Long Weekend of Joy and Joyness

This weekend, we've been in foster care Foundations training.  It is so much more fun than we thought it would be!  They've really done a bang-up job of keeping everything interesting and thought-provoking over the loooooooong weekend.

We're also starting to make friends with the folks at our table, P & I, and W & M.  I really hope that we maintain contact after the class.  Like, what if they joined Dining Club??

In other news... we get the keys to our new place in just a few days!!  Life is so good!!

Call if Anything Changes

After getting back from Kauai, I was spotting pink and brown for a few days.  I felt fine, I went to work, Dr. T had advised me that light spotting was okay so long as it didn't get heavy like a real period.

On the fourth day of spotting, it got a little heavier, but still not heavy-heavy.  I called the doctor anyway, and talked with the medical assistant, L.  L reassured me that it was normal, and to monitor it until our next appointment.  But, of course, to call if anything changed.

That night (Tuesday), it turned to fresh, red blood.  I called a few friends asking for prayers, knowing that I could make it through the night and call the doctor in the morning, because it still wasn't heavy.

Wednesday morning, it was back to brown, a safer color, and much lighter.   I called the doctor's office once it opened, and told L about the red blood.  She said, "you know, it's probably nothing, but let's bring you in anyway, and see if we can pinpoint where it's coming from.  How about 11:20?"

So, I advise my work team that they're bringing me in last-minute, but I'll probably come back after the appointment.  I let them know that I'll call my boss if anything changes.

Right before the appointment, it turns back to red blood.  "At least they'll know I'm not faking it," I think to myself.

It's an external ultrasound they have set up for me, and we haven't done one of these yet.  So it's pretty exciting.  Dr. T has trouble getting a picture because, "it's too deep in the pelvis."  So they switch to internal.  I think this is weird, because Homer should not be as deep in the pelvis by now.  I'm wearing pants with the stretch panel, for pity's sake.

Internal wand -- hello! -- and the picture comes up of a tiny Homer.  Too tiny.  Way too tiny.  And no fists of fury, and no fluttery heartbeat.  "Well, it's not good," says Dr. T.  

But I can see that.

So a small and fierce Homer passed fairly soon after our last ultrasound, and my body was just starting to figure out how to deal with it.

I re-dressed and was given some options of what to do next.  I could let the fetus pass on it's own, which comes with risks of hemorrhaging, or having it not pass all the way (esp. because I was further along), and also comes with an unpredictable timeline.  I could take the medical option (pills), which again comes with risks of it not passing all the way or hemorrhaging.  Lastly, I could use the surgical option, a D & C.

I told them I'd likely pick the the D & C, but I wanted to go over it with a few people before I scheduled it.  I told them I'd call back after lunch.

I came home and finally cried.  I called my Godmother on the other side of the pond, and talked to her and her wife, who had miscarried a few times, so knew what I was up against.  They agreed with me that the surgical option was better because I could control the timeline and the results a little better; it was far less likely to be traumatic.  I don't need traumatic memories of this time.

I called Thuper Thpermth, I called my Dad & Mom, I called the Syringe-Wielding Goddess, I called my boss.  I texted and emailed a few more people, building up my support team as I knew I was going to need them soon, and in a big way.

After lunch (a little after 1pm), I called the Doctor's office.  Dr. T had been pulled out on rounds, so wasn't there to schedule my surgery, so they said they'd call me back in a bit.  That's fine.  I'm not going anywhere.

In the meantime, I have a snack (waffles and peanut butter), check my Facebook, send emails, watch a movie, rest in my cozy bed.  I'm starting to get crampy and uncomfortable, so I'm pretty sure my body is even more clued in as to what it needs to do with this fetus.  The blood isn't heavy, but I'm not feeling so great, and I take my temperature.  99.5° -- not super fevery, but not normal, either.  I rest, and hope they can schedule for Thursday instead of Friday.

Around 3pm, the Doctor's office calls me back.  They apologize for the delay, but how about 7:30am Friday morning?  I said, "that's fine, but I'm worried about the next 24 hours.  Cramps are picking up and I've got a smidge of a fever."  Then things get exciting.  "Let me call you back."

Within minutes, things are getting rescheduled.  They know they have to pick this up.  Dr. T is calling the hospital, things are getting shuffled around.  And it's L who calls me back.  "Yeah, so, can you come into the hospital right now?"

"Right now, right now?  I need to get a friend to come with me, so that could take an hour or so to round them up?"

"No, come without a friend and have them meet you here.  Stop eating or drinking as of now.  Right now.  Do you live close?"

"I live about a mile away."

"Good.  Come on over."

So I actually wait.  I call up Zi and Thuper Thpermth, and they can both join me.  Thuper Thpermth cancels plans and picks me up and drives me over; Zi meets us there after blowing off work and stopping at the grocery store for some treats.

It didn't really matter that I waited, because we waited for a long time.  It was about 4pm when we arrived, and I didn't get taken back till around 5:30pm, and didn't have surgery till around 7:30pm.  While waiting, Zi and TT play cards with me and we laugh and joke as much as we can.  Humor is totally my coping mechanism, but I'm also still slightly in shock.

