Juggling

At the risk of being "facebook-y" and listing the details of my day (a characteristic of the online program that one of my bffs HATES), I offer concrete evidence of my (and all other infertility-related pregnancies) unique pregnancy juggling act:

6:45 am: Wake up (I know it's much later than some of you early-risers)
7:30 am: NHS E-recylcling meeting (don't ask)
8 am: Prep for class
8:45 am: Teach second period
9:45 am: Go home and shoot up (not near as fun as it sounds) and pick up Tim for the adventure to No-Man's Land
10:20 am and on and on and on 'til forever: Wait at doctor's office to meet new Ob; love her; give samples; be poked and prodded; hear the heartbeat--amazing!!!; lose the parking ticket and pay an entire day's cost (it felt like we were there the entire day anyway, so why not?)
1:15 pm: Missed 5A class and my lunch break; Back at school with my Jamba Juice liquid-lunch (threw in an oatmeal cookie too--baby will be as sweet as sugar); monitor library during 5B
1:40 pm: Give notes on "Canterbury Tales" and attempt to make Chaucer fascinating
2:30 pm: Discuss American Romanticism and mold young minds into loving 1850s literature as much as I do (at least I tried)
3:15 pm: Begin tutorial and have a student turn in a paper--5 weeks late.  Oh well.
4 pm: Go to Gugliani's, a little Italian place near our house that Tim thinks my pregnant belly is obsessed with.  I suppose he's right.

This week, I only have 39 pills, one patch, one tv ultrasound (so fun!), and one more doctor's appointment.  Infertility definitely makes for a unique baby-experience even once the baby is made.  I guess I hadn't realized how much work would come after the hysteroscopies, egg retrieval, and embryo transfer.  I guess I'm in for a shock when baby arrives, although I'm sure Baby Bird will sleep through the night and overall be the perfect child ;) --unless he/she is like I was.   Oops.  Should have thought of that before asking the lab--and God--to make a mini-me.

Regardless of the unique infertility pregnancy experience, I do know this: the meds, the unbalanced schedule, the jabs at my underworld, all of it becomes worth it as soon as that baby's microscopic heart appears on the screen.  I am grateful for ALL my pregnancy-weirdness.  No complaints here.

Time to Rest

I said to my mom today, "If I could just know that I will be okay after the baby is born, I think I would have a peaceful pregnancy." Reading over this comment now points out how silly such a statement is. Why worry now about something I have no power to change in the future and which will not be near as troubling as the scenarios I create in my mind, based on extreme stories I hear? Unfortunately, that's the problem with anxiety--it's illogical and deceptive.

I had coffee with a friend recently who admitted her fears--which mirror mine. She looked at me and said, "I'm afraid to have a baby because I'm afraid of postpardum afterward." Another friend who is struggling to conceive tried to convince me (and herself, I believe) that "Maybe I'm just not meant to have kids . . . and that's okay." (But from experience, I know it's not really okay.) I know exactly how these women feel. I think that anyone who yearns for a child and then watches the stick tell them "Nope, not even close" each month struggles with some of the same kinds of fears. I admit that I even believed for a year or so that perhaps God wouldn't give me a child because I would be a bad mother after it was born. Lies, lies, lies. All lies.

As we all know, however, lies come in a variety of shapes and sizes and appear in a multitude of different circumstances. Ladies, let's find the truth, speak it to one another, and learn to live and walk and breathe it daily.

Baby Bird's Heartbeat

The little flutter in the middle of the whiteness (best seen in the last 3 seconds or so) is our baby's heartbeat. 153 beats per minute. Whoo-hoo!

I'm Finally Awake . . . for a few minutes

Those trying to call me have been getting voice mail a lot lately because I feel as if I'm either working or sleeping. This is part of the reason I haven't written an extended post in a while. I'm just plain tired. However, I was reminded by a friend at school today that it's important to keep detailing this emotional journey--the highs and lows--of fertility. A couple of observations have become thought-provoking issues for me at present.

The first follows:

A couple of weeks ago, I found out that two friends are pregnant. I recently met these sweet women and am still getting to know them, but I found their sensitivity endearing as they sought to find out where I was at in the process/how my very early pregnancy was progressing, seemingly to have an understanding for whether or not they should tell me their good news. When they did tell me, I felt excited for them, and for some reason that is difficult to pinpoint, I felt, as I often do, relieved for (while at the same time envious of) women who do not struggle through fertility medications/treatment/endless time like we did. However, I certainly didn't feel as I would have expected, like I was part of "the club" of pregnant women everywhere. Instead, I felt like an outsider, like I was hearing their news outside the walls of the security that comes with knowing a child is growing healthy and stable inside. My experience has been marked with such uncertainty that it is difficult to relax and enjoy the ride even now. I called a friend who also went through fertility treatments. She was melting and making new crayons with her daughter, and upon taking a moment to chat, she identified immediately with my feelings, reminding me that the experience of my friends has been far different from mine and will therefore bring different thoughts, struggles, and feelings. As Tim often reminds me, "Our journey has been different all along. We can't compare ours to someone else's."

The second introspective experience was this:

We toured a children's hospital labor and delivery area this past weekend in order to help select an Ob-Gyn (I've just been seeing my fertility doctor up to this point). While sitting in the small room with an uncomfortable-looking bed, I realized how REAL this was. One of my friends once said after her delivery, "I can't believe they gave me this baby to take home." Those were my thoughts in that moment. In eight months, God-willing, this tiny, scary, hungry, beautiful creature is going to ride home with me and then stay for about 18 years or so. What have I gotten myself into? In the vein of honesty that I try to cultivate on this site, I'll say that since then I've been a bit anxious. Thoughts of: What if I have postpardum depression? What if I'm too exhausted to take care of baby? What if I have to be cooped up all day with a screaming infant? Alone? Without adult conversation? As I write these fears, I smile because most likely I will deal with an aspect of all of these, and just like any other anticipatory anxiety, the real experience will not be nearly as awful as I fear. And if it is, I will walk through that too and come out on the other side. Thankfully, the struggle through infertility--as well as other life issues--has taught me that I can walk through tough times and come out stronger because of the support system that surrounds me.

Thank you to everyone for all of your support these past few months. Your words, thoughts, and prayers are so appreciated. I have another ultrasound Thursday, and I'm sure I'll once again post another pic of our little blueberry-sized miracle.

Another Baby Bird Photo-already the obnoxious parent :)

Baby Bird is the long stick-looking part, not the round circle.  It's amazing how from one week to the next, we can actually see the baby.

One Little Heartbeat

We have a heartbeat at 6 weeks and 3 days pregnant! AH!

First Pictures

I promised a couple of weeks ago that I would upload pics from the embryo transfer--of the babies, not me (I look rough).  The above picture is of our two embryos that were transferred on August 13.  We call them "Boboli #1" & "Boboli #2."

The below picture is of my uterus (fun, eh?) and of the microscopic embryos enclosed in an air bubble (the white spot next to the white arrow).

Babies first pictures--looks just like me and Tim. :)