Babies, babies everywhere....or always an aunt, but never knocked up

Rough day at work today. Sometimes working with all women sucks!

Worse though, was coming home and having Amazing Daddy say that my best friends mother had called to say that my best friend gave birth this morning to a little girl. She's the friend that at 37 got pregnant less than two months after her wedding. That her new baby, Maisy, is doing well is wonderful. That I can't feel any excitement for her is what sucks.

What kind of friend am I? Her entire pregnancy has been very difficult for me. Granted, I've only seen her once since her wedding (she's in Michigan, I'm the one that left her to move to PA), so it hasn't exactly been in my face. We've only spoken on the phone maybe five times since then too. All my fault really, because when I do talk to her I can't stand when she complains about being pregnant.

I'm so happy that she didn't have to deal with any infertility issues. My god, it took her long enough to find the right man, and what a miracle that she conceived basically on their first try. But, she knows everything I went through trying to get pregnant, and she knows about our IVF cycle (not that it failed though, because she never called to see how I was doing).

What I don't understand is that I work with two women who are pregnant, and just found out another is pregnant. And I'm so happy for them! It isn't hard for me to be around them at all. So why is it so hard when it's my best friend? What kind of bitch am I?

Adding to my IF depression, we found out yesterday that our neighbor is pregnant with her third (her second Oopps) baby. This is a family that never has enough money and they complain about it all the time, but they have nicer cars (two SUV's) than us, and pretty much get what ever they want when they want. She just quit her job a few weeks ago too. She's also the one that I hear SCREECHING at her kids all day long.

WTF huh? So life isn't fair they say. No shit! But that doesn't help me act excited for my friend and her new little girl.

Wow, big storm Tuesday night left us without power for a while, and then with out cable and internet until last night! Talk about blog withdrawal! I've been getting in to this daily posting bit, especially since my husband has been letting me use his laptop and I can blog while lounging on the couch!

So, without the distraction of TV or the internet, I've been forced to do some thinking (oy, my brain hurts). Actually, some of the pain is likely from the bonking my head took from the flashlight darling TB laid in to it Tuesday afternoon. I'm still not sure if this was an intentional come up behind mommy and hit her in the head from behind, or it was just a random throw up in the air and my head got in the way mishap. Regardless, TB was taught a new word/phrase (little son of a bitch) and spent a good amount of time in his room while I cried it out in mine. At least it wasn't the stroke I initially thought was going on before I realized what had happened.

But yes, back to the thinking. I realize I need to do something different. What I'm doing with TB now isn't working. So I'm going to search out some help for ME this time, and try and figure out how to be a different kind of mother.

It's interesting, because at work for the last year or so we've been doing some team building to try and get us through some interpersonal issues with our boss and my coworkers. Being a small group of 1 boss and 4 employees (all of us women) we've needed the help. Our last session was spent talking about how our boss is unlikely to change, so instead of bitching about her all the time, maybe we need to change things up which will hopefully force her to react differently to us. So, it makes sense that if this can work with a 40 something menopausal woman, why couldn't it work with my 3 1/2 year old terror.

But, first, I think I need help knowing just how to change it up. Cause my screaming is definitely not work. And sitting on the couch letting him do what ever because I'm too exhausted to stop him, isn't doing much either.

So I feel good just saying that. Plus, we actually had a nice evening last night. And when I read him stories before bed he really cuddled in and then wanted snuggles as he fell asleep.

Love

I just reread my last post. I forgot to say so much. Most of all that I love The Boy with my whole being. I can't imagine life with out him. No matter how much he frustrates me he's a part of me, the most important part of me.

We really have come so far with him, I know it will keep getting better. All these hormones raging through my just don't help things. I need to keep reminding myself of that.

I love my son. I couldn't love him more even if he was a perfect angel.

We'll get through this.

I'm really not enjoying being a mother these days...

I'm really not enjoying being a mother these days. Pretty awful thing to say isn't it. Made even worse by the fact that I'm trying so hard to get pregnant. Confusing, huh? Yeah, for me too.

