tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64643100397726752992024-03-19T12:07:40.937-07:00A Sky for BlueReflections on rebuilding a life disrupted by an interrupted pregnancy and the loss of the baby I call Blue.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-80039810134976686582020-08-10T12:22:00.000-07:002020-08-10T12:22:17.536-07:00Birthdays Were the Worst Days<p> It's been nine years and it's really OK. I'm OK. I'm not sad today. I wasn't sad yesterday, and I won't be sad tomorrow. But today is Blue's birthday and I still remembered.</p><p>Maybe life has been too crazy lately...and yet not because you can't really go anywhere...how is that possible? But I haven't thought too much about the little boy I never really had, or his dad, or what life would be like now if he had been born sick or had we been lucky enough that he was born a healthy baby. </p><p>Not sure why I decided I should blog on this day this year...or this year at all...but while I'm here...</p><p>I did reach out to Chris. Finally, after realizing that I was having sadness surrounding the way that we completely split, that I didn't know anything about the person who was almost connected to me very intimately for the rest of my life, I emailed him. He has not responded. I'm OK. I didn't need him to say anything, or to fix anything, or to apologize for anything. I kept it brief, told him I had been thinking about Blue and about him and wanted to reach out, that I no longer harbored any ill will toward him. (Should I have apologized for calling him a piece of shit that one time on his voicemail?) I do, finally, forgive him. It's OK. We didn't know what the heck we were doing back then. Nobody expected a dead baby six months into pregnancy and nobody had the tools to cope with that. I waited until I knew I would feel OK if I didn't get a response. Maybe one is still coming, but I won't hold my breath.</p><p>****</p><p>In reading over old posts I see that I skipped from "what is happening" to my period, to 25 weeks pregnant, and I want to be open about having had a miscarriage. It was early, there was never a heartbeat, and we were able to start trying again soon after. I think it took about 2 full cycles to get back to normal. In the end it took 14 months to get pregnant after the start of cycles after LJ was born, and we almost started some fertility treatments, but because I was on vacation for Day 1 the month we were going to start, I pushed that back one month and lo and behold got pregnant on my own. My husband says at least we got a nice stainless water bottle out of it. I wasn't really sad about miscarrying, but when the due date rolled around that was kind of a bummer. In the end I am happy to have had a spring baby instead of a fall baby for No. 3.</p><p>Speaking of No. 3, there is a No. 4 now. She was born in May of 2019. And I have to say that her birth has filled some of that hole in my heart that opened when Blue died. When she was born I couldn't believe I had 4 kids. Sometimes I still can't believe it. Things have leveled out now but I had so many complicated emotions after her birth. I was so sad that childbearing was over. (I mean, that's the plan!) I thought I would feel "done," but I didn't. And I wonder how much of that is still grief? I do feel much better now, and I know (like 96%?) that I do not want to have a fifth child, but there is so much to unpack. Another day though. (Work.)</p><p>Happy Birthday to my baby Blue. It's been nine years without you, and I never really met you, but I still miss you, and I love you always.<br /></p><p>To be continued...(maybe).<br /></p>Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-43756858717793232002018-07-21T19:19:00.001-07:002018-07-21T19:19:30.232-07:00Surprise! I'm Still SadSurprise! I'm still sad that Blue died.<br />
<br />
The sadness the past few weeks has really been surprising myself. I suppose it's just the time of year that I got the bad news. His birthday--August 10--isn't far off. His birthday that I have practically forgotten about the past few years is suddenly "looming" again. The other day I drove past the garage where I was supposed to be getting new tires for the borrowed car I was driving the day in July 2011 that I got the call from the OB, and I freakin' lost it. If I think about it, I've probably driven past it before once or twice, and just never noticed. I don't know why I had a flashback this time.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm more sad because I started seeing a counselor a few months ago and it's stirring things up. I'm talking about him more again and even telling my story to people who still don't know, from beginning to end. I always start out thinking I won't cry at all...but I always do.<br />
<br />
It's OK with me that I feel this way. Maybe a little weird, but OK. My life is generally good and my husband and kids <i>generally</i> make me happy--little bit of a joke. As my friend says, "Let's face it, kids ruin everything." But of course they also bring so much joy, and despite the hole in my heart, I do feel the joy.<br />
<br />
I know that hole in my heart will always be there. I know I will miss him for the rest of my life. I know that grief is not always predictable and isn't a straight line. And still, I'm surprised about the sadness.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-44743108423666908122018-03-03T17:51:00.001-08:002018-03-03T17:51:39.005-08:00Now the Grief Is Blurry, TooI guess I don't really blog anymore. Life is too crazy and other things are just more important. I'm quite addicted to TV now as well, and when all the things that really need to get done in the day are done, I just want to space out watching reality shows. I'm not proud.<br />
<br />
I started writing this last November: <br />
<br />
"It's been 6 years and now the grief is blurry too. I thought about Blue on Monday, August 7--the last date he was alive for the whole day in 2011. I was sad and cried a little on my way to work."<br />
<br />
So I guess if it takes me three months to even write about the anniversary of Blue's death/birth, then I don't really blog anymore.<br />
<br />
I want to keep the blog online, however, for anyone finding herself in the throes of babyloss. Someone at her lowest point. Someone who might feel like death is a better option. Because I've been there. I wanted to die but now I don't.<br />
<br />
There's hope. I'm proof. I have three beautiful children and I am ever so grateful.<br />
<br />
It WILL get better. You WILL get through this. It won't be easy. It may never be THAT easy. But if you just hold on, you will reach the point where the grief is blurry instead of blunt.<br />
<br />
I promise.<br />
<br />
(But I'm still crying as I write this.)Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-87314075922609574652017-05-09T09:21:00.001-07:002017-08-14T19:11:15.850-07:00Blurry Edges II(I thought this posted May 9 but it was sitting as a draft for the past few months!)<br />
<br />
It didn't seem fair that Eve's birth story was relegated to an obscurely titled post that philosophized on how my past has changed me and the probability of future baby loss.<br />
<br />
And so...(this part from the end of the original prior post)<br />
<br />
Back to the baby loss narrative. I've got
my three wonderful babies. I never wanted more than three, before Blue.
I'm not even 2 weeks post-partum, so I realize there are still hormones
swirling around my body and maybe a little out of control yet. But I
want "just one more."<br />
<br />
Just one more to fill that void. Just one more
extra baby to balance out the missing one.<br />
<br />
I think I mentioned before
that I live in a pretty Catholic neighborhood and there are large
families all around us. I see parents with four or five kids and I want
to be like them. Would I then be the envy of other people like me? My
birth experience was wonderful, but it would be more wonderful if Mr. E
and I had been there together. It would be more wonderful to have one
more chance to see in detail the miracle of what was happening, instead
of the blurry edges that I remember now. I mean this literally...but I
see the metaphor. Metaphors. I live my life like everything is not quite
focused, not quite good enough. The experience of grieving a lost
baby--the grief itself and the tears through which you see the world
while grieving--also makes for blurry edges. There's a blurry edge in
that feeling that not everything will ever be quite right again after a
baby dies. Could just one more bring me some perspective?<br />
<br />
But then the doubt sets in. Do I deserve another baby? Can my career handle it? Can my marriage? What if it takes me another 14 months to get pregnant? Will I still want another baby almost two years from now? What if there's something wrong with baby? Is it greedy to want another one? Will I deserve it if my fourth child has special needs? If we decide to terminate? Is it OK to end on a loss? When I wanted another baby because of how great the immediately prior birth and post-partum/neo natal experience was? And not because I always wanted four. Four sounded like a LOT of kids...until Blue died. Then nothing sounded like a lot of kids. Am I too old? I wish I didn't have to keep rushing to have my kids. Wouldn't it be nice to have some time to think about this? I'm too old, it's too risky, we should quit while we're ahead. Except of course I'm not. I'm behind in the kid count and always will be. Is this a legitimate reason to want another baby?<br />
<br />
I finished a song recently and the last pair of lyrics I wrote is:<br />
I can't tell, why things aren't coming into focus<br />
I can't tell, that if they did I'd even notice<br />
<br />
As in most other topics in my life, I am not sure where I stand. Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-32034604246511485582017-05-05T14:38:00.002-07:002017-07-08T05:44:10.903-07:00Meet My Baby GIRL!!Oh, hi!<br />
<br />
Biggest news around here is that I am a proud mama to a baby girl! I knew I wanted a daughter but I didn't know just how badly until she was born. She also has an amazing birth story, but the short version is that she arrived on her own time, beautiful and perfect.<br />
<br />
Introducing Eve Charlotte, born April 25, 2017 at 8:24 a.m. (It may have been 8:23 or even 8:22.)<br />
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(As you can see, one big brother is much more impressed than the other.)<br />
