For some time now, I've been worried about my sister-in-law. Well, two of them really. You see, there are 6 children in my husband's family. As of this year, they're all married. His two youngest sisters have been talking about the children they will have for several years now. This is what worries me. They have purchased clothes and books and toys in anticipation of having these children. They have all their names picked out. They take their fertility for granted, and I fear that it will come crashing down on them.
We were at his second youngest sister's house for dinner yesterday. She has a room that is filled with anything a toddler might want to play with. She dotes on her nieces and nephews, but I know she can't wait to have a baby of her own.
I'm not as worried about J's youngest sister - I don't think she'll actually have any problems. But his second youngest sister? Her, I worry about. She suffers from migraines, she seems to be the world's most sensitive salmonella detector, she has acid reflux, she works really hard in a job that she is totally overqualified to do, and she's a freak magnet (she attracts the most odd and obnoxious people). And, her husband has been known to say stupid things about childbearing (like telling me, when I was 37 and pregnant, that people should have kids when they're 28 or so because much older and you're too old to have fun with your kids). This just looks to me like the universe is lining up to screw with her.
So, I don't know if this is me being superstitious, or if it's me projecting my issues on to her. Did you ever meet anyone who you absolutely knew was going to have problems ttc? Have you been proven right? I just hope that I am proven wrong and all goes well for her.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving
I hope everyone enjoyed Thanksgiving and is prepared to start the Christmas rush tomorrow. 2 years ago, when my daughter was 6 weeks old, I got up at 4:30 and went out to buy a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. Best $100 I spent. She loved the lights. I didn't put it up last year, but it will be going up this year. She will be so excited - she's already been trying to pull ornaments off the tree at the YMCA.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
weird dreams
I was having some weird dreams last night...I don't know what it was all about, although I can attribute part of one dream to reading other blogs.
First I dreamt that I was with my best friend and I was having a totally blood-free miscarriage. I was holding my tiny fetus in my hand and he was perfectly formed. If you've ever been to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago and have seen the fetus exhibit (I think it's gone now - last time I saw it the babies were not holding up in their preservatives), then you'll know how the baby looked. I wasn't crying - I was sad but awed at his perfection.
Next, I dreamt that my mother was having bypass surgery. Not unusual, she's been having heart flutters (and I was reading Nancy's blog). But, while they were preparing for the surgery, mom was talking to me, but I couldn't concentrate because I was busy watching tornados form outside the window.
Dream interpretation would imply that my life is about to spin out of control with disastrous results. I hope it's really just that my husband fed me Totino's (it's not really) pizza for dinner. That man really needs to buy himself some taste buds.
Maybe it's good that I don't usually remember my dreams
First I dreamt that I was with my best friend and I was having a totally blood-free miscarriage. I was holding my tiny fetus in my hand and he was perfectly formed. If you've ever been to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago and have seen the fetus exhibit (I think it's gone now - last time I saw it the babies were not holding up in their preservatives), then you'll know how the baby looked. I wasn't crying - I was sad but awed at his perfection.
Next, I dreamt that my mother was having bypass surgery. Not unusual, she's been having heart flutters (and I was reading Nancy's blog). But, while they were preparing for the surgery, mom was talking to me, but I couldn't concentrate because I was busy watching tornados form outside the window.
Dream interpretation would imply that my life is about to spin out of control with disastrous results. I hope it's really just that my husband fed me Totino's (it's not really) pizza for dinner. That man really needs to buy himself some taste buds.
Maybe it's good that I don't usually remember my dreams
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Things to do when you should be sleeping
DD woke up at 2 am for a drink of water, presenting me with a dilemma. Today was hpt day, so should I wait 3 hours and do it when I got up, or proceed at 2 am with a most concentrated sample? Didn't really matter either way - bfn, as I mostly expected. On the plus side, between that and my morning walk, I found myself composing haikus. It turns out there was a contest for this sort of thing that ended Monday. Now the world will not hear my genius (ha!) Anyway, here are my efforts...
I want a baby
The white space tells me it's no
I needed two lines
Another baby
My daughter needs a sibling
God has other plans
I am awake now
Why can I not go to sleep?
Disappointment sucks
Two lines are not there
I am not pregnant again
Bring on the vodka
and on another topic:
It is cold and dark
Why am I outside walking?
Oh. My ass is big.
Subdivision rules
I wish you would follow them
My shoe smells awful
As long as I can entertain myself...
I want a baby
The white space tells me it's no
I needed two lines
Another baby
My daughter needs a sibling
God has other plans
I am awake now
Why can I not go to sleep?
Disappointment sucks
Two lines are not there
I am not pregnant again
Bring on the vodka
and on another topic:
It is cold and dark
Why am I outside walking?
Oh. My ass is big.
Subdivision rules
I wish you would follow them
My shoe smells awful
As long as I can entertain myself...
Monday, November 24, 2008
Disorder
I am watching Clean House right now, and I just gotta say, how do people live like that? I was a total slob when I was a kid and living at home, but it was just one room (that I shared with my more sloppy sister). By the time I got to college, I didn't want to live in a mess anymore. Then I got the roommate who had the clothes mountain in the corner of the room. I swear I saw that thing move once. I hate cleaning, but I'm not a huge fan of clutter. I guess that actually goes together, now that I think about it. I hated dusting in our house because I had to move all my mom's crap around and dust under it. I'm watching a family that has so much stuff that they can't walk or sit or sleep anywhere in the house. That's just a disease, and they need more help than a group of personal organizers can give them.
My husband is anti stuff. He's always trying to sell or give away things in our house. I bristle at some of it, but I don't tend to hold on to a great many things (although I have a sweater of my mom's from high school and shirts of my dad's that were from before he moved out of his mom's house). My mom has added more and more clutter as time goes by. My sister's crawl space is the family respository for stuff we all want to save but just can't take right now. I guess we're fortunate that I have all the sentimental family belongings (the "bonus" of having an older family) that I need. We're also lucky that J. did not inherit his mom's pack rat tendencies (everyone is always throwing away her stuff). I hope I never get to the point where stuff takes over my life.
