didn’t like the idea of a Ratio Diagnosis. Or that fact that a false diagnosis would lead to (potentially unnecessary) invasive testing. No judgment for those who go, it just wasn’t for me.
• Commenting – I signed up for Goog.le Ch.rome, and for the most part it’s working. Although randomly now Safari is giving me trouble. WTF blogger?

As for my overall well being I am, despite the crappy NK news, feeling much more confident and comfortable with myself and this pregnancy. I think making myself talk more about the pregnancy and acknowledging here just how much I was really struggling with it all has helped me feel less like I was an impostor. Or that talking about it will make something bad happen to the baby – having had the Doppler handy hasn’t hurt things either. One other really cool thing? I’ve started feeling movement – so bananas. Last Sunday afternoon (15w1d) I was waking up from a nap *(see post title above) when I felt what I can only describe as a cross between a tapping and bubbles popping, distinctly on my right side… It happened again a few minutes later. It was a very unique feeling, but it still took me about a day before I acknowledged it, or even mentioned it to anyone. I did some reading on it, checked in with some ladies on forum (cause that’s what IF bloggers do) and sure enough, they confirmed what I’d thought (knew) I’d felt. It’s not terribly consistent, which is kind of a bummer. And it's so subtle that half the time I don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s over. 


Food is still a bit of a battle. Still can’t do the spicy stuff, though I am able to do desserts again. Not sure that’s really a good thing. Meat. A little over a week ago, meat all of a sudden became an issue. Particularly when I had to prepare it. It didn’t make me yak or anything, I just suddenly found it profoundly vile. But then last night I was shopping at Costco and picked up a Rotisserie Chicken on a whim. Thirty minutes later I found myself talking dirty to it and eating it out of the pan on my kitchen counter… That said, I’ve eaten nothing but fruits, veggies, and carbs today. 


I’m getting closer to not being able to wear any of my regular clothes. Shopping at Maternity stores has certainly made me branch out with my style choices. More patterns and colors than I used to wear, as well as having bought a few skirts. I’m a fan of black, and earth tones, but evidently maternity stores think jewel tones and floral patterns are more appropriate. I suppose that has to do with it being summer and what not as well. 


So that’s it for now, I should try to at least make it look like I don’t agree with my title and get some house work done. I’ll check back in soon, folks!

Just Easin' the Tension, Baby.

Telling people that I’m pregnant has been a strange experience. Not only because it feels like I’m lying, but also because I concurrently battle a voice in my head that says telling people means certain doom for our baby. Totally irrational, I know.

We’ve gotten a lot of love and support from family, mixed reactions from friends – some more than thrilled, some congratulated us like we told them we bought a house then followed their respects with how much work we were in for (and yes, they knew what we’d been through)… That was a little disheartening. But none of that matters when I think about my second home here. Even with all the praise we’ve received from our families, none of it compares to the support we’ve gotten from all of you. It’s just breathtaking to think about.

Telling people at work has also been interesting. I was so filled with anxiety about how and when I should say something that I more less ended up blurting it out. (My bosses already knew)

Nice lady from Bookkeeping: Well Good Morning Melissa, how are you today?

Me: Pregnant, and you?

(Squeals from two other ladies ensue)

There were only a few of us in the office at the time, I figured I’d let them gab about it and everyone else would catch on rather than me making one giant announcement during an Operations Meeting and risk being the center of attention. I’ve also gotten a few “It’s about time!” comments from older male coworkers. Which makes me wish I could live out this clip:

In addition I’ve started coming out about our Infertility. It’s scary to be honest about it, but it makes me feel proud at the same time, because we've come so far. Scary also since I’m the sort of “leave your home-life at home” type of employee. But coming out about in now also makes me glad that I was so secretive about our IVF cycle while we were going through it. I don’t think I could have responded quite as tactfully to the ignorant responses I’ve gotten regarding fertility treatments. None were made with ill intent, they just came about by being severely misinformed. I’m doing my best to diplomatically educate people without sounding too technical/condescending/know-it-all-ish. No easy feat for me.

I’ve made some progress in my head without the help of my therapist – yay me! I stopped therapy temporarily because I was too damn tired in the evenings to even try to complete a coherent sentence, so I’d rather not waste my deductible or my therapists time. Plus I’d prefer to spend that time eating and falling asleep sitting up in bed. Where was I going with this. Progress, right. I’ve decided to use my blog as aversion therapy. You may remember me telling you all that I had been feeling unsettled about talking about my pregnancy here specifically because I wasn’t sure I wanted this place to be about pregnancy as opposed to just IF. The other side of that is just feeling plain unsettled about this pregnancy in general. It’s not just hard to talk about it here, it’s hard to talk about it period. I feel… Guilty. Unworthy. Self-conscious. Conceited. Phony. Terrified. Which has no doubt made me a pleasure to be around, I probably sounded like I was telling people I had Cholera, instead of just being pregnant.

So. I’'m going to power through it.

I’ve decided that documenting this pregnancy is more important to me than my baggage. I worked really fucking hard to get here and I don’t know if I’ll ever be here again. Plus I have the memorization capacity of a gnat, so somebody needs to chronicle all this crap.  And I’m going to do it right here. In the place and with the people I feel most comfortable spilling my guts too: Complete strangers living in different states most likely under assumed names.

I love you’s guy’s. More to come.