Who Needs Ultrasounds When You Have Madame Zaritsaka?

It is no secret that I want to know the sex of our third child and I want to know it NOW. I have a lot of friends and family who don't find out or are pregnant and not finding out and I salute them, but I am a planner and a control freak, and I need to know. So ever since, I don't know, the day we found out we were pregnant I have been guessing, checking old wives tales, chinese calendars and gender quizzes to the point that my husband just sighs at the mention of the babies gender.

A few days after my first appointment I enrolled in an on-line pregnancy board on babycenter.com. It's been really nice to read the posts there and I have even posted about not 'feeling' pregnant and the women there have been very comforting and friendly and sometime have wonderful advice. This evening one of them suggested that I visit her on-line virtual clairvoyant to find out what we're having.

With little hesitation I went right to Madame Zaritsaka's website and answered her questions as honestly as possible (I mean I don't know if I like Pine or Lavender scented things better, you know?). And here is what she told me...

The day you deliver, outside will be dark. Your baby will arrive in the late evening. After a labor lasting approximately 4 hours, your child, a boy, will be born. Your baby will weigh about 8 pounds, 11 ounces, and will be 22 inches long. This child will have dark violet eyes and some brown hair.

I am really excited, I mean 4 hours sounds wonderful after my last experience and 8 lbs 11 oz. sounds a little bigger than I would like but she goes around telling alot of women they are having 14 or 16 lb. babies so I guess I should consider myself lucky. But the best thing of all is I don't have to wonder any longer, I now know I'm having a boy. Except, of course when I changed Lavender to Pine and the baby became a 15 lb. girl.

When we found out we were pregnant I thought instantly it was a girl, and they say a mother's intuition is blah, blah, blah or something but really I have no idea, the chinese gender calendar has really made me unsure of myself. And Todd thinks the baby is a boy. I just know one thing, we ARE finding out.

End of April here we come.

"And the impossible came true...God, I've worried over you"

Today was my ten week check-up, I was becoming increasingly more worried as the days crept by as I had been having less and less nausea (with the exception of the flu) and I just didn't 'feel' pregnant despite feeling the exact same way with the twins. Yesterday, I was virtually useless as I counted down the hours until my appointment this morning.

Fortunately, all is well. The doctor says the baby looks great and we even saw the baby moving fiercely, both it's arms and legs swimming in the amniotic fluid. I am once again, at least for the time being, calmed. Ward says that will last two weeks, at the most, and then I will be back in crazy worry mode. It does get easier once the baby is moving. But 25 % of the pregnancy is behind us, I can hopefully begin to breath easier.

Once again my doctor asked me about c-section versus vaginal delivery. It's my choice but after she listed the risks of both I have no idea which choice is the right one. At the moment, I am waiting to make a decision.

Here is the little one, the doctor kept referring to the baby as a him, could she possibly know something at ten weeks? No, right?

My doctor informed me that I am not 'special' this time around and I will not get an ultrasound at every visit. I can have an optional ultrasound at 18 weeks for gender determination but it costs $100 and isn't covered by insurance. Otherwise, they do a 22-23 ultrasound where they check all the organs and tell you the gender. I was 23 weeks when I finally found out that I was having a boy and a girl last time. I would like to do the 18 week "Blue or Pink" ultrasound but Ward is against it. How everyone expects crazy ole me to make it 12 more weeks without checking in, I have no idea. I know, that's what everyone has to do, I just think I'm a little crazier than most.

But for now I am completely happy.

Will I Always Be Like This?

Today the kids and I went back to Romp 'N Roll after a six week hiatus. We took December off because it was too busy and hectic to try and squeeze in any romping and I thought that we may better afford the rolling after the first of the year. We also moved up from Babies Gym to Tumble Tunes which is for walkers 10-24 months old. There were twelve children total and 15 parents and grandparents present. I love how many fathers and grandmothers come to Romp 'N Roll. Of the eleven other women there in our class this morning I overheard two of them talking about being pregnant, one "8 1/2" weeks along the other "11 or so" weeks along. They appeared to be telling people they didn't know very well or at all (me) about baby names and morning sickness. They went on happily sharing due dates as I sat there wondering what was wrong with me. Coming out on my blog was a big deal. Really big. And if Ward hadn't come out days before on his own blog you all would still be in the dark, though it's nothing personal. It's just me.