Pack Rat or Anti-clutter? Which are you?
My husband is anti stuff. He's always trying to sell or give away things in our house. I bristle at some of it, but I don't tend to hold on to a great many things (although I have a sweater of my mom's from high school and shirts of my dad's that were from before he moved out of his mom's house). My mom has added more and more clutter as time goes by. My sister's crawl space is the family respository for stuff we all want to save but just can't take right now. I guess we're fortunate that I have all the sentimental family belongings (the "bonus" of having an older family) that I need. We're also lucky that J. did not inherit his mom's pack rat tendencies (everyone is always throwing away her stuff). I hope I never get to the point where stuff takes over my life.
Pack Rat or Anti-clutter? Which are you?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Another $10 story
After the incident in the grocery store, I was reminded of the last time I encountered someone quibbling over $10.
I used to live in Chicago, and I owned a tiny loft condo in a reviving neighborhood. I lived there for 4 years and then moved to my current locale. I sold the condo to this absolutely vile girl. She came in to make an offer with all kinds of demands, which I politely declined. By the end of negotiations, I was completely p.o.'d, but fortunately, so was she.
Fast forward to closing...I had paid for the termite inspection, based on the estimate that she had given. The inspection was $10 less than her estimate, but the information had come to the closing agent too late to put it in to my check. So the closing agent told her that she owed me $10 and asked whether she had brought her checkbook. She started protesting that she hadn't brought her checkbook and she didn't have the cash, and it was only $10 anyway, so I should just let it go. I replied, "If it's only $10 to me, then it's only $10 to you, and I'm not letting it go."
I don't know why this girl caused such instant enmity in me, but boy, did I hate her. Oh yes, I remember, she was in commercial real estate, and had spoken to her residential real estate coworkers to get advice. So she spent our negotiating time name-dropping (all the so-influential real estate agents - woo hoo) and telling me what was customary for the seller to provide. I don't mind a know-it-all (heck, I am one frequently), but all her self-serving pronouncements were incorrect. All I know is, I got my $10.
I used to live in Chicago, and I owned a tiny loft condo in a reviving neighborhood. I lived there for 4 years and then moved to my current locale. I sold the condo to this absolutely vile girl. She came in to make an offer with all kinds of demands, which I politely declined. By the end of negotiations, I was completely p.o.'d, but fortunately, so was she.
Fast forward to closing...I had paid for the termite inspection, based on the estimate that she had given. The inspection was $10 less than her estimate, but the information had come to the closing agent too late to put it in to my check. So the closing agent told her that she owed me $10 and asked whether she had brought her checkbook. She started protesting that she hadn't brought her checkbook and she didn't have the cash, and it was only $10 anyway, so I should just let it go. I replied, "If it's only $10 to me, then it's only $10 to you, and I'm not letting it go."
I don't know why this girl caused such instant enmity in me, but boy, did I hate her. Oh yes, I remember, she was in commercial real estate, and had spoken to her residential real estate coworkers to get advice. So she spent our negotiating time name-dropping (all the so-influential real estate agents - woo hoo) and telling me what was customary for the seller to provide. I don't mind a know-it-all (heck, I am one frequently), but all her self-serving pronouncements were incorrect. All I know is, I got my $10.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Show and Tell
It's pretty cold here this week, so I thought it would be nice to see some pictures from last spring.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Ugh, some people
A grocery store in my area has a deal on many Thursdays - $10 off your purchase of $50 or more. As I would expect, on most of these Thursdays, the store is packed with people. I live in a suburban area, where the types of people range from yuppies to drug dealers - in other words, it's fairly diverse. There are two branches of the grocery store within 15 minutes of my house. One is in a university town, the other is in a more blue collar town. I usually go blue collar, since it's slightly closer and I like the store arrangement better.
After wending my way through the crowds, finding all the bargains that I needed to find, I got in line to check out. As I was standing in line, a woman came up to get in the line next to me. She got on her cell phone and started talking to what I assume was her husband. She started complaining about the length of the lines. Then she says "I can't believe all these people are here. It's only $10. I mean, these people would probably spend it beer or cigarettes anyway. or lottery tickets." Now, she was standing about 10 feet away and I could hear her loud and clear. Then, after she hung up, she saw a friend a few lines away and repeated the same comments to him. Ummm, excuse me, but aren't you in here with a cart full of groceries, trying to get your $10 off?
I hate hypocrites. I am (unfortunately) a hypocrite magnet. Sigh.
After wending my way through the crowds, finding all the bargains that I needed to find, I got in line to check out. As I was standing in line, a woman came up to get in the line next to me. She got on her cell phone and started talking to what I assume was her husband. She started complaining about the length of the lines. Then she says "I can't believe all these people are here. It's only $10. I mean, these people would probably spend it beer or cigarettes anyway. or lottery tickets." Now, she was standing about 10 feet away and I could hear her loud and clear. Then, after she hung up, she saw a friend a few lines away and repeated the same comments to him. Ummm, excuse me, but aren't you in here with a cart full of groceries, trying to get your $10 off?
I hate hypocrites. I am (unfortunately) a hypocrite magnet. Sigh.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Today
My head was about to explode. Managers in my workplace suck.
I think I'm better now.
My husband has been forecasting the end of the world for a while now. Mostly I ignore him, because he is just venting about something he can't express specifically, so he goes with the end of the world. It's dire enough for how he feels, but nebulous enough that he doesn't feel tied to it when life is going well. He was about to start a dissertation (doing a little googling) about how the predictions in Revelation and Daniel are eerily accurate, and asked me if I was familiar with some passage or another. I told him that I didn't remember any of Revelation because it was kinda boring, so I mostly skimmed through it. He couldn't stop laughing at that one. I see his point; most people are way concerned with the book of Revelation. But I am not a fundamentalist, and I don't get much into apocalyptic fantasy when I read fiction (movies, OK; books, not so much). So, yep, I find Revelation to be a chore to read. Nothing like a little irreverence to lighten your mood.
