17 Weeks

Today I went to see the doctor with whom I was formerly upset. She was back to being wonderful. I think I can explain the phenomenon of my last visit. First, it was advent. My advent was filled with tiny gnat-like annoyances and evils. It was like walking uphill with a tiny rock in your shoe. So lots of strange annoying things happened and that made me more sensitive. Second, I'm pregnant and I don't take kindly to the idea of killing any of my children especially given what I've been through to get to this point. So I'm a little sensitive in that way too.

I found out that the nurse who laughed at my fatness is leaving the practice. A nice new nurse weighed me today. She was alarmed by the fact that I've lost a pound and a half. We're totally best friends now. (I lost the weight b/c of the virus not because I'm dieting, Mom). The doctor was super nice today. John came with me and got to meet her. He loved her even though he was ready to be Mr. Nasty if she made me cry again.

The twins are still beautiful, of course. They were very active during the ultrasound. We saw them batting at each other - playing. It was adorable! Heart rates today for Baby A were 153 and for Baby B were 136. John and I didn't talk about it until tonight but now we suspect even more strongly a boy and a girl. The doctor tried to get a glimpse today but couldn't see anything.

The wives tale is that girls have faster heart rates than boys. Mr. Cubby's HR was always in the 150's so it's obviously not a TRUE wives tale :) but still it's interesting to note the difference. Our doctor tells us that the babies both look healthy and not to worry - differences in HR are normal.

As for the pregnancy, no more sleeping on my back until I give birth. I'm having some round ligament pain and back pain as the babies grow but nothing too terrible. The cervical pain has also gotten much better. I've got a small tummy pooch. Last night I stuck a mini basketball in my shirt so I'd look more like the mama of twins. John and I were a little punchy from lack of sleep we take our laughs where we can get them. :)

Celebrating Christmas

Things have calmed down considerably now that Christmas Day has passed. We're still celebrating Christmas. I mean, it's supposed to be celebrated for an octave (8 days) so why stop the day after Christmas. Plus, it gives me more time to make those cookies I never got around to and sending out the few Christmas cards that didn't get addressed with the first batch I sent out.

Christmas this year was wonderful - absolutely amazing - but totally not what I had expected. Our tradition is to celebrate Christmas Eve with John's family and open a few gifts with them. Then on Christmas morning, we get up (the kids let us sleep in until 6:45am!!!!) LOOK but don't open gifts, eat breakfast and then go to church. After church we open presents.

My memory of Christmas morning as a kid is one of uninterrupted gift opening. My brothers and I would open presents one at a time in an orderly fashion, each one waiting their turn. Very organized thanks to my mom. But I don't remember people getting up and going to get drinks or going to the bathroom or kids wandering off to play with the cats or any other such nonsense. We were all about opening presents.

My family now is very different. When we got home from church we had to putz around for a while - find the camera, find the video camera, get drinks for everyone, change a diaper, oh - gotta use the bathroom, someone needs a snack, re-find the camera. It took us 30 minutes - easiliy - to get to opening the presents.

You'd think that Will would be completely nutso and ready to attack every gift with his personal brand of intense energy. This was not the case. He was fine with the after-church delay. Plus, during the Gift Opening Ceremony, each time he unwrapped something he wanted to open it and play with it - all other unopened presents temporarily forgotten. We don't play with toys until after all presents are unwrapped. We'd never get to the end otherwise. So Will would ask, we'd say no, and then he'd run the box up to his room and put it away. EVERY TIME HE OPENED A PRESENT. We finally stopped him, even though it was a great use of energy, and made a stack in the living room to be taken upstairs at the end of Present Opening.

Mr. Cubby made a beeline to a little white rocking chair - just his size - under the tree and plopped down - right on top of his new Christmas bear, Mr. Inkerwinker Jr. He sort of understood the idea of unwrapping but we had to do a lot of coaxing. Even so, he was a lot more interested in Christmas than he was last year at 6 months.

The twins did just fine over Christmas. They're moving all around. I can feel them moving especially after I eat. Speaking of, I think I need a cookie.

Merry Christmas to all.

Can't Catch a Break

So yesterday something unplesant took posession of my oldest child and turned him into a raving, cracked-out lunatic. From the time he stomped out of the car (and deliberately on to our shrubs) until he went to bed (an hour early) he was a mess. Christmas does this to him - to be fair, every change of routine does this to him but Christmas is an extreme change of routine so we get extreme behaviors.

OK, today he comes home and appears to be in a much better frame of mind. (Good thing because rumor had it that Santa was ready to have a bonfire with all of Will's toys... just kidding... not really). But he can't find his backpack. He's been looking for it for about 30 minutes. He thinks someone might have stolen it out of our house. He also thinks that his brother may have taken it (which would be within the realm of probablitiy had his brother not been in a highchair eating during the time his backpack went missing).

It's 5pm now. He still needs to find the missing backpack (because he has homework he has to do) and put away a load of laundry for me (part of his unfinished business from yesterday) before he can have playtime. Meanwhile, Mr. Cubby napped for about 30 minutes today and is approaching melt-down mode. And I still feel sick from the virus.

The other thing that's killing me is that I've got to finish (start) making a dollhouse for my neice. Due Date: Dec. 24th. And all I want to do is sneak off to bed. My dream is to be allowed to sleep until Christms morning at which time I will awake, refreshed with bright eyes and a clear complexion dressed in a soft blue princess gown of some kind, music playing softly - perhaps a harp - to find my children scrubbed and dressed in handsome matching outfits, peaceful and quiet, being attended to by my mom who has decided to move in with us. That would rock.

Post Script: Backpack was found in carpool mom's van and recovered. Dollhouse was finished on Christmas Eve about 1 hour before it had to be under the tree.

Week 15

It's nearly Christmas. I'm so far behind I can't believe it. We had one solid week of no sickness - morning or otherwise. Then it struck. John calls it The Lurch. (Not sure why). He got it Sunday night at 7:30. Will got it around midnight. It hit me at 7:30 Monday night. Fast moving and brutal. I suspect food poisioning of some variety.

I don't think we had the flu. When John got sick, I did some research online about the flu (influenza). It is actually a respiratory illness that causes high fever along with a host of other maladies. I didn't know that most cases of "the flu" are not really the flu at all but food poisioning - of which there are about 15 or so different varities all with different symptoms. That's my health lesson for the day.

Given my vast medical knoweldge, I'd have to say that we have "a 24 hour bug."

I'm a little dehydrated. John's making me drink a Pedialyte Gatorade cocktail. Mmmmm. So far I've had that and a little bit of Jell-o. Lost 4 pounds. Mostly water weight. The babies haven't been as active while I've been sick but I'm not too worried. My fever stayed low. I had plenty of liquids except for a period of about 12 hours between 7:30 last night and 7:30 this morning. Not that much different than morning sickness, right?

It's much more difficult parenting non-sick kids while you're sick. I highly recommend not getting sick at all when parenting but if that can't be helped then try to get sick while your kids are sick. When Mr. Cubby was hit with his fever over Thanksgiving all he wanted from me was to cuddle in the rocking chair. It was so easy. We sat and rocked. Yesterday he was the only well person in the house. He was into everything. I'm sure part of it was because he was bored. The rest of us were laying around on couches and floors watching him ride the dog, throw napkins and kleenex around the room, dip coasters in the dog's water bowl, and pull ornaments from Will's tree. (Will has a 3 ft Christmas tree in the family room that he's in charge of. Only unbreakable ornaments allowed).

As for the doctor situation, I've looked and looked for other options but I haven't found a solution yet. I spoke to a friend who told me that her experience with OBs has been similar. She expained that most of it is them trying to cover themselves to avoid a lawsuit later on. They also deal with a lot of patients who are misinformed or who just don't know very much about the human body or fetal development. So I understand, I guess, where the doctor was coming from. That said, if I can find a better option I will take it.

For now I'm going to focus on getting better and wrapping gifts and watching the Packers kill their competion.

Turning the Corner

I’m cautiously optimistic that my morning sickness is getting better. For the last three afternoons and evenings, I’ve been able to make dinner, tidy the house and keep a smile on my face. Before Monday, John would come home and usually find me on the couch, house in chaos, children covered in dog hair, dog covered in apple juice. I’m pretty sure this is the real thing because I feel like me again. I have happy thoughts about life, am optimistic about the future, and can plan activities that don’t involve the couch or TV or napping. It’s a very exciting time.

If you were at the Mom’s Group Cookie Exchange you can skip the rest of the blog. You’ve already heard it. It’s just me complaining about my last OB visit.

OK, so my last OB visit made me absolutely furious. First, the gay nurse boy who does the temp, blood pressure, weight check was moron enough to comment on my recent weight gain of 7 pounds in one month. Perhaps comment is too kind. He snickered and said something like, “Oh my. You sure put on a few pounds.” Whatever. I’m having twins and have been too sick to get off my couch. Wanted to smack him to within an inch of his silly gay life with a non-designer shoe – just to add insult to injury.