I have slowly told those members of our family close to us and paused for cramps or some other sign of Armageddon. I'm not superstitious, just filled to the brim with fear. I know I've been to the doctor and had good hcg levels and saw a pole and beating heart, I know I've been sick and dragging my feet throughout the day, but it just isn't enough, I want something that I can't have. A guarantee that all will be well.

I am much more relaxed this time around, don't get me wrong. We didn't tell anyone we were pregnant for almost three weeks last time, just kept the secret to ourselves. And then slowly over six weeks confided in those nearest and dearest. But this time, I told myself, I want to revel in the excitement of being pregnant, I want to share the wonderful news. But now, now I'm more fearful than I thought I would be. I haven't told any of my friends here in town. Only you blogging buddies.

When we did the first IVF, we told everyone. We told all of our friend and family. We kept them up to date so that they knew when we were having retrievals and when we were having blood tests. The day that I found out that neither of the eggs took everyone called to find out. Everyone of them hoping for good news. I felt like a failure that I had bad news to deliver. I made Ward answer all of those calls. The sadness in the voices, I knew, would be too much for me. I knew that everyone calling was hoping for me, concerned for me, but their sympathy was just too much to bear. I avoided everyone for days and hoped that we didn't have to talk about it when we met. It was this reason alone that the second two IVFs were a total secret form the world around us, and probably the reason everyone keeps asking if this baby too is a result of top secret science experiments.

My Dad called this morning. I told him (he was in Florida last week and I didn't want to tell him while he was on vacation, though I can't exactly explain why), he seemed excited, a little shocked. He asked what my sister had said and I told him that she said she was more excited this time around than last. He told me that it was just different last time, that they wanted to be excited, but not too excited, that they were 'guarded' in case something happened. This time, he says, will be smooth sailing. Maybe he's right. But I'm stubborn and scared anyways.

I'd love to tell you that after sharing all of this with you that I am going to be less guarded and shout this exciting news from rooftops, but I just don't think it's completely safe, rooftops during pregnancy that is. So those of you who have been pregnant, did you share the news immediately? Did you wait, and if so, how long? Is there some taboo time or am I just a little, you know, crazier than I thought?

Blog Stalking

I am totally inspired. By this.

Not only do the cupcakes look divine and the photography more than impressive, I want to know how to make these , I mean how does she get her cupcakes to drink diet soda or look like a 'Mom' tattoo?

Not that I'm feeling up to baking anything, but maybe someday. When there aren't babies the size of blueberries kicking my butt, I will attempt my own...

Positive

I figured since the cat was already out of the bag (thanks, Ward), why not go ahead and come out on my blog as well. We are still in the very early stages (I'm in my eighth week and I probably wouldn't tell anyone until twelve weeks, but Ward is super excited).

And just so you know, because you may be curious and everyone has already asked...we did not do IVF or anything else, we couldn't afford it and we wouldn't be crazy enough to do it that close to the twins anyways.

I have been really sick, really. Mostly at night though. The baby (yes, there is only one) does NOT seem to like Candy Cane JoJo's...at ALL.

One

Today Bailey and Cooper turn one. It's incredible how much more that means to me than them. They aren't even aware that it was their birthday. In the last few days leading up to their first birthday I took a little trip down memory lane, reading journal entries from this time last year. Not that I had forgotten everything but the words brought back a flood of memories, stored comfortably for the past eleven and a half months.

Yesterday morning I thought about getting up at 3 am on January 4th of last year, anxious and excited, thinking my babies would it make there entrance sometime later in the afternoon. I counted the minutes down until 6 am when I could call the hospital to see if they had room for me.

Yesterday evening I thought about watching the Incredible Hulk and not being able to feel my legs thanks to the epidural. How pointlessly we spent those last few hours as a family of two. Bana's Hulk was the reason we swore off television after our children arrived.