I think I'm better now.
My husband has been forecasting the end of the world for a while now. Mostly I ignore him, because he is just venting about something he can't express specifically, so he goes with the end of the world. It's dire enough for how he feels, but nebulous enough that he doesn't feel tied to it when life is going well. He was about to start a dissertation (doing a little googling) about how the predictions in Revelation and Daniel are eerily accurate, and asked me if I was familiar with some passage or another. I told him that I didn't remember any of Revelation because it was kinda boring, so I mostly skimmed through it. He couldn't stop laughing at that one. I see his point; most people are way concerned with the book of Revelation. But I am not a fundamentalist, and I don't get much into apocalyptic fantasy when I read fiction (movies, OK; books, not so much). So, yep, I find Revelation to be a chore to read. Nothing like a little irreverence to lighten your mood.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
More reasons why my blog title is accurate...
Last night, I announced to my husband at 10:00 that I was going to bed. So, I took myself off to the bathroom to prepare for bed. Upon emerging, I found my husband putting away his clothes in our master closet. That would be all the clothes that he had been wearing for the last 6 months - he had brought all his summer wear home with him this trip. I had to ask him what about the phrase "I'm going to bed" inspired him with the urgent need to hang up his clothes, when he had the WHOLE day to put these things away. He said he was just trying to annoy me.
I also found out that, contrary to my imaginings, hospital records are not computerized, accurate, or easily accessible. In a job related situation, the serial # on a prosthetic device needed to be traced to a particular person (which would have saved me some rather unpleasant work). The hospital said it would take a week to request the records from archives and then 2 weeks to search the records. I ended up (through sheer luck, although no less unpleasantness) being able to obtain similar information in about an hour. Really, it should not take more time for a records search than for lab work.
This brings up another concern. Several months ago, I emailed Dr. A to ask him what I would need to do should I get pregnant again. He emailed me back to say that I should just follow the same protocol - i.e. get a + hpt and come in for a blood test and then get prescribed all kinds of fun medicine. Now, I'm worried that they will be like "who are you and what do you want again?" Oh well, I guess I'll just take my chances...
On the positive side, gas is cheaper than it's been in years! And it's supposed to be almost 60 degrees today! In the middle of November!
Yep, it's definitely an Are You Kidding Me kind of day.
I also found out that, contrary to my imaginings, hospital records are not computerized, accurate, or easily accessible. In a job related situation, the serial # on a prosthetic device needed to be traced to a particular person (which would have saved me some rather unpleasant work). The hospital said it would take a week to request the records from archives and then 2 weeks to search the records. I ended up (through sheer luck, although no less unpleasantness) being able to obtain similar information in about an hour. Really, it should not take more time for a records search than for lab work.
This brings up another concern. Several months ago, I emailed Dr. A to ask him what I would need to do should I get pregnant again. He emailed me back to say that I should just follow the same protocol - i.e. get a + hpt and come in for a blood test and then get prescribed all kinds of fun medicine. Now, I'm worried that they will be like "who are you and what do you want again?" Oh well, I guess I'll just take my chances...
On the positive side, gas is cheaper than it's been in years! And it's supposed to be almost 60 degrees today! In the middle of November!
Yep, it's definitely an Are You Kidding Me kind of day.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A Movie Review and other stuff
Last night, at my husband's suggestion, we watched Superbad. It was OK. It gave me the same feeling that Knocked Up did - namely, it would have been much funnier if the dialogue wasn't so stilted. I guess what confuses me is that this stilted dialogue happens only occasionally, and in scenes where more relaxed delivery would be more fitting and funnier. Take, for instance, the "I love you" scene, near the end of the movie. The guys were supposed to be so wasted that they had passed out and/or were uncomfortably truthful with the girls they wanted to sleep with. The wasted guys I've encountered (and there have been many, because I mostly hang out with guys and I mostly don't drink) would have little problem telling other guys they loved them. Because they're drunk. Wait, not just drunk, wasted. Oh well, it was funny, in an incredibly juvenile humor kind of way. I'm glad I'm not too old to appreciate this stuff yet. I outgrew horror movies a few years ago, and the spoof movies barely elicit a chuckle. Without coming-of-age or kid's movies, I'd be limited to action movies and drama. Not a great deal of laughs in those genres...
Other than that, I guess I'm sort of in the 2ww. Since I don't require medical intervention until after fertilization, I'm not completely sure. The timing may have been right when my husband got home this weekend, so now I get to spend the next week or so wondering and hopeful. I just hate the crushing disappointment that comes with the BFN. And the feeling of time running out. And what do I have to look forward to if it is a BFP? Many weeks of shots, followed by several months wondering if everything is normal. So I guess I'll just wait and see. But I'm not giving up caffeine yet.
Other than that, I guess I'm sort of in the 2ww. Since I don't require medical intervention until after fertilization, I'm not completely sure. The timing may have been right when my husband got home this weekend, so now I get to spend the next week or so wondering and hopeful. I just hate the crushing disappointment that comes with the BFN. And the feeling of time running out. And what do I have to look forward to if it is a BFP? Many weeks of shots, followed by several months wondering if everything is normal. So I guess I'll just wait and see. But I'm not giving up caffeine yet.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
A good day
It's been busy around our household this weekend. Yesterday, our neighbors needed a dogsitter, because their dog was on new medication that made him thirsty. So, DD and I wandered over every couple ours. DD loves doggies, but we don't have one. She was in heaven. She's still talking about the doggie pooping. When we were leaving, the dog thought that the fake fur trim on DD's coat was one of his toys, so he grabbed it and tried to drag her back into the house. I'm not sure she noticed, but I found it amusing.
