Monday, February 24, 2014

Dispatches from Coocoo

Greetings, blogosphere!

Just wanted to pop in and say howdoyoudo... Need to get back into the swing of writing, so I first wanted to dip my toe in the water to say hey in a sudden and possibly alarming fashion.


Going to be talking about pregnancy in this one, so feel free to skip if you need to.

We good? k.

I shall be 16 weeks along with Heisenberg on Wednesday.

Also? Heisenberg is a SHE-BEAST!

While she may be a lady, she shall still be known as Heisenberg as she is clearly a fucking badass (although a friend on Twitter suggested 'Heisenbroad' which made me die a thousand deaths).

The short story is I haven't been on here because I went a little bit coocoo.

By coocoo, I mean the midpoint between 'oh that Stork and her antics, she's silly' and 'holy Christ on a cracker somebody call someone with a giant butterfly net'... maybe a little closer to butterfly net.

I will admit I previously thought that when infertiles got pregnant and then were all nervous and nutso? That it was melodramatic bullshit.

Not so, friends, not so.

Infertility is a fucking survival game. You do what you have to do to get by.  My MO is to make jokes, numb myself out, soldier on like a good little soldier.

And here's the thing, folks... infertility or not, when you put off feeling things you're not getting rid of them - you're just guaranteeing you have to pay for them later. With interest.

Pretty much every day in my first trimester I was convinced something terrible had happened. Not 'oh that would suck, I wonder if something's wrong' but 'something is WRONG'.

I'd randomly get completely overtaken by anxiety that was seemingly not even related to Heisenberg.  Like, getting out of my house and suddenly crippled in fear that the stove was on when I hadn't used the stove in a few days. Wondering if someone was breaking into my house when I wasn't there.

Why? I suppose because you get used to happiness eluding you that when it finally shows up wanting to be a part of your life, your first thought is to figure out what kind of con this is.

I was constantly, cripplingly, 1,000% terrified of getting attached to the idea of a happy ending.

Best way I can describe it... You know that game where you put your hands straight out, and your opponent puts their hands a few inches below yours, and they have to try to slap your hands before you can pull away?

Okay so the process of trying to have a baby when you're infertile is like getting slapped constantly.  Like a never ending fucking slap fest where your fingers get raw and bloody, and eventually you get used to it.  You're constantly taking punches. If you try = you get slapped.

Getting pregnant at the end of infertility is like putting your hands out never having known anything other than slapping, and your opponent just sits there mind fucking you with their eyes. If this one time you can make it 5 minutes without a slap (even though you've never made it 5 seconds without one) the abuse will stop and you can heal. With each passing second, you're more and more afraid of that slap because it's going to scare you, hurt you, make you feel stupid on a level that you're just never going to be able to recover from.  So while before you were physically getting slapped, now it's psychological warfare which makes you flinch and cringe more than you ever did.  Because this slap?  This slap could be worse than all the rest - your opponent could just be winding up for this one, with every passing second a little more inertia added to it.

A specific example of coocoo level? I was checking so vigorously for blood that wasn't there that I would make myself - in a tiny way - bleed.  Not healthy.

I'm starting to feel better. I'm thinking it's a combination of the Maternity21 testing coming back (which I only had on account of my being adopted) lovely, getting a fetal doppler so I can find her when I want, and knowing that prior to this happening to me, when another infertile reached 16 weeks of pregnancy I thought 'oh okay, she's really pregnant. A baby is going to come of this.'

So for the most part I am more relaxed... a few paces further away from the butterfly net. Just a few paces.

Don't get me wrong, in a moment of relaxation panic can still find me...


but it's a little less alarming than it was a week or two ago.


So I'm dipping my toe back into the world.

Hello, world.

Monday, January 13, 2014

Drunken Vampire

Happy Monday my magic mistresses of uterine mayhem.

It has been more than a week since my last confession.  I throw myself at the mercy of the court.

In a manner referencing the great Mickey Rourke pre-plastic surgery binge, I am 9 1/2 weeks (10 on Wednesday holy shit me.) The only thing I have in common with that movie is my ability and willingness to blindly eat whatever the fridge presents me, though I can assure you it is in no way sexy.