Then, my OB took it upon herself to explain to me that declining prenatal testing and waiting until the 20 week ultrasound to reveal any “problems” was going to make it much harder for me if I decided to terminate my pregnancy. Hello. Can’t she see “devout Catholic” and “work for a pro-life group” stamped on my head? She said, “Have you considered what you would do with a Downs Syndrome baby.” (Note, she didn’t say “a baby with Downs Syndrome” which is bad news. Descriptions that place the emphasis on the problem rather than the baby serve no purpose but to dehumanize the baby). I say (stunned that we’re even going down this road right now when there is absolutely no indication of any problem – unless you count the gay nurse boy’s reaction to my weight), “We’d keep the baby, of course.”

But the doctor isn’t done. She continues. She says, “You understand that if there is a problem, terminating an 18 week old fetus is much harder than terminating a 20 week old.”

I stammer, “No. Absolutely not an option. We’d never do anything like that.”

She continues, “I just want to make sure you fully understand what you’re doing. It’s much more difficult to terminate a 20 week pregnancy.”

I cut her off. “We’d never, ever do anything like that. That’s not something we believe in.”

Let me point out that our decision to pass on the prenatal testing was a sound decision. We don’t feel the need to work ourselves into a tizzy over test results that may or may not be accurate. Many prenatal tests give a substantial number of false positives and false negatives. Plus, we’d never abort. Plus, prenatal surgery for things like spina bifida aren’t an option since we’re having twins. So why do the testing? What good is the testing at this point? We’d just have several extra weeks of worry, maybe a few additional ultrasounds. I like being happy and unworried right now, thank you very much.

I’d also like to point out that even though I told her we would keep the baby, she persisted in the discussion on abortion. Not only did she persist in the abortion talk but clearly betrayed her own preference for the abortion of children with disabilities. Maybe she forgot that I’m carrying twins and an abortion of one of them would be a serious danger to the life of the other. I have no idea what she was thinking but it was so wrong on so many levels.

I’m surprised I kept it together as well as I did. I didn’t start crying until I got in the car and called John to explain what had happened.

I’m trying to figure out what to do now. Switch? Stay the course with the stupid gay nurse who makes me feel fat and stupid doctor who wants to kill my babies?

Good thing the Packers are in the play-offs and kicked ass against Oakland.

13 Weeks + 2 Days

I'm not complaining about the morning sickness. I'm just wondering when it's going to end. I mean, we're past the magical 12 week mark and oddly it seems to be getting WORSE. But, like I said, I'm not complaining.

I got a little freaked out today thinking about giving birth. I think going natural last time was a little traumatic. I'm leaning more than ever towards a nice, calm scheduled c-section. From one extreme to the other, right? I suppose it doesn't help anything if I get all worked up about the birth process at this point. But I'm a planner. I like to have a plan. These twins are throwing me for a loop. Can't plan a darn thing.

One extremely positive note is that as of last Tuesday I was able to discontinue my twice daily shots. You have no idea how nice it is not to have to endure that anymore. Which reminds me, I have to get more blood work done tomorrow. It's endless. It really is.

So I hope that my morning (all day) sickness passes soon because I'm spending an awful lot of time on my couch watching reruns of The Surreal Life.

One final note. On Thursday, the Packers lost to the Cowboys and now their record stands at 10 and 2. They played a great game and, IMHO, lost because of a really REALLY bad call by the refs. It was so not pass interference. And God love Aaron Rodgers for the great job he did as QB after Favre was injured.

First kicks

I felt the flutter today FOR SURE when I was putting Mr. Cubby down for his nap (which, incidentally has not resulted in a nap yet but only in a long crying jag which may or may not turn into sleep). I thought I felt it the other day during my shot but then John stabbed me with a needle and all plesant sensations disappeared.

I love the early flutter kicks. Totally the best. When they get older (and stronger) it can hurt sometimes. My husband actually broke his mother's rib while he was in utero. Crazy. It's early to feel kicking but I was reading that with twins often you can feel kicks earlier. Go team. It's go great to feel them moving around and know that they're still doing OK.

Sheesh. Why won't Mr. Cubby take a nap? He's just screaming and screaming. I should check on him. He was completely out of sorts this morning. He didn't want to be held or put down or rocked or fed or to feed himself or to drink a bottle or a sippy. All he wanted to do was feed the dog breath fresheners (for dogs) and Cheerios. We did have a cute moment where he sat inside a laundry basket and piled toys all over himself. He lasted for a while playing in there by himself until he remembered he was cranky.

To Rachel - I tried to publish this in the comments section but after three tries gave up.

I loved our visit too. Thanks for making the trip. :)

Now, on to belly size. First of all 4 1/2 weeks is a big head start, especially early on in pregnancy. Also, I carry way to the back and it takes a while for my belly to pop out. Does it help to know that my uterus is probably bigger than yours? *sigh* didn't think so. :):):)

11 Weeks

I got an email today from the nurse who is managing my meds. Break-through week. As of today, I can stop the Estrace completely and reduce my progesterone by half. The only down side is that I still have to do two shots a day but like I said before, the shots aren't too bad once you get over the initial muscle soreness.

I had a rough week of morning sickness because I wasn't taking naps everyday like I apparently need to. I was all like, "My morning sickness was pretty over by the end of 9 weeks with Mr. Cubby so it will be over this week." No. No way. And for the record, morning sickness is not, I repeat, NOT psychosomatic. I tried like heck to psych myself out of it this week. Told myself I didn't need a nap. Told myself I could be super mom and carry both boys on either hip and John on my back. Bad idea. What I should have done was nap and then, after the nap, watch E True Hollywood Story.

I feel like such a no account deadbeat wife when John comes home and everything is a mess, including me, and he says, "What happened today?" And I growl, "I didn't take a nap." Because how utterly stupid does that sound to a guy who has been slaving in the data mines all day? When I try to do too much, like empty the dishwasher and wipe the counters, and make myself sick I usually call my mom in tears. She's the best. Last time she said, "Honey, you have two babies growing inside of you. You've got to take a break. What have you eaten today? Did you eat?" She always asks me what I'm eating, even when I'm not pregnant. It's not that I don't eat well. I'm the queen of fruits and veggies - just not when I have morning sickness. But I eat lots of good stuff.

Can we talk cravings? Oh my gosh. So first, the babies wanted nothing but Taco Bell. I tried to practice that in moderation and only eat one meal a day there. Then I bought some of those microwave burritos, the spicy beef kind. The babies liked those but still preferred Taco Bell. Then, a few days ago baby A wanted olives so I ate a jar of olives. I wanted nothing but olives all day. I ate other things but kept coming back to the olives. The next day baby B wanted cheesecake. I ate two pieces, once for each of them. It's not fair to make them share.

On an unrelated note, Will announced today that I have three weeks to make him a sheep costume. I was excited. That is such a school mom project. I'm a school mom. That's just so cool.

10 Weeks

So I'm 10 weeks pregnant today. I'm exhausted. I didn't get my nap. Also very thirsty. I'm thirsty all the time. My morning sickness seems to be improving little by little. I'm still taking my two shots of progesterone a day and 1/2 estrace pill 2/x a day.

I went to the doctor today. My first visit with the new doc. She was excellent. First, she talked to me and asked me a lot of good questions. Always nice not to feel rushed through your first appointment. She spent at least 45 minutes with me. Never in my life have I talked to a doctor for so long.

She was also really great about Mr. Cubby having to come with me. And she was great about helping me out when Mr. Cubby peed through his onsie and blue jeans. Of course, I didn't have a change of clothes for him. It was just once of those days when we were constantly on the move and I didn't think to check the diaper bag for supplies. She was so nice about letting me change the baby in the middle of the appointment. Then when he got fussy, she entertained him with medical supplies.

The best part was that she let me have a sonogram. Every sonogram is like Christmas. Early on, you just want to know the babies are still alive. I saw both heartbeats again. Both babies were moving around, kicking and waving their arms. It was amazing to watch. And to think just 8 weeks ago, they were being reanimated as the antifreeze in their little embryo bodies was being replaced with water. In just 8 short weeks they've grown fingers and toes and hearts and heads. Such a miracle. I can't get over it.

We've started to tell everyone we're having twins. I feel a lot more confident after seeing them again today. So Rachel, you can start telling people... oh wait, you already did. ;)

9 weeks

I've got my first appointment with The New Doctor next Friday. She seems like a good doctor, a good person. We shall see. The webpage she keeps for her practice says she worked in Calcutta with orphans so how bad could she be?