I've thought about the nurse checks, the pain returning as the epidural wore off, the happiness that surrounded me the moment Coop was born, followed by fear when Bailey turned. The pushing on my stomach that ensued, the wheeling me to the O.R. Being strapped to the table. The sound of Bailey's first cry and how much stronger she sounded than Coop despite the circumstances. How happy I was when they told me she would go straight to the nursery, how alone I felt when Ward left to take her there.

The long morning of recovery, the visitors and flowers. The desire to sleep I'd never felt before and haven't since. My stubborn persistence to not share my children with our visiting friends and family.

I wonder if these memories and emotions will always return to me in this powerful a way on the celebration of their birth, or if they will fade as year's pass? I know one thing, despite their being unaware of today and it's significance, their birthday means a lot to me.

I'm Wide Awake-It's Midnight

I have no idea what is wrong with me, for the past two nights I can't seem to fall asleep and then I wake up the next morning still tired and dreaming of naps all day long only to find myself tossing and turning after dark. I even went to bed 'early' tonight but after 90 minutes of tossing and turning here I am, wide awake. Bailey just woke up for a bottle and I decided that there was no point in lying in bed wide awake when I could be reading disappointing follow-up novels by Stephanie Meyer's or better yet, blogging.

In an attempt to drift off to sleep tonight I found myself reading old journal entries, yes world, I keep and have kept a diary for over 15 years. I get worse with it as I get older and now with the blog I hardly ever write and it is boring enough to put even me to sleep but it is an interesting tool of self discovery. I find that the way I remember things and the way I write things when they are happening are very different.

Take for instance what I read over tonight. I won't bore you with the word for word translation but I was reading an entry from when the twins were two weeks old. (I am anal I suppose, I write the date on every entry followed by how old the twins are, I used to write the date followed by how long we had been trying to conceive and then the date and how far along in my pregnancy I was, I find it to be a useful tool when I wish to quickly and accurately go back in time.) Anyways, I can't get over how sleep deprived I was and how fowl a mood I was in. I wouldn't call in PPD or anything but it saddens me to think that I spent anytime, yet alone weeks so tired after their arrival. I always thought the newborn stage would be hard but I thought that it would be the best time of my life. I hate to admit it, but to be completely honest, it doesn't appear that it was the best time of my life. The thing is that isn't how I remember it now. I remember it going quickly and time flying by but I don't remember any pain, sadness or exhaustion. I think it's best that I can't remember it that way and almost sad that I wrote any of it down to be reminded of how difficult a time it was. I am so disappointed that those early weeks were so difficult, I felt so alone and had such a bad case of cabin fever. It could have been the season and the lack of vitamin D in my diet but it is depressing to read and I hope I didn't rub off on people that way. Now I love being at home and I don't even like to go out unless Ward, Ricky or Lucy are with me (*you know we really should be Ricky and Lucy and they should be I don't know Fred and Ethel, I have never even seen an episode of Leave it to Beaver).

I want to have more children because well, I can't really explain it other than I just do, but I hope that next time I will be better prepared. That I will know that the exhaustion passes quickly but so does the newborn stage and I won't take it for granted like I fear that I did this time. I am making it my new mission statement to revel in all the time I have with our children, both good and bad, because before I know it we have left one stage and headed to the next, before I realize it, before I am ready.

But the whole sleep deprivation, it is so underrated. I wonder how many people laughed to themselves but in my direction when I told them that I wasn't worried about the lack of sleep because I wasn't sleeping in late pregnancy anyways, I mean who am I kidding, I have the water logged crossword puzzles to prove that I was sleeping in late pregnancy. Who knows maybe it's my fault, I mean I did poke and prod my stomach at 3a.m. in the bathtub trying to make the twins move for me so they were but only use to late night rendez vous with mom when they were born.

-june

If I Could Be So Lucky

I know most of you have better things to do than read my blog, with Super Chimps at the theatre and Monkey King Rebellions taking place, I completely understand so I will make this short.

Last week Jerry O'Connell told People that he and wife Rebecca, were trying to get pregnant.

This week, they are pregnant with twin girls without the help of In vitro or clomid?

Now that's what I call Fertile.

-june

Maybe? Baby?

A year ago today our suspicions were confirmed, our hopes verified, and our worries just beginning.

