So, you wanna know the real story of why I have been MIA on this blog? It's far less tragic than you might think. In fact, it's for a couple of pretty good, all right, REALLY good reasons.
I am pregnant.
With twins.
I'm just approaching the 12 week mark -- I actually had my 12 week appointment on Friday. We heard two heartbeats; one was 161 and easily detected on the right side of my uterus, the other was 159 and muffled on the let side. Oh, and my uterus is HUGE for 12 weeks. The doctor didn't even have to tell me that one -- I am very reluctantly wearing maternity pants already. Which is exactly what you want to do at the tail end of your first trimester -- break out the full-panel pants of frump.
Truth be told, Scott and I and our families have known about the twins for almost six weeks, but like many couples who have lost pregnancies, we were hesitant to celebrate publicly until we had some confirmation that the two black circles on my 6 week, 1 day ultrasound still had tiny their tiny heartbeats going. Baby A was in a sac much smaller than Baby B, though both measured exactly 6 weeks, 1 day and both had heart rates in the acceptable range. In fact, everything at that point was so acceptable that we didn't even get bonus ultrasounds to check on them, that I didn't warrant any extra attention unless there was something wrong -- that, despite our extreme concern, we got to soldier through most of the first trimester as if we didn't know there were twins. But we did.
I feel that I have been pretty open regarding our struggles with fertility over the last two years, but I haven't shared when I was starting a new cycle, haven't given dated details of our Clomid/IUI regimen. Honestly, it was for my own sanity -- I could barely handle the people I know and love in real life counting weeks and days as they wait for confirmation of progress, let alone leaving it out there in cyberspace for anyone to know. I am as honest as one can be, but some things are really just better kept between a man and his wife and a very skilled nurse.
I conceived on our second attempt at IUI. This time just felt better from the get-go. My ovulation predictor kit was a clear positive, the nurse got all of he sample in the target region, spilling nary a drop, and the swimmers I saw under microscope looked much better than the first attempt. If you were to ask Scott, he would tell you I became symptomatic around 8-9 days after the procedure. And by that, I mean the exhaustion hit like a sledgehammer. One minute I was up and about, functioning normally and the next I was down for the count, laying on the couch and begging the earth to stop rotating as it was making me motion sick. Neither of us were surprised when, at 14 days past the IUI I got a positive pregnancy test.
I made the conscious decision to hold off on bloodwork until closer to 6 weeks so that my first ultrasound had a better chance of seeing a heartbeat. That was my strategy for the miscarried pregnancy in May, too, but I started bleeding the day after taking the HPT. This time, however, like the IUI and like the Clomid, my strategy worked.
I went in for the blood test a little over six weeks ago and my hCG was 10,502. Which was, at least in comparison to my first two kids, a whopping number. It was then that I really started to suspect that there were more than in there. I had an ultrasound on the following Wednesday to make sure the baby wasn't in a tube as I have a history of ectopic pregnancy.
While Scott was holding my hand, the tech did some poking around, taking measurements of my uterus and cervix and such. Then she asked Scott to turn on the monitor on the wall so we could see. As the picture came into focus, she said, "Well, it looks like your IUI worked -- there are twins in there!"
Scott fell backwards into a chair, still gripping my hand. I looked at those dark circles, holding my breath as she measured the heart rates, looked at them looking back at me like a pair of dark eyes, looked at them so full of hope, so full of love, so full of joy. It didn't hit me until we were on the way home that we are going to be the parents of four kids five and under this spring -- then six and under after Milo's June birthday.
My mind has been racing for the last six weeks -- mainly because I was superstitiously refusing to plan until we knew that there really are two in there. But I've been looking at infant car seats, twin breastfeeding pillows, and trying to figure out what we can borrow and what we'll need to buy. I have investigated cloth diapers since diapering two is darn expensive. And we're going to need a new family car -- the Jetta simply won't hold two more car seats unless we strap someone to the trunk and someone to the roof of the car.