The MS is pretty constant at night. I've been really good about not throwing up. So happy about that. There is nothing - hear me - NOTHING worse than throwing up. Twice daily shots in the bum are easy in comparison. Speaking of, we're running out of real estate on my bum for the shots, if you can believe that. But all in all, the shots really haven't been that bad. I think we only have two more weeks left of shots. Keeping my fingers crossed. Note to future Suzanne, shots on the hip hurt way less than on the bum proper

So I was looking around on my computer last night and I turned on my TCOYF software (Taking Charge of Your Fertility). It's a computer program to do Natural Family Planning and it's great b/c you don't have to order new charts and stuff. Anyway, I made notes in it when I first found out I was pregnant with Mr. Cubby. My bHCG levels are also recorded. Mr. Cubby's first beta was 334 at 13 days past transfer. The second beta was 1070 at 15 days post transfer. The numbers were high then and I wrote (this just makes me laugh) that "John is sure we're having triplets." This time around our first bHCG was (gulp) 3800 at 15 days past transfer. Our second was 8902 at 17 days past transfer. John was sure we were having triplets this time too - so was I, with numbers that high who could blame us. But it turns out we're having twins. Hooray!

For those two or three of you who read this blog, please don't spread the news to anyone else just yet. We made the announcement to John's family a few days before Halloween but we're still a little nervous about the possibility losing one of the babies. Admittedly the beta levels were so high that we're fairly confident they'll both be OK but we'd still like to have another ultrasound confirmation.

And finally, Will's latest contribution to the list of names is Shaggy and Scoob. He's emphatic that it not be Scooby for some reason.

Getting Ready for Halloween

Will is going to be Luke STYwalker, Jedi Knight. He estimates that he will be getting "more than 100 candies, maybe even a billion." (Here's hoping not). Mr. Cubby is going to be a pudgy spider. We've got spider lights hanging off of our breakfront and cobwebs on our bushes outside. Very spooky house this year - especially with the window clings from Walmart that say "Beware of candy munching ghosts."

Names have been the talk of our family lately. John and I have told Will that we're having some number of kids in seven or so months and have told him that we'd love to hear name suggestions. Will was happy to give us a lot of good suggestions. I will post the top 5 here, now.

1. Star Wars (This was the very first name he thought of and likes it quite a bit. I asked him if he liked the name "Luke" thinking he'd say yes, but he said no, he prefers we name the baby Star Wars)
2. Crunchy (he honestly believes this is a contender)
3. Squishy (he was just being silly here)
4. Dairio (as in "Hi ho the dairy-o the farmer in the dell - a keeper!)
5. Tom and Jerry (if it's twins)

Will, as you might guess, is not going to be allowed to influence the baby naming process though we are keeping a list of all the name suggestions just in case he ever has kids.

Further updates include heartburn is getting worse but I'm very happy because this means my consumption of Rolaids soft chews increases. Yum! Morning sickness is bad but I've only thrown up once so far. (knock on wood) It shouldn't have happened. I took my prenatal with oj on an empty stomach. Note to future pregnant Suzanne, don't drink oj on empty stomach during first trimester. Also, my jeans don't button comfortably anymore - bring on the Bella Band! (I'm only 8 weeks!!!!!) And I'm still tired. I didn't get my nap today because I had recess duty (so fun seeing Will play with his friends) and I'm testy. However my bad mood from lack of nap is balanced by my good mood from a Packer win against the Broncos last night so it's not as bad as it could be.

Still looking for an OB. After a long heart to heart with John, I think I'm finally at peace but will see how I feel tomorrow. If I could, I would go back to Tepeyac (sp?). Unfortunately, our insurance doesn't cover neonatology at Fair Oaks. And since there is a chance we might need intervention of some sort at birth we'd like to not have to pay through the teeth for it.

So that's the long and the short of it. Have a spooook-tac-u-lar Halloween.

Ultrasound

We had our ultrasound today. I'm forbidden from revealing the number of babies but I can say that what we saw was amazing, a miracle, and super cool. I love, love, love seeing the tiny heartbeat so early on. It's so incredible that at just 6 weeks (4 actual weeks of gestation for the baby) we could see that little heart beating away.

The good news is that the ultrasound indicated a healthy pregnancy. The sad news is that I have to leave The Midwives. Our new insurance doesn't cover them. Please say a prayer that I'll be able to find a good doctor. They're very hard to find these days. One of the OB's recommended to me spent time working with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in India so I have some hope for her. We'll see how it goes.

5 weeks and 3 days Pregnant

They way they calculate pregnancy is so confusing but according to the pregnancy calculator I found online I'm 5 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The morning sickness started early this time. With Mr. Cubby, it started at about 6 weeks, got worse through 9 weeks and then started getting better. This time it started up all of a sudden on Saturday - so at exactly 4 weeks and 6 days. The tiredness has been pronounced. I nap everyday when Mr. Cubby naps. I'll sleep as long as the kid will let me.

My new best friend is the Relief Band (tm). It looks like a watch but it delivers little shocks to the nerves in the wrist and hand. It's quite miraculous in the way that it reduces my morning sickness from imminent trip to the bathroom to feeling slightly car sick.

Pregnancy predictions:
After concenratating his thoughts on my belly, Will announced that I'm having two babies, a boy and a girl. He said that it's a pattern and he's confident in his prediction. Not sure about the pattern but happy that he's confident.
John predicts three girls.
I predict three girls. (My Aunt Joan has been praying for triplets on her side of the family since my mom announced her pregnancy with me).
My mom predicts three girls.

Due Date: June 7th

So the baby (babies?) is/ are due on June 7th. We're just thrilled to pieces that I'm pregnant again. (I am absolutely fobidden from saying "we're pregnant" because John tells me, and I concur, that he is not pregnant - just me). Today we got our second set of BhCG numbers and they were solid, had a good doubling time (1.64 days). All indications are - at this early stage - that this pregnancy is going to go the distance. We'll feel much better in a few weeks when we can see the heartbeat.

I mentioned before that I took an HPT on Sept. 23. I thought - why not, right? Got a negative. I realized that it was stupid early to expect a positive. So I promised John I wouldn't test again until much later in the week. But I couldn't wait. On Sept. 25 I whipped out a stick in the morning and took another test. Positive, faintly so. We were cautiously optimistic about the pregnancy but wanted to see a darker line. Next day, in the evening, I took my third and final HPT. It was so totally positive. It was great. I still have it sitting out in our master bathroom. I mailed a picture to my mom. I'm so proud and excited.

We were pretty sure that we'd get a positive blood test it was just a matter of how high and would the BhCG double. Thankfully, things look good for at least one of the little guys.

Special thanks to Our Lady of Fatima for this miracle.

2 Week Wait is Over... Sort of

It's a trick title. While our 2ww is over, I don't have the results back and we're not going to post them yet anyway. We'll wait at least until Thursday - after our second blood test. All things are going well. Indications that I might be pregnant include: craving for juice (though, as with my last pregnancy this might just be because I can't drink wine anymore), ta tas might be bigger - hard to say but they feel bigger that that's all that really matters, angrier, extremely to the extremest tired, hungry for meat and sugar (like Edgar in Men in Black), and very light, pinkish spotting several days ago lasting for 2 days. A sign of implantation perhaps?

Grieving

Last night I cried when I was praying. I thought of the baby who didn't make it, the one who until now was referred to as "Mr. Cubby's genetic sibling" because it seemed premature to name him before we found out the fate of his other three thaw buddies. I asked God to please hold my baby until I got there to take over. I didn't get a chance to hold him; not even in my womb. I wonder if he would have had Mr. Cubby's chocolate brown eyes or his chunka munka thighs.

John was incredibly supportive. He comforted me. He understands. It is his loss too. We agreed to name him last night and knew almost immediately what his name should be - Athanasius. He is named for a great defender of the faith who was a contemporary if not a friend to St. Nicholas. They both attended the Council of Nicea together. Though it was reported that St. Nicholas punched the heratic Arius, I'm sure Athanasius was tempted. Incidentally, while it is St. Nicholas who is a patron of our home, a patron of Mr. Cubby and a saint who has guided our efforts to have children, we credit St. Athanasius with arranging the first meeting between me and John.

Athanasius has two other genetic siblings, Benedict and Scholastica. John assures me that they are very happy in heaven and very thankful not to be frozen any longer. I know he is right.

After mass on Sunday I spoke with a priest. The 2ww is very hard at times and seems to get worse when I'm in the presence of God. Sunday I felt far from God, or rather, as if God was far from me. The priest was very kind, especially since I had few coherent thoughts for the first few minutes. But then, once he pieced things together he said to me, "Those children you adopted, you gave them a great gift. They are saints in heaven now. And you can meet them one day if you stay close to God, in a state of grace."

I liked how he didn't canonize me on the spot but urged me to stay on the path to holiness. :) And it's comforting to think that I will see them again. But I can't help but wish that I could see them now.

EA part 2

After the alcohol wash, the only uncomfortable part of the procedure remaining was the pressing of the full bladder with the ultrasound device. Thankfully it didn't last for long.

In our previous three embryo adoption transfers it took an excruciating amount of time for the doctor to thread the catheter and for them to find the catheter on the ultrasound.

This time it took five minutes for the whole thing. Catheter went in. Ultrasound found it right away. Dr said, "Get the solution ready" or something like that. I was watching my uterus on TV so I was distracted. Nurse tells me I have a beautiful uterus (true). I say, "Yes, I get that a lot."