I'm struggling, really struggling, right now trying to be a good mother to
The Boy. I never, ever, thought it could be this difficult. Two years ago when we started to think something wasn't quite right, we were frustrated, and scared at what the future would hold. It took us a good year to find TB the right help, and even longer to get some of it actually in place. So now he's had a good year plus of occupational therapy for his sensory issues, attachment therapy for his attachment, and a special instructor to help fill in some of the gaps. We've had over six months with a behavioral specialist and therapeutic support staff (TSS) at school. So why does his behavior seem to be getting worse instead of better. What are we missing?

This morning I went in to get him from his room and he was sitting there tearing up one of his books. It's at least the tenth book he's destroyed in the last two months. We don't even keep books in his room anymore. I'm not sure how this one got in there. Then at breakfast he carried his glass of milk into the living room and deliberately dumped it on the carpet. As I was cleaning it up he grabbed the roll of paper towel and threw it down the basement stairs. When I told him to go get it he brought it back up and unwound it every where. Then he grabbed a fresh apricot from the counter, ate half of it, and smashed the rest with his foot in to the carpet.

After his OT appointment today when I was talking to his therapist he ran down the hall, out the door, through the parking lot and in to the playground. Once there he got in one of the toys where I couldn't get him. At the store later he continually kicked me in stomach while he was sitting in the cart, and grabbed at my shirt refusing to let go. Then he yelled the entire time we were in the grocery store.

At lunch he spit his drink all over, then "swished" his food all over the floor.

He's in bed now for a nap. I have about 90 minutes of peace until it starts all over again.

I try to be as consistent as possible with him. We do time outs, but they only really work at home. Some times we do swats on the tuss, but again, I'm not comfortable doing them in public because of the stories I've heard about how it can be misinterpreted. So in public we take things away, or don't let him have treats (like the cookie at the grocery store). I try not to yell because that makes it worse, guaranteed.

The few times lately where I feel we are doing well together and having a good time, it seems that as soon as I breath a sigh of relief and start to enjoy it, he turns in to a monster.

I realize that TB isn't here to entertain me, and it's not on him to make me happy, but damn it, isn't there supposed to be something enjoyable about parenting?

If I had heard someone talk like this four years ago when we were making the decision to stop fertility treatment and start the process of adoption, I would have been horrified. What a horrible, selfish woman I would have said. She doesn't deserve to have a child. Of course back then I would never have had a child that screamed in the grocery store, or spit out his food at other people, or ran away from me, over and over again (cause you know, my children would be perfect, because I'd be the perfect mother).

I think if anyone who knew me knew I felt like this they would be shocked. I always thought I was meant to be a mother, I hope I wasn't wrong.

Moving forward with a smile...and various blathering on about nothing

So I rolled myself out of bed this morning and made it to work. Other than dumping his bag of chex mix in the car The Boy and I had a good morning. Only minor struggles getting dressed and sun screened up. I even managed to hold back the tears while driving.

Once at work I did much better. Although tired (probably from the double xanax Sunday night) I managed to accomplish and interact appropriately. I even had an amazing conversation with my boss. She has been very supportive through all of this, far more than I had thought possible. There was a time when I don't think she could have expressed concern or support, because she would have been so focused on the thought that if i did get pregnant I would take time off to have the damn baby. Considering I would be the fourth employee in less than two years for this to happen to, I guess I can't blame her. But, she's surprised me and handled this all very well. Or, maybe she just doesn't believe it will happen so isn't all that concerned. But no, that really isn't fair of me, because she has been so kind and really opened up to me today about her own pregnancy several years ago. Believe me, this was a big deal!

So yeah, may be not quite as empty today as yesterday. Although when I stepped on the scale this morning and saw I'd gained ten pounds during this cycle, I realized I shouldn't be empty at all, cause apparently I've been stuffing my face for the last two months. So if I chose to stop being depressed over the BFN I can be depressed about gaining back ten pounds of the 40 pounds I worked so hard to lose last winter. God damn roller coaster. If it isn't dieting, it's infertility. They don't really compliment each other very well at all.

On the bright side of things, TB actually snuggled up with me on the couch today and watched a movie. I'd say I got a good 30 minutes of cuddle time before his body went in to movement withdrawal and he was forced to get up and shake everything in a bizarre fashion. But really, 30 minutes is amazing for him. And considering it's been a good month since he's sat like that with me for any length of time, I have to say it was a good day. Perhaps he senses the hormones fading from my body.