We've been doing our research -- looking at the types of twins, pretty sure that since we saw two very distinct sacs in the beginning and because I was taking Clomid and figure that I dropped at least two eggs that cycle, these are probably fraternal twins. The easiest kinds of twins to carry are called diamniotic, dichorionic. That means that each baby has it's own sac (ours do) and each baby has it's own placenta -- something we'll figure out after a Level 2 ultrasound. I think that one baby has a placenta in the back and one has one in the front -- we'll see if my suspicions are confirmed. So far, I have been dead on...
Anyway, like my other two pregnancies, I have escaped morning sickness. Like my pregnancy with Violet, my appetite has been decimated and I have lost a couple of pounds. Unlike the other two pregnancies, my level of exhaustion is epic. My couch has never been more appealing. I can somehow wake up tire from sleeping most of the night (minus the three pee breaks I've been averaging -- already). I have some cruel aversions to chocolate and coffee right now -- what bizarre twist of fate is making me blanch at the sight of chocolate just when I'm given license to eat as much of it as I want?
I have been eating a crazy number of Claussen pickles. And, for some reason, orange Tic Tacs quell my 2:30p.m. - 4:30p.m. nausea. And sleep -- which is where I am headed now as my bed is empty and my house is quiet. Hopefully, as I drift off, I can concentrate on the tiny little flutters I've just been starting to feel -- little swimming fish keeping each other company in there, playing together now in the first room they'll share until the rest of us get to play with them, too, likely in mid-to-late April (my due date is May 10).
Good night, babies! Mama loves you...
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infertility. Show all posts
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Happy Second Blog-o-versary to Me!
That's right! Two years ago I started writing about my kids on my lunch hour as a way to keep a virtual baby book for them because I am fundamentally lazy and have handwriting that is beyond atrocious. I can't even read what I've scrawled sometimes, let alone my poor children thirty years from now when they want to know when they got their first tooth.
I came out of the blog closet in January and, boy-howdy, has my life changed.
I have made some wonderful friends, women to whom I genuinely look up because they're amazing people and wonderful writers who have fascinating and engaging stories to tell.
I have shared more of my life with people who have known me forever, family members who remember me when I was the age of my babes, cousins living too far away for real hugs, and friends with whom I have lost touch.
I have found a community where my voice fits in, harmonizing with others who write on the melody of motherhood. And my voice has become stronger, more supported, more able to be heard through the crescendos and decrescendos of life.
I have had face-to-face conversations with people about things on my blog, shared with them the joys and pains of the last two years of my life as honestly as I can. I'm not really sure how to do it otherwise.
And, because this is me, I can't get away from this post without poking fun at myself a little...
The Soup Nazi tweeted "No soup for you!" to me because my twitter ID is IASoupMama. For real. The real Soup Nazi. Althoughm the joke's on him as he hasn't been here (as far as I can tell) -- no Soup for him!
And finally, not one but TWO friends have compared me to David Sedaris. Wha-what? I'm flattered, but my humor is to David Sedaris's humor as a drop of tequila is to a swimming pool of margarita. So hand me a lime so I can go swimming, already!
Here are a few of my faves from the last year. If you like 'em, great, let me know! If you don't, please don't tell me -- I don't want to cry at my on party...
I came out of the blog closet in January and, boy-howdy, has my life changed.
I have made some wonderful friends, women to whom I genuinely look up because they're amazing people and wonderful writers who have fascinating and engaging stories to tell.
I have shared more of my life with people who have known me forever, family members who remember me when I was the age of my babes, cousins living too far away for real hugs, and friends with whom I have lost touch.
I have found a community where my voice fits in, harmonizing with others who write on the melody of motherhood. And my voice has become stronger, more supported, more able to be heard through the crescendos and decrescendos of life.
I have had face-to-face conversations with people about things on my blog, shared with them the joys and pains of the last two years of my life as honestly as I can. I'm not really sure how to do it otherwise.