We also had a birthday party for another 2 year old to attend. My friend made an incredible train cake. Very impressive. DD seems to be the only girl her age around. In her daycare, there are 5 girls and 10 boys. Everywhere we go, it's all boys. I guess that will be good for dating options later.
Finally, DH returned from work this morning at 4 am. He's crazy and likes to drive through the night. But he got home safely, and we are very happy he's home. DD kept trying to wake up daddy. She loves her daddy!
We also had a birthday party for another 2 year old to attend. My friend made an incredible train cake. Very impressive. DD seems to be the only girl her age around. In her daycare, there are 5 girls and 10 boys. Everywhere we go, it's all boys. I guess that will be good for dating options later.
Finally, DH returned from work this morning at 4 am. He's crazy and likes to drive through the night. But he got home safely, and we are very happy he's home. DD kept trying to wake up daddy. She loves her daddy!
Friday, November 14, 2008
Reading some comments...
Martha said...
Ha, ha, love Pearls Before Swine. How does one make money from blogs??
I wish I knew!
KandiB said...
Can I come work with you? I'd like to spend 1/2 my day chewin' the fat with whomever.
Sure, come on along, but first a few qualifying questions...
1. Do you have social skills? If so, please do not bother. We have met our quota of people with social skills (I think there's one somewhere, but he/she may have quit to work somewhere normal).
2. Can you spend your fat chewin' time bitching incessantly? Would you prefer to talk about politics or religion (or any other subject that's usually taboo in the workplace)? If the answer is yes, welcome!
3. Do you find it charming when your supervisor rewrites the rules to better cover himself with glory (even when there's not really any glory available)?
4. When your employer tells you that "we're all a big family" are you aware that this means that you're about to be treated like a toddler with a learning deficiency? If not, then this is the place for you!
Fortunately, the benefits are good (I'm in one of those states that mandates insurance coverage for IF treatments), salary is good, and hours are good. Sometimes the work is even useful and fulfilling.
Although, I should mention Evil Coworker #1 used to flaunt her fertility/children in the face of a former coworker that she knew really wanted kids. (She's one of those "I got pregnant on bcp twice" kind of people)
Ha, ha, love Pearls Before Swine. How does one make money from blogs??
I wish I knew!
KandiB said...
Can I come work with you? I'd like to spend 1/2 my day chewin' the fat with whomever.
Sure, come on along, but first a few qualifying questions...
1. Do you have social skills? If so, please do not bother. We have met our quota of people with social skills (I think there's one somewhere, but he/she may have quit to work somewhere normal).
2. Can you spend your fat chewin' time bitching incessantly? Would you prefer to talk about politics or religion (or any other subject that's usually taboo in the workplace)? If the answer is yes, welcome!
3. Do you find it charming when your supervisor rewrites the rules to better cover himself with glory (even when there's not really any glory available)?
4. When your employer tells you that "we're all a big family" are you aware that this means that you're about to be treated like a toddler with a learning deficiency? If not, then this is the place for you!
Fortunately, the benefits are good (I'm in one of those states that mandates insurance coverage for IF treatments), salary is good, and hours are good. Sometimes the work is even useful and fulfilling.
Although, I should mention Evil Coworker #1 used to flaunt her fertility/children in the face of a former coworker that she knew really wanted kids. (She's one of those "I got pregnant on bcp twice" kind of people)
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sigh
An open letter to my coworkers:
We have one of the best jobs on earth. Sure, it's boring, and you're completely unappreciated. Sure, you generally feel like you're bound by the silliest rules ever devised by mankind. But seriously. No one else will pay you what you're making with that silly B.S. degree - you'd have to get a Masters, if not a Ph.D. No one will give you sick time and vacation time, and personal days and 13 paid holidays a year. No one will (more or less) let you manage your own workload, imposing very few deadlines. No other workplace will allow you to spend 3 to 4 hours a day EVERY DAY chatting with your coworkers. So, please, before I completely lose my mind, STOP WHINING! It's not that bad. It would not be better somewhere else, but if you're interested in finding out please do so as quickly as possible. But, if you must stay, could you at least manage to do your job properly, so as not to screw up my work? It's not really that difficult. Read a little, ask a question or two. Follow the rules. They tried to idiot-proof everything, but you are clearly superidiots, as you manage to miss the most obvious things. But, if I were the one to make these mistakes, you'd all be the first ones in the manager's office, accusing me of sabotaging you.
In closing, spare me. Spare me your personal traumas. Spare me your whining about how you just can't work under these conditions. Spare me your pseudo moral outrage - I've seen your black souls and you have no morals. Spare me.
Thanks,
A
As a follow-up to yesterday's post, DD's musical interest is ever expanding. She loves the Smashing Pumpkins - not their music, per se (I'm not actually sure that she knows that they are musicians). Every time they are mentioned on the radio (which is frequently, since they're coming to town soon), she repeats Smashing Pumpkins and laughs and laughs. I guess she just likes the name.
We have one of the best jobs on earth. Sure, it's boring, and you're completely unappreciated. Sure, you generally feel like you're bound by the silliest rules ever devised by mankind. But seriously. No one else will pay you what you're making with that silly B.S. degree - you'd have to get a Masters, if not a Ph.D. No one will give you sick time and vacation time, and personal days and 13 paid holidays a year. No one will (more or less) let you manage your own workload, imposing very few deadlines. No other workplace will allow you to spend 3 to 4 hours a day EVERY DAY chatting with your coworkers. So, please, before I completely lose my mind, STOP WHINING! It's not that bad. It would not be better somewhere else, but if you're interested in finding out please do so as quickly as possible. But, if you must stay, could you at least manage to do your job properly, so as not to screw up my work? It's not really that difficult. Read a little, ask a question or two. Follow the rules. They tried to idiot-proof everything, but you are clearly superidiots, as you manage to miss the most obvious things. But, if I were the one to make these mistakes, you'd all be the first ones in the manager's office, accusing me of sabotaging you.
