Blog you very much

JJ at Reproductive Jeans had just the best idea to post a shout-out to the blogs that inspired you to start yours.

I exactly remember the day I found Stirrup Queens a few weeks after my first miscarriage last November and clicked on a few blogs and started reading. I would read someone's blog from start to finish in one sitting. Before then, I had only heard about blogs on NPR. Here are a few I connected with immediately, sustained me through the dark days and inspired me to begin my own.

So blog you, ladies. Blog you very much.

Apron Strings. Known then as The Oneliner, Christina was (still is) funny and honest. At the time she was still trying to figure out why the basic baby making business wasn't happening for her. In her, I saw another professional woman - similar to myself - struggling. She honestly wrote about ovulation sex fights and being happy one day and beyond sad the next. About being dedicated to her career but wanting (and deserving) so much more. I knew exactly what she was going through. And she made me feel not so alone. I will cry tears of joy the day that Christina becomes someone's mom.

My Dear Watson. Infertility can be such a sad journey. But Watson got sassy with infertility and made it her bitch. She used self-deprecating humor and her terrific writing skills to make it seem not so sad. Each post was a big middle finger in the face of infertility. And then pregnancy. Now I can't wait to see what she writes about motherhood.

Sticky Bun. Have you ever read someone else's post and thought, "that person has been inside my head!" Nearly every one of Sticky's posts were like reading a page from my diary. If we didn't live on opposite sides of the country, I am sure we'd be dragging our husbands to dinner parties together. From hyphenated last names to miscarriages to a strained relationship with the religion in which we were raised, Sticky and I have so much in common. And when our paths were different, Sticky's posts always gracefully reminded me of what the other side might be dealing with.

With much love and thanks to you each.

Melt Down

Today marks my first (and hopefully last) mini-meltdown on my OB's office. Subject: my ability to get an appointment for genetic testing before I hit the 13w6d cut-off.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I had my first regular OB appointment. No fancy u/sound, but I did hear Junior's heartbeat on the Doppler. I am approaching the end of the first trimester (11w2d today), which means time for first trimester genetic screening and testing. I have always been very clear with my OB that I would like a CVS. She supports my decision given the following factors: my age (late 30's) and someone genetically related to us has a child with Trisomy 21.

Much like miscarriage or even infertility, most of us might consider that having a child with the kinds of chromosomal or neural tube issues that can be revealed in utero as something that happens to "other people." And then it happens to someone very close to you. And your perspective changes. Immediately.

As such, I researched all the options available for genetic screening and testing, including the pros and cons, before I ever got pregnant. Additionally, Cowboy and I had discussed and agreed upon our choices and the subsequent decisions given the outcome, again, before we achieved a pregnancy. I don't refer to myself as Ms. Planner for nothing. It was a pact from which neither of us wavered.

Until this pregnancy. Which was so hard won. I found myself wavering. And thinking more about just having the nuchal translucency screen, with no risks of miscarriage, and hedging our bets.

So I talked to the person who has the Down's Syndrome child and pointedly asked which tests she had done. This is not something I wanted to do because, for me, asking sounded a little like blaming. What had she done or not done to determine the risks before the surprise delivery of a baby with Trisomy 21 who had to be airlifted to a bigger hospital minutes after birth because she wasn't breathing and underwent total reconstructive surgery to build a fourth chamber in her heart at age 2 months.

She had done the nuchal translucency test. And was given a 1 and 4,999 chance of having a baby with Down's Syndrome.

Hell, I'd have played those odds, too.

But I'm not going to. If only the maternal-fetal clinic I've been referred to would let me schedule what is my right to request and have: a CVS.

For some reason, the referral from my OB only requests first trimester screening, which is the nuchal translucency screen and genetic counseling. I tried explaining to maternal-fetal clinic that given our family history, I would not even believe the results of an NT screen, so please, just schedule the fucking CVS. That way I can either make the heartbreaking decision or finally bond with this fetus.

But noooo. I had to call my OB's office and outline - in tears with my voice wavering in a high octave - to the nurse-on-duty very clearly why I would like a CVS:

1. I am in my late 30's.
2. This is my third pregnancy and I have no living children.
3. My XXX has a child with Trisomy 21. She had an NT screen, which gave her very low odds of carrying a child with Downs.
4. I am not letting myself bond with this baby until I have answers.