I awoke at 3 am on May 9, 2007 in pain, nervous and unable to return to slumber. I watched Scrubs on DVD and tried to keep my mind off of my 8 am test. The test we had been waiting weeks for, anxious for results. But at 3 am I wanted the time to go by slowly. Because at 8 am it could all be over, for good.

At 6 am Ward gave me my shot on the side that was less bruised and brought me my routine breakfast of oatmeal, toast and Pomegranate juice. He filled the cooler for the day. He told me he loved me.

I got up and showered. Maybe I would take a really hot bath later. I dressed in something other than pajamas. I walked downstairs slowly. Having not been on stairs for two weeks the motion seemed awkward and uncomfortable. I drove into the city.

I made it to the office right at 8 am. The nurse took my blood. I'll work my mojo on it, she said. It was nice of her to offer, I had no mojo of my own to offer.

They'll call you later. Call Ward instead, I said.

I came straight home. I had been saving a test for home use but I decided against it. I wanted to hold on to the thought that I might be at long as I could. Ward called. Asked how I was, told me he loved me. We will be alright, he said. If my voice wasn't on the verge of cracking I would have replied.

I ate my lunch early. Maybe I would go on a diet. I called my step father and wished him a happy birthday. I called my sister to chat. She didn't know my test was that day. No one did. My brother-in-law called to ask me about a song.

I tried to take a nap. I couldn't fall asleep. I couldn't stop thinking about it for even a moment.

Ward called. 1:15. My brother called. They're having another girl. They just found out. The nurse she called too. What would be a good number?

Anything over 60.

I sit up from my lying down position. I lean over the bed. I feel dizzy and nervous. It could all end here.

What about 640? We're pregnant.

I break down. I am relieved and happy. Ward tells me that he loves me and I must stop crying. There is nothing to cry about.

But I can't seem to help it. It's virtually sobbing. You're going to make me cry. Stop, june. I'm at work.

I have to call the pharmacy for progesterone refills and the nurse to schedule a follow up test. The lady who takes my refill congratulates me on my pregnancy. She is the first. I feel giddy. Like a middle schooler up late drinking soda pop.

I call the nurse. She says they usually see numbers in the 100-200s. It's still time to be cautious. I don't let her take anything away from me, but I am a little nervous.

Ward comes home and hugs me for what seems like forever. I ask if we can go by my sisters house. He agrees.

I call and tell her that we have to go and look at light fixtures even though I am supposed to be in bed. I want to come and see my 3 week old nephew whom I haven't seen since he was a few days old. She doesn't seem to catch me in this little white lie and besides I do want to see the X-man.

We stop in and I hold my nephew. I lied. We don't have to look at fixtures.

A pregnant pause.

We're pregnant.

She hugs me and we both begin to cry. The relief in her eyes matches the way my body feels.

We head home. We eat and watch a movie. I go to sleep with a happiness I haven't know for a while, maybe ever. I sleep through the night for the first time in weeks and the last time since.

-june

I Hope You're Alright.

My friend from my old hometown had her baby last Monday. Her beautiful son was born early in the morning weighing 7 lbs and 15 oz and measuring 21 inches. My friend came home on Wednesday. Her little boy is still in the hospital. Nothing severe. He had a little jaundice and a little trouble eating that was a result of her Gestational Diabetes. She is understandably upset and says it is harder to be at home without him suffering sleep deprivation from worry than having him home and suffering sleep deprivation when he awakes hungry and wet in the middle of the night. Two days before her delivery, her mother had a heart attack and is still in the hospital. She has been dividing her time between visiting both of them in the hospital.

I feel truly bad for her, she seems to be having a difficult time right now. Having had what was labeled a high risk pregnancy I spent months worrying (unnecessarily) about premature labor and phantom twin syndrome, long stays in the NICU, underdeveloped organs, bed rest, birth defects and the list goes on. Fortunately being pregnant was far easier for me than getting pregnant. I never had to go on bed rest, though my doctor warned me that at 18-20 weeks I might have to. I never developed Gestational Diabetes though I became slightly anemic near the end of my pregnancy but that was easily controlled by a once daily Iron supplement. I never got hypertension or morning sickness. I got huge but I delivered two good sized babies. The worse thing that happened to me was also the best thing that could have happened. I made it to 38 weeks and 6 days and begged for an induction that resulted in a 20 hour labor and delivery of two healthy, never even saw the NICU, babies.