In closing, spare me. Spare me your personal traumas. Spare me your whining about how you just can't work under these conditions. Spare me your pseudo moral outrage - I've seen your black souls and you have no morals. Spare me.
Thanks,
A
As a follow-up to yesterday's post, DD's musical interest is ever expanding. She loves the Smashing Pumpkins - not their music, per se (I'm not actually sure that she knows that they are musicians). Every time they are mentioned on the radio (which is frequently, since they're coming to town soon), she repeats Smashing Pumpkins and laughs and laughs. I guess she just likes the name.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Music
DD has always been a fan of music. As an infant, she would go to sleep in her vibrating bouncy chair listening to classical cd's* or Belinda Carlisle. But she has also been selective about her music. Belinda Carlisle, yes. Big Head Todd and the Monsters (or was it Toad the Wet Sprocket?), a most emphatic no! She loved most things, from the music box that plays Love Makes the World Go Round to the electronic bleatings of the toys my sisters provided. Several months ago, her father introduced her to YouTube. I think she was having a tantrum, so he played Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry for her. And when he's mad at me, he plays Jojo's Leave/Get Out. Yep, DD likes music. But, today, she surprised me. You might notice that most of her mentioned preferences have been on the pop side of the music spectrum. Today, we were in the car, listening to the local alternative rock station, when Apocalyptica's I Don't Care started playing. Using her second four word phrase, DD said "I love this song," and accompanied that statement with some nice, rhythmic head bopping. I'm so proud.
*Classical cd's were sent to us by a guy who came to our house to buy some items that we had for sale on craigslist. We were talking about our newborn, and he said that he had to send us something for her. You can meet good and interesting people when you least expect it.
*Classical cd's were sent to us by a guy who came to our house to buy some items that we had for sale on craigslist. We were talking about our newborn, and he said that he had to send us something for her. You can meet good and interesting people when you least expect it.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Our Story
I met my husband at work. We started dating in 1999 (or 2000, depending on who you ask). In 2001, the opportunity to transfer to a different work location arose. This, in turn, led to our decision to move in together. We bought a house in my husband's home town. In 2002, my husband's Army Reserve Unit was called up for duty in Uzbekistan. J spent 9 months in Uzbekistan and Afghanistan. When he returned home in 2003, we got married.
In 2005, I finally convinced J that having a baby would be a good idea. He was unsure of the whole idea due to the fact that he's fairly well convinced that he has long term as-yet-unknown health issues from serving in Iraq during the Gulf War. Anyway, we had a discussion in December of 2004 that I interpreted to mean that we could start preparing to have a baby. He meant we should start thinking about it, but I stopped taking my bcp, and when March came around, I was ready to try for a baby. So we did. And I got pregnant right away.
I made an appointment with a carefully chosen OB/Gyn. Unfortunately, I didn't choose carefully enough, so we now refer to her as Dr. Bad Karma. On my first appointment, I was instructed to meet with the midwife. The office staff told me that many women prefer to see the midwife instead of the doctor, and this should have been my first clue that I would probably not like this practice. So, at my first appointment, I met the midwife. I hated her immediately. I have a degree in Biochemistry, and I'm not very social, and I don't really like to express my feelings. I was also almost 36. During my appointment with the midwife, I had a ton of questions. I'd never been pregnant before and I had never been close enough (distance-wise) to be involved in any of my friends' or family's pregnancies. I wanted facts. The midwife gave me feelings. When I inquired about the possibility of miscarriage (since several of my friends had recently experienced miscarriages), she handed me a tissue and told me not to worry about it. I resolved not to make any more appointments with her.
The next appointment, I met with the doctor. She was OK, if somewhat brusque. I appreciated that and felt that I would get straight information from her. I can't remember if I had a chance to hear the baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. By this time, J had told all of his family. I had told my family. Then, one day, he let it slip to our coworkers. That was on a Thursday. On Saturday, I started bleeding a little bit. Nothing to worry about, the weekend service said, just stay off your feet. On Sunday, I lost the baby, just shy of 12 weeks. J called Dr. Bad Karma and was completely offended by her manner. It seems we were interrupting her Father's Day celebrations and she let it show. I thought she was just being her usual terse self. Either way, I was able to see what I thought was the baby when I passed it. Needless to say, I was hysterical and sobbing and my poor husband couldn't do anything to help me or himself.
I went in for the internal ultrasound the next day, to confirm the loss. The doctor told me that it happens in 15% or more of pregnancies, and we could just try again whenever we felt we were ready. I took the next few days off of work, leaving it to J to tell everyone at work. He is not a very sympathetic person in general, but he reached new heights of insensitivity during this time. On reflection, I know that he couldn't be sensitive because he was completely helpless to deal with his own emotions. I knew it subconsciously at the time, I think. I knew how to grieve, as I had lost several people who were very important to me, including my dad. J's only loss was the death of his grandfather, and he was pretty young when that happened.
So, being determined people who had set their minds to a project, once we were able to try again, we did. And we got pregnant again. And, in September, at 8 weeks, I lost the baby. This was not as devastating as the first loss. I think maybe I expected it. I hadn't even made it to my first doctor's appointment, and didn't even have a due date to focus on. But I went in for the internal ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. When I was in the office, the nurse or med tech, said, "Now you're about 24 weeks, right?" Uh, no actually. I lost that baby, I'm losing another one, and don't you people read your charts or do you just not f'ing update them??? I got stuck with the midwife again. She seemed somewhat perturbed when I said I wanted to see the doctor about some testing. Normally, the doctors go with statistics and make you keep having miscarriages until you beat the odds (or maybe have 3 depending on the doctor), but I insisted on having some testing. Since I was already "old," they indulged me.