And, because this is me, I can't get away from this post without poking fun at myself a little...
The Soup Nazi tweeted "No soup for you!" to me because my twitter ID is IASoupMama. For real. The real Soup Nazi. Althoughm the joke's on him as he hasn't been here (as far as I can tell) -- no Soup for him!
And finally, not one but TWO friends have compared me to David Sedaris. Wha-what? I'm flattered, but my humor is to David Sedaris's humor as a drop of tequila is to a swimming pool of margarita. So hand me a lime so I can go swimming, already!
Here are a few of my faves from the last year. If you like 'em, great, let me know! If you don't, please don't tell me -- I don't want to cry at my on party...
- Humor: Socially Inept Mom Braces for Impact
- More Humor: The Text Heard 'Round KC
- Even More Humor: Muffin Top
- Infertility: Life Beetween Two Pink Lines
- Miscarriage: Not Again
- Motherhood: Rebirth
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
My Pregnant Hubby
Last night, I came to the conclusion that we are simply doing it all wrong. That we are completely inept at conceiving this third child because we're trying to get ME pregnant. Clearly, we need to get Scott pregnant.
OK, so that's not really going to happen. But we saw a commercial on TV last night where a woman reveals to her gal pals that she's pregnant by not ordering wine for lunch, but water instead. At that moment, Scott was gulping ice water from his favorite blue cup and he announced, "Well, now you know. I'm drinking water, so I'm pregnant."
Obviously we've been on the wrong track. It should have been HIM on the table at the doctor's office with the catheter threaded into his nether-regions getting the dizzy spun spermies squirted up there. He should have been the one upon completion of the procedure to suggest to the nurse, "Am I supposed to take you out to lunch now?" She thought that was hilarious, by the way.
Although, I was the one who got the cool experience of peeking through the microscope to see the remnants of his "sample" swimming around, looking very much like the pampered stars of a sex ed film. I whispered, "Sorry, guys, you didn't make the cut!"
So, yeah, this is just some off-the-wall infertility humor. Because the IUI definitely didn't work and I might just as well laugh about it since crying just runs my mascara. Scott and I riffed on the getting-HIM-pregnant topic all last evening and it was fun. Way more fun than hanging out at the OB by myself reading a book on a table with my pelvis raised so the "sample" doesn't slide out.
OK, so that's not really going to happen. But we saw a commercial on TV last night where a woman reveals to her gal pals that she's pregnant by not ordering wine for lunch, but water instead. At that moment, Scott was gulping ice water from his favorite blue cup and he announced, "Well, now you know. I'm drinking water, so I'm pregnant."
Obviously we've been on the wrong track. It should have been HIM on the table at the doctor's office with the catheter threaded into his nether-regions getting the dizzy spun spermies squirted up there. He should have been the one upon completion of the procedure to suggest to the nurse, "Am I supposed to take you out to lunch now?" She thought that was hilarious, by the way.
Although, I was the one who got the cool experience of peeking through the microscope to see the remnants of his "sample" swimming around, looking very much like the pampered stars of a sex ed film. I whispered, "Sorry, guys, you didn't make the cut!"
So, yeah, this is just some off-the-wall infertility humor. Because the IUI definitely didn't work and I might just as well laugh about it since crying just runs my mascara. Scott and I riffed on the getting-HIM-pregnant topic all last evening and it was fun. Way more fun than hanging out at the OB by myself reading a book on a table with my pelvis raised so the "sample" doesn't slide out.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Life Between Two Pink Lines
My house is so quiet right now. Scott and the kids are outside cleaning the garage, the dogs are lying on the back porch and I'm in here enjoying the silence, letting it sit on my shoulders like a cape.
Unfortunately, in the silence I start thinking, start dreaming, start wondering. And, though I have not mentioned it here or really anywhere lately, all I think about in the silence is out current status of fertility, or, more correctly, infertility. I try not to dwell on it and readily acknowledge that this miscarriage was far less emotionally devastating than my first one was -- back when we weren't sure that we'd ever have another child.