<br />
<br />
She wasn't due until May 22, but arrived at 36 weeks, 1 day at 6 lbs, 13 oz and 20" long. She's technically a "preemie" but looks and acts like a full-term baby. I haven't worried about her prematurity for a moment--feeling so blessed and lucky about this.<br />
<br />
I finally decided to have a midwife this pregnancy, home birth and all.<br />
<br />
I initially saw the OB for the first few visits, had the dating ultrasound and another one around 15 weeks due to some bleeding, along with the genetic screening ultrasound and 20-week anatomy scan. After genetic ultrasound looked good I opted not to get any diagnostic testing, nor did I get the MaterniT21 test. I have to admit that less testing=less stress about the baby and I'm glad we didn't do any testing aside from the nuchal fold measurement. My mom was less glad about this, but as the MFM doctor pointed out, "she's not pregnant." So let's just also say that I didn't tell my mom that I was planning a home birth either. And I wouldn't even have had to tell her at all, though I think she eventually figured it out.<br />
<br />
The doctors at MFM wanted to monitor my cervical length measurement, which they checked at the 20-week, then asked me to return twice for repeat measurements. I went to the first follow up, suddenly anxious about what the findings might show. My two boys were born at 38 weeks and 38 weeks, 3 days. There was no reason to believe I was at risk for early labor due to cervical insufficiency. At the follow up I asked the doctor, "what if I don't come back next week for another follow up?" I loved his response: "Well, we live in a free country...so you can do what you want." This was by happenstance about 3 days before Trump's inauguration. "Yeah, for now," I replied and we both had a laugh. The doctor who reviewed the 20-week scan also wanted me to have two growth scans, solely based on the fact that my 40th birthday is six days before Eve's due date. The midwife and I agreed that that was strictly optional. <br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, between weeks 32 and 33, I got the stomach bug really bad. After two whole days of constant puking and diarrhea, my midwife sent me to the hospital. The maternity unit was so busy that I started to wonder how the staff there could handle all the babies being born. My triage room was near the nurses' station and I heard a lot of stuff about the mothers and babies on the unit. I found it really interesting...and I was glad I would be birthing at home. After 3 liters of fluid I was free to go, feeling much better, though I wouldn't truly feel better for two more days. After Stomach Bug 3.0 (yes, we got hit 3 times this past season), the midwife wrote me a note to cut back on work hours. Which is a joke and I told her that, but at least it gave me the opportunity to ask for a second telecommuting day each week until I delivered. <br />
<br />
So anyway, I'd gotten the warning to cut back, reduce stress, otherwise I could have the baby too early. The extra telecommute day was nice for the two weeks in which I got to use it, but cutting down on stress was probably not going to happen. So I think I've foreshadowed this enough, plus I already told you Eve arrived 4 weeks early.<br />
<br />
Eve was born on a Tuesday. The Friday before, my water broke. It was just a tiny leak at first. Looking back on it, it started at work, but I didn't think anything of it--a little extra tinkling sound while on the toilet. I went to a court conference in Philly and went home (my office is a little over an hour from home, and Center City is about an hour and a half or more from home, depending on traffic). At home, I felt another little something while playing with LJ. Then another something when I bent down to get something out of the fridge. I was pretty sure I was NOT peeing in my pants. Later that evening it was more obvious. I called the midwife so bummed...thinking about saying good bye to plans for a home birth. I was only 35 weeks, 4 days. She told me to rest, relax, and keep the baby in until AT LEAST 36 weeks. If we could wait until 36w3d, we could go ahead with our plans. She told me not to go to my baby "sprinkle" the next day. (Shocker--I went anyway.) The midwife came over to check me and baby every day, each time assured that everything was fine. I was not as calm about this, but I also knew that I did not want to go to the hospital and get poked and prodded and stuck with IVs and bed rest.<br />
<br />
I was also not prepared work wise, thinking I would have at least that next week to wrap things up and pass along info to whomever would cover my work while I am out. The midwife was not pleased that I billed over 9 hours that Monday. But I pretty much sat in one place all day and when I explained that doing nothing would have been more stressful than NOT getting that work done, I think she finally understood. On Monday she revised her assessment regarding staying home, and told me that if I could wait until Wednesday (instead of Thursday), I could birth at home. Up until then, she said, we would probably go to the hospital. By Monday afternoon however, I realized that I was feeling some cramps, in that deep down place where labor pains begin. As the evening wore on, the pains started to feel like mild contractions; nothing painful, but heading in the direction of labor. I didn't sleep well, angry at myself for working that day, for not relaxing enough to stave off labor. At 4:00 a.m. the contractions were waking me up, though they were short and not organized in any sort of linear time pattern. I tried to sleep as much as I could, and told myself I wouldn't call the midwife before 6:00. I got up at 6 with Sprout and felt a little better walking around, then at 6:30 knew it was time to make the call. The contractions were still erratic and only lasting about 30 seconds each, but they were getting intense. As I stood doubled over the kitchen counter, I thought, "owww, why am I doing this? This hurts so bad and I have so much further to go yet!" She told me I could stay home if I wanted to (the hospital with the Level 4 NICU is literally 5 minutes away), and to call her back when the contractions were one minute long and seven minutes apart. She wanted me to try to slow down the process--take a warm bath and some magnesium, along with a sleeping pill--and try to sleep. Because my membranes were ruptured for four days now, Mr. E had to clean the tub before I could get in. I decided to call the neighbor to come over to help get the boys breakfast and off to school. Mr. E didn't want me to call her, saying he could handle it. But I wasn't sure I could. This was a good call.<br />
<br />
I had Mr. E call the midwife again just before 8:00 to tell her that the contractions were still short but were pretty regular at 5 minutes apart. She said she would be over. At 8:16 I had my neighbor call the midwife to say I felt the urge to push. We all agreed that I should not push. The midwife would be here momentarily. At 8:21 the midwife called back and spoke with the neighbor. I have no idea what transpired during this call. How could I NOT push? We called the midwife again at 8:25 to tell her that the baby was here. My neighbor and I had delivered the baby. Holy crap!!!!<br />
<br />
The midwife was in the room about 3 minutes later. She asked if it was a boy or a girl and my neighbor and I said "we don't know!" We were like dumb and dumber trying to figure out what to do for a moment. Then I told her to put the baby on my chest and we rubbed her with the towel I had been wearing after getting out of the bath. I stared at her asking if she was OK. Then she cried just enough, and thank god I wasn't alone and that the midwife had arrived. Where was Mr. E? Dropping the boys at pre-school! The neighbor called him to tell him to come back and she would take them to school but we hadn't thought of that earlier and he was already at the school. He still got to cut the cord. Later in the day I told him I felt like I missed out because I didn't have my glasses on (I'm really blind--like when the midwife held up Eve right in front of my face I was like, I don't know, just tell me if it's a girl or a boy! In retrospect, I'm pretty sure I would have been able to identify boy parts.) He said, "how do you think I feel?" Oh.<br />
<br />
OK, so that's that. Eve was perfect. Everything went beautifully, if not shockingly quickly. I was expecting there to be more pain. When I felt her head coming out, it didn't hurt at all. I didn't tear. The placenta delivered normally. After letting the baby nurse (more like "nurse") for two hours, I got up and took a shower while she had skin-to-skin time with dad. It was a truly wonderful experience, even considering that I labored alone for the most part. And when I told my parents what happened, I still didn't have to tell them that I had PLANNED to have the baby at home. I dunno, Mom and Dad, it just HAPPENED. They kept asking when I was going to the hospital though, so eventually I had to tell them to just cool it, everything was OK. And it was. They took the boys for the night and Mr. E and I got take out from Carraba's and opened a bottle of sparkling wine. About an hour into the night with Eve fussing and us wanting to sleep, Mr. E said, "this sucks." Lol. I was still on Cloud 9 though. What a freakin' day.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-55941925799009441302017-02-09T18:58:00.000-08:002017-02-09T18:58:01.597-08:00Abortion WeekOh, hi!<br />
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Let's just skip over the part where I admonish myself for not
writing in this space for an actual year. </div>
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I'm--surprise!--25 weeks
pregnant right now, which makes this "Abortion Week." At the same time a
Senate Committee in PA just confirmed a <a href="https://legiscan.com/PA/bill/SB3/2017" target="_blank">bill</a> to limit
abortions after 20 weeks and ban the D&E procedure. There was ONE
woman on that committee. There were no public hearings or even any input
from the medical community. Then yesterday the full Senate voted to advance the bill to the state House. Thankfully, oh so thankfully, the governor has promised to veto.<br /></div>
My abortion started at 25
weeks, 3 days days with Blue. I think since I am now pregnant at a
different time of year, I haven't made the week-by-week comparisons.