I wonder pointlessly, why things are so hard for some and so easy for others. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for this. I have PCOS and have battled infertility for years, but in the end I had a healthy easy going pregnancy but I was still enraged when the doctor scheduled five weeks between my visits. My delivery was difficult and didn’t follow any sensible person’s birth plan but my children came straight to my room and got to stay with us and came home with us four days later. I could consider myself unlucky or extremely fortunate. It just depends on which view I want to take.

I have this silly plaque that used to belong to my parents, it says ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ It’s the cheapest little thing you have ever seen but the phrase has always stuck out in my mind and I often think about this saying. When times are difficult I tend to think in extremes but when I look back I tend to feel a little foolish, because things aren’t usually as bad as I have perceived them to be and I often come out of an experience having learned something, however small and trivial. And I often feel stronger. Not stronger in the physical sense but in the fact that I feel that now that I am stronger and more capable of handling more and more challenges; and life always seems to be sending us more and more challenges.

I hope that my friend’s son comes home soon and that she can come out of the experience feeling stronger about herself. I can only imagine the strength one would need when going through such a difficult time.

Am I Going Bald?

My hair is falling out.

Ward pointed it out and it is coming out by the handfulls.

I am afraid to go to sleep.

At this rate I might wake up bald.

And I mean the balding looks good on Ward, but I don't know about me.

I have those round cheeks and all.

My hair is also turning gray.

Those darn children.

I just know this is all their fault.

-june

Happy Birthday X-man

The x-man’s birthday is right around the corner and this morning while baking cookies for a family gathering Rhapsody played a song that never leaves me dry eyed after listening. The song brought back memories of that monumental day in the hospital a year ago, I thought I would share.

My sister got pregnant with the X-man weeks after our first failed attempt at IVF, they were lucky enough to get pregnant on their “first try” and she didn’t want to tell me for fear of hurting my feelings. At the time we had three of our nephews and a niece here from Arizona. The first night she called during dinner, I told her I would call her back and forgot. The next morning she called when I was on my cell phone, my niece gave me the message to call my sister back at work.

I stepped out on the deck because there was a lot of noise in the house. I called her at work. “I’m pregnant.” I was surprised but happy, I would finally if nothing else have a niece or nephew who resided in the same town as me to spoil. But at the same time I was a little sad that she had told everyone else before me because she was afraid I couldn’t handle the news, it started to rain, I didn’t come in. I took two minutes to feel sorry for myself and was fine, ready to revel in the enjoyment of someone so close to me having a child. I didn’t tell my nieces and nephews but I went and got a gift and left it on her doorstep to find when she came home that evening.

Early on in her pregnancy she asked if I would like to be present for the delivery. I wasn’t really sure, I didn’t know if it was a good idea but she sort of insisted so I agreed.

That day was amazing. Where as the birth of my own children was stressful and involved a lot of personal pain and drugs, the X-man’s birth was one of the most miraculous events I have ever been a part of. I am not trying to take anything away from the birth of my own children, but at the X-man’s delivery I was able to look at it from the outside, a family in the making.

The day before the birth I made a mix tape, the last tape (C.d. actually) I have made. Because I like to name all of my mixes and because we were in the midst of the last of our IVF’s, I named the tape On The Eve Of Expecting. A double entendre which suggested both the X-man’s arrival and the hope that I too would be pregnant soon. Kate Bush was amongst the songs on the mix.

My sister spent most of the weekend of April 14th at home in early labor. On Monday, the same day as the Tech shootings she went into the hospital only to be turned away. Finally, on Tuesday they admitted her ready to induce her but they didn’t really have to because she had progressed far enough along to let nature take its course.

I arrived at the hospital a few hours after they did. For most of the morning it was just my sister, her husband and I. We spent about two hours walking the Mother Baby Unit hoping to speed up contractions occasionally stopping for her to manage through a contraction.

The morning went along without a whole lot of progress so when Rachel called almost begging me to meet her for lunch, no one seemed to mind me running out. I would pick my brother-in-law up something to eat as well.