But in the quiet moments my mind wanders and I think, "Wow! I'd be out of the first trimester by now!" and " might have started feeling movement soon!" The thought is relentless sometimes, "I want a baby. I want a baby. I want a baby." It rides on every heartbeat, following my blood as it reaches my fingertips and flows back to my heart. It is so illogical -- my family is perfect as it is, really it is. But I want a baby. I want a baby. I want a baby.
I have been feeling this way for so long, long enough to have lived through the excited planning phase (trying to conceive months 1-5), the jealous phase ( months 6-10), and the heartbroken phase (months 10-15). I am now in month 17 and in the "I'm just so tired of trying, of monitoring, medicating, timing, stressing, worrying and waiting" phase. Which means that every time someone announces a new pregnancy, I am just numb. An online friend announced (on my birthday, no less) that she is expecting her third. I was more annoyed that she announced it on my birthday, especially since she knows my history, than I was jealous or even happy for her. Of course, I didn't tell anyone -- why would I?
When you are struggling with infertility there is no obvious sign, no one makes a t-shirt that says, "Hey, I can't get pregnant and stay pregnant, so please stop asking me when we're going to have another kid!" You don't have a black cloud following you around, raining on people for saying something insensitive because my infertility consumes only my waking thoughts, not theirs. It shouldn't, either. It is such a silent suffering, my battle scars are all in places that no one can see.
I had to force myself to use my ovulation predictor kit the last few mornings -- I had fallen out of the habit since the miscarriage and getting back into it just made me mad. I hate that my life is currently ruled by two little pink lines, that so many decisions rest in the space between them -- should we start planning next summer's vacation yet? What size bridesmaid's dress will I need to order for my brother's wedding? We need a new vehicle -- mini-van to hold three carseats or sedan than needs to hold only two?
I have already had to release the daycare slot our sitter was holding for us. If we were successful right now, this cycle, we would be having a baby close enough to summer that we wouldn't need daycare until the fall when Scott goes back to work full-time. For some reason, speaking that logic aloud, relaying that choice to the sitter was so very difficult because we were admitting failure on an epic level. There is such finality when you tell someone "We don't have a child for you yet, nor will we during this upcoming year."
Part of me wants to give up, so tired of the infinite waiting, the life held suspended in "What if?" But I don't want to give up on a child, don't want a baby to feel like an after-thought, so I'll live life between those two pink lines for a little while longer.
Unfortunately, in the silence I start thinking, start dreaming, start wondering. And, though I have not mentioned it here or really anywhere lately, all I think about in the silence is out current status of fertility, or, more correctly, infertility. I try not to dwell on it and readily acknowledge that this miscarriage was far less emotionally devastating than my first one was -- back when we weren't sure that we'd ever have another child.
But in the quiet moments my mind wanders and I think, "Wow! I'd be out of the first trimester by now!" and " might have started feeling movement soon!" The thought is relentless sometimes, "I want a baby. I want a baby. I want a baby." It rides on every heartbeat, following my blood as it reaches my fingertips and flows back to my heart. It is so illogical -- my family is perfect as it is, really it is. But I want a baby. I want a baby. I want a baby.
I have been feeling this way for so long, long enough to have lived through the excited planning phase (trying to conceive months 1-5), the jealous phase ( months 6-10), and the heartbroken phase (months 10-15). I am now in month 17 and in the "I'm just so tired of trying, of monitoring, medicating, timing, stressing, worrying and waiting" phase. Which means that every time someone announces a new pregnancy, I am just numb. An online friend announced (on my birthday, no less) that she is expecting her third. I was more annoyed that she announced it on my birthday, especially since she knows my history, than I was jealous or even happy for her. Of course, I didn't tell anyone -- why would I?