There is some movement at the embryo adoption window. Doctor announces, "They're in." Gives catheter back to embryologist. Embryologist checks catheter for stragglers and then announces, "Clear."

Hooray. I'm pregnant with triplets.

The embryo adoption window is pretty cool. I don't usually get a good view because the blinds are nearly always drawn when I get there. The embryologist, one of the smartest in the world, Carol, sits in there with scrubs and a surgical mask. Really, it's like a baby drive thru. They walk me in. Dr. says, "3 cute babies please." Carol slides open the little window of her climate controlled baby defrosting room and gives them to the Dr.

After the transfer, I'm wheeled out and made to wait the longest hour of my life before they let me use the restroom. The staff brought me a Coke, which I gave to John - because hello not only was I in no position to drink any liquid, Coke is a diuretic. But they also gave me cheesy Ritz bits. LOVE THEM. And I managed to eat most of them in spite of the bladder issue. I can always make room for Ritz bits.

So I'm in the dreadful 2week wait (aka 2ww). I think the earliest I could have a positive HPT is on Sept. 26 but I'm not sure if I'll test that day or wait until the feast of the Archangels. Rrrriiiiiiiight. Who am I kidding. I started testing yesterday. Don't tell John. BFN (of course)

Mr. Cubby is awake from his nap 1 hour early. We are going to have a grumpy afternoon.

The Difference Prayer and Childbirth Make

I can't emphasize enough the importance and the power of prayer in our embryo adoption this time. There were so many things guided by the hand of God. He put powerful prayer warriors in our path just days before the transfer was to take place. People we hadn't seen or talked to in a year or longer. People who have a direct line, unlike me who has to go through the automated answering system before getting a live operator who will then sometimes transfer me to the Big Guy.

A priest friend offered mass for us yesterday. A dear friend who is becoming a consecrated early next year prayed for us. My very holy godparents offered up mass and a super holy family of ten... no, eleven offered their family rosary. Not to mention all of my friends, family and of course mom, dad, mother-in-law and father-in-law and me'n John. The prayer accomplished amazing things through out our entire trip.

I also have to give a shout out to natural childbirth as a good prep for anything painful that might happen in lower girly parts.

As I mentioned in a past entry about the trial transfer, the "this might hurt a bit" part which usually made me hyperventilate and grab my arms so hard they bruised was uncomfortable but manageable.

The official transfer has a "you might feel a burning sensation" part. It wasn't the good type of muscle burn that makes you want to kill your spinning instructor. It was relentless and lasted about three million years.

They say, "Is everything OK? Are you comfortable?" I say, "Pretty good but warn me before you start that burning thing."

Doctor says, "OK then, we're ready to start the burning." (Really that's what he said. He's cool that way).

I grit my teeth and grab John's hand. Strangely, while it burns, it's not as awful as it was before. I found that I wasn't hyperventilating.

Nurse sees look of calm on my face and says, "Is it bad?" And I say, "Can't they use something else, like Neosporin?" And then I add, "It's not something I want to do everyday but it's not bad."

Alcohol torture lasts for a few minutes. Then it's over.

The best part is yet to come but Mr. Cubby just woke up and this is my first time seeing him in two days so I'm going to end here for now.

Embryo Adoption and Transfer

I don't have a fancy title for today. I'm still feeling a little groggy from the Valium and my long afternoon nap.

The first thing I want to do is honor the memory of Mr. Cubby's genetic sibling. Yesterday the little guy survived the thaw but he faltered this morning and wasn't able to make it to the transfer. We miss him very much and are very sad that we will not meet him nine months from now. But we commend his soul to God's mercy and hope to meet him in heaven.

The good news is that we did have embryos transferred to us this morning at 10:50 am. Three of them. The doctor gave us the same "warning" about this transfer as he did Mr. Cubby's transfer. Triplets might be a possibility. Of course we would be thrilled with that outcome. Overwhelmed but thrilled. :) But we also don't think that it's highly likely - though with God all things are possible.

A little about our new babies. Two of them look very healthy and happy. We got pictures of them and you can see the smiles. They're so happy not to be frozen anymore.... because who really wants to be frozen. The third is struggling a bit but we are hoping and praying for him. (I'm using the masculine pronoun in the generic sense. We won't know their gender until our 20 week ultrasound). All of the embryos are at the morula stage, which means their cells are compacting to the point where they can no longer be counted. They're about a day/ day and a half out from becoming blasocysts. At that point they will implant, God willing.

We have a pregnancy test scheduled for Oct. 2 - Feast of the Guardian Angels. Go guardian angels. But we'll definitely won't wait to take a pregnancy test. Will probably start testing with HPTs in about a week. Doctors don't like you to do that but come on.

I'll post all the gory details about the actual transfer later. For now know that all is well and we are pregnant with three babies.

Ready and Researching

Medical notes. I got the all clear today. My lining was 13 or 13.5 (again, not sure if that's inches or feet) and my estrogen levels were high enough that I can decrease dosage to 2/ day tomorrow. Such a relief. Start progesterone shots tomorrow. One the first AM and two (one in AM and PM) everyday thereafter for the first 2 months of pregnancy or until a negative pregnancy test.

Commercial: Incidentally, I went to Shady Grove Fertility Clinic in Leesburg for my ultrasound and blood work both times. They were so nice. Much nicer than my other RE in the area who wouldn't make room in his busy schedule for me.

Thoughts: It's hard not to get neurotic over our embryo adoption. We're just days out from our fourth one (our 11th+ kid) and I'm looking obsessively for "more information" online. My main area of interest is with regard to multicell FET. Our other EA's were all at the 2pn stage (an earlier embryonic stage - pn stands for pro-nuclear but not the radioactive kind of nuclear) and only one of our embryos died during the thaw. I think the odds are not so good for multicell thaw and transfer but I can't find a lot to back up my suspicion. Granted, I'm not a doctor; I'm a neurotic mother so none of this suspicion is based in science or fact. I can tell you for a fact that blastocysts (embryos that are a day or two older than most multicells) survive transfers very well. However, they don't thaw well. I imagine that the older the embryos get and the more complex they become the more complicated it is to freeze and thaw them.

Now I feel guilty for thinking about this in such clinical terms.

What I really want is a way to see the future and to know what's going to happen with my new babies. I read statistics to help me feel better. What I'd really like to read is a study titled, "Scientists Definitively Prove That All of YOUR Embryos Will Be Born."

The FET is something that is so obviously not in my control. It's hard to trust God on this. It seems ridiculous. I have everything I've ever wanted but I have a hard time trusting God. Crazy girl! It's just hard to trust. I've always, always, always been scared of being hurt, especially by God and stinging bugs. I really hate stinging bugs but I don't blame them for being scary. They can't help it. God is much scarier than stinging bugs because He's got all the power. He decides everything. EVERYTHING. God could let the embryos live or let them die. He could make them all healthy or He could make them sick. He could make them amazingly smart or He could give them a limited intellect. He could give them super adorable Mr. Cubby type personalities or He could make them into little tax-loving Democrats. He could give us nothing or He could multiply the heck out of one or more embryos. Who knows what could happen.

So I worry.

I wish I was one of those people who can honestly say, "I'm not worried. I gave all my worries up to God." I do believe there are people who can do that. I don't happen to be one of them. This is what I do. I say, "God, I give you all my anxieties." Then He comes over and takes hold of them but I hang on with all my might, white knuckles, teeth grinding. Tug of war with God is easy; He always lets me win.

Mr. Cubby does this with me sometimes. He gets frustrated with his shape sorter so he fusses and holds it out to me for help. I come over and take hold of it. He gets even more frustrated and pulls it back from me. I could overpower him, take the shape sorter and fix it, but it seems better to let him have it back until he's really ready to let it go. It would be nice if letting go metaphorically was as easy as letting go literally - but I guess it's all a matter of perspective.

Anyway, we're still keeping our prayers focused on the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves (the proverbial bun in the oven). We'll see what happens.

3X a day

It was a great run. I think I had nearly a full week, maybe two, of productivity. I wasn't tired. I wasn't depressed. It wasn't hard for me to socialize with people. I felt human. The kicker is that I was on Lupron... and even low doses of Estrace for a while. Wow. But not so much anymore. I started swinging back toward exhaustion yesterday. Last night I sat on the couch for several hours unable to motivate myself to do anything more than eat cookies (I baked them two days ago during my productive phase) and watch Ghost Hunter reruns... that weren't that great the first time around.

*sigh*

Tomorrow I have my second ultrasound. Checking the lining and estrodiol levels. Hope all is OK. I've been forgetting whether or not I've been taking my Estrace lately. When in doubt I take one, better to have too much uterine lining I figure.

Only a few more days until the transfer. I start the huge shots on Saturday if the ultrasound goes well. Then the hardest part - the 2 week wait.

Wonderful Warm Fuzzy

I only have time for a short post. Things are still progressing well with the EA. Our homestudy was accepted so now all we have to do it wait for the big day and keep up with my shots.