I am pregnant.  This hasn't really sunk in yet.  I'm thinking once I get to.. what.. 14 weeks?  I can breathe and stop considering it a 'waiting game' and let the full on bliss set in.  I realize this is obnoxious and that some people are going to read that and go "you're pregnant, enjoy it you moron".. Totes get it because that's basically what I used to think.. You know what it's like?  It's like being the nerdy outcast in High School and then finally, finally your senior year the captain of the football team you've been coveting for four years asks you to prom.  YES you are feeling blissful and this is what you've been waiting for - but there's that damn realist heart-guard side of yourself that keeps whispering 'he may just want to dump pigs blood on you...'


I am going to talk about being pregnant in here.  Love me still, please.  For the most part I just anticipate shenanigans. If you need to take a step back do it and I totally get it - if you don't or can muster up some bravery, please do! I am NOT GOING TO SIT AT THE FERTILE TABLE.  Do you hear me?!  YOU ARE STUCK WITH ME.


Either the experience of pregnancy is truly an individual experience, or no one explained it to me right - other than the obvious shit like "hey, your boobs are going to get veiny and hurt, eventually".

So I'm realizing that my description will probably have no relevance whatsoever to how it's going to feel for you, but I'll give it to you anyway.

Pregnancy thus far - at least the first 9 1/2 weeks - is basically like being a drunk, a vampire, and/or a drunk vampire.


Initially you are mostly drunk - without the fun high, unless we're counting the high of knowing WHY you feel like ass.

Your stomach is iffy.  You would like to vomit a never ending river but at the same time, maybe eat a burrito.

Mysteriously your sense of balance and sage wisdom goes completely out the door, and you are left a blob of muttering animal instincts.

You have two emotions: giggly or weepy.  And that's when you can get it up to show an emotion assuming you are not too closely circling vomit river.


Then the transformation begins.

A third emotion is added to the mix and that emotion is BLIND RAGE.  You cannot imagine what you ever found appealing about going out during the day and mixing with humans.

Unbelievable 'seriously, is she okay?  should she be driving?' exhaustion still plagues you during the day, and sleeping for any length of time at night becomes an impossible dream.

Food occasionally tastes like pointless ash, and blood becomes something you are on constant, constant look out for.

Those 'twinges' people describe - your uterus expanding actually feels like you have a big fat sunburn on the inside of your skin that someone is scratching.

You awake to newly enhanced spidey senses where you just no longer experience the world in the same way.  Oh - how do I know my husband is almost home?  BECAUSE I CAN SMELL HIM DRIVING DOWN THE STREET.

(I have never been so excited to be uncomfortable.  Bring on the second tri).

And on that note, here is Heisenberg as of this morning - had a VERY small, blink-and-you-miss-it, only-on-toilet-paper spotting on Sunday night (which I'm pretty sure is coming from the outside, not the inside) so he/she got a check up this morning just in case:

Heisenberg head down on right, crazy umbilical cord on left.

Dr Kickass pointed out he/she was MOVING which was a crazy, crazy thing to see... definitely hasn't fully computed that this is on the inside of my body but there you have it.

I go see OB tomorrow.  Crazy crazy crazy.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Feeling Dump

It. Is. Thursday.

Hoping that Santa brought you everything you wanted and that the New Year brought you some closure on the old one.

Sorry that this is going to be brief - still pulling myself out of the holiday haze and more importantly, I am pretty much constantly in a state of panic.

I am, as of today, 8 weeks and 1 day pregnant.  Tomorrow morning, yet another ultrasound.

At 6 week 2 day ultrasound - our Doctor couldn't find a heartbeat on his machine so he sent us upstairs to a higher tech machine.  After an hour of being in that waiting room with multiple visibly pregnant women thinking 'welp that's it', they found it right away (phew). 102.  But I was measuring only 5 weeks 5 days (which would explain why Heisenberg was so hard to find).

At 7 week 2 day ultrasound my Doctor was out of town so a different Doctor saw me.  Heartrate was up to 128 (which is right), and it grew about a weeks worth in a week.  But I was measuring 6 weeks 4-5 days.