Until this week. It has really hit me, and I've also been thinking about
Chris quite a bit. The origin of these thoughts is that I wonder where
are the men in the fight for reproductive rights? Chris so clearly
benefited from the fact that I could get an abortion at 25 weeks (I
think legally that counts as 23 weeks, FYI), but does he care that this
right could very easily be limited in the near future? Or that other
men and women haven't been able to make the choice that we did
because there was no way they could possibly have afforded a $4,500
abortion? Or they didn't live close enough to a state where the abortion wasn't yet forbidden? What would have happened to them? What will happen to them?<br /></div>
About
Chris. I want to forgive him. A few months ago, maybe the anniversary of
Blue's death and birth, I felt like I could almost forgive him. Almost...but not
quite. I wonder so many things. Mainly, if he doesn't have a living child now, does
he think of himself as a dad? I am curious enough about the answer to this question that I consider reaching out to him. I haven't yet. <br />
<br />
I have been thinking of testifying before a legislative body or a court in opposition to abortion restrictions. I would really love to be a witness for this cause. I tell my story out loud to myself sometimes on my long drive to work. I fought like hell to get someone aside form a genetic counselor to talk to us after we got Blue's diagnosis. I still find this baffling and infuriating. What the hell did a genetic counselor have to say at that point? Like, we're done with that part. A doctor did step into the meeting with the genetic counselor. I don't recall now if she was a respiratory therapist (actually, that is not a doctor), pulmonologist, or what. I'm not sure I ever knew. But I remember her. What she looked like. Where she sat in the room in relation to us. The expression on her face when Chris asked her, "Does it hurt?" A question I hadn't thought to ask. She leaned her head back a bit and closed her eyes, nodded up and down slightly as she said quietly, "I think so. Because you have to breathe. And when you can't breathe, it hurts." That was it for Chris. It was so cut and dried for him. Chris' feelings, after all, were possibly the least selfish of the two of us. So I think that maybe I could, maybe I can, forgive him. For everything that happened after that. For his different path through grief. For his not being able to help me, and even for his not wanting to.<br />
<br />
It's been over five years now since Blue was here and then not here. My feelings about him have changed so much. I don't miss him so often anymore. I don't think about him every day. I don't imagine that he should be part of this family I have now. Though I guess I never did. But the grief--the abject pain of losing my first child--is unforgettable. It still hurts now to think about how much it hurt then. . . . Yeah. I think about that pain maybe more than I think of its reason. That part I never really expected. Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-6948039237393967652016-02-03T19:25:00.004-08:002016-02-03T19:25:39.476-08:00The Universe Mocks Me******WARNING****** period talk below. blood. tampons. jelly blobs. etc.<br />
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You guys. As you are aware I have been trying to conceive. If you've really been following along, you know that I am technically always trying to conceive. It's now been 8 months of periods with no birth control, but no pregnancy. After having cycles of 25 or 26 days, then two in a row at 23 days, I had a 30-day cycle. I tried using OPKs starting as if on a 23-day cycle, but I didn't get a surge in the first week so I took another set for another week. I never actually detected a surge, though there were 2-3 tests in a row around Day 16 that had dark lines. I considered that maybe my sample was diluted because after 3 pregnancies I have a hard time holding my pee for 4 hours in a row. I was expecting another 30-day cycle.<br />
<br />
So. On Day 23 I started spotting. Light pink after sex. Then brown spotting for 2 more days. I thought, hmm...implantation bleeding? I took a test on the morning of Day 27. Negative. OK, it was early. That was Sunday. We had plans for a day in NYC that obviously involved drinking because when you ditch your kids and go to NYC of course there is brunch and favorite wine bar in the old neighborhood, etc. Yay, drinking.* I decided to test again on Tuesday. I woke up around 5 am because LJ was whining, and got up to pee so I figured why not? By the time I got out of the bathroom he had gone back to sleep. I wanted to go back to sleep too, because negative. Around 7 I woke up to a warm, gushing feeling. Are you kidding me? This is not the first time this has happened! I even checked the TP at 5 am before testing because this has happened before. I'm getting my period on Day 29 and it's starting out strong. With clots. (But it's still brown.) I insert a super tampon thinking I will need it.<br />
<br />
Around mid-day I decide I need to replace the tampon. I can barely get the thing out. Which is pretty amazing after 2 (full term) deliveries. Seriously, I had to do reverse Kegels to remove it. And it had a few brown spots on it. I put it back in. By evening I took it out and haven't bled since. That was yesterday.<br />
<br />
What is going on???!!!??? I have been trying to read up and it seems maybe I DO have fibroids? Oh, the irony! I suppose maybe I will go back to the RE (with tail between legs). Saline sonogram--let's do this! Clearly something is not going right. We know it took me at least 4 cycles to start ovulating after I started getting my period again following breastfeeding, and maybe up to 6. Then I cycled short, then suddenly 30 days, and now, like, nothing. In the back of my mind I'm thinking maybe my tests are duds. I'm so silly. But they're made in China. I don't know. Maybe they are labeled wrong and are LH tests instead of HCG tests. I made an appointment with my OB in 2 weeks and will see what he days about everything. He's way more cool about things than the RE and I really prefer that angle. Another 2-week-wait.<br />
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*I just read that the CDC recommends no drinking at all for women who aren't on birth control. WTF? I know that if you think you might be pregnant, even if the test is negative, then it doesn't actually mean "yay, drinking," but after planning a day away for the first time in at least a year and a half, I was not about to forego a couple mimosas at brunch, followed by a few glasses of wine at dinner like 2 hours later, based on a negative pregnancy test! Also, the article I read about the CDC recommendation noted that most women don't know they're pregnant until 4-6 weeks. First of all, you're not even pregnant during the first 2 weeks. Then, for at least another week the embryo is not even attached to anything. There is no way that a few drinks can invade, like, every cell in your body, including the free-floating embryo. Related: not knowing you're pregnant until 6 weeks sounds like such a luxury.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-83936595956096584952016-01-28T19:07:00.003-08:002016-01-28T19:07:29.070-08:00Updates, SchmupdatesYeah, it's been a while. I just read over the last few prior posts so I can cut to the chase:<br />
<br />
1--I have a new job and I am sort of enjoying it. I'm not pissed all the time at how terrible my workplace is, like at my old job, because it's not terrible. I have an hour and ten commute (sometimes more, sometimes less) and I don't like that. But I get a telecommute day once per week where I go to the closest downtown and work in a nice office at my dad's company. My regular office is suburban and I like that for the free and convenient parking, and also the numerous running trails nearby, but I love being in an urban environment once in a while and going to Starbucks without even having to go outside! Also one of my favorites restaurants is in the first floor of the building, though I have yet to go since starting work there. I even get a free parking spot at a nearby garage. It's pretty sweet. So I guess that's my favorite part of the new job--working alone near my home. I should lower my expectations. I mean, I'm still a practicing lawyer.<br />
<br />
2--I am not pregnant. I got further results from the RE and there's like, nothing wrong. Prolactin levels normal, estradiol normal, FSH on the high end of normal, and I supposedly ovulated in November at least, though I think the mid-luteal phase progesterone level was still low. I was cycling every 23 days for two months in a row. I decided against any interventions, even ovulation predictor kits, because I am an arrogant jerk. After having sex a bunch of days in a row, I'm pretty sure we took like a week off, then I got my period after 30 days. What a tease. Thought I could be pregnant; turns out I wasn't even having sex during my fertile days. I used OPKs this month and I'm not sure that I got a surge. The line was never as dark as the control line, though for 2-3 tests it was almost, and was definitely darker than other test days. if that was actually a surge and my sample was just diluted or something, then I am on track for another 30-day cycle. I understand it's possible to surge and then the egg does not get released. So I don't know what's going on, I only know I am or was having some sort of ovulatory dysfunction. I didn't want to pursue treatment with the RE because she insisted on doing a saline sonogram before discussing treatment. She told me at my first visit that I didn't have to do it if I didn't want to, but when I eventually declined, the nurse at the clinic told me to call back when I was ready to move forward. So here we are almost three months later, and I haven't done anything to try to get pregnant. I just don't understand why we are still looking for other things that could be wrong, when we know that I was not ovulating and did not have a regular cycle. And when that can be fixed with really simple stuff like Clomid. Like do you really need to check my uterus for fibroids when I'm not getting pregnant for lack of ovulation? I just thought it was an unnecessary intervention at this point. And by the way it costs $750 plus whatever facility charge from the hospital. And while my insurance covers treatment for diagnosing fertility issues, it has a $2000 deductible, and then won't cover any actual fertility treatments. If I WERE ovulating regularly, then I would be okay with checking for fibroids. And I don't know what the semen analysis costs anymore because I threw away the info sheet, but I'm pretty sure we don't need a $400 or whatever SA for my 31-year-old husband with zero health issues and who has impregnated me twice on like 3-4 tries. I feel like the clinic is just looking to make money and scare me into buying more interventions than I need. And by the way, I did want to move forward, that's why I squeezed my way into a canceled appointment in November, but I don't want to with this clinic. There are two other options in town. They all get bad reviews and good reviews. If I'm not pregnant this month I'm going to go back to my OB and try the less intense route. I just seriously don't need stress in another aspect of my life. All my test results were NORMAL. I have TIME. At least some. I hate you, RE. Well, that was not a brief update at all.<br />
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3-Been thinking of Blue a lot. I don't always feel sad when I think about him lately. I'm not having as many thoughts of the utter despair I felt when he died. Nevermind, I'm tearing up. I'm still sad.<br />
<br />
4-One of my best friends from growing up sent me a text about 6 weeks ago that she got a job here and was moving back to our (crappy) home town. The recent communications before that made it sound like she and her husband were changing their minds. I was ecstatic! She has an almost 5- and almost 3-year-old and we'd been getting the kids together when she was visiting her parents. She gives me her son's hand me downs, some of which come from an older cousin who is also named Jed. OK, so, one week before she is to start the new job, in PA, her husband has a heart attack and dies. The worst news I've had in a long time. Like four years long time. It's awful. She actually started her job only a day or two late. She is living with her parents now. What else do you do? That's been sad, too, around here.<br />