Mr. Cubby is walking now. He still cruises and crawls the majority of the time but he trusts himself to let go and wander into the middle of the room. It's the cutest thing ever.

Speaking of the cutest thing ever, last night I checked in on Will before going to bed. He kicked all his covers off and was stirring. I tucked him in. He opened his mouth and I knew before he spoke that he was going to ask for a drink of water. Poor kid. I could hear the dryness in his mouth. So I grabbed the water I had brought up for myself (I always keep a cup of water by my bed at night).

Now Will has a thing lately about how the water has to be from the fridge and not the tap. It's colder that way. When I gave him the water he looked from me to the water and back and croaked, "Is it from the fridge." The kid is dying of dehydration but he still wants to know. "Yes," I told him. "It's from the fridge and it has ice."

The smile that broke across his face was huge and so very tired. He drank loudly for a moment and then paused. Looking at me, with that same smile he said, "I'm glad I have a mom."

Novena to OLOF

One order of business to take care of before I start the blog. My medical and mood progress report is as follows. Transvaginal ultrasound (which I did not need a full bladder for) and estrogen levels are excellent. I got a green light to proceed with my Estrace. We're in the home stretch. Only 15 more days until the adoption and FET. I can't believe it.

Mood is much better. I'm not sure why. There have been a lot of changes. 1. Anorexic beach week is over. No need to stress about a week with the in-laws in a big house. 2. Bleeding has stopped. Maybe the extreme irritability and depression were caused by severe PMS. 3. I'm off the birth control pill for good (until next EA). I'm telling you it makes me crazy. 4. I started taking Estrace two days ago in conjunction with the Lupron and my 3-day headache finally went away.

I'm still having a lot of trouble sleeping. I have a hard time falling asleep, even though I'm exhausted and then I wake up several times a night convinced Mr. Cubby is in bed with us and in some kind of danger (image of Trainspotting baby happens a lot at night). I usually claw at or punch John, often in places that wake him instantly and he calms me down.

So that's my update on how the meds are doing for me.

I'm finally seeing a light at the end of the drug tunnel. My mood is definitely better. I'm slightly more manic. I'm planning to rip apart our master bedroom closet (don't tell John) and repaint a bathroom and reconfigure the laundry room, write an awesome novel that has a role that every leading man in Hollywood is going to fight for, annnd give birth to full term triplets. There are some other plans to that I don't remember off hand.

Our Lady of Fatima, Pilgrim statue version, visited our parish this week. I ended up enrolled in the Brown Scapular Club (BSC). Very exclusive and itchy club (itchy due to wool in scapular). Will and John were also enrolled. That's got to be good for our upcoming adoption. Then we also started a novena to Our Lady of Fatima. We're praying for all of our adopted embryos to survive the transfer. Triplets. I know. It's crazy. But can do it... we want to do it. We prayed for triplets last time too and got Mr. Cubby, who is as big as three babies.

I also check dates for due date and transfer date to see which saints will be in our corner that day. So we're having the transfer done on Sept. 18, Feast of St. Joesph Cupertino - the flying saint. He's very cool. We like him. And a priest we know with a devotion to St. JC is saying a mass for us that day. Go team. Then, and this is my favorite part, we're going to be due at the beginning of June HOWEVER if I go 2 wks early like I did w/ Mr. Cubby the delivery date could fall on the Feast of St. Philip Neri, only the funniest saint to ever live. Aaaaaand even cooler is that May 2 is the Feast of St. Anthanasius - the saint that brought me and DH together. So if we do indeed have triplets and they are indeed born early, as triplets often are, perhaps we can hit May 2. I know this probably sounds stupid to most people who aren't me and John but I'm just so psyched.

A long time ago, before we had kids, when I was just aching for a baby to hold I said a prayer to St. Athanasius on his feast day and I asked him for help. He instantly calmed my anxiety and I knew that things would be OK. I knew that somewhere in the world there was a baby waiting for us. It turned out to be Will... and then Mr. Cubby. I really think that St. A will be praying extra hard for us this time.

No matter what happens, we know the saints are in our corner. And I don't have ESP and prayers and good feelings don't make me psychic. But I think that if a Wiccan can win the lottery, certainly God could give us triplets.

Oh and one last thing. We don't think Will has an attachment disorder anymore. It's more likely that it's sensory integration dysfunction. Will post more on that when and if we ever get confirmation.

The Lupron Effect

For the last week or so I've been meaning to post but the Lupron keeps getting in the way.

I'm back on the BC. It's called "Seasonique" - don't you love it? It sounds like a lovely pill. It's not but it pales in comparison to Lupron. The doctor started me on the BC on 7/20. OK, fine. same weepy, emotional, oversensitivity as before. I can handle that now. Started the Lupron on 8/22- while on vacation at the Outer Banks with the in-laws. How's that for a fun combination?

Let me just say that it was horrible. HORRIBLE. Warning to future Suzanne, do not attempt to mix Lupron with Anorexic Beach Week ever again! In addition to the side effects of the Lupron including nausea, lack of appetite (which isn't a bad thing during Anorexic Beach Week), exhaustion, breast pain, headaches, confusion, growing gills and webbed feet I also started bleeding.

So here's me at the beach with the entire in-law family bopping around and having fun the first day. I tell John, "Sweetie. I feel good. This is going to be the best week ever." By the end of day two I'm cramping something fierce and just want to go to bed. By day three I'm bleeding profusely and passing large blood clots all day. The cramping is so bad I can barely walk. I get a brief reprieve the next day. Still bleeding but not so bad. THEN on the 4Th day of vacation we start the Lupron injections. Things went downhill fast from there. Depression set in. I didn't want to do anything or go anywhere but to bed... or Dairy Queen.

For those not in the know, Lupron must be given with tiny insulin needles, my favorite kind of needle. Here's an interesting fact for future Suzanne. Lupron injections on the left side of the belly don't hurt at all. Lupron injections on the right side of the belly sting. Weird. So the shots are in the belly right around the belly button but not too close. It really, really hurts if you get too close. The injection site burns and itches after. Usually placing an alcohol swab over the site helps with the discomfort, which fades and is gone within the hour.

I can't do the injections myself. I've tried before. Occasionally we'll be in a rush in the morning and John will leave without giving me the injection. I can't make myself do it. It freaks me out. I usually drive into John's work to have him do the shot.

So the Lupron sucks. Now what's going to suck worse is the Lupron Estrace combo. But I'm holding on because in less than a month I get to start the progesterone and that makes everything better. Plus I might actually be pregnant which is the best thing in the whole world.

One fun thing about the Lupron is that I occasionally feel like I have a libido. I think it does something to FSH or FHS levels - forget the order of letters or what they stand for. But it also does something to testosterone levels. Go team. So while I'm intensely evil and short tempered, I also think about sex more. It could be worse.

We're praying for twins or triplets. Feeling somewhat confident about this time. Don't know why. We'll see what happens I guess. Only four more weeks until the transfer and only 7 more weeks until we find out if we're pregnant. Woo hoo.

The Other Child

Recently I confided to my mom that I sometimes struggle with questions about why God made us Will's parents. Will is our older child, adopted from Russia two years ago. This doubt isn't a symptom of the drugs and has nothing to do with the embryo adoption, rather it has to do with motherhood "at long last."

For years and years and years DH and I prayed, tested, ate organic, tested more, had surgery, took drugs (from a doctor), read, prayed, and over and over our desire for children was thwarted. When our adoption of Will finally worked out we breathed a sigh of relief. I assure you we didn't think things would go perfectly from there on out but we thought we'd get a pretty normal kid that we could be tender loving parents to.

I can't imagine how I must have looked to the people around these last two years. Most of the time I am frazzled, exhausted, and at the edge of my patience. Understand that I know I'm an adult and that I'm responsible for handling my feelings and emotions and temper etc. However, as I admitted to my mom, sometimes I wonder if God couldn't have found better, more appropriate parents for Will.

After I confided in her, she talked to someone and that someone said I should read about attachment disorder. Funny thing is that from day 1 I have been convinced that my son absolutely did not have an attachment disorder. Kids with attachment disorders are commonly (so I thought) cruel, torture animals and small children (for real), light fires, rage against parents - Hilter in his youth.

My child isn't like that. My child is a good boy. He has a conscience. He's kind toward small children and I've only seen him pull the dog's whiskers once. I did much worse things to our cat growing up so pulling whiskers one time doesn't not a sociopath make. However, a neighbor had given me some books about RAD and bonding for adoptive parents, which I wasn't in any hurry to read since our son didn't have RAD but I picked them up after the conversation w/ my mom.

I saw Will in the pages. And I saw myself. Parents of children with RAD are angry, inordinately angry - drained, exhausted, even hostile toward their children. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about wanting to get away from him. There is a reason.

Over the last two years things have calmed dramatically. But he continues to do things that wear us down. I know, we're parents - big surprise - our kid is draining. Cry me a river. It's hard to explain what I mean but to live with him on a day to day basis saps the life from me.

