Way Too Early to Be Blogging

But I haven't decided whether or not I'll be schlepping my computer along with me on the train to my appointment today.

Yes, even though this is a day I've been waiting for for oh, um, 8 years, even though I have a d*mn T-shirt with the date emblazoned across the front, for some reason, when I made the appointment to go see my RE's preferred maternal fetal medicine specialists (who BTW only do consultations on Monday mornings, Tuesday or Friday afternoons - read: every single time that it would be impossible for M to get off work) I somehow FORGOT this was Inauguration Day.

Way to go, Einstein.

So, instead of sharing a great day with my co-workers who I am sure will be circled around a TV at any free moment today, I'll be chug, chugging along, then schlep, schlepping over to a very big hospital and then waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the big city MFMs tell me what dolts and nimrods my little city MFMs are before they give me their assessment of what precautions we should take for our next attempted pregnancy.

That is my prediction for the day.

M's already left for work. He's feeling a little edgy, I can tell. Feeling guilty about not being able to come along. Feeling bad that I have to retell "the birth story" on my own. Feeling frustrated that we can't just rely on the big city doctors and hospitals for everything up to and including (dare I say it, a delivery). But the distance is too much, at least for that last part.

So we'll take what we can get. Much as the drive/train ride can be a drain, we've actually come to enjoy the time together. We know the route. We know how to entertain each other. If anything, those long drives both coming and going have been the setting for probably every major decision we have made on this (almost) 2 year sojourn.

Yes. Two years. I had that realization around 6 a.m. this morning. My two-year blogoversary is just around the corner. In March, it will mark 2 years since our very first visit to the clinic we love.

And for a few minutes, I was totally deflated. Two years? Two fucking years we've been at this? Only to get so close....and then I veer down that very dangerous path of, if everything were ok I would be 28 weeks pregnant now and gosh I bet I would be huge and the girls would be kicking and....

and and and

Sigh.

But then I remember that everything in our lives (our, meaning M and me) seems to work in these fairly compact 2-year cycles. Don't ask me why. It just happens. Me in Poland = just shy of 2 years. Us in Chile = what I told my boss would be a few months' experiment in telecommuting turned into 2 years. Back home = 2 years. Cross-country trip across the U.S. = once again, just shy of 2 years.

TTC (and have a baby we can bring home. That's the critical part)= coming up on 2 years.

So, if I believed in cycles (which I DO) that could lead one to believe that our lives without children might soon be over. It could mean that the cycle we begin in just a month or two could be the one.

Please be the one.

Ahh, Good Point

A very, very smart pal of mine just emailed me and wondered if I had ever had a bone density scan.

The answer is no but it is something that I had been thinking about as probably a good thing to do for a while now. Since my menstrual cycle and ovary function disappeared with my chemo and radiation at age 13 never to return without the coaxing of birth control pills (the cycle, not the function), and since there were huge stretches of time that I went without those pills (you know, just to see what would happen), I have been more or less pre-menopausal for well over a decade. Scratch that. Two? Christ I'm old.

So, that can't be good for bones. And my very smart pal was wondering if weak bone density contributed to my fracture. Hmm. A very good question. One that I'll ask my new orthopedic specialist tomorrow.

As soon as I get home from my super fun night tonight. I promise I will only dance on my good leg.

Injuries - those self-inflicted and ones I wish I could inflict on one other

I'm not angry because I'm grieving. I am angry because I see her [midwife who first dismissed my panicked call, then took her own sweet time to get to the hospital. time elapsed between call and actual cervical exam:6-7 hours] name as one of the practicioners here today and it is all I can do to not seek her out and do physical harm to her.

Do you hear what I am saying? I wish physical harm on one of the people in your practice. And for that reason, I can't come here anymore. You haven't fired her. You promise disciplinary action. But she is still here. After over a decade at the office, I can't come here again.

Does she see my dead babies in her dreams at night? I hope so. Because I do.

I am not angry because I am grieving. I am angry because I don't think I should have to be grieving. And I blame her. Do you hear me? I blame her. I hate her.

And all of this is met with hugs and hand holdings, and "I understands" and "I see what you are saying" all boiling down to, "there, there, sobbing woman who is obviously not in her right mind, please don't freak the fuck out on us. There are pregnant women and children here."

Sigh.

This morning postpartum exam was much, much harder than anticipated. I honestly was fine until I saw the midwife's name. Tears. Unstoppable. They left me in the waiting room too long because by the time I got back to the room my blood pressure was sky high (you think?) Barely made it through the nurse's questions (also done with the hushed "I understand" tone) and got to the doc. And that's when the above conversation happened.