The nurses are awesome.  The anesthesiologist is awesome.  And, of course, my OB is awesome.

The surgery is fast, like 15-20 minutes.  I'm in recovery for a little while; the nurses talk with me and remind me that I'm going to be a very good mom when kids finally do end up in my lap.  They bring me a little something to drink since I'm not nauseous, and I sip slowly.  When they wheel me back to my room, they ask if I'd like to eat something.

"Chicken noodle soup, and if cheese & crackers showed up, I wouldn't be upset."

Zi and TT were there with me in my room, and we talked some more, and they ate dinner while I had my snack (and some Morphine).  At one point, the nurses helped me up so I could walk to the bathroom to change my gown (which I had bled through) and the pad.  Zi helped me with my bathroom duties.  It has to be some defining moment of true friendship when you are together in a hospital restroom and your friend is gently wiping down your bloody thighs with wet washcloths.

After checking that my pain was controlled with Morphine, Percocet, and Ibuprofen, that I wasn't bleeding too heavily, that I could walk, that I could pee, that I could eat & drink... the nurses set me up to be discharged about 9 or 9:30pm.  TT drove me home and set me up in bed with a movie while Zi was on pharmacy duty to go pick up my meds.  When Zi returned, TT was off-duty, and Zi spent the night with me.

I've built myself a little nest on my sofa, and have been living here most of the time, watching whatever looks interesting on Netflix.  I've had a few visitors each day, and a little bit of alone time, to process and cry.  I've taken a few phone calls, but not many, although I am feeling the love of my support network.  I even went on a little outing yesterday to brunch and then the Chinese Garden.  But that was more than enough, really, and I napped through the afternoon.  I still can't drive due to the painkillers, but my visitors have been lovely about bringing me casseroles, bread, chocolate, drinks and fresh fruit.

This is not the outcome that I wanted for this pregnancy, obviously, but here is what I am grateful for:  I am grateful for every single one of my communities, the support that I have received from everyone has been perfectly amazing and exactly what I need, when I need it.  I am grateful that I have a great job, with a great boss, and great health insurance, that I can get these things taken care of swiftly, safely, and without trauma or worry.  Most of all, I am so grateful for my beautiful body.  My body, despite a number of obstacles, was able to get pregnant, support that pregnancy for weeks and weeks, and when that pregnancy was no longer viable, she gave me clues to handle the loss.  Body, you are wonderful.  I have never felt so beautiful, I have never felt more strong and capable, I have never felt more loved. 

I don't know what I'm going to do next, but until then, peace and God bless.  XOXO

Auntie Z's House

Okay, even though I wanted nothing more than to go straight home after work and go straight to bed tonight, Z convinced me to follow her home with tales of green chile enchiladas (with sour cream, naturally) and a chance to paw through her Goodwill bags before she drops them off.

See, Z lost like 50 gazillion pounds this year after being diagnosed with Diabetes and therefore eating fewer sweets and more vegetables.  Her old clothes don't fit like they once did.  I, too, recently lost some weight (albeit not quite so much), and so I have a little bit of "growing" room in some of my clothes to get me through for awhile, but Auntie Z's treasure-trove of plus-size lovelies was just... so... lovely.

While she slaved away in the kitchen, I put on a fashion show.  For emphasis on how well -- and how long -- these clothes would fit me, I modeled with pillows under my shirt.  Some of the tops are so comfy and loose-fitting that I wouldn't be surprised if they carry me to the end of June!

She sent me home with eight tops, three pairs of pants, two dresses, a skirt and a slip.  And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.  Whereas these goodies were just bound for the Goodwill, I betcha Auntie Z saved me several hundred dollars in in-between clothing.  And so cute!!

Something else Z did for me tonight was introduce Little Homer (or Poppyseed, or Cinnamon Pizza Roll, or McNugget) to our first pregnancy taste aversions.  YES!!!

First taste aversion: Brussels Sprouts.  I love them in real life, but today, NO WAY.
Second taste aversion: Turkey.  It was in the enchiladas.  I ate it, but I secretly wished they were vegetarian enchiladas.  And I drowned them in sour cream.
Third taste aversion: Cheesecake-Flavored Pudding.  I couldn't even stand the smell of it.  In real life, I think it's delicious.  Even if it doesn't really taste like cheesecake.

Now it's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay past my bedtime and so I'll say Goodnight.

GOODNIGHT!

Cry Cry Cry

Okay, based on the number of concerned phone calls, texts, and emails I've received, you guys are worried about me.  I get it.  I haven't posted in a few weeks, and you wonder if I'm still crying.

Well, I am.  Although it's not from not being pregnant, it's other stuff relating to other people in my life.  Let's just say that Cancer and Heart Disease can suck a bag of dicks.  I've cried so damn much today.  And then I chopped onions for soup and that didn't help.

October marks the last month of my contract with Thuper Thperms.  In November, Thuper Thperms is asking for a break, and December and January I'm busy/traveling, so if October doesn't take, and we decide to renew, then nothing's gonna happen till February.