"The Will Show" starts as soon as he sees me. His good mornings are spoken in a strange, off-putting voice. His hug is stiff and he rubs his face on me. Often he reaches too low or too high with his arms and so I have to redirect him to a more comfortable position for the hug. Then he just starts talking. He talks about what he wants for breakfast, the sun in the sky, what Mr. Cubby is doing, where apples come from. Often in the middle of normal conversations he'll ask a question that cannot be answered and doesn't make sense. For example, when does dirt turn into snow, is it hard to chew wood floors without breaking your teeth, why do frogs grow fur when it's cold inside but not outside. When I try to make sense of his question, always assuming a language barrier because he is ESL, he gets angry and exclaims, "That's NOT what I said. I meant why don't frogs have fur." Which is clearly NOT what he said or even intended to say the first time.

After a fifteen minute conversation I'm ready to shut down. I've been listening at maximum capacity, unable to tune out a single detail because often what he says is unclear or in garbled syntax. I'm constantly translating his English into standard English. Then trying to figure out if he meant what he said or meant to say a different word. Then trying to figure out an answer to the question, which 9 times out of 10 I discover he's not interested in knowing to begin with. Finish all that with his extreme volatility when I ask him for clarification.

In addition to the constant, and I do mean constant jabbering, he likes to make noise. So if he's not chatting about frog fur, he's making noises. The noises differ in length and intensity but they are ever present reminding me that he is ever present lest I forget. It is literally an assault on my hearing the entire time he's within earshot.

When I ask him to complete a task no matter how small, the second he's finished he pops into my face (smell the milk on his breath he's so close) and announces he has competed his task. He demands by word and action my immediate attention. Sometimes he physically pulls at me. Most of the time, if I don't give him my immediate attention he does something negative, against the rules of the house, to try to force me to pay attention to him.

All day he struggles for power and control. We ask, "Do you want milk or water." He answers, "Juice." We stick to our guns but most conversations take much more time than they should.

When I announce we're going to the store he peppers me with constant questions about the trip. Where are we going? Have I been there before? How long will we be there? Will my friends be there? What are we getting? What will it cost? Did you remember to bring money? Can I have candy? What if someone just gives me money, can I buy whatever I want? And so on. It continues through the store as I buy things. What is that? Who is it for? Is it mine? Do I have to share it? How much does it cost? Do you have enough money? What if someone steals it from us? Will it break if I do this? Can I open it now? If I open it now will the store make us not buy it? Can I carry it? It's too heavy; can I put it in the cart? Is it OK if Mr. Cubby is touching it? Will he break it?

He is indiscriminately affectionate with other children and adults. He hugs like crazy - everyone. He came home from camp last week reeking of perfume because he was hanging all over a counselor. He's gotten in trouble for kissing kids in class. He touches people too, not in a sexual way but in a creepy way. Plays with the hair of the kids in front of him in line. Touches or rubs shirts, belts, swimming suits. It's a little creepy especially when I imagine he could turn into an old man with these habits.

That said, I do love him but it's hard to FEEL love for him and the thing is, sometimes you really have to feel love in order to truly bond with a person. I'm not holy enough to bond with a repellent person. I can tolerate but I can't bond. The books I'm reading say all of this can be fixed. And like I said in the beginning, we've come a very long way. But tonight I felt like sharing the downs that most people don't see.

It seems like a lot of people judge me and my husband harshly because of our relationship with our son. We're very strict and structured. But we've found that it is best for him if we are. He's more calm when he knows what we expect, what to expect from us, from his life. Most people don't get that. Most people also don't get that we'd rather be tender-loving parents. But before we can do that, we have to have a son that trusts us.

NOTE: Added 10/3/07 - While there may well be some residual attachment problems and a lot of insecurity (can you blame him) further research has led us to decide that Will probably doesn't have an attachment disorder. It's more likely to be a sensory integration problem. The thing with all these things - RAD, ADHD, SID, Tourette's, Asburger's, Autism - have overlapping symptoms/ behaviors. We took Will in early on for evaluations and everyone said that he seems to be adjusting and attaching well but those exhausting, sometimes repellent behaviors that we see all day aren't getting better. So we continue to search for answers... because we love him and we want to help him. And we want to be better parents to him.

Mock Embryo Transfer

Today, I'd like to share what happened during my mock embryo transfer and how it compares with my previous transfers.

Now, the way I understand the mechanics of an FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) is that a catheter is "threaded" past the cervix, high into the uterus. Then the embryos are "loaded" into the catheter and pushed through into the uterus. I don't know how they get the embryos through the catheter. I do know, last time, one of our embryos got stuck and so the process had to be repeated to get him in. Anyway, it's a simple enough procedure on paper.

In my experience, however, the mock embryo transfer (and the real embryo transfer), had been painful and difficult. The problem used to be that my uterus was so tilted and cervix so tightly closed that the doctor needed a very thin, flexible catheter. It took forever to get it where it needed to be. And it hurt.

The procedure is done laying flat with feet in stirrups, just like those lovely GYN appointments. It must be done with a full bladder. Fun. The nurse stands by with the sonogram thingy, PRESSING DOWN on my full bladder so that the doctor can see the catheter going into the uterus. I know, you can't believe how much fun this is. In the past, they've also had to "manipulate" my uterus by pushing from the outside and pulling from the inside... at least, I think that's what happened. It was traumatic; I may have blacked out. (Just kidding... sort of.)

This time, thanks to Mr. Cubby, the catheter threaded easily and the whole procedure was over and done with in a few minutes. And it was painless. Woo hoo!

They also checked the uterine lining. Mine was at 12. Twelve what I'm not sure. Probably 12 cm but I'm going to tell people it's 12 inches so then they can think the little pooch in my tummy is caused by my uterine lining and not the 1/2 pan of brownies I ate last night.

When that's over, you get to run to the bathroom and come back for round two. This is the part that I forgot about because the first part was such an ordeal. It is the most fun part of all. I like to call it the Water Torture Test. So OK, you get back in the saddle, feet in stirrups. Then the doctor preps and the nurse fills a huge syringe with sterile water. Then the doctor says, "You may feel a little cramping."

Here's a clue if you ever have to have this done, "a little cramping" is code. It means that it HURTS. When I had this done the previous three times, I situated my arms over my head, crossed them and gripped my upper arms, squeezing with all my might while I hyperventilated until the cramping subsided. Not your regular cramps. With each injection of water, the cramping would happen all over again. They go through two or three rounds of this. While it hurts like the dickens, it has to be done because they're looking for fibroids and cysts that may interfere with the embryos' implantation.

I have to say, this time around, having experienced the mother of all cramping - contractions - and an unmedicated birth (gold star for me), the cramping was pretty easy to endure. And thankfully I am fibroid and cyst free.

During one of my previous three tests, they found a cyst or two. The good news is that this is not a deal breaker. I asked my RE here at home to monitor the cyst with ultrasounds and within a month or so it had gone away. One of the medical professionals mentioned that it's not uncommon for women to develop cysts especially with the high doses of estrogen in the Estrace. Now you know.

After the mock transfer and the water torture test I got dressed. Then the nurse came in and gave me more birth control pills. Argh. Instructions that I was to stop the Estrace immediately and begin on the BC again. Argh. And she also gave me the injection instruction guides. Don't underestimate the importance of the injection instruction guides or you may end up with a 16 gauge needle in your rear.

If you don't know much about needles, 16 gauge is what "home piercers" use for body piercing. It makes a big hole.

Next, the business manager came in and we talked numbers for a few minutes.

Then the embryologist came in and we talked embryos for a few minutes.

Then the doctor came back and said everything looks great and that he'll see me in September.

Hooray!

Adventures in Tennessee

So, a few days ago I alluded to an adventure we had involving a missed exit, various pungent bodily fluids and no hotel rooms available. This is what can happen when deciding to drive to the NEDC and continue on for a family vacation and why it probably will not happen again.

On our way back up the interstate from Chattanooga to Nashville, about an hour from our hotel (or so we thought) Mr. Cubby struggled with a very busy diaper. This set off a screaming fit that rendered him inconsolable unless taken out of his car seat and held, which is against the law to do if you're in a minivan (or car) unless you're in Mexico, which I've been told has no laws requiring child restraint - in case you were wondering. We stopped and changed him, hoping this would relieve his discomfort but it was to no avail. The screaming continued.

So Mr. Cubby has this thing that used to happen before he started taking Previcid. At night, when I'd put him down for bed, if he wasn't completely asleep, he'd wake up and scream so hard that he would vomit. We hadn't given him the Previcid for that day and about ten minutes into the post-diaper change crying jag, he vomited all over himself and his car seat.

We did what we could to contain the spill with baby wipes and arrived at the Embassy Suites, Nashville Airport with our nearly naked stenchified baby only to be turned away. They had just sold their last room (to be fair, we didn't have a reservation). John asked them to call around to several other nearby properties, all were full. He finally settled on a Ramada Suites a few miles away. When Will and I walked into our room there the first thing Will said was, "Hey guys, this is just like Russia." Needless to say, we got a refund and left the hotel.