Speaking of hormones, the ol' period started today. I figure this one will be a doozy considering what a rich, lush lining I had from all that progesterone. Plus, I'm still having occasional cramping from my ovaries. And....drum roll please....I had my first aura today. No, not one of those good touchy feely hippy crystal yoga type auras (cause that one would probably be black or at least grey right now) but a true migraine aura. Let me just tell you that was f'ing weird. I was in a meeting and we were looking at all these papers and I felt like I had looked in to a spot light for too long, because I couldn't see parts of the papers, and I had this metallic silver ring on the left side of my visual field. I guess I must have been looking pretty weird, maybe something to do with trying to read with one eye closed and the continual repositioning of the papers in front of my face. So one of my coworkers asked me what was wrong and I was all like "I think I'm having a stroke." Just like my husband though no one took me too seriously, but my boss (score TWO points for her today) said it sounded like I was having an aura. Well fuck if she wasn't right, because about an hour later the pain started. So I popped an Imitrex and about 45 minutes later life was dandy again. I think i like this aura bit, because instead of waiting until I knew the headache was a migraine, I drugged up right away and didn't have to hide in the dark under my desk from the pain.

Tomorrow is a TB and Mommy day. Whoo hoo. Supposedly we have OT in the morning, but she cancelled last week, and the four weeks before that was summer break. OT is great for TB, and our days tend to be better after he has a session, but the hall I have to wait in isn't air conditioned, and since it's supposed to be another hot mother tomorrow (100+ degrees) I'm not so sure I want to go.

There's a new kids place in our town, called Jungle Jim's Kids Zone. It looks interesting, and I spoke with the owner yesterday to find out more about it. It sounds like mornings are free play/mom's morning out type set up. They have a snack bar with coffee and tea, etc. Sounds great, except for the fact that I might have to actually socialize with another human being. In between making sure TB isn't jumping on another child. So yeah, not so sure about this. New venue, worry that no one will talk to me... takes me all the way back to highschool. Oh shit...what do I wear?

Damn, maybe I should just go to Target and let TB eat popcorn and create a trail through he store (in case we get lost you know, he's very up on his fairy tales). We do need diapers. Oh man, that's a post for another day. TB will be 3 1/2 in August, and he's no wear near wanting to be potty trained. The pediatrician said not to worry, he won't go to college in diapers. He didn't promise he wouldn't start highschool that way though.

Emptiness, pressure, and moving forward

So many things have gone through my head this weekend. As I fell asleep in Amazing Daddy's arms Friday night I realized that what I was feeling mostly was empty. More than the disappointment and sadness, was emptiness.

It's not something I really feel I can say out loud to anyone, because it sounds so selfish. How can I say I'm empty when I have an amazing husband and a little boy that I love with all my heart. How dare I want more? How dare I say my life isn't enough for me?

In a way it's harder because I know that AD feels like his life is full already. He's happy with the family we have now. He doesn't "need" another child the way I do. He is already fulfilled.

Then I wonder how The Boy will feel if we do have another child. Will he ever wonder why he wasn't "enough" for me? Or if he's not as good as a child that I'm able to give birth to? But it's none of that. My feelings have nothing to do with any of that. The emptiness I feel has nothing to do with what I have.

I'm not sure I know how to explain it. In a way the emptiness is because of what I've never been able to experience. I was definitely one of those little girls who played mommy and baby. I always knew I wanted children. I decided not to go to medical school because I wanted a family more, and I didn't believe that was a career I could have and have a family at the same time. From my twenties on I've always had this fear that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant. I actually had a doctor as me if I was fulfilling my own prophecy when I told him this. This was early on, before we did any tests. I think after my first HSG when he realized something was right, he regretted saying that, but still. What makes a woman fear something like that? I was a good girl. I was a virgin until I was 22 (not that I don't regret that now). I never messed around. I was ultra careful not to get pregnant before I was married. And knowing I was being a good girl, I still worried that I would never get my chance.

So how DO I explain this emptiness? How do I explain it to my husband in a way that he doesn't think I'm saying he's not enough for me? How do I ensure that TB never wonders if he wasn't enough for me.