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5-Farther down the scale of sadness, I am incredibly bummed that I am such an idiot and did not make an effort to go snowboarding last Sunday after we got 30" of snow in about 24 hours, ending at 9 pm Sat night, with skies clearing into a perfect sunny day. Perfect, epic blue bird. Granted my driveway was buried, but my street was plowed and what the heck was I thinking? Literally a once in a lifetime opportunity. And I was like, I can't go snowboarding, I have these kids. Um, that is what I have a husband for--to watch my kids on an epic powder day!!! I don't deserve to ride powder.<br />
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Alright...ciao for now!Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-63701416668856519712015-12-17T19:35:00.000-08:002015-12-17T19:35:08.036-08:00Actually, I Can ImagineI can't imagine. I've been thinking about this expression lately. About
how it's not a terrible thing to say to a friend in a terrible
situation, but how it's not great either. Anyone with any degree of
empathy probably CAN imagine...they just don't want to.<br />
<br />
It's the
3-year-old version of "I can't."<br />
<br />
Put on your shoes. I can't.<br />
<br />
Wash your
hands before supper. I can't.<br />
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Imagine having to decide whether your baby
should live or die and then get an abortion at 25 weeks, after you've physically felt the life within your baby and watched your belly grow for him. I can't.<br />
<br />
I
just can't bear to do that. But I did. I had to. I mean, I had to decide whether Blue would live or die. I know that I didn't have to choose the abortion. My dad told me afterwards that had I chosen to let Blue live, my sadness would only have been delayed. Protracted. I was going to watch him die. At some point. And to think of that is fucking misery. And so I can't imagine.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-48805762893401511562015-11-23T17:33:00.003-08:002015-11-23T17:33:48.402-08:00Dead Orchids #Microblog Mondays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8skOA2Ulb92-sAi3-saequiuvBG0Aa7BKq0bVC32N-8VedTsacfAMyx703J0-vMUhbGYd7Y3rPNxsiDYz4EZYgAcAmrDDd-Swuzv8fbFb2spZbg8LaITyeZQf-GmTxs5PSIthRYV_AM/s1600/IMG_3848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8skOA2Ulb92-sAi3-saequiuvBG0Aa7BKq0bVC32N-8VedTsacfAMyx703J0-vMUhbGYd7Y3rPNxsiDYz4EZYgAcAmrDDd-Swuzv8fbFb2spZbg8LaITyeZQf-GmTxs5PSIthRYV_AM/s1600/IMG_3848.JPG" /></a></div>
I'm not sure why I kept this dead orchid. I suppose I like the way the dried flowers hung on to the plant. My other orchids have wilted and drooped and fallen from their stems before they could dry and hold on. I bought this orchid the day I thought I miscarried LJ. I had taken an early pregnancy test and gotten a faint positive. Five days later I was bleeding a bit, right on what I had expected to be Day 1. I dragged myself to work, disappointed and sad, and bought this plant at a grocery store at lunch, hoping to cheer myself up. The bleeding did not continue throughout the day, so I took another test that night, and had a dark positive. Relief! Excitement! I had hoped for another boy. The orchid thrived in our apartment, but when we moved to the house it quickly faded. I blamed the damp conditions in the house (now fixed, thankfully). So, I guess the orchid reminds me of perseverance. The little baby that didn't die. The house that was fixed. And of course, my memory of Blue, that wilts and fades from time to time, but will never, ever die.<br /><br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-11349268195672444282015-11-17T20:27:00.000-08:002015-11-17T20:27:14.882-08:00My Trip to the REIt's almost Blue's due date but the date (November 19) doesn't seem to carry that much weight anymore. I mean, whenever I see the date written down, it slaps me in the face just a little, but I'm not afraid of it. It's just another day in the months that are heavy as the light wanes and I subconsciously if not consciously realize that my first born was supposed to be here but he's not.<br />
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I went to the RE today for an initial consult and had to talk a little bit about having the abortion, why we found out so late, which mutation for CF that I carry. I didn't get emotional. Later I wondered if the nurse thought that I hadn't really cared that much when it happened, either.<br />
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So...the RE. I thought I was just being proactive and trying to sort out what might be wrong for when I really want to get pregnant again, which is not now because I am starting the new job in two weeks. I guess when you go to the RE you have signed up for aggressive intervention though because she was like, "um, you're 38, there is no more waiting." She didn't really say that, but when I said that if she thought, for example, going on birth control for three months might sort out my problem...she shot that down super quick. My OB had suggested waiting another six months after the Low P test in August, which I thought was too conservative. Now I want to go back to him instead!<br />
<br />
I will be getting lab work on Nov. 28 and again on Cycle Day 3. Once we have those results I guess there will be a more complete picture of my problem. She also said Mr. E will have to get a semen analysis prior to any treatment, and I guess there's nothing wrong with being comprehensive, but I just wanted some encouragement that, having had three prior pregnancies, maybe my odds were different than your ordinary 38-year-old's. I had an ultrasound and she saw 13 follicles. She said that anything over 12 is good. So like, what's the problem? Look, I know nothing, but I think I just need a trigger shot for ovulation and then everything will be good. If that is naive, fine, I would like to wallow in ignorance for at least a little while. Also, I doubt we can afford any expensive treatments. Years ago, before I even wanted to have kids, I remember reading about a women who had two children and who was going to great lengths to have a third. She was spending over $100,000 to try to achieve another pregnancy, and I remember thinking, "Lady, count your blessings. That is extreme for someone who has a family with two children in it." Am I going to be that lady now?Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-54470595199439205802015-09-27T17:38:00.001-07:002015-09-27T17:38:20.205-07:00Somebody Turned 1 TodayIt was me: <br />
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LJ is one! We had donuts and all the kids played in the yard. No one cried. It was awesome. There were two 9-year-olds who were very good sports about playing with all the younger kids and everyone got along. We did not have any activities or anything planned. We didn't even put a candle on LJ's donut and barely remembered to sing Happy Birthday. Poor, second child! I wanted to put up more photos but something is weird and I can't preview them first, so this is all I have the patience for.<br />
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LJ was an angel all day today as always. Sprout fell asleep in the car on the 6-minute drive we took to go take a hike (literally), so we will be up until 11:30 tonight. Good thing, I guess--did you hear there is a <a href="http://www.space.com/30607-supermoon-lunar-eclipse-time-place-guide.html" target="_blank">super blood moon</a> tonight?<br />
<br />
A quick update on everything:<br />
1. I am still networking and such, as I have not even gotten any interviews lately. I realized that graduating law school into worst legal economy ever will haunt me for the duration of my career. There are over 100 applicants, according to the job boards, for many of the positions I consider. FML.<br />
<br />
2. I peed on a stick on Day 28 in the middle of the night. My logic went something like this: "I've missed my period, as I was expecting to start on Day 25 or 26. I should test if I get up to pee in the middle of the night. Why am I getting up to pee in the middle of the night? I'm probably pregnant." Peed on stick at 3:08 a.m. Started period at 7:37 a.m. NOT pregnant, and wasted a test. I'm bummed, but not that bummed.<br />
<br />
3. Sprout has been sporting a buzz cut for the past few weeks. He got lice. Then I got lice. Then Mr. E got lice. Gag. Sprout had long hair and I'm sad that we cut it all off, but then on Friday a kid had to get picked up from daycare again because he had lice again, so I guess I'm glad that Sprout will not be likely to get it again because if he does we will be able to catch it right away. Speaking of catching it right away...if your kid gets lice and you realize he may have had it for a while and that he was sleeping in your bed before you KNEW he had lice, you should probably not wait to start combing your hair. It wasn't THAT bad, but just don't.<br />
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4. Sprout used Blue's quilt the other night when we went to bed. It was really sweet, I told him it was his big brother's quilt and that I would tell him about him someday. He liked that the quilt was so colorful. I missed my oldest boy.<br />
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Gotta go. Time to check the moon. <br />
Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-85432905830241643962015-09-14T17:41:00.002-07:002015-09-14T17:41:26.106-07:00Nothing New, Nothing InterestingAnyway. LJ is now definitely bipedal. Actually that is new and interesting. He took his first steps a few days before turning 11 months, so I guess I am one of those parents who can brag that my child started walking at 10 months. His forehead is pretty beat up from a few falls, mostly while I was standing <i>right behind</i> him--it happens so fast. But he's a good sport. Always a good sport. He's so easy-going and lovable. The only time he's not lovable is when he takes a part of your face in his fat hand and scratches and squeezes as hard as he can. It really hurts! I even find him lovable in the middle of the night now when he wakes up, because he doesn't do it every night anymore and if Mr. E and I take turns it ends up only being once or twice per week. He's so sweet and cuddly then. Sprout has been sleeping until at least 7 recently, and I know for a fact this morning that he went downstairs without telling us and was doing whatever he was doing, because I woke up to his footsteps coming UP the stairs. Everything and everyone was fine. So the sleeping part is getting better for all of us.<br />
<br />
Sprout is not quite out of nap phase, but if he naps--at all--he is up spinning and jumping until 11 pm or later. It's not OK. We took him for a walk around 6:15 tonight and he fell asleep in the stroller, which he typically refuses to sit in. I should have known! He was out cold when we got home, and when I tried to pick him up he burrowed back into the stroller. Mr. E took him to his bed, somehow getting his shorts off that were dotted with play-dough and snack remnants and sliding on a pull up without really waking him up. I'm happy to report that we are mostly done with pull ups, but tonight called for drastic measures. Let's hope going to bed at 6:30 won't mean he's up at 5 tomorrow. LJ also went to bed a bit after 7. I can't even believe it. What to do? What to do?<br />
<br />
So that's it. My babies are growing up. LJ turns one in 2 weeks! Thanks to the great ideas on the interwebs, we are hosting a donuts and pajamas party. I figure it can't cost that much, even though I did say mimosas will be served. If I remember correctly, at Sprout's first birthday party we ran out of alcohol (a special gin lemonade) before I even had any myself. I will make sure not to make that mistake again. Next post I will upload some pics! Have a great week! <br />
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<br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-42209207098214727432015-08-31T19:51:00.003-07:002015-08-31T19:51:40.436-07:00#MicroBlog Monday--Test ResultsI can't blog right now because I am finally really seriously looking for a new job. It sucks. I know why I didn't focus on this process sooner. Also as soon as LJ started sleeping well at night (though he still wakes up once or twice a week), Sprout started staying up until 11, midnight or even later because he does not need to nap anymore except that he sort of does and he always naps at day care (three days per week). I just want to sleep for one whole night! For the love!<br />
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Also I am not pregnant. Which is fine. Except I was kind of mad at the pregnant women I saw at the park today with her toddler and older daughter. So maybe it's not.<br />
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As promised: My AMH and thyroid results were normal. Progesterone was .3 in the supposed mid luteal phase. So that's not good.<br />