So, after leaving Knoxville at 5pm, we arrived at our hotel (The Drury Inn) in Nashville at 9:30 (10:30 Knoxville time).

Mr. Cubby and The Doctor

Sitting in the car (new minivan) next to Mr. Squawkapotomus and the ever bored Will has given me a new appreciation for my parents. I wonder how they did cross-country trips with four kids from the Midwest to Utah or Arizona.

We’re finally kicking into high gear with our embryo adoption and I have some exciting news to report. We drove to Knoxville and arrived today, after a grueling 4.5 hours last night (stopping just past Roanoke) and another 3.5 today to the Baptist Hospital for Women.

I haven’t been in to see Dr. Keenan and his amazing staff since our successful embryo transfer of Mr. Squawkapotomus (aka Mr. Cubby) nearly 2 years ago. Wow, time sure flies. So we went in with several unknowns in play and several misconceptions. But before I get into that, some background first.

Before the embryo transfer, in order to make sure all things are warm and womb-like, Dr. Keenan does a mock transfer. What that means is that he dopes me up on estrogen (faithfully taking it 3x/ day) then brings me in to make sure that a) the catheter (aka embryo subway) will thread into my uterus properly and b) my uterine lining is such that an embryo could snuggle down and make himself at home for nine months without having to share the space with polyps or fibroids. Fun, right?

*At this point blog writing was interrupted due to a wrong turn that landed us in Chattenooga, TN. Wrong turn resulted in a “comedy” of errors in involving screaming, pooping, vomiting, and no suites upon arrival at the hotel.

Can't Leave Well Enough Alone

So the thing is I can't stop worring about my phone call with the Spit Test Nurse. I'm worried that I do have something wrong with me that might cause a problem with our next embryo adoption. Knowing those antibodies are there is bothering me. So I'm going to do a little more study and a little more talking to doctors to see if I can find some peace of mind.

In the meantime, we're scheduled to meet with Embryo Doctor soon. We're finishing up our embryo adoption homestudy. I had blood drawn yesterday to test for HIV, Hep B & C, Syphilis. I need to have a TB test done in the next day or so at Urgent Care. Aaaaannnnd, what else???? Oh, put in all my orders for the drugs I'll need soon. The hardest to get is the progesterone in olive oil.

Normally progesterone comes in sesame oil. Sesame oil provides an easy to inject suspension for the progesterone. Olive oil is slightly thicker and a little harder to get through the needle into my rear. The only problem is that the sesame gives me welts the size of New Jersey and makes it painful for me to sit - allergic reaction to the sesame. I'm fine for the first week or so but then I start getting knots at the injection site and then bruises and then huge welts. I suffered through the first transfer thinking this was normal. Thank goodness it's not.

So that's my current list of things to do. It doesn't look too bad. But hanging over my head is the whole question about treating or not treating my non-diseased but being attacked by my own body thyroid. I just want to have as healthy a pregnancy as possible.

I'm so excited to be pregnant in September.

Apparently it's all in my head

I had a tough day yesterday. I've had a hard day for the last two weeks now that I think about it. The Estrace (as of day 9 of this cycle I'm taking it 3 times a day) magnifies my every anxiety, problem, concern.

So the problem this time is two fold. First, I got a call from the amazing thyroid spit test and was told that ..... I'm normal. Now for most people, this would be great news. I, on the other hand, cried. Part of that was the Estrace. Part of it was that the doctor PROMISED me that I had thyroid issues and I was really hoping that I had finally found a simple answer to the crummy way I feel.

So my levels are normal but, here is the part that makes me search the Internet like crazy, I have thyroid antibodies. Now I hear that and I think, that can't be good. Of course, online there are pages and pages devoted to tales of thyroid antibodies being responsible for miscarriages, infertility, exhaustion, armed robbery and, of course, nuclear war. Apparently it's not enough to worry the medical profession. So now I'm worried that the embryo transfer might fail because I have thyroid antibodies.

I have two friends with real thyroid issues and I feel like a complete stooge because all along I thought it was only a matter of time before I got to join their ranks, get on some good medication, and start to feel better. Deja vu because I also remember feeling this exact same way after most of my other doctor visits, especially the ones where the reproductive endocrinologist reassured me that I probably had endomitriosis.

The second sad thing is that we're changing insurance companies as John changes jobs and our new one ... bites. Well, at least it does compared to our old one. The worst part is that I don't think my midwives are covered.

So to sum up. I'm 11 days into my second cycle. I'm done with the birth control and now into the Estrace part. The Estrace makes me crazy. My crazy makes me sad that my thyroid works. My thyroid meds, which I apparently don't need, would be covered by the new insurance but the Estrace and my midwives will not.

Also of note, for the past two weeks I've been spotting on and off. I seem to remember this happening last time. Mentioned it when I called the nurse and she seemed a little concerned so they'll check things out when I go in.

So tired. I get so wiped out. It's only midnight for crying out loud. I should be good for another two hours.

Exhausted

I finally finished with my first round of NeCon. It wasn't as bad near the end. Maybe I was getting used to it or maybe I was just so happy I was almost done that I didn't notice. A few days ago I started with Estrace, another form of estrogen. It makes me incredibly tired. Not the regular tired I always feel, but a deeper tired. It's the tired I felt when I was pregnant. So with the NeCon I got the nausea. With the Estrace, I'm exhausted. This is also why my entries have decreased significantly. I'm tired by 8 or 9pm and I don't get a second wind.

Typically, when I'm not on hormones, I rally once the kids are in bed. I could be feeling like I can barely drag myself up the stairs but once the baby is in bed and the older boy is quietly talking himself to sleep I start ticking off all the things in my head that I can do and I start to get excited. I never do them. I rally enough to sit in front of the TV with some snacks. But at least I have the energy to get excited about the stuff I could be doing. Now, with the estrace/ tranquilizer once the kids are in bed I'm just counting the minutes until I can crawl under the covers. Of course, I can't go to bed right away. I have a psychological block against doing things good for me once the kids are in bed. So I also don't work out, pray, or eat vegetables at night. I never, ever go to bed when I'm tired. Two nights ago I was so tired that I fell asleep rocking the baby at 8pm. Got up again. Took a mini-nap around 10pm. Went to bed at midnight. It doesn't make sense. I know.

My point is that the estrace makes me tired and I don't get a second wind. It also makes me confused and anti-social. I guess being confused lends itself to being anti-social. I have a hard time following conversations, maybe because I'm so tired. I have a hard time making decisions too.

One thing that has helped me significantly is - get ready for an infomercial - is the Costco version of Focus Factor. You've seen the commercials, right? Boost memory. Boost brain power. Believe me, I need a boost. Here's the thing, it really does help. During the day, when I don't take it, I wander around our house like a zombie drooling on the floors and walking into the walls. The other day I took two, they recommend taking four but that seemed excessive. Wouldn't you know it, I folded all the laundry, bought and built two shelves for our bathroom and built a fireplace for our deck AND cooked dinner AND did the dishes. Still, I'm on estrace and ready for bed at 8pm but I got a lot more done during the day.

Bottom line, if we do another embryo adoption after this one I need to remember to take Focus Factor.

Thyroid Secrets

Today I had my long awaited appointment with Dr. B. I write Dr. B. not to protect his identity but because I can't spell his last name. Dr. B is notable because he's not your run-of-the-mill OBGYN. He's Catholic, pro-life, won't prescribe artificial contraception and will order the little known "spit test" for girls like me who aren't healthy but appear to be.

I have a secret fear that many doctors I see think that I'm a hypochondriac because I have a long list of symptoms and no official disease. Over time I've stopped expecting a cure for my troubled ovaries but I still maintain hope that the rest of me can and will feel better if only I can find a doctor more interested in practicing medicine than pushing an agenda.

The appointment is one of the things I'm doing to get my body in shape to sustain a pregnancy. Of course I'm not taking the prenatal vitamins yet. I avoid doing what the books say I ought preferring the gnostic approach to health care and embracing the secret way that most doctors are too silly or stupid to know. I imagine that the practitioners of Scientology feel this way about Xenu.

Dr. B said to me today, "Well, they don't do the spit test much [in America]. Medicine is slow to change here. They do it in Europe though and it's very accurate." I know that he was telling the truth because the other day my husband told me that he read on The Drudge Report that in England they have developed a DNA log of citizens that they use to check against spit swabs collected from the sidewalk so they can send the offending spitters a ticket. Spit tests are, in fact, being done in Europe.

So, I took the spit test home and will do it tomorrow. I was gratified that Dr. B was able to tell me, given my litany of symptoms, that I have a troubled thyroid. Every doctor before this one has told me that my blood work is normal. Then they act like they're doing me a huge favor and give me a prescription for a tiny amount of synthroid or, when that stopped working, cytomel. I've always ended up taking myself off the meds and not returning to see the doctor after more than a hand full of visits because they seem to be interested only in whether or not I'm losing weight.

Doctor "Your weight looks unchanged. That's good."

Me "I've been experiencing some memory loss. Wasn't that supposed to stop?"