Apparently, this could be fine or it could not be fine.  I kind of grilled the fill-in Doctor about what the hell I should be feeling because just going week to week with what is essentially "we don't freaking know anything " is stressful. (I understand there are no guarantees but why the fuck am I even doing ultrasounds if afterwards I can't feel better or worse.)  He elaborated - but by elaborated I mean used more words to say "we don't freaking know, it could be nothing or it could be something". 

PS - I love that my Doctors office is realistic and doesn't blow sunshine up your ass, I do.  However I think all RE's need a memo that NONE of the women who have been trying for a certain amount of time have the problem of not enough doomsday scenarios running around in their head.  As far as help is concerned that's not something I need help with.  Statistically speaking I'm ALWAYS on the shit end of the stick when it comes to reproduction so feeling the need to make sure I'm being realistic or that my hope is well in check is kind of bull shit.


So sometimes this means it's an abnormal pregnancy that will eventually end.  Sometimes it's just something that people who have had FETs encounter - late bloomers.  So it could mean something or it could mean nothing (I mean, a 51/49 scenario even would be nice).

The one thing they said that I find equally comforting and terrifying depending on my mood is that the outcome is long ago decided - there's nothing I can do to change it.

I always imagined that once I did get pregnant, I would just be happy, that's it - number one emotion.  Some nerves thrown in for sure because at this point I know WAY too much to be without them, but mainly I would feel happy.

And let me say here before that statement makes anyone upset - I am happy and I know how lucky I am to have gotten this far.  And if I have to have a panic attack for the next 32 weeks - NO problem.  Happy to do.

But mainly I am fucking terrified.  I am terrified that after all this time, if I let myself get happy or attached or optimistic and it's snatched away from me (not just hope for a dream but being close enough to fucking TASTE it) I will fall so tremendously far that there will just be no recovering.  Not like 'oh that's awful but she'll persevere she's so strong' kind of breakdown but a full tilt boogie, old school, 'call someone with a big butterfly net' crazy.  

So every day, I'm afraid. I know I should be enjoying every second that I am pregnant (someone gave me the very helpful mantra - which I've been using but to no avail - today I am pregnant and I am happy).  I know I should - and don't get me wrong, every day there are moments where I'm like 'fuck yeah this could end in a baby!' But I'm so afraid of getting attached.  So afraid. So afraid that if I start thinking that maybe this one fucking time I'll come out on the good side of statistics and a Doctor may look at me and say something OTHER than 'well we just don't know, maybe you're screwed' that I'll be punished beyond measure for my foolish optimism.

But today I am pregnant, today I am pregnant, today I am pregnant, today I am pregnant.  Please stick around, Heisenberg.  Please, please, please, please God please.


Think a happy thought for me and Heisenberg for tomorrow!  Think pray do a small jig, something please. 

Hopefully everything caught up and grew properly, and I can go back to fun posts (like about how I'm pretty sure Macaulay Culkin and Mary Kate Olsen are the same person). 

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Dear Heisenberg

Dear Heisenberg,

Technically, as of this moment, I am 6 weeks and 1 day pregnant with you.  Which I cannot freaking believe. It took us a long time to get you here - a super long time.  (And when you're older I'm going to tell you this just enough for you to know how wanted you are in this world, but not enough for you to feel bad about arriving a little late. You came when you were supposed to come, we just wanted you so bad the wait wasn't easy).

I'm writing to you mostly because I need you to stick around.  Tomorrow is a big appointment where they look for your heart flutter (we just need to see it) and then they can say to us 'okay, things seem like they're going well - you can breathe easier'.  I don't care if you're extroverted like me or introverted like your Dad after you're born, but I'm going to need you to show up to parties - like tomorrows - before you are. Just to say hi.

They say babies choose their parents (I know I did and I went to a lot of trouble to get there).  You went to a lot of trouble to choose us - a lot of trouble and a lot of asskicking - it seems only right to tell you a few things about us.

I'm your big-eyed (you probably will be, too) and insanely goofy Mom. You will absolutely not have the best cookies at the bake sale with me, no crafting we ever do will be pinterest worthy and I'm sorry to say if you get my curly hair I don't really know what to do with it - but I will always try to make you laugh, I will always try to make you happy (while ensuring you are still a good person) and I will always, well, try. I haven't let myself buy you anything yet - but when I can, I have your first real purchase already picked out:


It's a onesie with the inexplicable face of Bill Murray on it.  I'm not sure why but I feel that's pretty indicative of the type of Mom you'll be getting.