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But I apparently have a 25-day/26-day cycle and this month I did not spot before getting my actual period, which apparently is a sign of Low P (lol), so perhaps my hormones are still figuring out what they are normally supposed to do. I stopped nursing four months ago so I don't know why my body still thinks it should not get pregnant but as I said before I guess I will go with that until I get a new job. But, for the love, a need a new job, stat! Instead of wishing for a pregnancy with a girl at 11:11, I will wish for a new job, stat, tonight. Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-23889838672302188762015-08-16T12:10:00.001-07:002015-08-16T12:10:33.045-07:00Four Years Come and GoneWell. Last week was Blue's birthday. Only my favorite cousin remembered this year. Probably because I talked to her the week before and said it was coming. It's OK. I wasn't that sad. Honestly, I was way more focused on missed opportunities for a new job and getting kicked in the pants to finally move into high gear with the job search. I have an interview in NYC in two weeks. Not sure what I am thinking except that I can't let inertia be the controlling factor in this process. I could commute 2-3 days per week, at least for a while, until I found something local. It's getting desperate that our family needs more income. Our mortgage payment went up $146 per month due to an escrow shortage, and I don't think not escrowing is the right solution, so I realize we are now paying almost 50% of our take-home income on the mortgage. So as you can see I really don't have space in my brain for much else right now, including dead babies and unsatisfying personal relationships. Despite our income shortages, we have a lot of available credit on our credit cards so I am going ahead and booking a beach vacation for next month. It's irresponsible but I feel like saying "fuck it!" It's pretty affordable in the off season after all.<br />
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Maybe it's because of money shortages and looking for a new job, but something amazing happened in the past few weeks in that I no longer freak out when seeing pregnant women and families with a lot of small children. The rational part of me is finally starting to win out over the emotional side. Who cares what other people's families look like when that has absolutely no effect on the family I want to have? I'm not completely cured, but I'm slowly getting back to a place where 4-5 kids sounds like a ridiculous amount to have. I still stare at pregnant bellies. I still try to do the math when I see a young toddler and pregnant mom or newborn, and wonder if her kids are closer together than mine and how close and how can anyone be that fertile? But apparently a lot of people are. That doesn't mean they are having a better parenting experience than I am. Right? Sounds so funny when you say it aloud.<br />
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We are definitely going to try for a third (living child). We hope to have a girl. I don't know what we will do if we have another boy. I know for sure that I am not going past four. I thought I could be pregnant by now, but nature is doing its thing and I am not that upset about it. I am getting a progesterone, AMH (egg reserve) and TSH (thyroid) test on Wednesday to see if I'm ovulating and if everything else is normal. I'm kind of worried about getting these results actually. There's no reason to suspect a problem but I'm 38 now so who knows? We haven't used protection at all since LJ was born and he is 10.5 months now. I started my period at the very beginning of June and have had two more periods since but they have been super weird. Ideally I would get pregnant and be due in May or June, so I still have 2 chances to achieve that. The reasoning for that is so we can rent a beach house for the summer and spend my leave at the Shore. I can't decide if we will wait another year if we miss on that timing. I mean, that's kind of a non-reason to have a baby at that time. And I won't be getting any younger. I guess I will see what the tests show. I really don't want to start a new job and be pregnant or soon be pregnant, but I'm not sure I want to wait that whole year. Maybe I do. Maybe it would be nice to actually plan things to work out the way they would work best, rather than get pregnant as quickly as possible because my heart hurts without being pregnant. Maybe having LJ and his younger sister :) 2 3/4 years apart would be perfect. To be honest having the boys 23 months apart kind of sucked for a while, and it's only now getting slowly better. So anyway...dilemmas. (Not really.)<br />
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It's been four years and I think it just doesn't hurt that bad anymore that Blue is not here. I have 2 beautiful sons with me. I have a happy marriage. Mr. E reminds me that as long as we have our family we have enough. I'm speechless trying to tie this all together. Blue is part of our family, but we'll never have "enough" kids because he is not here. Of course we need money to live, but we need love and the amount of love we share is more important than the amount of money we have. I'm sorry that I can't stop and think that what I have now is good and is good enough. I've always been this way and maybe will always be. Um...yeah...Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-34344814407741281812015-06-18T19:21:00.004-07:002015-06-18T19:21:53.264-07:00WeanersWeaners for a while, actually. LJ decided he was no longer interested in the boob around 7 months old. I was a little sad but also pretty psyched because of all the things I promised myself I would do once he weaned. One of those things was to have a 90-minute massage (have not, yet), plan a weekend away with girlfriends (I've neither gone nor planned one, yet), and try to make another baby (have not, yet). I've been thinking about how easy it would be to stop here, but I also know how much I want another baby, another child, another teenager to add to my family. After the way I felt when Sprout was born--I wanted another baby immediately--I didn't think I would start to feel okay about only having two kids. I'm not sure that I do feel okay about that, which is good because I could be pregnant. Sometimes I still think I want 4 kids, and that 5 doesn't even sound terrible. But I think it would, actually, be terrible? I am ready to get back to some of my normal, enjoyable activities already. Two Sundays ago I went rock climbing the entire day as my birthday/Mother's Day present from Mr. E and it was so awesome! I wasn't as bad and incompetent as I expected, the weather was absolutely perfect, and I spent a whole day with an old friend. It had been 3 1/2 years since I climbed on a real rock. You can see my <a href="http://climbandpunishment.blogspot.com/2015/06/guest-post-rediscovering-joys-of-any.html" target="_blank">guest post</a> about it on Seth's blog. <br />
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LJ is totally the perfect baby (with one flaw that wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for his older brother). He smiles a lot, plays by himself, loves the bath, doesn't even cry anymore when his brother hits him in the face, eats food, and never cries when it's time for nap or bed. I can't believe it either. When he's tired he just wants to suck on his binky and lie in his crib by himself. I worry that another baby could not possibly go this easy on me. His bad habit is that he is still waking once per night. Every once in a while he sleeps all the way through. When he wakes in the night it's for 20 minutes so he can have a bottle, which he surely does not need, given his size, but then he sleeps until a decent hour. It's Sprout who gets up before 7 most mornings, and after interrupted sleep from LJ, getting up before 7 is just rough. Mr. E and I mostly take turns with who's doing what, but I still wish I could sleep without waking up at night. That is the one thing I am not ready to give up on if I am in fact pregnant again already. Those few nights that LJ sleeps through and doesn't wake up angry like this morning, when thanks to him we were all up at 6:00. Annoyingly I randomly woke up before 6, maybe wondering why I hadn't been woken up yet.<br />
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We've also been making milestones over here. LJ has been rocking back and forth on all fours for quite some time now, and can lunge forward when he moves just right. I'm surprised he hasn't figured out how to actually crawl yet but he is only 8 months old so I guess I am glad about that. I haven't found him standing up in his crib yet or anything, though he does like to stand and is now taking little steps when you hold his arms. At this age Sprout was really walking with support, but LJ is way ahead with the crawling stuff. Sprout is talking up a storm and is totally adorable when he's not throwing tantrums and being a total 2 1/2-year-old butthead. Great news from him is that he's potty trained! He's almost independent at home (needs wiping, but I don't think I've ever heard of 2-year-olds wiping their own assess), stays dry at school most days, and is starting to have some dry overnights finally. He wears a pull up at night and I think we are totally done with regular diapers. He doesn't like to go when you ask him, and always says no when you ask if he has to go, but then a few moments later he walks into the bathroom and goes on his own. I don't know where my expectations were, but I ahve to say that potty training was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I do understand that we are by no means out of the woods, and have yet to deal with traveling and public toilets. But I am okay with not dealing with traveling and public toilets until he is more firmly trained. <br />
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Back to TTC. We don't really want to get pregnant this month, but decided to go for it because Mr. E wants them close together so he can get back to work sooner than later. Ideally we would get pregnant in August or September, but I wasn't willing to skip months in case it took long or I miscarried or something worse. I feel really rational and calm about those possibilities. Like it could happen, but it probably won't. It's been a few weeks since my first period since LJ was born. I realized it was only my third period in over 3 years. I have no idea how long my cycle is and I didn't use OPKs, so who knows? I will be testing around July 1. I have no idea how I will really feel if I am or am not pregnant this month. I am just so happy my cycle is back. I am happier still that I can think about pregnancy as something I may or may not want right now. I am happy I am getting to a place where other people's pregnancies don't always stab me in the heart. I wasn't that long ago that I didn't think that would ever happen. I guess you could call me weaned, too. I am weaned from the pain and discomfort that accompanies baby loss for way longer than you would ever believe it to last. I don't mean the real grief, the missing of my boy. I mean the weird, fucked-up, irrational pain of wanting things I never wanted, of wishing things I never wished before. I am happy to see that go. Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-11457699972481958712015-05-07T19:37:00.002-07:002015-05-07T19:37:50.599-07:00Annoying DayAnd I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't a bad day, just annoying. Like having professional pictures of the boys in the park while the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, but the photographer had to cancel and this is the best I could do holding the camera:<br />
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LJ refused to smile and Sprout is absent from most of the photos because he insisted on tackling his brother, as shown above. There were bees in those purple flowers in the grass. Big ones. It says something about my skills behind the lens that the best picture is this last one of the back of Sprout's head. Annoying all around. But I do like the pics.*<br />
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*Made in "Scene" mode because everything I learned in my Intro to Your DSLR class I forgot. Yep.<br />
<br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-9610081264937763582015-04-20T19:53:00.001-07:002015-04-20T19:53:06.357-07:00I'm Not AngryThis may <i>sound</i> angry, but I'm not angry about it. I'm really not. I'm a little sad. I am mostly neutral.<br />