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AD says we can do one more cycle. And I know that really that is all we can afford. But the pressure of knowing we only have one more shot at this is a lot. I can't imagine how I'll feel knowing it's the last shot.

The other pressure I feel is my age. At this point if I do get pregnant on the next cycle, I'll be 39 when I have the baby. AD will be 50 (not that any one would ever believe it). We'll be old parents. Is that fair to a child?

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So I gave myself the weekend to wallow. Tomorrow I will get up and move forward with a smile on my face, no matter how empty my heart.

It's official

Yup, the "I'm sorry" call. So the knot is gone. And there were some tears. I feel bad having to tell Amazing Daddy at work. He's having a rough day as it is after being gone for four days. So much crap for him to catch up on. He may have to go in to work this weekend to catch up. Which sucks on many levels. He goes in to work on his day off, but doesn't get to take it off of the vacation days he had to use. And, that means I have to be alone with The Boy. But, I am determined to be a better mom and enjoy the time I'm with him.

So, no more progesterone. Thank god. Hopefully I'll be feeling better by the time I get my period.

So, no Xanax yet. But I did break in to the tortilla chips and made up some queso dip. And then the door bell rang. I thought maybe...flowers? To cheer me up? Although hardly enough time had passed for something like that to happen.

Nope, it's a painter come to pain the front door (ahhh..the first good thing of an association, other than the lawn care and snow shoveling). So I can't even sit here and gorge my face with the chips and salsa, because the front door is in direct line of where I am sitting. And why do I fucking care?

After this I may make chocolate chip cookies. That sounds like great comfort food. Cause you know, why not throw a few more pounds on to the ten that I already gained back during this cycle.

Waiting for the phone call

Here I am, waiting with a very large knot in my stomach, for the phone call that will officially end our first IVF cycle. Even though I KNOW it will be negative because I truly can't believe that the HPT could be wrong, part of me apparently still hopes.

I cried so much yesterday I'm not sure I really need to cry today when I get the news. But, I imagine I will. I'm still going to blame it on all the progesterone surging through my body, but I imagine I'd cry anyway. Although, I have to admit, there have been times in my life when I should have cried, that I just couldn't. And of course, many many times when I shouldn't have cried, that I did. And most of those in public.

And have I mentioned I don't cry pretty? My face gets all red and blotchy and puffy, really puffy. And then I can't see out of my contacts because they start to feel all cloudy and goopy. And then I'm exhausted and all I want to do is sleep. Of course sleeping is the best way to escape from it.

When the call comes, and after the "I'm so sorry, it was negative" bit, I'm going to take a Xanax, maybe even two. Then I think I might crawl in to bed with Old Faithful, because I deserve a good buzz, and since I've been so damn horny from the progesterone but couldn't do anything about it, it's about time I get off.

And then maybe a couple margaritas this weekend are in order.

So how long does it take for the hormones to get back to normal? When will the crazies go away? And do I really have to wait a full cycle before I can start again? That means I can't start Lupron for at least another 7 weeks. Which means our next cycle would be September/October I think. Right smack in the middle of our annual vacation to visit my family.

So now I'm going through the it's not fair crap. I guess part of me really did think that I had gone through enough with all the fertility treatments we did a few years ago. Then the years in between believing it might work on it's own. I wonder just how many periods I've had that I've cursed over. Adding the adoption of TB, and the stress of it all as we discovered his special needs and faught for help for him. Then this cycle all the ups and downs with AD's sperm/no sperm issue. I thought maybe we had been through enough, and that the cosmos would agree and finally grant it to us.

I'll have to add everything up, but I think we have spent about 15K for this cycle with all the extra stuff we had to do (multiple SA's, the ICSI, assisted hatching, banking the sperm we did get, having donor sperm on back up, my choice to do acupuncture). And of course all the regular costs involved.

We took out a home equity loan with the thought it would pay for 3 cycles (assuming one would be a frozen), and give us enough to pay off a bit of debt we had. Well, this cycle cost a little more than I thought, and our air conditioner broke the end of may, so we had to spend 9K replacing the heat and cooling system in our house. We had hoped to have enough left that when I got pregnant we could replace the rust bucket that I drive, and get a safe, family car, like a minivan. This isn't going to happen though. Because I looked at our account, and what we have left is only going to cover another cycle, with maybe a little left over. Maybe enough to do a third cycle if we had embryos left that made it to cryo. Which afer this cycle seems unlikely.