When you are struggling with infertility there is no obvious sign, no one makes a t-shirt that says, "Hey, I can't get pregnant and stay pregnant, so please stop asking me when we're going to have another kid!" You don't have a black cloud following you around, raining on people for saying something insensitive because my infertility consumes only my waking thoughts, not theirs. It shouldn't, either. It is such a silent suffering, my battle scars are all in places that no one can see.
I had to force myself to use my ovulation predictor kit the last few mornings -- I had fallen out of the habit since the miscarriage and getting back into it just made me mad. I hate that my life is currently ruled by two little pink lines, that so many decisions rest in the space between them -- should we start planning next summer's vacation yet? What size bridesmaid's dress will I need to order for my brother's wedding? We need a new vehicle -- mini-van to hold three carseats or sedan than needs to hold only two?
I have already had to release the daycare slot our sitter was holding for us. If we were successful right now, this cycle, we would be having a baby close enough to summer that we wouldn't need daycare until the fall when Scott goes back to work full-time. For some reason, speaking that logic aloud, relaying that choice to the sitter was so very difficult because we were admitting failure on an epic level. There is such finality when you tell someone "We don't have a child for you yet, nor will we during this upcoming year."
Part of me wants to give up, so tired of the infinite waiting, the life held suspended in "What if?" But I don't want to give up on a child, don't want a baby to feel like an after-thought, so I'll live life between those two pink lines for a little while longer.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Pregnant Pause
My strawberries appear to like their new home! Last week, we put up a strawberry pyramid and filled it with organic dirt and compost/manure. On Sunday, Milo and I put in the bare-root dormant strawberry plants and, as of last night, all 50 plants have awakened! Inside, I have 72 tomato plants started, 72 cabbage, 36 broccoli and 36 cauliflower. Plus 144 peppers (mixed variety -- red, yellow, and green).
Scott is working hard on the chicken coop. The walls are framed, the roof is sheeted, and he'll likely put the siding up today so that he can insulate and sheet the interior walls. This is a good thing, because our curious chickens have started flying up out of the box/pool to check us out whenever we tromp down the basement steps, whether or not we're headed down to feed them. Every time I put a load of laundry in, I have to capture a bird and return her to her home. This means chicken poop on the basement floor. Ick. Wonder how Scott's gonna clean that up?
As I was detailing this to a colleague, she remarked, "My goodness you are fertile with all of those things growing under your touch!"
If only...
I sit here on CD 26 and am not sure that I ovulated on this cycle of Clomid. Or maybe I have and my hormone surge wasn't as readily detectable as it has been in previous months. After all, the Clear Blue Easy ovulation predictor strips have shown me a smiley face every morning -- that's the "positive" indicator. The Answer test strips, which have been accurate for me for the last 5 months, have been almost-positive since CD 15ish. So I have no clue what is going on, just that we decided not to waste the time, effort, or money on an intra-uterine insemination this month. I'm not sure what to do from here, either. My current game plan is to wait until CD 35 and if my period doesn't start, I'll call for a script to start it and ask for some more advice.
I'm trying to stay positive, really I am. But then I see the sweetest little red-haired babe, probably about 4 months old, snuggling into her mama as she drops big sis off at preschool and my heart just lurches in my chest. She looks like she could be mine, except that it's not my pulse she hears as she is rocked to sleep. It's not my lips that whisper kisses on her downy head. It's not my heart in which she'll live forever.
Nope, I'm still waiting. Waiting to see Milo rocking his new baby sibling. Waiting to see Violet hovering protectively over "her" baby. Waiting to see Scott's shining happy face as he touches for the first time the infant that I have known in my body, mind, and soul.
This is my pregnant pause.
Scott is working hard on the chicken coop. The walls are framed, the roof is sheeted, and he'll likely put the siding up today so that he can insulate and sheet the interior walls. This is a good thing, because our curious chickens have started flying up out of the box/pool to check us out whenever we tromp down the basement steps, whether or not we're headed down to feed them. Every time I put a load of laundry in, I have to capture a bird and return her to her home. This means chicken poop on the basement floor. Ick. Wonder how Scott's gonna clean that up?