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A few weeks ago I was talking to a friend who was pregnant with her first and finally over the hump of the worst morning sickness. She knew about Blue all along and in fact was very supportive after he died. We were talking about morning sickness in pregnancy and I made a comment about how I felt with "my three." She interrupted and excitedly asked, "Are you pregnant?" And I said "No, but the dead one counts too." I said this in a light-hearted way, I mean, as much as possible. I wasn't angry in the moment. I wasn't sad. I know that she was thinking that maybe I was sharing some <i>new</i> news, not reminiscing about the past.<br />
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But it felt kind of weird, like maybe I wasn't supposed to acknowledge my first pregnancy in the context of this conversation? That is what makes me a little sad. Either that Blue is forgotten or that I ought to be leaving him out. But if we're going to talk about first-trimester morning sickness, isn't it OK to talk about the pregnancy that lasted more than 25 weeks? I want to talk about that pregnancy sometimes. I want to remember it, not forget it. The conversation between us then just kind of died itself. Or moved on, or whatever. It wasn't that awkward. But I felt kind of ... silenced. <br />
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I'm not angry. But I'm not cool with that either.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-50191411744052697762015-02-17T19:23:00.002-08:002015-02-17T19:23:32.098-08:00Acts and OmissionsIt turns out I have a friend who is a social conservative, fiscal liberal. I didn't know those exist? We were able to have a somewhat normal discussion about why abortions should not be allowed (the friend agreed to rape, incest and life/health of the mother exceptions, which is how we got to talking about it*), but later that day and the next day I had a hard time reconciling the fact that I was friends with something who was judging me. Not really, personally. I didn't tell my story. But I felt like there is nothing but judgment when you decide to substitute your decision for someone else's. I think that's actually the definition of being judgmental. A few more days passed and I was fine and we can still be friends. I'm pretty sure.<br />
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Last weekend there was a dinner party for my horse trainer who turned 50 the weekend before. I was talking to a friend who is late in pregnancy with a baby boy who used to have a twin. When she posted on Facebook that one of the twins had died, that's what she said. He died. She told me the other night that he had anencephaly and they decided to terminate. It came at great risk to the other baby, but continuing with the pregnancy as it was would have come at great risk to her. The doctors predicted that he would have lived eight hours at most. As we were talking I was the one fighting back tears. I mean crying. It all started because of the story of our broodmare giving birth to a stillborn foal, whose body was malformed. The mare foaled right after another mare whose baby lived, and apparently she showed signs of longing and jealousy. One day the mare didn't come when called, and the woman who took care of her thought she might have died. Like of a broken heart. And I remember this story from years ago and I was so sad about it, imaging what it might have been like. For a horse! And then it happened to me. And I turned to my friend as I was then crying and said, "I thought that was sad but then it happened to us." She didn't cry but she opened up and asked me if I had gotten therapy. "Probably not enough," I said. I didn't even know I felt that way. It was strange to see her so composed, so much closer to her loss, while I cried more than, you know, I may have wanted to. When I asked if my mascara was running, she said no and that she had already checked. Maybe she wasn't as sad about her loss as I was about mine. It's hard to believe that, but we are all different and emotions affect us all differently. She has an older child. The other twin is doing well. But it was interesting to also hear how the loss affects the older child, and how my friend was struggling to explain it all to a 4-year-old, especially without the use of God books. We agreed to write a book. I don't know how to tell an older child that her little brother died before he was born, but some day I want to figure out a way to tell my younger children about their big brother who died.<br />
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And what do we say? What is part of that story? And what, if anything, is left out? It's because of people like my first friend that people like me and my second friend don't tell a significant part of our story when we tell people that we had a baby...but he died.<br />
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I will never tell Friend 1 that I had an abortion because my baby had cystic fibrosis. It's her opinion that when you sign on to have a baby, you just "figure out" anything and everything that comes along with that, no matter the quality of life issues, the financial issues, the effects on every other relationship you have in your life. She's confident in this position because she can imagine life with a child in a wheelchair, and it doesn't seem that bad to her. I just wish I had had the presence of mind to say, quite kindly, that you don't really know what you would do in a certain situation until you are actually in that situation. Because there are a 1,000 other scenarios that she did not imagine. And if you can't know what you would do, how can you possibly know what someone else should do?<br />
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I am sad, and frustrated, and angry, that part of my story is stifled. I agonized over my decision, and agonized over the loss of my baby and the life I wanted with him. So few people truly understand this. And the ones who don't...it's like, you can't tell them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Is incest not rape? Because if it isn't, then allowing an abortion in cases of incest is an acknowledgment that we don't want to have babies with birth defects, right? And if prohibiting abortion is about protecting the innocent life of the baby, then it is not morally justifiable to allow abortion for rape. And is anyone actually opposed to abortions where the mother will die if she doesn't get one? It would be interesting for someone opposed to abortion to make a Darwinist argument in that case, no? </span>Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-34917422672627992682015-01-13T18:31:00.001-08:002015-01-30T18:40:02.322-08:00Back to the GrindI would like to blog more but I just don't know how to do it. I left work at 5:39 tonight. It felt like I was leaving late, but I thought about how early that would seem if I didn't have kids. What would I do? I would go to the gym, maybe go grocery shopping after or meet someone for dinner or a drink. (Not that I equate grocery shopping with a social life.) And I would come home and realize how much time there still was before going to bed and maybe I would read something enjoyable.<br />
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I guess in a way I have done this because I ran circles around the house playing "chase" with Sprout for 5 minutes and did one 10-second downward dog, then met LJ for a drink (i.e. nursed him to sleep), put some frozen perogies and "chicken" nuggets on a baking sheet and ate them standing up well after they cooled down because Sprout screamed his head off about going to bed and I was stuck in another room upstairs so as not to disturb him further by walking past his room, then I read something enjoyable by fucking around on Facebook for a while. Actually I poked around on the New York Times which I do find actually enjoyable, in addition to Facebook time which I find pseudo enjoyable. <br />
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Being back at work continues to be not as bad as I might have thought but I am realizing just how much another kid changes your life and how selfish I would really like to be. I received some advice today that "the world favors a 4-person family." If we decide to "go for the girl" we will have to go for another vehicle because my Mazda3 definitely does not seat 3 car seats, and kids are in car seats these days until they are 12.<br />
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I have also been more sad about Blue lately than I would have expected. There is nothing about this time of year that is a grief trigger. In particular anyway. I was holding LJ the other day over my shoulder and he was so content, quiet and still. I was getting ready to go outside for a quick run but he felt so delicious and I whispered, "I will hold you forever." Which if course I won't and which of course reminded me that it was something I never did and could never do with Blue. A few moments later as I tried to put him down so I could leave I told him, "I can't put you down." And suddenly tears were just streaming from my eyes and they were happy and sad all at once and it was just so confusing.<br />
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I would say being back at work is actually kind of good, but I don't have enough time after work to see my babes, and I don't have any time after work to exercise, which is something I really enjoy besides being great stress relief, but that makes it even harder to see my babes but I think being away from them sometimes is good but then I hold them and I can't put them down.<br />
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LJ is still only three months old. Someone please tell me this is still hormones????Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-1619688160532066402015-01-05T17:31:00.002-08:002015-01-05T17:31:41.487-08:00#Microblog Mondays: Exceeding ExpectationsBecause if your expectations are in the basement, it's easy to do. First day back to work today after a 14-week leave. I cheated though, because I came home at lunch to see LJ and nurse him. But at any rate it was not that bad. When I got home in the evening, Sprout opened the door for me and then we ran around the house a bit. I realize he doesn't laugh out loud with me very often, but tonight I got to hear some of those adorable toddler giggles as we played tag. Both kids went to bed just before 8:00 and I am getting ready for a 9:00 candlelight yoga class. Not bad at all. Happy Monday!Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-37522248484497245782014-12-08T18:43:00.000-08:002015-01-13T18:31:53.519-08:00Seems Like Without TendernessI was sad today and it didn't even start out being about Blue. But then I ended up being sad about him and everything too.<br />
<br />
If I were taking the standard 10-week maternity leave from work I would have gone back today. And I just do not want to go back to this job. Even if I liked my job, I would not be ready yet. Sleep is still too fragmented and I have to drag myself from bed every morning unless Mr. E lets me sleep in until 9 or 9:30 or even later. I have not been pumping to build up a store of milk. Not that that absolutely needs to be done or that I wouldn't have done that over the past week or two knowing I would be going back to work today. But I really don't like this job. I don't have enough responsibility, I don't have enough interesting work, I don't make enough money. After more than two years you would think at least one of these areas would no longer be deficient. I don't even want to be a lawyer. I'm not sure that I ever did but it sounded like a good option a number of years ago and really it's not all bad. But I can't stop fantasizing about what else I would rather be doing with my life.<br />
<br />
And I guess that's how I started being sad about Blue because I was thinking about what I might have done differently with my life if he had been born healthy. There is no question that my life would have been completely different, but it is the imagined permutations of that different life that I find difficult to avoid. The questions about that life appear randomly in my thoughts. Would Chris and I have become the guardians of his friend's little boy? What would have happened if we didn't stay together? When I left him, why did I never hear from her? I guess she was always his friend and not mine, but I had thought she was my friend too. When would I have gone back to work, i.e. gotten a job, after Blue was born? What would his name have been? Would we have hosted Chris' family for Thanksgiving when Blue was just a week or a few weeks old? Would we have moved out of Chris' 800-square-foot condo into a house with a garage and a yard? Would we have lasted that long as a couple? Where would I live now? Had I stayed with him, would I be miserable or would I have had an affair?<br />