This time, we hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy, except one of J's sisters. She had also had a miscarriage recently, but followed that up with a successful twin pregnancy. Anyway, her husband is a doctor. So, after reflecting on our situation, he decided to ask around and find a doctor who might be able to help us. Enter Dr. A - the perfect combination of 2nd generation MD, good looking, and knowledgeable.
Dr. Bad Karma recommended a series of blood tests, which I did, and an HSG. I had sent my information to Dr. A and had a telephone consultation. He recommended additional blood tests and a hysteroscopy instead of the HSG. Having read the HSG information, I was inclined to agree with his view. To me, a camera beats radioactive dye any day of the week. So there's a little anesthesia involved, so what? Anyway, I had all my bloodwork info transferred to Dr. A's office. Dr. Bad Karma's office was confused that I was branching out on my own. Apparently, they'd never had a proactive patient before, because they couldn't understand why I wanted my info transferred without having Dr. Bad Karma recommend someone to me. Another sign.
After Dr. A's intensive battery of tests, and making my husband donate a sperm sample (which we retrieved at home and then I had to carry it in my armpit for the 45 minute drive to Dr. A's office), we had some results. J was convinced he had mutant sperm. He was also unconvinced about Dr. A, since our insurance would not cover all of the testing that was done. He was wrong on all counts. Dr. A was wonderful, our insurance covered most of the costs, and I was the one with the problem.
My father died in 1991 due to complications of Rheumatoid Arthritis. RA is an autoimmune disease, and it is usually inherited. In my dad's family, it follows a meandering path. My dad's uncle had it, my dad had it, and my cousin has a different autoimmune disease that falls into the same family. Based on that information, I should not have any problems, and I don't. Except for this one small thing. Anti-nuclear antibodies. Everyone has some, but an elevated level is a non-definitive indicator of an autoimmune disease. But then again, some people just have them. I theorize that I have excess ANA's because my dad had RA. Dr. A seemed somewhat disappointed that all I would need was a few drugs and things should work out just fine. He told me to go home and let him know ASAP when I was pregnant again. Then he would prescribe heparin and aspirin, and the pregnancy would work out fine.
In January, I got pregnant again (I am not infertile! I can get pregnant at the drop of a hat. Or a sperm , if you prefer. I just have trouble holding on to that pregnancy. Oh, I guess that means I am infertile). Dr. A gave me drugs - fun injections twice a day for 2 months - and a couple turns with the vagi-cam. I got a lovely cd showing pictures of the baby and saw her heartbeat at 6.5 weeks. Then he sent me back to Dr. Bad Karma.
The main reason that I was trying to stick with Dr. Bad Karma was that she practiced out of the hospital that is 5 minutes from my house. There was no one else in the area that I wanted to use. It was either her or another hospital. I really gave her the benefit of the doubt - over and over. The final straw was when I saw her for my first appointment after Dr. A released me. I was 12 weeks at that point. I had now surpassed any other pregnancy, and things appeared to be going just fine. During the appointment, when I told her what protocol Dr. A had used, she sneered a little and said that she'd never heard of that being used for my particular problem. (Hey lady - screw results! Just because you've never heard of it means it just shouldn't be used, right?) Then, when I requested a level 2 ultrasound (yes, a 36 year old woman who's had a couple miscarriages had to request a level 2 ultrasound before 20 weeks), she snidely asked me if the major teaching university in our area would be OK with me. Apparently, I was not supposed to participate in my own health care. At that point, I decided that I would ask J's BIL for a recommendation for a new OB. When I left Dr. Bad Karma's office, they told me I owed them $50 for my pregnancy copay. I should have told them to bill me, but I foolishly paid.
Enter Dr. Fantastic (his name is actually a synonym for that). When I went to see him, he had actually read all the information in the medical history from Dr. Bad Karma's office, and he talked with me for 15 minutes in his office. Then we went in for the exam. He got out the Doppler, and...he couldn't find the heartbeat. He searched everywhere. It was a very tense time period (seemed like an hour but was probably only 5 -10 minutes), but he finally found it. My little menace was not cooperative about lodging in a place where her heartbeat could be easily detected. When Dr. Fantastic finally found the heartbeat, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. I said, "You're not kidding. And you're not even emotionally invested in this baby." He said, "you'd be surprised." After that, he called the ultrasound service in his building and got me in for an ultrasound right away, saying "you haven't seen the baby in 8 weeks. I'm sure you want to reassure yourself that everything is fine." Dr. Fantastic won my heart right there.
Over the next few months, Dr. Fantastic took excellent care of me. He sent me to Specialist Dr. B to determine that I did not have Lupus (could have told them that). That was a bonus, though. With Dr. B, I got to have ultrasounds every month. Finally, in October, on my due date, my daughter arrived via C-section.
Now, 2 years later, I want to try again. My husband, however, thinks the economy is so bad that anarchy is around the corner. It's hard to talk him into having children when he thinks the world is going to end. On the plus side, he always keeps his word. I seem to remember him telling me we could try again...
In 2005, I finally convinced J that having a baby would be a good idea. He was unsure of the whole idea due to the fact that he's fairly well convinced that he has long term as-yet-unknown health issues from serving in Iraq during the Gulf War. Anyway, we had a discussion in December of 2004 that I interpreted to mean that we could start preparing to have a baby. He meant we should start thinking about it, but I stopped taking my bcp, and when March came around, I was ready to try for a baby. So we did. And I got pregnant right away.