I mean, for fuck's sake. It is not like I just heard about CVS in a blurb in USA Today and decided this was the test for me. My - our - decision is the result of thoughtful primary and secondary research and subsequent discussion. Well, I discussed. Cowboy, in his cowboy-like way, listened and said, "Have the test. The first test you can have."

Thank goodness the nurse was an open and understanding soul. She completely agreed and said she would change and re-fax the referral to the maternal-fetal clinic.

So now I wait for the maternal-fetal clinic to call. Again. I'll have to stop myself from having a little edge of "I told you so" in my voice when I FINALLY schedule the appointment.

I know the subject of genetic testing (amnio and CVS) versus genetic screening (NT scan and quad blood markers) is so deeply personal and scary. With testing, you know absolutely, but there are very clear risks. With screening, there are no risks, but you are only given odds with no guarantees. The decision seems even harder when you factor in the effort taken to even have the privelege to make such choices.

I sometimes wish I didn't think so much. That I was carefree and confident. That I was a happy, bubbly pregnant woman. But that's not me today. I have let this entire process rob me of so much reproductive confidence that I am angry with myself.

I just want to get past this test and the first trimester so I can start to live a little again. Why is that so hard for me right now?

How?

How can I nicely tell my friend to take me off her email list of her exciting pregnancy news? Yes, the same one who spam emailed her 9-week sonogram picture to a dist list of friends & family has recently emailed news announcing she has a daughter in utero to the aforementioned list. I should point out that this friend has no idea I am pregnant. As far as she knows, I am the same person who has had two miscarriages - and nothing more - since TTC a year-and-a-half ago.

How can I nicely tell my other friend that I really enjoy our chances to get together and talk over coffee, but why does she always have to bring her 6-month old? I feel she only plans things with me when her husband is out of town and she therefore brings her son along. This was all but confirmed last weekend when she canceled last minute because her son was sick. And her husband was out of town.

How can I nicely change my attitude so I can accept that my friends lives have changed. That while we may have meant something to each other when we were ensconced in grad school and the years pre-husband-and-family immediately after, that perhaps we don't mean that much to each other now.

Because, in my view, if we did, I would make mental adjustments to embrace and empathize with what they have going on in their lives. And they would do the same in consideration of me.

Aw shucks, thanks for all the birthday messages! You know how to make an old guy feel loved. But what is this about me potentially getting a little brother or sister? Huh? No one cleared that with me. Fuckers.

Graduation Day

Two important milestones today:

First, my beloved golden, Gus, turns 13 today. A teenager. Whoa. I've had Gus since he was a 7-week-old little ball of fur and sharp teeth. He's celebrating the usual way: with a hamburger from a local fast food chain that only uses free range, grassfed beef. How Portland. He always eats the bun first. I am not kidding. He picks his hamburger apart and eats the top then the bottom bun then the meat. Gus loves carbs.

Second, I graduated to the regular OB. Whew! We had ultrasound #2 today at 9w4d and the kid was having a party in there. Moving all around. Cowboy maintained "he" was boxing (I suspect he wants a boy, ya think?) and, indeed, that is what it looked like. I said it was dancing, proving that boy or girl, I expect it to be able to get down with the get down. In other notes, its heartrate and measurements were all exactly where they should be.

By the way, I'm feeling a little horrible because I still refer to Junior as "it". Probably some sort of linguistics defense mechanism.

In a terribly cute, awwww moment, Junior's hand was on his/her/its face and the RE speculated that he/she/it was sucking his/her/its thumb. Which would make it exactly my kid since I sucked my thumb until I was, like, 8 or something.

Criminy, the he/she/it thing is gonna get old. I can't even use the term baby yet. I know, I am horrible. For now, I'll just keep it at "it" and we'll all just deal with my detached callousness.

By the way, if your fur babies want to give a shout out to Gus on his birthday, please do so in the comments. I will read them to him.

Fun with Cucumbers

I am not going to complain about being nauseous. Instead, I'm trying to have fun with it. I mean, after a fucking month of daily sickness reminiscent of the feeling you get the day after a "beer-before-liquor-never-sicker" college party, you gotta do something to find a little humor in it. Or you start to pout. And no one likes a pouter after the cuteness wears off.

After years of carefully crafting our weekly household menu (including vegetarian night, which Cowboy hates), I find I can no longer plan anything because I have to indulge in whatever I feel like I might be able to keep down RIGHT THEN AND THERE.