<br />
It was a beautiful cold day yesterday and I went for a run in the nearby park that stretches along the banks of a small river. I stopped on a bridge and stared at the water, feeling an old familiar unsettled-ness about my life. It wasn't the same urgent purposelessness, if there is such a thing, that I felt in my early 30s once I realized how much I wanted to have a baby. To meet a man with whom to have a baby. I was having a really great time in my life, if I think about it, but I felt an intense lack of purpose and direction. Now that I have a family, it doesn't hurt so bad that I don't have the kind of job or career or work life that I want. But thinking about having to go back to work today made that feeling more acute. That feeling that I want to do something <i>really great</i> but I have no idea what that is and how I will get there. Usually I think it's something creative, or something entrepreneurial, but sometimes I think I would rather do nothing at all. Not that I would do nothing, but that what I did was not so much about a career and making money but about how I touched people's lives or left something better than I found it. I suppose I should admit that sometimes I think that "doing nothing" could also look like moving back to a ski town and working in a restaurant and chasing powder days. <br />
<br />
It doesn't surprise me at all that I have a family, a house, a career if I want it, and still I feel like there's something missing. That something missing that I'm talking about, it's not Blue, but anytime I think of something missing I am missing him too.Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-44976476161636644752014-11-19T18:48:00.001-08:002014-11-19T18:48:49.391-08:00All These AnniverariesToday is Blue's due date. All these anniversaries are adding up. I didn't fell particularly sad today. No, actually, I didn't feel sad today. Like at all. I had some sadness yesterday. I had some sadness last weekend. Come to think of it, November has been more of a sad month than not, just not today. November is sad because of Blue's due date, because there's Thanksgiving and I always remember that three years ago in November there was supposed to be a baby on Thanksgiving but there wasn't. The days get shorter. The days get colder. November is just not the greatest month for a lot of reasons!<br />
<br />
But today was OK. Today was a fuzzy morning because LJ fussed from 3-something until 7-something, when he finally fell into a sound sleep...and Sprout woke up. Workmen arrived at our house to start basement demolition and mold remediation--yay? Boo moldy house, but yay to fixing it. Sprout went to school today, and LJ, Mr. E and I went to the barn where I ride my dad's horse. We came home and after feeding LJ I went for a run. It was sunny with some wind and pretty cold, but I love sunny and don't really mind cold so it was good. I thought about how I was not that sad and it was Blue's due date today. I took a long, hot shower and then my aunt came to meet LJ and visit with us and the boys. We went to Starbucks for soy mochas and we chatted and looked at Blue's picture of his name in the sand but I did not mention that today was the day. Sprout was totally friendly and adorable with her even though he has not seen her in months. Mr. E took Sprout to get burritos for supper and on the five-minute drive home I guess Sprout almost fell asleep. He was such a delight at supper, we three ate together while LJ slept and Sprout ate well, didn't make a mess or spit out his milk--one of his favorite things to do--and I thought we were right on track with our planned early bedtime.<br />
<br />
I did his bath--OMG, he totally took a dump in the tub, for the first time ever! WTF?--and stories and turned out his light and he was playing and talking in his room a bit as he often does and it wasn't even 7:30 and I'm thinking this is good. Until about 30 minutes later he banged his head on his door, according to Mr. E, harder than ever before. So Mr. E went upstairs to help him fall asleep and almost 2 hours later he is still there. I need help with this! This is the third night in a row that Mr. E has waited in Sprout's room until he fell asleep. I know this is terrible for us and is not even helping Sprout get more sleep. When he bangs his head it is just awful and we don't know what to do. He does not do it rhymically to fall asleep, he does it against his door when he doesn't want to fall asleep. We had to move him to a toddler bed a few months ago because he kept climbing out of his crib and a week of "silent return" did not train him back into his crib. I do feel like he is too young for a bed and free rein in his room, but we have removed everything but a few books--seriously, it is like a jail cell in there. We have to close his door so he's not out wandering about, which he can't open himself. So he bangs his head to get out. If we go to him because he banged his head very hard, he will bang harder if we try to leave him in his room again before he falls asleep. I guess we will try leaving his door open and closing all the other doors upstairs and hope that he doesn't bang on the other doors. Likely he will close his own door and not be able to get back into his room so we will have to battle it out with him anyway. Until this week he was going to bed well, without banging, most nights. Maybe once per week he would have a hard time. Also until this week we have not lay in his room with him except one night when he was sick and one night when he awoke from a night terror. I do not want to become the parents who dread bedtime--but I already do--because they have to spend hours in the child's room each night. Ugh.<br />
<br />
OK, LJ, now crying...more later (like in another two weeks).Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-28157951587003112902014-10-16T11:49:00.000-07:002014-10-20T11:48:02.126-07:00October 15I suppose that Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day will always be overshadowed by Sprout's birthday. But it's still an extra special day when I will think of my birthday boy and my boy whose birthday never came to be.<br />
<br />
I didn't remember to light a candle at 7pm last night. But very shortly after, we lit the candles on Sprout's cake. I have to admit I was not really thinking about his older brother, but was instead worrying about the junk-drawer-esque quality of the background to his blowing-out-the-candles photos. Maybe in my sleep-deprived state I just do not have enough brain capacity to think of more than one thing at once. I am feeling some remorse today. I forgot about Blue yesterday. I forgot about the other babies who were here and then they weren't.<br />
<br />
I don't have the energy today to be sad...or remorseful. It seems inappropriate then to segue into lighter topics, but, onto lighter topics:<br />
<br />
Sprout is 2! We took him to story time at a local bookstore for a treat. His cousins often go and all three were there yesterday as well. His cousin M, who is a month older, was sitting quietly, paying attention, while Sprout was pulling books off the shelves, pretending to read them, casting them aside, getting up, whining and crying, sitting down, wandering around, etc. etc. There were 2 unrelated children (1 boy, 1 girl) there who were also generally behaving. I was thinking my kid will be slapped with an ADHD diagnosis before pre-K, but the nanny said that yesterday was the first time that M actually paid attention. That was a relief, but I'm also pretty sure that after story time Sprout annoyed the crap out of the dad of the girl, who was reading her a book at a small table in the kids' area while Sprout stacked Frozen-themed notepads and a wind-up toy on the same table. It vaguely occurred to me that the dad found Sprout's behavior "inappropriate," and that I should have told Sprout to find another place to play, that he was too close to their space and was being disruptive, but I really didn't see the value in that. I suppose I should start looking into alternative schools now.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, so thanks to sleep deprivation, this happened while on the way/at the bookstore: <br />
Me: [looking in console of Mr. E's car] Oh good, we have quarters for the parking meter.<br />
[10 minutes later; it starts to rain; all exit car and enter bookstore].<br />
[40 minutes later] Mr. E: Did you put quarters in the meter? Me: No, did you? Mr. E: I thought you were. Me: I totally forgot.<br />
[5 minutes later; exit bookstore to feed meter; find ticket on windshield; do not feed meter; walk to bagel store for snack to keep Sprout awake in the car on the drive home; Mr. E opens mouth to speak] Me: I refuse to be angry about this. Do not talk about it.<br />
[15minutes later; Sprout falls asleep for TWO SECONDS in the car holding onto the bagel; refuses nap]<br />
<br />
Eventually Sprout had a late nap so I could bake his birthday cake and feed the baby in peace. I made <a href="http://www.sublime-sweets.com/monkey-cake-from-amys-bread/" target="_blank">Monkey Cake</a> because I call Sprout "monkey" a lot and because he loves bananas. This cake is FOR REAL, and I highly recommend making it. It's also pretty easy because it calls for oil instead of butter, so you can mix it by hand, which is great for me with my missing-paddle-attachment stand mixer (that was somehow lost in our old apartment and not actually during the move). When I asked him what kind of cake he wanted--of course he wouldn't really know what he was asking for--he said he wanted "happy" cake. I'd never heard of Happy Cake, but figured the Internet had, so I googled it and found a disgusting recipe calling for boxed yellow cake mix, vanilla pudding mix, Cool Whip, and some other offensive "food" items. (Not to say I don't actually love all of those things.) Sprout loved the cake, and especially the cream cheese icing, so I was glad to have spared everyone from the atrocity that is <a href="http://recipes.sparkpeople.com/recipe-detail.asp?recipe=664042" target="_blank">Happy Cake</a> (OK, it's really not that bad.) If you want to make cream cheese icing, the Internet is abound with recipes with all sorts of varying ratios and amounts of ingredients. Here is my recipe that was quite a hit: 2 8-oz packages plain cream cheese, softened; 2 sticks unsalted butter, softened; approx. 1 tsp vanilla (just free-style it!); powdered sugar to taste and desired texture, but in this case about a pound. The recipe I was working from actually called for about 2 pounds of sugar! This made more than enough to frost a 2-layer 9-inch round cake, so I now have an additional baking responsibility this week. I'm thinking carrot cake with the Asian pears that I do not like for some reason, and the one over-ripe banana that has a really brown spot where Sprout ate the peel (WTF?). <br />
<br />
Anyway, around 5:30 we had my brother and his family--the same cousins from story time--one set of friends and their baby, one set of neighbors, and three sets of parents over for pizza and cake. The kids ate each other's pizza, drank from each other's cups, ran around like maniacs, but were generally pleasantly unsupervised. Since I baked the cake too late for adequate cooling time, I quickly frosted it while everyone finished up eating and we put on some star-shaped candles that said happy birthday because though I had been at the store for an hour the night before I did not buy a "2" candle. When it came time to blow out the candles Sprout was very serious, and even cried a little at the end, but I was impressed that he was actually able to blow out his candles without much prompting or instruction. Everyone but my mother in law left by about 7:30, and she helped clean up and give Sprout a bath while I fed LJ again. Since it was his birthday, we let Sprout stay up a little late and watch 10 minutes of Frozen (he has requested to watch it, along with Yo Gabba Gabba, every day, and it's so cute they way he says both titles that I have a hard time saying no). Then Mr. E, my MIL and I opened a bottle of Prosecco and watched Ridiculousness on DVR. Not a bad way to end the day. (Did I forget to DVR the Teen Mom 2 Reunion? Damn it!)<br />
<br />
