Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Is my birthday! And although I have been swamped with work, I know today is going to be a great day.
So much has transpired since my last post - some good (like my birthday and forward progress with the ED process), some horrific (like last week's Supreme Court ruling) and some just emotionally draining (like my "why didn't you tell me" adoption meltdown/confrontation with the 'rents). Oy vey. So much to say, so much to talk about!
But right now I am scrambling to put together my 10:30 presentation for work. After that, I will be busy counting the hours to my birthday bash (last hurrah?). AFTER that, I will blog and blog and blog.
Friday, April 13, 2007
I couldn't help it. I am fascinated. I have never ever ever even cracked one of these publications open. Today, my doctor was running a little late. I needed something to read. Before you know it, I had devoured one. Cover to cover.
Good lordessa, this whole pregnancy thing is fascinating. My body would do what? I can't decide if I am even more excited or slightly repulsed.
What I do know is that my back is killing me. Yesterday morning I had the brilliant idea to take a yoga class instead of my usual a.m. battle of wills against the elusive elliptical.
It seems that I am NOT a yoga kind of person.
I have no idea what I did. None of the moves were all that taxing. Frankly, the whole hour was pretty damn boring. Sun salutations, fine. Stretching, breathing, fine. Listening to the instructor talk about what yoga means to her, wasn't really feeling it. Laying on the floor in savasana for over 5 minutes focusing on the here and now and finding peace with existence and not thinking just being....um, sorry. This just isn't for me.
If anything, I probably need less time for introspection and dwelling on the present. I don't think I can get any more self-aware. And, you know, I'm not ok with the present, the here, the now. Me, I 'm looking towards the future. I already know what is. I want to dream about what will, maybe, perhaps, be.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I probably would have been immune to this fact for the rest of my life, or at least until I got them. But since congenital rubella syndrome is no joke, we'll just get this sorted out quick fast in a hurry, shall we?
This probably justifies every poke, prod, test and squirt that hubby, donor and I are subject to over the next few months. Women are warned not to get pregnant until at least four weeks after receiving the vaccine. So finding this so early in the process means it shouldn't delay anything later on.
Oh darn you missing spleen.
Don't it always seem to go,
that you don't know what you got 'til it's gone....
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My mother’s Easter feast (aka have some ham with that salt, some noodles with that gob of cheese and how about a little bread with that wad of butter) has left me out of sorts. Ever since Sunday all I want to do is sleep, and then sleep and then maybe take a little nap.
I blame the kielbasa.
But besides my present lethargy, we escaped from Sunday dinner relatively unscathed. The family function was fine. Uneventful even.
Which is hilarious to me, since just about everyone around the table is dealing with some significant life events. We just don’t care to talk about them with each other. My brother and I, for once on amicable terms, are trying to deal with some new discoveries about our sets of birth parents. Meanwhile, he’s on new meds, reassessing his life and contemplating tossing out his (very young and not that bright) live-in girlfriend. My aunt is seemingly engaged to some guy she just met on eHarmony. Us, well, you know the score. And we are all placing bets on the fact that my 19-year old cousin is pregnant.
Yet, my father asks, “So, what’s new?”
“Anything exciting going on?”
“You guys got any plans for the spring.”
Around the table it goes. And then we get to hear for the umpteenth time about the time oh so long ago when he pretended to be Santa Claus and rang some bells outside the house and my brother and I nearly busted our bedposts trying to jump into them fast enough. I think I made him mad when I promised to do something really scandalous so he could have a new story to tell at holiday dinners. I thought it was very funny. As did my brother. I crack myself up.
But as you can tell, I’m not that interested in telling my parents what’s what just yet. They’ll be plenty of time for that. And anyway, after a quick start, I’m feeling a little stalled. I’m waiting for my gyn appointment this Friday (the 13th! Ack.) and then hoping she can help me schedule an HSG to make sure this uterus is made for birthin’. Until then, life goes on as usual. Nothing new and exciting to report. We’ll just have to suffer through the broken bedpost story a few more times.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
I feel like I am training for a frigging marathon.
I mean, how many fruits, veggies and folic acid can one person take? I got through my 35 minutes on the elliptical this morning not out of a fondness for exercise but because I was pretending I was kicking the damn machine.