Doctor "Well the memory loss doesn't seem to have effected your weight so I wouldn't worry to much about it. Do you have any other questions?"

Me "Yes, actually, I do. Did you notice that clump of hair that just fell out of my head? Is that supposed to happen now that I'm on this medication?"

Doctor "Well, with the hair loss you may notice some fluctuations in your weight. If you notice a drastic change of more than say, 5 pounds, call us. OK?"

I'm concerned about getting my thyroid functioning properly, or at least getting it the support it needs, because it is very important during pregnancy. It helps sustain the pregnancy and gives mommies a much needed third trimester energy boost. I can attest to the fact that I felt GREAT during my third trimester.

Now I feel like a tree sloth.

Of course, some of that comes from the birth control horriblemones. Only 6 more days left of those nasty yellow beasties. Hooray. In about 15 days I'll get the results of the spit test. I have only good things in my future.

NeCon Countdown

I'm just about 1 week away from no more NeCon. I'm thrilled.

NeCon, for those of you not in the know, is a form of artificial contraception. My doctor uses it to control my cycle, get it on a schedule so that I'll be ready for the embryo adoption when the time comes for that. I hate taking it. I hate the little plastic box it comes in. I hate what it does. I hate what it was made to do. I hate that I gain weight on it. I hate that no matter how full I feel, when I'm taking this pill, I will always want more potato chips, jelly bellies, peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. I hate that I get irritable and bossy and mean and bitchy. I hate that it makes me cry when I hear weepy music. I hate that it exists.

It's as if someone took sin and boiled it down, compressed it, dehydrated it, dyed it yellow and packed it in three neat rows of seven. As I metabolize it my heart begins to beat a little faster. My chest feels heavy. My mind starts to jump from worry to worry. My breathing becomes shallow and anxious. The effects continue through out the day. I'm twice as anxious if I'm put on the spot. I'm more critical, less patient, and absolutely exhausted all the time.

Before I started taking the NeCon I was a different person. I was pleasant, thoughtful, patient. I was happy. I was one pound away from my pre-baby weight. Birds chirped and perched on my fingers. Butterflies picked me flowers. Now I hide in my basement muttering to myself and talking to spiders. I take it faithfully because I want very much to save the life of a child. Ironic that the pill was designed to prevent children from being born, but I digress.

It's a mixed bag. On the one hand, I really can't wait for this hormonal experiment to be over. On the other hand, I desperately want my babies to live. So I wonder, is it worth it? Is it worth my life and my figure and a chunk of my sanity to save a couple of multi-celled microscopic "things"?

Yes. Yes. And yes.

And I need to remember to thank God more often for the privilege.

"If God causes you to suffer much it is a sign that He has great designs for you and that He certainly intends to make you a saint. And if you wish to become a great saint, entreat Him yourself to give you much opportunity for suffering; for there is no wood better to kindle the fire of holy love than the wood of the cross, which Christ used for His own great sacrifice of boundless charity. " St. Ignatius Loyola

A Quick Note on the MSNBC Interview on Stem Cell Research and EA

As an adoptive parent, it's incredibly frustrating to read articles about the attitudes of the majority of people regarding adoption. To sum up the attitude, and pardon me for being sensitive about this, better to kill the child than let me adopt him. This isn't an attitude that's exclusive to the abortion/ adoption issue. It also comes up over and over with embryo adoption and the "other choice" of donating the embryo to science.

Sarah Kliff wrote a Web exclusive interview for Newsweek appearing on MSNBC's webpage today, June 20, 2007. Kliff spoke with Ruth Faden, director of the Johns Hopkins Berman Institute of Bioethics

"How do you explain the preference for stem-cell research over adoption by another couple?

"In a companion qualitative study, we interviewed a smaller number of patients in depth. What was very interesting was getting an understanding of how they view the embryos that they have had cryo-preserved. They saw the embryos they created as emerging from their desire to have a baby. And they felt very strongly that if an embryo was ere permitted to become a child, they wanted to be and should be the parent. It's important, and I don't think we can over state this, to understand that this big policy debate is also a very private, personal choice for a lot of individual patients. It's a policy debate for the nation but a private decision for many couples who actually have these embryos cryo-preserved."

My note: Yes, as a parent, you often wonder, am I doing the right thing for my child. It's only fair to consider vivisection among those options.

MSNBC writes, "What currently happens to the frozen embryos of infertile couples?

"There are no national data about how many embryos are donated. There are data from the United Kingdom, where we know, for example, that over 3,000 embryos have been donated for research last year and about 230 were donated to other couples for adoption. We have no idea what the situation is in the United States because we keep no comparable records in this country."

My note: Did you catch that? There were over 3,000 embryos donated for research last year. Do you know what that means? Donated to die. Doesn't bother you? Well of those 230 who were allowed to be adopted, I can tell you that one of them is a very handsome, lively little boy who is thrilled to be alive.

What is it about adoption that is so distasteful to people? Images of mole-nosed old hags cooking children in giant soup pots are the stuff of fairy tales. Do people believe that's what adoptive parents are really like? Or is it just plain old selfishness. I don't want you to play with my toy so I'll break it. I mean, most 4-year-olds I know can't even justify that line of thinking. And yet, isn't that what it comes down to in the end?

I hear it all the time from third parties who know that I'm an adoptive parent and who are relating stories of abortion or embryos for science. "It's nothing personal. It's not against you. The parents just don't want anyone else to raise their kid." Better dead than... than what? Than my child? Damn right it's personal.

I will close with this, because it's always good to end on a high note. I appreciate all the more how great it is that we have been able to adopt nine embryos with more on the way. I am also very appreciative that Will's birthmother decided that his life was worth saving.

Introduction

When I write, I often have false starts. I usually have to scrap the entire thing and start over because the tone isn't right or I just haven't said what I started out to say. Life is full of these false starts too. I had a few before I found Mr. Right, who also happens to be Mr. Perfect, Mr. Fantastic, and Mr. Clean, sans the earring.

Once married, we had a few false starts as we planned our family. We wanted a family right away but for some reason the kids weren't popping out like we thought they would. So we thought we'd get a dog while we waited for God to work some baby dust into a dimple-kneed baby. False start with the dog. Think Cujo with super bad breath. Then, we decided Cujo was lonely so we got him a "friend," Gidget. Gidget was an even worse false start on the road to building our family. She had Frito Feet, as in feet that smelled like Fritos. Think of the overwhelming scent of Fritos you get upon opening the bag for the first time. That was the stench of her feet. She'd hide under our bed so at night we could smell her lovely stench as we put our head to pillow. It's no wonder no children were conceived while Princess Frito was with us.

We also had a false start when we decided to stop waiting for biological children and start the process of international adoption. Our first contry closed down soon after we started our paperwork. So we began looking at agencies and countries all over again. We settled on Russia.

The process was arduous but well worth it. When I say "process" I mean long, beurocratic nightmare wherein every single one of the one hundred pieces of paper you have to provide the foreign government must be hand-stamped by three different agencies within the foreign government and then sent to Moscow to be... oops, sent back to you because you forgot to sign the papers with your middle initial and now you have to get those papers resigned with proper middle inital, notarized, apostiled (you don't know this word unless you've adopted internationally), translated and shipped back to the three different agencies within the foreign government who all have to re-hand stamp the papers and then send them back to Moscow to be.... oops, Moscow just decided to hault all foreign adoptions for a few months as they reorganize their social service system because it's January.

Since our son came home to live with us, we haven't had any further false starts. We're the proud parents of ten children. Two live with us, Will and Mr. Cubby, and eight passed on to heaven. Those eight, plus Mr. Cubby, were adopted by us when they were embryos. It's a little misleading when I boast of my family of ten children. The good Catholic families I know are, at most, on kid #8 and they've been having kids for years. I feel good about what we've accomplished through God's blessing in just a few years.

I want to add that it broke my heart each time we lost children. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Mary, Joseph, Scholastica, and Benedict all hold a special place in our hearts and in our family life. Embryo adoption is not for the faint of heart. It is uncertain, painful, and draining - physically and emotionally. However, if it is something you feel you are called to do, it is a call that you can't ignore.

So, our second child was born as a result of embryo adoption. Maybe you've heard of it, maybe not. Suffice it to say, the embryos left over after IVF proceedures are not unwanted, nor are they incapable of living to and through birth. Mr. Cubby is a strong, healthy one-year old and former frozen embryo.

That brings us to today. Two weeks ago I started the drug regimen for our next embryo adoption. During that time I've had a few crazy moments because, I'll be honest, my body isn't keen on hormones of any sort. It doesn't like to make them and it doesn't like them introduced by pill or needle, especially not needle.

One of the crazy moments included me thinking that it would be a good idea to follow this embryo adoption through a blog. I didn't keep close track with my last pregnancy and I am wishing now that I had not only because my brain fog gets really bad with pregnancy but because I'm sure there will be other women considering embryo adoption, who would like a snapshot of how things may work for them.

So this is where I begin.