Finally, some photo evidence:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4S-er8JrVLYP9J04oTYXnVv8wqyi5i2nzp-Rnlxn371we2J42WUoBg0h0EnmZz77tr1iLjChnaI9PNEMC6I4TuiSnwf0lC8fJH4skV4J7l2UBXbuiB2SuDCGq1rAvpG3tmTj5C3OJwQ/s1600/DSC00995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4S-er8JrVLYP9J04oTYXnVv8wqyi5i2nzp-Rnlxn371we2J42WUoBg0h0EnmZz77tr1iLjChnaI9PNEMC6I4TuiSnwf0lC8fJH4skV4J7l2UBXbuiB2SuDCGq1rAvpG3tmTj5C3OJwQ/s1600/DSC00995.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See what I mean about the junk?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaYPkkWzCRAZ7wwKy1wnbjCjnramWA1UoslSrLY-KI04pcNWFplmFgeUCVLO-TxT6RyQlGEFlJcUjxKIXGg4IrChIwfRGjGVIvI6uCzxyjeauuVfpYjzWZ3WQN9cYNCcy2tKKQyW8HOk/s1600/DSC00991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYaYPkkWzCRAZ7wwKy1wnbjCjnramWA1UoslSrLY-KI04pcNWFplmFgeUCVLO-TxT6RyQlGEFlJcUjxKIXGg4IrChIwfRGjGVIvI6uCzxyjeauuVfpYjzWZ3WQN9cYNCcy2tKKQyW8HOk/s1600/DSC00991.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little GQ is 2!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA25y1GLDP_UzYJg3JEJdUczH8VyZ90-yIEI_Xcn90aM0g0qRzgDonDvuwkwxdSvAfNIrjprAh-RQqHw_38G0U_NdZRWbGTxUHUrRm72mfSvbCKhGTv9JJuTzrOyNLu28GoBpfK7Pkx1I/s1600/DSC00989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA25y1GLDP_UzYJg3JEJdUczH8VyZ90-yIEI_Xcn90aM0g0qRzgDonDvuwkwxdSvAfNIrjprAh-RQqHw_38G0U_NdZRWbGTxUHUrRm72mfSvbCKhGTv9JJuTzrOyNLu28GoBpfK7Pkx1I/s1600/DSC00989.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I continue to refuse to cut his hair (even if it casts a shadow on his face, making him appear to be wearing makeup a la a Kiss band member).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8abFnrWbPGQCPST-Q-uEoPWAhOwy0e1tqsJ0aFXdMcZ48ecgzTlOSgj5rBHcRXFfA3-W0j20C5EO2A8mN9yLg4c_gxVehRPDX2Wrf978orxutdbZtbCoie0CmRAAVeonnmsSHlZeLYI/s1600/DSC00851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8abFnrWbPGQCPST-Q-uEoPWAhOwy0e1tqsJ0aFXdMcZ48ecgzTlOSgj5rBHcRXFfA3-W0j20C5EO2A8mN9yLg4c_gxVehRPDX2Wrf978orxutdbZtbCoie0CmRAAVeonnmsSHlZeLYI/s1600/DSC00851.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few days prior, with an expression that resembles a smile.</td></tr>
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<br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6464310039772675299.post-16520707376241182802014-10-05T11:42:00.001-07:002014-10-10T11:20:22.641-07:00The Best Laid Plans......Just don't matter at all when you end up with this:<br />
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Welcome LJ, born September 27, 2014 at 1:37 a.m. 7 pounds, 15 ounces. The nurse measured him at 22", but I have to say after putting him in a few outfits I did not agree. I measured him the other day and came up with 20.5, which was confirmed at the doctor's office last Thursday. <br />
<br />
I love my sweet, sweet, new little monkey. He has probably spent at least 50% of his life so far asleep on my chest (or Mr. E's), and I wouldn't change a thing. Sprout, who will be 2 on Oct 15, gave LJ a kiss on the head today that was not followed by an act of violence. He's a little, um, NOT NICE to babies smaller than he is. We have to keep a sharp eye on him. But today he was pretty good overall, didn't pay too much attention to LJ and hasn't been throwing extra tantrums, really. He helped Mr. E mow the lawn today and it was just the cutest thing. <br />
<br />
I've heard people say they couldn't imagine loving their second child as much as their first, until the second child is born. I feel like I need to be careful to love my first (second) as much as my second (third). I have always loved the baby stage, and I am not as much a fan of the toddler stage, so maybe this has something to do with it? Maybe because my first born was here and gone before I got to experience the love you feel when you stare at your sleeping baby, and yet I still loved him more than anyone else? Do I really love Sprout less now that LJ is here? Of course not. But I can't help thinking how nice it would be to not have to chase after a toddler, or watch him like a hawk around the baby. You know, having your first baby is really hard...until you have your second baby and the hard part is still the first baby. <br />
<br />
. . .<br />
<br />
OK, so here's what happened. My due date is actually October 11. I thought it would be kind of cool for the babies to share a birthday. Not cool for them, maybe, but for me. But I also kind of felt like this one would be a September baby, and that that would be nice for the kiddos because they would have their own birthday month. Call it mother's intuition. My water broke last Thursday night about 8:00. I stood up from the couch and just felt something funny happening. Mr. E was at the store and I was trying to get Sprout to bed, a little late that night (not sure why). I went to the powder room and thought I just lost the mucus plug. But then I realized that my pants were wet in a little spot too. So at this point I kind of know what is happening, but I wasn't aware that it would KEEP HAPPENING for the next few hours. I knew better than to call the doctor. I just wanted to eat dinner, take a shower and sleep in my own bed, rather than spend the night in the hospital having my vagina unnecessarily probed. I assured family members I would call the doctor in the morning. I obliged and called in the morning, and of course they wanted me to come into the office immediately to "get checked," i.e. unnecessarily probed. I rejected the probe repeatedly until the nurse said that if I was not further dilated, she would let me go home for awhile and check in hours later. So I relented, and no, I was not further dilated, because duh, I did not have ANY contractions, and before I could leave we had to check fluid levels via ultrasound and have a non-stress test. Apparently my fluid level was really low, because the tech was quite serious while doing the scan and then opened the door to tell the nurse that I was at 1.8. I did not--and still do not, really--know what that meant, but to the nurse it meant go immediately to the hospital. If your water has not broken, fluid levels are normal within the wide range of 7-24. I think this is centimeters, so the amount that might be sitting in the bottom of a glass if you could measure that way. What I sort of understand from blogs and such, though it was not fully explained to me, is that under 2cm is not so good for the baby. Oh, yes, and the whole time I lied to the nurses and doctors and such, telling them that my water broke around 10pm, instead of 8. What is two hours, really? I just wanted to make it seem more plausible that I would not have called the doctor the night before. <br />
<br />
I agreed that I would get to the hospital "in about an hour," and then I went to work for an hour to tie up loose ends (so glad I did that, actually), and then went home to spend some time with Sprout, pack a bag, have some lunch, and finally head over. It's a five-minute drive to the hospital, so I suppose that was also comforting to me, knowing that I would be there in moments when it was time to go. Still not a single contraction, but I could feel the baby moving quite a bit, which was also reassuring. I should also point out that from the time my water broke I was keenly aware that the baby was still moving well, that the fluid was clear and odorless, and that I was GBS negative. So aside from the low fluid issue, I do not see that I was at risk just because my water broke early. Of course at the hospital they have other ideas, which is why I didn't want to go until I absolutely had to. We arrived at 1:00, about 2 hours later than I promised the nurse. Actually, my plan for initially calling the doctor was going to be to wait until 2:00 that day (Friday), since that would be 18 hours after water breaking with no progress. I guess in the end I simply lost an hour and increased the risk of infection by having one unnecessary probe (the one at the office, which would not have changed anything if we had just checked fluid and had the non-stress test first, which I now know to do should there be a future repeat occurrence). Skip to the end, no one got an infection.<br />
<br />
So where are we? The hospital was expecting me, so I went right to a delivery room and started the admitting process. The anesthesiologist came to go over all the releases in case I opted for the epidural. He asked when I ate last and said "of course you did" when I replied "right before I showed up." This was not my first rodeo, yeah, of course I did because you people are going to starve me for the next 17 hours. Unfortunately I had had three bites of Sprout's leftover hotdog and a handful of grapes. But I packed snacks, and let me tell you, I was sneaking them up until we started the--spoiler alert--induction.<br />
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Basically, I asked to go home to wait for labor to start on its own, the doctor was very serious and said I would have to sign a waiver that would read that the baby could die and since that didn't seem like a worthwhile risk, I finally said, let's start the pitocin and have a baby! And at that point I also said to bring on the pain relief. Which by the way, arrived a little late and I was not prepared this time to go through so many painful contractions. We started pit at 7:30, so about 24 hours after water breaking, and LJ was born 6 hours later. The contractions started picking up about 11, and were really hurting at 11:30, and I don't think I got the epidural until midnight or even after? Who knows? I feel like the anesthesiologist was barely out of the room before I was pushing and delivering the baby. Apparently that is what a good epidural is supposed to do. I could feel and move my legs the whole time, I felt enormous pressure and was unable to keep from pushing a little bit with the contractions, but the cervical pain was not there. I still needed a lidocain shot for the stitches, though, so maybe the epidural didn't quite go far enough? Again, whatever, I much preferred being able to feel and push than with Sprout when I could detect the contractions but that was basically it. Also, I thought you weren't supposed to tear the second time around? Same spot.<br />
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What else? Ah yes, there was some drama. I guess when it was time to deliver everything went so fast, the doctor was barely scrubbed in and they did not have time to break the bed, i.e. lower the lower half and put up stirrups. So when LJ's head popped out unaccompanied by the rest of his body, they had to quickly break the bed so the doctor could wiggle his shoulders out. I confirmed with the doctor, who I guess was working the entire weekend because she did the rounds on Sunday morning, that he was without oxygen for only about 20 seconds. But in the meantime they were yelling about breaking the bed, and then yelling at me to push, and I think at one point I didn't even push but I thought I was, then quickly got it back together and just pushed even though there wasn't a contraction and there he was. They placed him on my naked chest, blue and silent, but after rubbing him with the blanket and suctioning his nose and mouth he was breathing and crying and back to being perfect in a matter of moments. Also, in the midst of this, Mr. E shouted "I see balls!": his way of saying, "It's a boy!" What a class act. Makes me laugh though.<br />
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I think that covers the birth story. I have a whole new appreciation for intervened-upon birth. I mean, was it really that important that I sit around waiting for labor to start on its own? Clearly my body was not doing it right--only 10% or so of women have their water break before contractions, and then the median time to active labor is 16-17 hours after water breaking. I don't feel bad about this. Sometimes things don't go "right," and that is what medical intervention is for. I do not feel weak that my body didn't it "do it right" this time, I do not feel like something failed me, I do not feel like I should have done something differently. I think I personally could have waited longer for labor to start, and maybe could have avoided the epidural, but again, for what? Healthy mom, healthy baby is an outcome that is hard to have second thoughts about. <br />
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There is so much more to write about...the house, leaving the hospital, maternity leave, a 39-week bump picture (haha)...but I've got to save something for future posts. And, while Sprout still naps, get back to this:<br />
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P.S. I totally splurged on this lounge chair ($215 on Wayfair). I couldn't imagine nursing outside in warm and dry fall weather without a comfy place to <i>lounge</i>. This is where I spent most of September 28.<br />
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<br />Ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07589146108622036946noreply@blogger.com1