I wished her husband (my favorite ob in the practice) were there. Because I honestly do think he understands. He was there. Called too late. And was angry he was called too late. I wish my husband were there, because I honestly think he would have gone ape shit after the 2nd or 3rd condescending tone. He was mad enough after the fact when I told him.

Could those 6 hours have made a difference? We've already been through this. We will never know. We will never know.

**

And here you might ask, what about legal action? Malpractice? Negligence? Look, I doubt we could prove the first, perhaps the latter. But have you participated in a medical lawsuit? They are awful. And take years. And force you to dredge up statements and facts that hurt the first time you say them, let alone the hundredth. They force you to put a price on lives. Or loss of live. I don't think I want to go there. I don't want fucking money. I want my daughters. And I want that cunt fired.

**

So the visit ended after my exam (I mean, I still needed one) with a I am so sorry to see you go. I am sorry it came to this but you have to be someplace where you are comfortable. I won't take it personally....

Which, frankly, irked me. But by then, I was spent. I told you, crying just wears me down. It's not something I am used to and it exhausts me. So, if any of my friends in real life have an ob/gyn to recommend, all ears over here (email me privately).

**

Fast forward to phase 2 of my day - MRI for the knee that I bothered after about a week of what I thought was a very, very sensible beginning to a running program. My expectation? Insurance covered it. Doc suggested it. Why the heck not. I was expecting an "oh, it's nothing, probably just a strain. Go home and keep icing and doing what you're doing. Good luck and have a good life. Bye."

No such luck.

Spent my 20 minutes in the tube listening to Led Zeppelin on the headphones in between beeps and buzzes (nice one, mr. tech! thank you!). Got pulled out and saw the concerned smirk on mr. tech's face. What? Whaaaat?

"Well, I'm not supposed to say anything. The radiologist has to look at everything first, but from what I can see, boy, you did a job on your knee. blah blah miniscus...blah blah MCL...ACL...I might have even seen a hairline fracture...You'll probably be seeing an ortho guy soon...."

And at this point, I laugh. A big belly laugh. Because frankly, it was funny. And I hadn't smiled all day and it felt good to stretch those other muscles.

UPDATE: my doctor's office just called. Looks like the primary injury is "non-displaced fracture of my tibia." The ortho dudes are calling me tomorrow.

Well there you have it.

In better news, hubby thought the knee injury was equally funny. You dumb ass. We are celebrating my dumb ass-ness by eating steaks (good for my yin, right?) and getting tipsy on good red wine.

Even better news: we are going to a rock concert in a city that isn't ours tomorrow night. Because we want to. And because we're feeling bold, we turned it into a mini-trip. Leaving work early (me), staying in a fancy 4-star hotel (priceline, holla!) and doing dinner out too. If we're lucky, a friend who works in said city may even join us. We are both so excited for this little, little break.

So there, I wasn't all gloom and doom today. In fact, none of my days this week had been gloomy. Just the first part of this one. But now it's over. And it's past 5 pm. So it is totally legit to crack the (first) bottle of wine.

Recapping the Week

Remember how it felt when a bunch of kids got invited to a party, and you didn't? Or maybe that year when the pretty girl next to you in 2nd grade got a ton of valentines and you only got a few. (All for me? Oh my gosh...) Remember that time when your friend forgot your birthday?

That's kind of how it felt yesterday when we found that yes, the local newspaper from the area where I was born did indeed publish birth announcements (along with the school cafeteria menus, volunteer schedule for the hospital, and who visited whom after church the week before). All there in black and white (so strange to see how things were pre-HIPAA): A baby girl born to Mr. and Mrs. Blah of 123 Blah Lane of Blahville....All there.

Except for me.

Not that we expected the baby girl born to a 16 year old who would then give her to Catholic Charities and hope for the best to be celebrated in the evening news. But it still kind of stung. Where's my big "hello"?

But now, we have names of people who ostensibly spent time in the hospital with my birth mother. That is, if she was even kept on the maternity ward and if she was allowed to commiserate with other patients.

Cue image of young girl in hospital robe surrounded by strict looking nuns in full regalia yielding rulers, encircling her and preventing other patients from seeing or talking to her. Ok. Well, that's the image in my mind....

Anyways, we have names. I don't know what to do with them. But it feels like something. Something more than we had. Not like it gets us any closer to knowing anything. But still.

Some things that could get us closer is registering with the Soundex Registry and putting together our petition to the courts to get more than just non-identifying information. I've also sent all of the girls' vital info to the person in M's family that puts together the genealogy - he has promised that Iso.bel and Jo.vita each have a branch on that family tree. Forever. And that feels wonderful. That's what we've been doing this week.

Among other things.