I'm rambling now, I realize that. Blah, blah, blah.

Yet, here I am, still waiting for the call, still hoping. Am I fucking insane?

A moment of insanity

In a moment of insanity today I did an HPT. It was negative. I cried all the way to take my son to school and then to work. I’m handling this much worse than I ever thought possible. What the hell is wrong with my body that I can’t get pregnant!

Never patient at the best of times...

Have I mentioned before that I thought I would handle this two week wait much better than I am? And have I really mentioned that I hate progesterone?

AD is out of town this week doing some consulting at an oncology hospital in California. Man do I miss him, and not only because I have to solicit others to give me my damn shot in the ass every day. TB misses him too! Cause I think he's noticing mommy is a little crazy lately. Poor kid!

I asked TB last night if he remembered where Daddy was. He looked very serious and I could tell he was thinking, then he said "Calimari." Which I actually thought was damn clever considering he got the "cali" right! I reminded him it was California, and he looked all serious again and said, "oh yes, California, a state of America." It's good I was already laying down, because you could have blown me over ala Captain Feathersword.

Today, after I lost my temper with him for about the 100th time, he looked at me and asked when Daddy was coming home. Yeah, I miss him too.

Today I had to go to my GP's office and pay my office visit copay so the nurse could take 30 minutes out of her schedule to stick a needle in my ass. Silly me for thinking they might offer me a little professional courtesy...and offer to stick it in my ass for free!

So, yeah, I continue to be a bit hormonal if you can't tell. And I'm feeling some faint cramping really low in my abdomen. Good sign? Bad sign? Or just impending diarrhea?

Daily update

Today I feel pretty good. No dizziness, no nausea, no cramps. Maybe a little constipated…but that’s to be expected. So, is that a good thing? Or a very, very bad, not pregnant, kinda thing?

TB was in a good mood this morning. Perhaps my middle of the night visit to his room where I cried over how mean I’ve been feeling penetrated his dreams. Who knows…

Blood and ultrasound tomorrow morning. Do you think it can tell me anything?

This waiting is harder than I thought it would be. And of course, I just found out (although I’ve suspected for several weeks) that one of my coworkers is pregnant. I’m happy for her, I really am! But fuck, how come I can tell when everyone else is pregnant, but not myself? Or, does that just mean I’m not pregnant?

Chub club tonight. Yippee…not. I hate that place. My “coaches” as in skinny minny meanie ladies, are not exactly motivating, just bitchy. They don’t like me. I know it. I hate not being liked. If I find out I’m pregnant next week they can just kiss my flat ass, cause I’m out of there. No preggies on their plan! Please let me be pregnant so I don’t have to see the mean ladies every week any more!

Not fit to be a mother

I don't like my son much lately. In fact, I don't want to be around him at all. His behavior has been so bad that I've actually had the urge to spank him, hard, diaperless. I feel like all I do is yell at him. When I'm not doing that I'm ignoring him so Amazing Daddy has to deal with him.

We've had over a year of therapy for him, and I know we've made huge strides, but right now, I can't help but think WHAT THE FUCK?

Or are we just terrible, ineffective parents?

I don't like my son much lately. How fucked up is that? If I heard someone else say that about their child I would say they didn't deserve to be parents.

I think we need more help with him than we are getting. Yet, I'm not sure there is any more help for us out there.

And yet I sit here, hopeful that I'm pregnant, fearful that I'm not, equally fearful that if I am it's multiples. Knowing, that it might all be too much for me/us.

Someone tell me this is just the hormones talking.

Wishful thinking?

I almost passed out in the shower this morning and then thought I was going to throw up. The Boy came in to the bathroom and I asked him to go get Daddy and tell him I was sick. I must have scared him because he actually did it! So really, is it just wishful thinking? Or is this a sign of something? Can you really have symptoms less than a week in to pregnancy? Last night I was in bed thinking that I didn't feel any different and was pretty convinced I wasn't pregnant. This wait is going to be much harder than I thought!