As I was detailing this to a colleague, she remarked, "My goodness you are fertile with all of those things growing under your touch!"
If only...
I sit here on CD 26 and am not sure that I ovulated on this cycle of Clomid. Or maybe I have and my hormone surge wasn't as readily detectable as it has been in previous months. After all, the Clear Blue Easy ovulation predictor strips have shown me a smiley face every morning -- that's the "positive" indicator. The Answer test strips, which have been accurate for me for the last 5 months, have been almost-positive since CD 15ish. So I have no clue what is going on, just that we decided not to waste the time, effort, or money on an intra-uterine insemination this month. I'm not sure what to do from here, either. My current game plan is to wait until CD 35 and if my period doesn't start, I'll call for a script to start it and ask for some more advice.
I'm trying to stay positive, really I am. But then I see the sweetest little red-haired babe, probably about 4 months old, snuggling into her mama as she drops big sis off at preschool and my heart just lurches in my chest. She looks like she could be mine, except that it's not my pulse she hears as she is rocked to sleep. It's not my lips that whisper kisses on her downy head. It's not my heart in which she'll live forever.
Nope, I'm still waiting. Waiting to see Milo rocking his new baby sibling. Waiting to see Violet hovering protectively over "her" baby. Waiting to see Scott's shining happy face as he touches for the first time the infant that I have known in my body, mind, and soul.
This is my pregnant pause.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Ultimate Blog Party 2010
Hello! Although I am not really a new mom blogger (I have been blogging since August of 2008), I am a sort-of-newish public blog mama since February of 2010. Don't ask me why I felt the need to suddenly go public with my blog, I'm not sure I really have a reason for it. I do know that it seems like a fairly healthy way to have a midlife crisis, right?
Anyway, if you are dropping by to join the party, please overlook the dog fur and kid toys -- I've got two of each and trying to pretend they don't exist is pointless. Grab a seat, but don't be surprised if my son begs to play Star Wars guys with you or my daughter drags you to the kid-sized table where she's sticking glittery stickers to a piece of pink construction paper. Or if my husband kidnaps you to the basement where we're keeping our first brood of Buff Orpington chicks, at least until he gets the coop built. Did you know that they have automatic chicken coop doors? I didn't know that until yesterday, either.
My life is pretty ordinary, and I'm sure that is the biggest reason I didn't go public with my blog when I first started writing. I was a good student, married my college sweetheart, moved to a mid-Atlantic state when he was in graduate school, returned to Iowa when he was offered a job about 35 miles from where he grew up -- a big surprise for us because he's a theatre designer and this is, well, this is Iowa. We got a dog, bought a little house, gutted it, got another dog, and renovated the house.
Then we decided to start a family. After an ectopic pregnancy, we had our wonderful son in June of 2005 and made him the big brother of a little sister in September of 2007. We are currently battling unexpected secondary infertility. I swallowed my first dose of Clomid about an hour ago. I don't feel any more fertile yet...
This past November, we bought a big old farmhouse out in the country. This has been a bit of an adjustment for us (mice. Mice. Mice! MICE!), though we are eager to put in a gi-gundous garden this spring and, as I said, we have a small flock of chickens started in the basement. Because organic brown eggs sound super, don't they?
Here are some of my quirks:
1. I like to be funny. Sarcastic, even -- I know, SHOCKER! If you don't want to read a blog where the author admits her shortcomings and pokes fun at herself, you shouldn't read mine.
2. I like to write. I've never hosted a give-away, nor have I monetized my blog. Yet. If I end up pregnant with Clomid quintuplets, I might have to change that policy.
3. I am a fan of the chain description: words-tied-together-with-hyphens-to-make-a-funny-run-on-point. Yep. I like me my hyphens... And ellipses...