Yesterday was our visit with the RE. And that was good in a number of ways. Never mind that I had a near anxiety attack in the waiting room. What's taking so long? Or another one trying to figure out insurance stuff. What do you mean my coverage isn't verified and you can't use our new coverage (which just might pay for our next cycle) until I drop my other one? Once we finally met with our doctor (and our Nurse and the counselor) we were reminded that this is one of those rare places - one of those places that feels like people know your history, and know the path you've been on so far, and know the victories and obstacles and want more than anything to see you with a baby in your arms.

We brought birth announcements for our doctor and Nurse. And there were some hugs and tears. But not without hope for the next time. And our doc felt pretty darn good about our odds for the next time. Or the next time.

She had questions about the reports from here, and asked many of the same questions we asked the MFM specialists. She had her own theories and thoughts and wants us to meet with her hospital's MFM dudes to see what they think. No problem. She also wants me to have an HSG to ensure that there isn't any scarring from the curettage. But she wants that to be done at her place as well. Also, no problem. In fact, if we could just do everything up to and including a delivery where she is, that would be great. But distance doesn't really make that feasible. Alas.

So, an HSG is scheduled for Feb. 5. As is a meeting with their MFM. She admitted that she is not too crazy about the idea of doing a cerclage "just in case" the next time. Because that's not without risks, and she's just not convinced my cervix was the issue. Her theory: that there was some sort of trigger that caused my body to go into pre-term labor. The size of my uterus? The fact that it may not stretch as well as others due to radiation? The fact there were two little ones in there? Hard to tell, but in her mind, it seemed like labor started first, my cervix started to open, infection came second.

And, this is ridiculous, and it's small consolation, but that did console me. This infection thing (what did I do? What did I not do?) has been driving me batty. The idea that this was not under my control was, for once, a small mercy.

Whatever happened, she felt very strongly that the biggest risk factor was the fact there were twins. We talked about next steps and where to go with this knowledge.

The good news? Of the 3 remaining embryos, we have a straw of 2 frozen together. And 1 solo. We are going to thaw Han Solo first. If he grows, we'll still have 2 embryos to try the next time. If not, we can try to thaw the 2 we have left and see which one grows the best. If they both progress to blastocyst, we could refreeze one.

We talked about using our 3 ice pops vs. starting the process of finding a new donor and starting a fresh cycle. She felt very strongly that there was no reason not to use the 3 on ice - especially since we had such success with other members of the cohort. I'm not sure if M. feels better about our odds, but I do.

The counselor that we met the very first day we ever visitedthe clinic happened to be in the office yesterday and Nurse wondered if we'd like to see her? Sure. Why not. We had declined offers from the bereavement counselors at our hospital, but this was someone we knew and liked. We weren't sure what exactly we were going to talk about, but we said, sure. Send her in.

And we were blabarific. It seems we had a lot to talked about. We talked over each other, finished each other's sentences, veered into all kinds of topics well beyond Iso.bel and Jo.vita, but still connected. Before we knew it we were talking about our morning, our mourning, our search for my birth parents, expectations around grief and grieving, everything. It was great. It was great to say things to someone other than Michael. It was great to hear him talk to someone other than me. (Not that we don't talk to other people, but we usually don't do it together). It was great to hear some perspective on the search, the process, the possible results, and the rationale behind some things that were frustrating us beyond explanation. I'm glad we saw her. Glad we stuck around.

Before we knew it, it was nearing rush hour and we both cringed at the thought of the traffic we might be facing on the way home. But it wasn't bad. And we still managed to squeeze in a stop at TJs and make it back home in time for a birthday dinner for M's mom (and dad who had his birthday earlier this week). We met at a BYOB French restaurant none of us had tried before and realized midway through the meal that it had been a very long time since we enjoyed a meal out like this together. It was wonderful. The food and the company.

And now the final match of Smackdown is happening. And you now know I can't miss it.

Friday Night

soup. knees. RE visit. pro-wrestling. talking. funny comment? local news. genealogy....

Do you ever do this? Write yourself little notes to remind yourself about things you want to blog about? I looked at my scratchings and these are some of the topics. It cracks me up because this practice is a holdover from writing high school papers. I'd jot down all the points I would be trying to make in a paper, then just filter it down until I had something that made sense. Add references to points that were relevant; ditch the ones that weren't. Sometimes it worked...

Let's start with the here and now. Right now, I'm reclining, trying to calm my pulsing knees, Gtalking w/ hubby, debating whether I want a cup of the leek and potato soup I just made now or later (prob'ly now...), and watching WWE Smackdown.

Yep, Smackdown. And loving it.