Let me explain.
Before we even went to our consultation, hubby and I decided that if someone was willing to have eggs extracted from her body and given to us, and all of modern medicine was being summoned to help, the least we could do was get our own bodies right. He = a super sperm making machine able to penetrate and impregnate the thickest of eggs. Me = a well-nourished, organically grown, fit and trim, um, vessel (for lack of a better word.)
It hasn’t been that painful because we started down this fitness thing several months ago. So the gym thing was already happening, as was the better eating, no fried foods, bladdedy blah.
But as we are getting closer to something actually happening, I am feeling an intense desire to get down to my “normal” body mass index (or BMI as those red-shirted personal trainer f*ckers at the gym like to call it). This calculator tells me I have 11.5 lbs. to go. A little more if you don’t believe I’m 5’ 5”, which my husband does not.
Why the urgency? Well, there is a definite connection between successful IVFs and BMI. I’ve read it in enough reputable sources (that, of course, I can’t locate this morning) to become convinced.
So, portion sizes have been reduced, the Mayo Clinic cookbook comes out. This wine-with-dinner gal is sipping iced teas and seltzers and HATING it. But I figure a gradual reduction now will ease the pain of nine months of abstinence, should we be so lucky.
Not that hubby is getting off scott free. I am the cook so my portions are his portions. I think I have inserted pumpkin seeds into every recipe I have. He was working from home yesterday and I actually made him take off his pants to facilitate a free and easy environment for his little guys.
Have I veered into the realm of too much information?
Well, I’ll leave it at that then. With images of me trying to inflict harm on an aging piece of gym equipment and my husband walking around pantless, puzzled but still aiming to please.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Here are more questions from our new patient form that I didn’t know how to answer:
How long have you and your partner been trying to achieve pregnancy?
Who have you told about your struggle with infertility? Have they been supportive?
And then there are categories of family, friends, co-workers, etc. and you’re supposed to check off who knows and who has helped us with our “struggle.”
Is it really a struggle if you know out of the gate it’s not gonna happen? Can you really handicap a racehorse that doesn’t have any legs?
Everyone that knows me knows that I am a cancer survivor. Many in that circle know (or have assumed) that I can’t have or don’t want kids or both. I have probably spent most of my adult life convincing others and myself that I have no interest in kids. Not my own; not anyone’s. Not now. Not ever.
No eggs = no baby. It’s not rocket science.
So, why yearn for something you can’t have? Why set others off on a wild goose chase as well? It’s easier to believe you were never really looking for anything in the first place.
Well, now, in a matter of a few short months, all of this has changed. After being dissuaded from the egg donor option years ago by a fertility specialist who felt there were already far too many babies in the world (remind me to tell you about that one), we found a place that has encouraged us, listened to us, and actually given us hope. We found a woman who is willing to share a few of her eggs with me and she doesn’t even know my name.
This is something completely and altogether different.
What do you mean I could have a baby? This changes everything.
So now that there really will be a race, so to speak, things are much less certain. All the definitelies, nos, abosulutely nots, have transformed into possiblies, maybes and could bes.
Now who becomes my circle of support? Whom do I tell about the journey we are about to embark upon? A few close friends and my mother-in-law are no brainers – women who have known me inside and out for years. Even if I didn’t tell them, I feel somehow they would know.
Likewise, a few parties will NOT be brought into the loop until much, much later. Like, my parents (emotional basket cases with problems of their own, prone to excessive worrying and calling daily) and my father-in-law (who cannot keep a secret to save his life).
Some of my co-workers know; some don’t. Most of our friends don’t. My brother, nope. Hubby’s sister, not her either.
Not really worried about any of that. I am sure as the process moves forward and changes in our schedules and lifestyles become apparent, people will start to catch on. Here’s my quandary: what about my childhood cancer survivor friends? I know they would be my loudest cheering section, my strongest supporters. I also know they know the stakes, and might be a little more emotionally invested than others. Which would be joyous if this all works…
I sent a few emails out this morning and my fingers were itching to share the news. We found a donor! We are trying to have a baby! But is it all too premature? What’s the protocol for this kind of thing? When is the right time to call in a circle of support? Who and how and when do I talk about the struggle?