So October's strategy is SHOCK AND AWE; or, since we're talking about babies, SHOCK AND AWWWW!  We started two days before ovulation and the plan was to hit it every. damn. day. until that temperature spike.  But here we are, day three, and we're all so weary from worrying about and taking care of our loved ones (see above notes regarding Cancer and Heart Disease), that we couldn't muster it and punked out.  I hope we can pick it back up tomorrow, cos time's a-wastin'.

I'm trying to NOT think about what happens if this month doesn't take.  What I AM thinking about is the circular nature of life.  Out of something bad comes something good and vicey-versey.  With all the suck going on around me, could it be to usher in something wonderful?

Good-night, all.  If you want to come by for dinner tomorrow, I'll have an autumn-squash soup and gf/df biscuits.  And a syringe full of genetic material, although that doesn't go in your mouth. 

BFN #4

My period came a day early this time.  So, not pregnant.

My girlfriend held me while I cried.  God, I cried so hard.  Thick, hot tears.

I knew this wouldn't be easy.  Nothing is easy for me.

But still.

Later we went out to the farm for a Virgo Birthday Luau.  Snuggled with the littles who came with their parents, talked with other friends who are also wishing for babies, drank all the wine I wanted, and slept snuggled up with a sweet lady under the stars.

TWW Blues

I think everyone hates the Two-Week-Wait.  It's a strange existence to have to live one's days as if one is really pregnant (no sushi, no blue cheese, no wine) and be watching every twinge for glimmers of what might be.  And yet, trying not to get too hopeful so that disappointment might hurt less.

8 DPO, negative test.  Really, it was just too early, but, the box says "six days before your missed period," so I just had to check.  Just in case.

Today, 12 DPO, negative test.  Could still be too early, right?  Not all the hormones have started building up enough to be able to be processed by my kidneys, right?  It gets harder to remain optimistic, with two days to go before my period is due, even though false negatives are entirely within the realm of possibility.

Here are the symptoms I've noticed that could mean pregnancy, or could mean nothing:  2-day migraine, nausea early morning and late at night, tiredness, irritability, sleeplessness, darker areolas and montgomery glands, tender nipples, high temperatures, back pain, twinges in lower abdomen.  All these showed up about a week ago, and some of them show up for me in the days right before my period.  But when my period wasn't due for another 1-1/2 weeks, it made be start thinking what other hormone shifts might be going on in my body...

I went picnicking with two friends yesterday, both medical professionals.  I related to them my list of symptoms, and one said, "Is this your way of telling us you are pregnant?"  No, but it's me telling you about how unsure I am about what this might look like or feel like.

Their advice?  Talk to the baby like it's already here.  Like it's already growing in your belly.  Like it's already giggling in your arms.  Let that baby know how great life is going to be living in your house, with you, the Mama.

In the evening, I went to Prayer Circle.  Everyone there knows about my Fertility Quest.  They all tell me not to worry; that babies are on their way.  And I guess I'm not worried about that part; I know somehow, some way, children will end up in my lap.  But still, I guess, I worry.

The other thing that a couple of people said to me last night, was that I need to set up the baby's things, so I can show I'm prepared and expectant.  Set up a bed, set up a room... this seems to counter to what I've thought about this process all along.  Yes, I do have a few baby things, and yes, a few of them are out, but set up, not really.  It always seemed to me that you don't acquire too many things before the baby is born (or even conceived, yipes!) because you are asking for trouble.  But because the advice that I got from my picnic friends and my prayer friends, I'm starting to rethink this.

After prayers last night, I came home and took out all the junk that was piled in the cradle (I have the cradle that my sister and I were rocked in, built by my grandfather).  I put on a sheet, put on a cozy knit blanket, set a couple of rattles and toys and started talking.  "See?  Look what a cozy bed Mama has made for you. We can sleep, we can play, we can cuddle, and we can rock.  We can sing, we can dance, we can read, and we can dream."

It still feels really weird to do this.  Sure, I do it in my head all the time -- planning out a room, thinking about what I can offer a child -- but out loud, in real life and with purpose is something new and different, because I thought we really weren't supposed to.  Was I doing it backwards?  

So with my new thinking patterns, maybe something will shift in the Universe and we really can bring this being into existence.  I'm hoping.

Syringe-Wielding Goddess, or, It Takes a Village

Now that I am partner-less and doing this baby thing on my own (which I have absolutely no problem with, let me state for the record), I still do need somebody to help me out on insemination days... to be the go-between from Thuper Thpermth and Big Dyke Mama, to help get my butt properly propped up on pillows, and to wield that syringe and inject that genetic material in a way that I just can't with my little T-Rex arms.

Obviously, I need somebody who isn't going to fuck it up and someone who isn't going to be weirded out by having their hands all up in my junk.

I had a short list of friends to ask -- really, really short -- and thank goodness my top pick (the lovely D) said, "yes."  She's a doula and a mom, and we may or may not have tiny crushes on each other.  Yay!

So now that that part is squared away, I think we're all on board to start up this baby makin' again next week.  It takes a village...