4. I like comments. OK, who doesn't. I follow up diligently. Really, I do!
5. I'm a lunch-hour blogger, so if my schedule gets keee-razy, I don't get a chance to give my blog or bloggy friends the love. I hope you can forgive me, but I gots-ta pay the bills. My hubby works in arts education, 'nuff said.
6. I try to be positive and witty and clever, but the struggle we've had trying to conceive baby #3 has stretched my good humor to the limit. Some of my more recent posts were a little darker than I would normally write. But, since I am above all an honest blogger, writing something that was all cheery and rah-rah-rah when I was feeling blah-blah-blah was resoundingly fake, so I didn't do it.
Here are some of my most favorite posts:
Malfunctioning Bedroom Devices
Brontophobia: Fear of Storms
Sleep
In case my blog gets pulled for a prize, here are my top three choices:
US6 – Hand Stamped Personalized Necklace valued at $48 The Double Stacked A Lot Of Love.
Provided by: Kristen’s Custom Creations I lved this design and don't have any mother's jewelry!
US97 – One winner will receive a beautiful handmade wire and colorful bead necklace from the mission-driven company, Ana Patricia! just thought this was so much fun!
USC 10 – One winner will receive a beautiful handmade glass pendant with their choice of chain. The piece is made by me with care using glass and paper. The design I will give away is called “Lilac“. I fell in love with this -- so very pretty!
Other prizes in which I'm interested: US39, US44, US66, US110, and USC19. My son is 4 and daughter is 2, so anything appropriate for them is fine, too!
Anyway, if you are dropping by to join the party, please overlook the dog fur and kid toys -- I've got two of each and trying to pretend they don't exist is pointless. Grab a seat, but don't be surprised if my son begs to play Star Wars guys with you or my daughter drags you to the kid-sized table where she's sticking glittery stickers to a piece of pink construction paper. Or if my husband kidnaps you to the basement where we're keeping our first brood of Buff Orpington chicks, at least until he gets the coop built. Did you know that they have automatic chicken coop doors? I didn't know that until yesterday, either.
My life is pretty ordinary, and I'm sure that is the biggest reason I didn't go public with my blog when I first started writing. I was a good student, married my college sweetheart, moved to a mid-Atlantic state when he was in graduate school, returned to Iowa when he was offered a job about 35 miles from where he grew up -- a big surprise for us because he's a theatre designer and this is, well, this is Iowa. We got a dog, bought a little house, gutted it, got another dog, and renovated the house.
Then we decided to start a family. After an ectopic pregnancy, we had our wonderful son in June of 2005 and made him the big brother of a little sister in September of 2007. We are currently battling unexpected secondary infertility. I swallowed my first dose of Clomid about an hour ago. I don't feel any more fertile yet...
This past November, we bought a big old farmhouse out in the country. This has been a bit of an adjustment for us (mice. Mice. Mice! MICE!), though we are eager to put in a gi-gundous garden this spring and, as I said, we have a small flock of chickens started in the basement. Because organic brown eggs sound super, don't they?
Here are some of my quirks:
1. I like to be funny. Sarcastic, even -- I know, SHOCKER! If you don't want to read a blog where the author admits her shortcomings and pokes fun at herself, you shouldn't read mine.
2. I like to write. I've never hosted a give-away, nor have I monetized my blog. Yet. If I end up pregnant with Clomid quintuplets, I might have to change that policy.
3. I am a fan of the chain description: words-tied-together-with-hyphens-to-make-a-funny-run-on-point. Yep. I like me my hyphens... And ellipses...
4. I like comments. OK, who doesn't. I follow up diligently. Really, I do!
5. I'm a lunch-hour blogger, so if my schedule gets keee-razy, I don't get a chance to give my blog or bloggy friends the love. I hope you can forgive me, but I gots-ta pay the bills. My hubby works in arts education, 'nuff said.