I made an appointment with a carefully chosen OB/Gyn. Unfortunately, I didn't choose carefully enough, so we now refer to her as Dr. Bad Karma. On my first appointment, I was instructed to meet with the midwife. The office staff told me that many women prefer to see the midwife instead of the doctor, and this should have been my first clue that I would probably not like this practice. So, at my first appointment, I met the midwife. I hated her immediately. I have a degree in Biochemistry, and I'm not very social, and I don't really like to express my feelings. I was also almost 36. During my appointment with the midwife, I had a ton of questions. I'd never been pregnant before and I had never been close enough (distance-wise) to be involved in any of my friends' or family's pregnancies. I wanted facts. The midwife gave me feelings. When I inquired about the possibility of miscarriage (since several of my friends had recently experienced miscarriages), she handed me a tissue and told me not to worry about it. I resolved not to make any more appointments with her.
The next appointment, I met with the doctor. She was OK, if somewhat brusque. I appreciated that and felt that I would get straight information from her. I can't remember if I had a chance to hear the baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. By this time, J had told all of his family. I had told my family. Then, one day, he let it slip to our coworkers. That was on a Thursday. On Saturday, I started bleeding a little bit. Nothing to worry about, the weekend service said, just stay off your feet. On Sunday, I lost the baby, just shy of 12 weeks. J called Dr. Bad Karma and was completely offended by her manner. It seems we were interrupting her Father's Day celebrations and she let it show. I thought she was just being her usual terse self. Either way, I was able to see what I thought was the baby when I passed it. Needless to say, I was hysterical and sobbing and my poor husband couldn't do anything to help me or himself.
I went in for the internal ultrasound the next day, to confirm the loss. The doctor told me that it happens in 15% or more of pregnancies, and we could just try again whenever we felt we were ready. I took the next few days off of work, leaving it to J to tell everyone at work. He is not a very sympathetic person in general, but he reached new heights of insensitivity during this time. On reflection, I know that he couldn't be sensitive because he was completely helpless to deal with his own emotions. I knew it subconsciously at the time, I think. I knew how to grieve, as I had lost several people who were very important to me, including my dad. J's only loss was the death of his grandfather, and he was pretty young when that happened.
So, being determined people who had set their minds to a project, once we were able to try again, we did. And we got pregnant again. And, in September, at 8 weeks, I lost the baby. This was not as devastating as the first loss. I think maybe I expected it. I hadn't even made it to my first doctor's appointment, and didn't even have a due date to focus on. But I went in for the internal ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. When I was in the office, the nurse or med tech, said, "Now you're about 24 weeks, right?" Uh, no actually. I lost that baby, I'm losing another one, and don't you people read your charts or do you just not f'ing update them??? I got stuck with the midwife again. She seemed somewhat perturbed when I said I wanted to see the doctor about some testing. Normally, the doctors go with statistics and make you keep having miscarriages until you beat the odds (or maybe have 3 depending on the doctor), but I insisted on having some testing. Since I was already "old," they indulged me.
This time, we hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy, except one of J's sisters. She had also had a miscarriage recently, but followed that up with a successful twin pregnancy. Anyway, her husband is a doctor. So, after reflecting on our situation, he decided to ask around and find a doctor who might be able to help us. Enter Dr. A - the perfect combination of 2nd generation MD, good looking, and knowledgeable.
Dr. Bad Karma recommended a series of blood tests, which I did, and an HSG. I had sent my information to Dr. A and had a telephone consultation. He recommended additional blood tests and a hysteroscopy instead of the HSG. Having read the HSG information, I was inclined to agree with his view. To me, a camera beats radioactive dye any day of the week. So there's a little anesthesia involved, so what? Anyway, I had all my bloodwork info transferred to Dr. A's office. Dr. Bad Karma's office was confused that I was branching out on my own. Apparently, they'd never had a proactive patient before, because they couldn't understand why I wanted my info transferred without having Dr. Bad Karma recommend someone to me. Another sign.
After Dr. A's intensive battery of tests, and making my husband donate a sperm sample (which we retrieved at home and then I had to carry it in my armpit for the 45 minute drive to Dr. A's office), we had some results. J was convinced he had mutant sperm. He was also unconvinced about Dr. A, since our insurance would not cover all of the testing that was done. He was wrong on all counts. Dr. A was wonderful, our insurance covered most of the costs, and I was the one with the problem.
My father died in 1991 due to complications of Rheumatoid Arthritis. RA is an autoimmune disease, and it is usually inherited. In my dad's family, it follows a meandering path. My dad's uncle had it, my dad had it, and my cousin has a different autoimmune disease that falls into the same family. Based on that information, I should not have any problems, and I don't. Except for this one small thing. Anti-nuclear antibodies. Everyone has some, but an elevated level is a non-definitive indicator of an autoimmune disease. But then again, some people just have them. I theorize that I have excess ANA's because my dad had RA. Dr. A seemed somewhat disappointed that all I would need was a few drugs and things should work out just fine. He told me to go home and let him know ASAP when I was pregnant again. Then he would prescribe heparin and aspirin, and the pregnancy would work out fine.
In January, I got pregnant again (I am not infertile! I can get pregnant at the drop of a hat. Or a sperm , if you prefer. I just have trouble holding on to that pregnancy. Oh, I guess that means I am infertile). Dr. A gave me drugs - fun injections twice a day for 2 months - and a couple turns with the vagi-cam. I got a lovely cd showing pictures of the baby and saw her heartbeat at 6.5 weeks. Then he sent me back to Dr. Bad Karma.
The main reason that I was trying to stick with Dr. Bad Karma was that she practiced out of the hospital that is 5 minutes from my house. There was no one else in the area that I wanted to use. It was either her or another hospital. I really gave her the benefit of the doubt - over and over. The final straw was when I saw her for my first appointment after Dr. A released me. I was 12 weeks at that point. I had now surpassed any other pregnancy, and things appeared to be going just fine. During the appointment, when I told her what protocol Dr. A had used, she sneered a little and said that she'd never heard of that being used for my particular problem. (Hey lady - screw results! Just because you've never heard of it means it just shouldn't be used, right?) Then, when I requested a level 2 ultrasound (yes, a 36 year old woman who's had a couple miscarriages had to request a level 2 ultrasound before 20 weeks), she snidely asked me if the major teaching university in our area would be OK with me. Apparently, I was not supposed to participate in my own health care. At that point, I decided that I would ask J's BIL for a recommendation for a new OB. When I left Dr. Bad Karma's office, they told me I owed them $50 for my pregnancy copay. I should have told them to bill me, but I foolishly paid.