I still feel pretty punky, but feel better lying down. I finally figured out how to position the laptop so I can type while I'm lying down. Too bad I didn't figure that out a couple days ago when I actually felt ok but was still on bedrest.

I have work I need to do. I made rather a big deal about bringing work home to do this weekend and getting the laptop set up, etc., but have yet to actually do it. After this update I will.

TB and AD are outside in the kiddy pool on our deck. It is so hot! I was going to go out with them today but I just can't do it yet.

AD is definitely tired of me being "sick." I think he thought three days of bedrest was overkill. And I'm sure he just didn't understand why I couldn't get up and do things between naps. Nothing got done in the house for three days except playing with TB (which granted is important and often a full time job) and meals. I guess I wouldn't complain, if I didn't feel like he was complaining. A couple times he asked me if I wanted anything, and when I said I did, I got "the look" and the big huffy sigh. So apparently his job is supposed to be fulfilled by asking me, I'm not actually supposed to take him up on it.

More quotables from The Boy

The fascination starts early in our house.

Declared loudly while jumping on the guestroom bed, naked from the waste down: I have a penis! Hurray! Hurray! I have a penis!

Walking, or should I say waddling, in to our room naked, pelvis pushed forward, saying: I have a biiigggg penis Daddy!

I actually had no idea that a three year old got erections to this degree. And so often. The other day he took his pants and diaper off three times to show me his "biiiggg penis."


The Boy's relationship with Jesus Christ:

I suppose it's appropriate that all little Jewish boys know how to use JC's name appropriately. It appears TB is a quick learner...

While sitting on the bed with us one morning, TB got right in my husbands face and said: Jeeeesssussss Cccchhhhrrriiist Dddaaadddyyyyyy, I always love you!

And a few days later while driving home in the car during an impending storm, after Amazing Daddy had commented that he hoped they got home before the rain started so they didn't get wet: Oh gosh, oh jesus christ, it's raining...

I know I have other quotables I've been saving up...but damn if I can't remember them now.

The Injectable Crazies

I've been pretty proud of myself over the last month. I was nervous when I started Lupron and what was to come with the stims. I remember four years ago when we did several cycles of IUI with injectables. I was a basket case through most of them. It didn't help that the first cycle we did we used Repronex and I had a horrible pyrogenic (the fever definition, not the rock definition) reaction. For over a week I had a fever of 104F (that's not 100.4, but 104.0, I tend to run hot). No other symptoms, as in no nasal or chest congestion, no rashes (other than the huge welts caused by the shots themselves), only the fever and the massive headache and frequent rigors (makes me sound oh so medical huh? just means I shook from the chills). The fertility clinic refused for a week to believe it was anything other than a virus and kept insisting I go see my primary physician. I figured it would run it's course in 2 or 3 days and I'd be fine. But it didn't, by day 7 I was insisting that it was from the Repronex. Finally, to shut me up, the doctor changed my medication, and low and behold, within 24 hours of stopping the Repronex I was fever free. By then I was able to concentrate at the computer and found some articles supporting the fact that some people do in fact react to Repronex, something to do with the urine it is derived from.

The even suckier part of this was that my ovaries, they did like themselves that Repronex, cause they filled up with follicles. (I often wonder if the fever in my body didn't help a little too, kind of like a little chick incubator.) So many that I had to sign a waver before they would do the IUI, and I know that they shot me early. At the time I didn't, but since I kept records of what was going on, I could see that in future cycles they let my follicles get much bigger. So here I had a drug that worked like crazy on me, with relatively small amounts, but unless I wanted to be on what felt like "death bed" sick, I couldn't take it.

So, that was my start to the injectable world. Of course that cycle didn't work, and neither did the subsequent five cycles. But man oh man did the hormones make me crazy during that time. I became a chat room whore, I cried on a dime, I wanted sex, I didn't want sex. I couldn't stand MYSELF, I don't know how my husband managed to live with me.

Well, this time, I'm proud of myself. Like I said I was nervous getting started. I had heard horror stories about Lupron. But honestly, other than a headache the first week I started stims (likely because of my low estrogen level) I did great. I felt great. No hormone swings, no tears, no super bitchiness.

So yes, I'm proud of myself. I think I'm more mature. I also think that over all I'm just in a better place in my life.

Not to say the crazies can't still hit...