If I don't, I turn ravenous, which quickly turns to nausea and the cycle starts all over again. Leaving me munching on graham crackers at the edge of the bathroom door.

Which means a lot of last minute trips to the grocery store where I buy something completely practical, like, say, 5 cucumbers.

I was feeling horrible on Sunday when the thought of cold cucumber slices popped into my head. Without hesitation, I drove to the store and could not think about anything other than buying cucumbers. I didn't really think about what I was doing, how this might look to the average New Seasons shopper until I was piling them into my grocery basket.

I suppose I could have saved face by buying some other grocery items but thinking about cucumbers was THE ONLY THING that kept me from feeling like I was going to hurl.

Grocery stores are hard enough with all the smells. I needed to get the damn cucumbers and get the hell out.

I also suppose I just could have bought my cucumber stash without looking up and slinking out of the store. But I was so darn sick of feeling sick that I decided I would control this party. It was not gonna control me.

So, just for fun, I shoved my wedding band into my jeans pocket while waiting in the check out line. And for more fun, I picked a guy checker. A cute one.

And to amuse my pathetic self further, I replied, "Oh I will," with arched eyebrows and a little grin when he bade me to have a good day.

At least I was the story du jour of the girl-who-bought-five-cucumbers-and-nothing-more rather than the girl who threw up in the produce department.

Vote!

Hopefully you voted today if you live in the U.S.

Today means that there is officially only one year left in the presidential administration of He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless-on-this-Blog. Thankfully it is almost over.

Even if you don't live in the U.S., you, too, can vote today. Click here to vote for Stirrup Queens as the best medical-related blog. Having one of our own win this award would really shine the spotlight on the issue of infertility. You know, experts estimate that within a few years infertility will affect 1 in 8 couples. That puts the pervasiveness of infertility in the ranks with breast cancer.

Plus, Mel - quite simply - rocks. She's Jewish, but I'm calling her Saint Mel. Because finding Stirrup Queens literally saved my soul in the darkest days after my first miscarriage. Please go vote for her!

Lemon!

Not only is it one of my favorite U2 songs, but I recently looked up - and only because I was absolutely desperate - tried this remedy for nausea:

Suck on slices of fresh lemon sprinkled with salt

Yes, it makes your face contort in a manner that has your "supportive" husband making fun of you AND tastes vaguely like the lemon-flavored Sour Patch kids candy (not a bad thing in my book). But, I swear, try 2 or 3 of these slices of goodness when you are feeling at your lowest and it gives you some temporary relief.

Word of caution: remedy does not work when you are starving and therefore caught in a cycle of nausea and low blood sugar. It just makes you retch more quickly.

Any other tried and true remedies out there?

Freakin' Fertiles (volume 1)

Since I promised I would not be ingrateful and complain about pregnancy stuff on this blog, I have another thing to complain about: fertiles.

I’m gonna be mean. Because I’m cranky. So if you are looking for some nice, sweet post - you ain’t gonna find it here.

Freakin’ Fertile story #1: Early in October, before I knew I was pregnant, I was perusing Craig’s List because I was posting a few big ticket items I didn’t sell during my tag sale. Just for kicks, I typed in the name of a baby high chair I've always imagined we’d have. You know, just to see if anyone was selling one used and for what price. Mere curiosity. Well, apparently some fertile was into this brand, too, because she had posted a "wanted" listing for a crib. Only she didn’t need the item until she was due. In May! This was early October. She was due in mid May. You do the math. Uh-huh. I mean, I hope it works out for her and all, but how’s that for getting carried away with your preggers self?

Freakin’ Fertile story #2: I am helping with invitations for a baby shower for a friend. The shower is a "white of winter" themed fete and guests are asked to bring a white-themed gift. The mother-to-be – who requested the white theme – asked me to include a line on the invitations requesting that guests not bring disposable diapers as a gift. (I guess chances are pretty high that someone would bring the proverbial cake o’ diapers to a white-themed baby shower.) Instead, I am asked to include something to the effect that the new parents are – and I quote – "saving the environment by using gdiapers." As fucking if. A little self righteous, eh? If you really want to save the environment use cloth.

Okay, enough from little Miss Cranky Pants for today. If you have a fun Freakin’ Fertile story, please do share.