Enter Dr. Fantastic (his name is actually a synonym for that). When I went to see him, he had actually read all the information in the medical history from Dr. Bad Karma's office, and he talked with me for 15 minutes in his office. Then we went in for the exam. He got out the Doppler, and...he couldn't find the heartbeat. He searched everywhere. It was a very tense time period (seemed like an hour but was probably only 5 -10 minutes), but he finally found it. My little menace was not cooperative about lodging in a place where her heartbeat could be easily detected. When Dr. Fantastic finally found the heartbeat, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. I said, "You're not kidding. And you're not even emotionally invested in this baby." He said, "you'd be surprised." After that, he called the ultrasound service in his building and got me in for an ultrasound right away, saying "you haven't seen the baby in 8 weeks. I'm sure you want to reassure yourself that everything is fine." Dr. Fantastic won my heart right there.
Over the next few months, Dr. Fantastic took excellent care of me. He sent me to Specialist Dr. B to determine that I did not have Lupus (could have told them that). That was a bonus, though. With Dr. B, I got to have ultrasounds every month. Finally, in October, on my due date, my daughter arrived via C-section.
Now, 2 years later, I want to try again. My husband, however, thinks the economy is so bad that anarchy is around the corner. It's hard to talk him into having children when he thinks the world is going to end. On the plus side, he always keeps his word. I seem to remember him telling me we could try again...
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Random Thoughts
J works in a different state. It's not about living on the border of 2 states (although we do) - he got a great paying job 600 miles away. We used to work at the same place. It's incredibly stable and the security is unbeatable. But he got fed up, and needed a change. When he took this job, I considered going too. But we had a 7 month old, we live near his family and not terribly far from mine, and the job is government contract, so there was no guarantee that the job would still be there in 5 years. So I stayed, with the baby, in our beautiful house that my husband built. It's not a terrible arrangement - his schedule is 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off. But, I think he will be quitting soon to come home and be Mr. Mom. The pay is not as good, but the benefits are much better. Or, he'll decide to do a year of the dangerous overseas option of his job for twice as much money. Either way, he'll be home next weekend and will stay through Thanksgiving.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Statistics
Statistics don't work for me. It seems that everyone I know has had some kind of reproductive issue. My oldest sister and a few friends have gotten by with just a minor complications (gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia, c-sections). But, I have a sister who adopted 2 babies from China, when she and her husband didn't get pregnant naturally. I have a friend who had to terminate a pregnancy due to major abnormalities. Two friends, one sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, one aunt and I have had miscarriages. One friend and I had fertility treatments (me: autoimmune issues - heparin and aspirin, friend: drugs and IUI, I believe). Most odd, to me, is that I know three guys who have had their vasectomies reversed. The thing is, I don't really know that many people. So, probably 80% of the people I know have had problems conceiving and carrying a child. Seems a little high to me...
Friday, November 7, 2008
Today, my husband let me know that he is still grieving. 3 years ago, I had 2 miscarriages in 3 months. I should have known how hard it would hit J, because he was so excited. We weren't really on great terms with his parents at the time, but he told them right away. He told everyone right away. I was already 35, and was more cautious. We lost the first baby on Father's Day. It was devastating for me, but not debilitating. For J, it was just something to suppress. I cried for 3 days. J objected when I took the third day off work - and the fourth day too. He told me I should be over it. Then, I was hurt. Today, 3 years later, I can accept that he did not know what to do or how to grieve. It still hurts him and that surprises him.
He is still afraid that he will somehow lose our daughter. When she was conceived, I was determined that not only would she survive the toxic environment that is my body, she would be whole and healthy and have her father's metabolism. I would do anything to ensure that she would come into the world. So, I have confidence that things are good now, and I am here to protect her. J thinks she is an angel that he is not worthy of having in his life, and she will be taken from him. Fear is an insidious thing, and it just doesn't want to go away.
In spite of all this, I want a sibling for S. She is precious, and I am lucky to have her, but I don't want her to be alone in the world when her father and I are gone. Now, I just have to convince her father that it will work. I guess I'm here to vent my doubts, spew my history, and express random thoughts about whatever crosses my mind.
The title of my blog comes from my latest favorite response to the idiocy of others - it's a nice clean way to say WTF??!!!! in front of my daughter. Oddly enough, that is also the first four word sentence that she absorbed, and she says it all the time. Guess I shouldn't have explained its usage to her...she's too smart for my own good.
He is still afraid that he will somehow lose our daughter. When she was conceived, I was determined that not only would she survive the toxic environment that is my body, she would be whole and healthy and have her father's metabolism. I would do anything to ensure that she would come into the world. So, I have confidence that things are good now, and I am here to protect her. J thinks she is an angel that he is not worthy of having in his life, and she will be taken from him. Fear is an insidious thing, and it just doesn't want to go away.
In spite of all this, I want a sibling for S. She is precious, and I am lucky to have her, but I don't want her to be alone in the world when her father and I are gone. Now, I just have to convince her father that it will work. I guess I'm here to vent my doubts, spew my history, and express random thoughts about whatever crosses my mind.
The title of my blog comes from my latest favorite response to the idiocy of others - it's a nice clean way to say WTF??!!!! in front of my daughter. Oddly enough, that is also the first four word sentence that she absorbed, and she says it all the time. Guess I shouldn't have explained its usage to her...she's too smart for my own good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)