And I don't even want to tell you (but I will ) that this is not the first time that I've watched wrestling this week. Monday night = WWE Raw. Tuesday night = ECW. Friday = Smackdown. And I am here alone. In full control of my TV remote, which BTW, I have figured out how to use, and what do I choose? I choose Smackdown.

Sigh. This all started as a semi-joke. Before his new job, M. got a gig at a blog network writing about one of his true loves - boxing. The catch? The blog was a wrestling, MMA and boxing blog. He negotiated the MMA out, but not the wresting. Fair enough. Seemed a small price to pay for full editorial control and some cool freebies. So we started watching pro-wrestling.

And before you know it, we were fully engrossed in the plot lines. Fully invested in the characters. We chose our villians and our heroes and sometimes we were on the same side. Sometimes not. It was easier to throw on than a movie. More reliable than series that go on hiatus or have season finales far too early. Always new. Always entertaining.

One of the first outings we took the girls (still seedlings then) to was a live taping of WWE Smackdown and ECW at a local arena. That was just a day or two post transfer. It was a blast. And just reaffirmed that we had shifted from ironic observers to dedicated fans. In my quest for mindless distraction this month, I picked up The Hardy Boyz: Exist 2 Inspire at the library. And I just renewed it. Because I'm not finished yet.

Are you laughing at me? I think you're laughing.

The other day I told M. that I needed to go to grad school so I could write my thesis on pro-wrestling. "Ok. what would you write about?" I don't know yet. But it will be awesome.

**

So, the knees. After a week of not running, a visit to my acupuncturist (miracle worker) and lots of lots of tylenol and ice, I am finally walking without a walking stick and (almost) without a limp. This is what I get for trying to get fit. I am NOT quitting. Just waiting for my legs to feel normal before digging into them again. In the meantime, I'm trying to supplement with swimming and trying not to make M. laugh every time I quasimodo back to the kitchen. And thanking Amy for getting me hooked on these podcasts.

**

My soup is delicious.

**

And look, I haven't even started to tell you about yesterday. Which was loooong, but good. In lots of ways. So much for filtering. Stay tuned for a new post.

Slowly, Slowly

Quick post on the fly to let you know I am here. In the office, that is.

The weather forecast worked in my favor. The office is empty. Ice storms (even when they don't happen) make people skittish. The only one here is me. And an electrician trying to fix something. And my crazy boss flitting in and out running errands but she is not really "here."

So far, it's been nice to be here. Communicating with co-workers and members (I work for a non-profit association), whittling away at email that has accumulated...

But now I am at the point where the emails are from Before. From when I was pregnant. From when I was helping to plan my maternity leave. From when everyone was so excited...

So pretty much every email I am trying to tackle now is peppered with at least one mention of me-as-pregnant-lady or of the girls. A joke here. A how-are-you-feeling there. The first few caught me off guard, especially after such a non-eventful morning. But slowly, slowly, I am taking them. Reading them. Remembering not that Iso.bel and Jo.vita are not here (damn I love their names) but that these are all the people that are rooting for us, cheering us on. There were here and they will be here again when it is time to try again.

And that time will be here soon enough.

Back and Forth

In the interest of being completely honest, trying to document as well as I can just what the hell is happening here, I should probably confess that less than a half hour after my last post, it may have even been minutes, I found myself in a crumple of sobs that not even strong M. could control.

This is how quickly everything changes. Everything shifts.

It started off as a snarky offhand comment (mine) about my body. M. saying, "now why would you say that?" Me saying, "Because it's true." Him asking, "Is that what you are really feeling? Is that what you have been feeling? Are you serious? Why are you doing this to yourself? I can't leave you here alone during the day if I know these are the thoughts you are torturing yourself with."

Floodgates: open.

So, it seems that I am still carrying some a lot of guilt around in here. A lot of "what if...." A lot of feelings that I am sure are absolutely not good for my mental health. After threatening to call my boss and ask her to make me go to work in the office (my response: I'll quit) M. backed off and gave me a challenge. He said anytime that I find myself beginning a sentence with "maybe..." I should just stop. Know that it's pointless. That what's happened has already happened. We can't change it. And that our task now is to keep living. Keep loving. Keep moving forward.

Things calmed down. I calmed down, I should say. The rest of the evening was spent relatively quietly. Crying wears me out, y'all. I did shed a few tears at Gossip Girl (because I heart Chuck Bass and the Rufus-adoption storyline is getting a little close to home) but that's different. Totally different.

Today feels like its going to be an ok day. The pain in my knee is down from an "OWCH!" to an "ouch" when I walk. I got out of bed with minimal dialogue with myself. I have some work projects from yesterday I want to continue. A shower is beckoning.

And I might just change my underwear (just for you ~m~ )