Your Dad is the tall and furry genius.  He's just as goofy as I am, but way more thoughtful and focused. He's a great big, nerdy and delightful weirdo and I hope you get his non-picky eating habits and pineapple hair. Because of him it's entirely possible you'll be able to tear apart computers and explain them to me, and it's definite that you'll be playing some kind of musical instrument as soon as you're able to sit up (don't panic, in a fun way, not a required way, like so -

What do I know about you so far?

I know that you're a freaking fighter - strength is just something you have a lot of.  I know this because of the many hurdles you've encountered and didn't just jump but sailed over. I need you to keep sailing over them.

Wanting someone like your Dad in my life was wanting someone to love me (and as an added bonus, give love back).  Wanting you was having so much love to give someone (and as an added bonus, maybe one day you'll love me back).  At this point, we have so much love to give you you wouldn't even believe it.  SO much love - it would knock you over.  We promise to mess you up just enough to give you a sense of humor without doing any permanent damage, and that we're going to have so. much. fun. once you get here...

Please, please please, show up tomorrow.  Love you and want you so very very much.

Mom (and Dad)

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Strawberry Funk

It. Is. Thursday.

May yours be full of glitter and unicorn farts and topped with a generous helping of awesome sauce and a sprinkle of fuck yeah.

Just wanted to say really quick - this blog is my crack den of free therapy and you are the coke I get to snort off of a hookers teet. Therefor it should go without saying, that if all goes well I will not be doing the ole "well, fixed that problem so peace out, suckas!". Nor will I hold it against you if you have to take a step back from me a bit or a lot at any time, and if you're on the fence about it - let me just say I don't want to sit at the freaking fertile table at lunch.  Also, I am unsure how much I will be talking about pregnancy on here but I can tell you that for now it may be a lot because I'm nervous, but once that subsides a bit when I do talk about it it will be in the manner I talk about everything else which is 90% totally freaking ludicrous. And that's all she wrote for now.

My betas went swimmingly - at 12 dpo (7dp5dt) it was 44, 14 dpo 135, 16dpo 386.

Today I am - and I can't believe I am saying this - 5 weeks and 1 day pregnant. I am nervous and grateful and nervous and excited and nervous.

...And nervous.

I know what you're thinking - 'just enjoy it you asshat!' because this is what I would have been yelling a few weeks ago. And I'm trying to.. I'm trying to.  I'm trying to live every moment as though its soundtrack was a super duper relaxing 70s funk song.

(No joke - I was up for two hours in the middle of the night with that song stuck in my head, being further and further enraged that there's no explanation as to why it's called strawberry letter 23 WHEN THEY KEEP SINGING 22. No I was not high though that would greatly help my nerves at this point).

I'm trying to be a groovy, groovy bitch and I am about 60% of the time.  The other 40% is spent worrying what will happen if I allow myself to be totally happy.

I go from feeling like a giggly creature high off the ole strawberry funk to totally overwhelming anxiety.  Pretty damn quickly.

I just wonder when it lifts - when the worry lifts and it feels real.  When the overall worry will lessen enough for me to mostly feel the happy.

And before you get totally irritated with me - I am SO happy and so fucking grateful there are no words for it.  I just want to feel it fully without being a superstitious ass about it and get it through my thick skull I won't get punished for enjoying the happy.

I have to be better about letting myself feel happy because right now, in this moment, I am pregnant.  I've been waiting for this for so long, and damnit I'm going to enjoy it.

I occasionally shout to my husband (full decibel) THERE'S A PERSON IN HERE.  Mostly because that doesn't fully register with ME.

There's a PERSON IN HERE. I have to try to relax and enjoy that shit because by the beard of Zeus, after 4 years there is, as of this moment, a PERSON IN HERE.

Tomorrow is my first ultrasound - I'll only be 5 weeks 2 days so they'll just be looking for a sac (or sacs).

I promise to become a much more interesting person once this worry subsides a little.

Keep a toe or two crossed for me - I shall update tomorrow.

Until then, you stay funky internet.