6. I try to be positive and witty and clever, but the struggle we've had trying to conceive baby #3 has stretched my good humor to the limit. Some of my more recent posts were a little darker than I would normally write. But, since I am above all an honest blogger, writing something that was all cheery and rah-rah-rah when I was feeling blah-blah-blah was resoundingly fake, so I didn't do it.
Here are some of my most favorite posts:
Malfunctioning Bedroom Devices
Brontophobia: Fear of Storms
Sleep
In case my blog gets pulled for a prize, here are my top three choices:
US6 – Hand Stamped Personalized Necklace valued at $48 The Double Stacked A Lot Of Love.
Provided by: Kristen’s Custom Creations I lved this design and don't have any mother's jewelry!
US97 – One winner will receive a beautiful handmade wire and colorful bead necklace from the mission-driven company, Ana Patricia! just thought this was so much fun!
USC 10 – One winner will receive a beautiful handmade glass pendant with their choice of chain. The piece is made by me with care using glass and paper. The design I will give away is called “Lilac“. I fell in love with this -- so very pretty!
Other prizes in which I'm interested: US39, US44, US66, US110, and USC19. My son is 4 and daughter is 2, so anything appropriate for them is fine, too!
Friday, April 9, 2010
Green
Today Violet and I walked around the yard, peeking at the beginnings of green. She gripped my right ring finger, tugging me gently from one mound of sprouting green to another.
"What is dis, mommy?"
"That will be a tulip. It's a flower."
"Oh, my like it! What color will it be?"
"I don't know yet -- it's too early to see."
"My think it will be ownge, or wed, or lellow, mommy!"
"You're probably right, sweet pea."
She stooped close to the tulip bud, he nose hovering a bout an inch above it.
"My can't see the color yet, mommy. My want pink!"
We moved into this house in the doldrums of November, everything was dry and brown by then, so we do not yet know the treasures of our perennial landscaping yet. I cannot guarantee that the tulip will be an acceptable pink any more than I can guarantee just about anything right now.
The lab results from our initial fertility testing have been returned. All of my labs are within the normal range, a little on the low side of normal, but normal yet the same. The results of my pelvic ultrasound were normal. I am ovulating. Unfortunately, though Scott apparently produces a prodigious number of sperm, only about 40% of them are moving. The ones that do move are in great shape, so that's good. I'll start Clomid tomorrow. We'll schedule an IUI the next time I detect a hormone surge. The nurse will rinse and spin the spermies, then thread a delicate catheter into my uterus, depositing the sperm there in hopes that the sleepy swimmers can get that much closer to my eggy goodness.
Looking at the lush green all around us, who knew that fertility could be so fragile?
"What is dis, mommy?"
"That will be a tulip. It's a flower."
"Oh, my like it! What color will it be?"
"I don't know yet -- it's too early to see."
"My think it will be ownge, or wed, or lellow, mommy!"
"You're probably right, sweet pea."
She stooped close to the tulip bud, he nose hovering a bout an inch above it.
"My can't see the color yet, mommy. My want pink!"
We moved into this house in the doldrums of November, everything was dry and brown by then, so we do not yet know the treasures of our perennial landscaping yet. I cannot guarantee that the tulip will be an acceptable pink any more than I can guarantee just about anything right now.
The lab results from our initial fertility testing have been returned. All of my labs are within the normal range, a little on the low side of normal, but normal yet the same. The results of my pelvic ultrasound were normal. I am ovulating. Unfortunately, though Scott apparently produces a prodigious number of sperm, only about 40% of them are moving. The ones that do move are in great shape, so that's good. I'll start Clomid tomorrow. We'll schedule an IUI the next time I detect a hormone surge. The nurse will rinse and spin the spermies, then thread a delicate catheter into my uterus, depositing the sperm there in hopes that the sleepy swimmers can get that much closer to my eggy goodness.
Looking at the lush green all around us, who knew that fertility could be so fragile?
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