By the time I returned to the hospital a great number of family members were in the waiting room and they weren’t letting any of us in to see her. At this point I felt truly miserable for having left her.

After some time in the waiting room my brother-in-law came and got me. Not wanting to take any pain meds she held on for as long as she could before asking for some. She had finally agreed to an epidural and was starting to feel a little better. When I had left she was all by herself in her room and in good spirits with an occasional visit from a nurse. When I returned she wasn’t herself and the room was chocked full of hospital staff. It caught me off guard and I tried to act like I though it was normal. I think she was taken off guard at how quickly things had changed as I know I was. She was having chills, a reaction from meds, and I tried to do what I could to calm her and finally asked her to try and calm down for me because she was worrying me. This seemed to work but in retrospect I feel bad even putting that extra pressure on her to calm down for me.

Things calmed down and we talked and watched t.v. a little. She said she was glad I was there and I was too. I really appreciated her wanting to include me in the miraculous event that is birth. Because of my mother’s insistence she was asked to be present for the birth as well as my sister’s mother-in-law (though I think that had been planned all along). For some time it was just the five of us and a nurse. I was so surprised how little the doctor was present.

The delivery was incredible. I won’t go into much detail because we all know what is involved in a delivery but I have never witnessed such an amazing sight and perhaps never will again. At one point my sister rubbed my hand and said she was glad I was there, I was too. It meant a lot that she wanted me there. When the X-man arrived her reaction was precious, that moment when all her hard work was over and rewarded so beautifully.

My adorable nephew, X-man, was born at 10:17 April 17th, 2007 weighing 7 lbs even and measuring 20 inches (exactly I think).

As soon as he was out they took him over to a table to be weighed and measured and do APGARs. The grandmothers and his daddy went to look at the wonderful bundle before them. I stood by my sister, holding her hand and watching her look over at her new family.

The little man was beautiful but was having the slightest bit of trouble breathing so it was decided that he should be taken to the NICU for brief observation. This broke my sisters heart to hear as anyone who has carried around a little bugger inside them for so long to have him taken so far away can imagine. It seemed so unfair that he had to leave her side so soon even if only for a little while. She was so upset and it broke my heart as well to watch. They had his daddy carry him to the NICU, maybe to make her feel better about him having to leave. I stayed with her as all the other family left to spread the news of the pint sized new arrival. I tried to reassure her but I was worried too and I knew that she just wanted to see him so bad.

She was too sad to be visited by those in the waiting room. She was also in hormone crash time and in a lot of pain, both physically and emotionally.

A short time after we were all allowed into the NICU to see the X-man. I felt a little bad that we all got to go in and see him before my sister was out or recovery but she wanted everyone to go and see him. He was kicking and crying. The lungs were fine.

At around midnight my sister was released to be moved from delivery to Mother Baby. They wheeled her through the NICU to see her little boy and her attitude was changed immediately. She was able to see for herself that her little man was OK.

The rest of the family headed home and my brother-in-law ran home quickly to take his mom home and swing by their house to take out their dogs. My brother and I stayed with our sister. I had an appointment with my RE an hour and a half away at 8 a.m. but I wouldn’t leave the hospital until my nephew was out of the NICU. At a little before 2:30 a.m. they brought him in.

I got to hold him. I fell in love with my nephew then and he has continued to steal my heart for the past twelve months every time I see him. Even though I got pregnant that month and now have my own children they have in no way lessened the love I have for the little X-man.

Happy Birthday, Little Dude.

The next morning I had to get up early for blood tests and an ultrasound. On the way up there I listened to my mix c.d. When this song came on I broke down, all of the emotion and events from the previous 24 hours poured out of me. I had been so frightened that something was wrong when he was born and was struggling a little to breath and I was so overjoyed that he was finally here and healthy and I could only imagine what it was like for my sister.

So sis, this one’s for you.

Happy April 17th to you as well X-man’s mom.

I Was That Big!

I was pregnant for what seemed like a very long time but was actually one day shy of 39 weeks. During that time I grew and grew and grew. The entire time people told me I looked great with the exception of my father who exclaimed “Gosh you’re huge” or “I can’t believe you’re even bigger” the next time I saw him. Turns out he was just being honest.

I know, most of us do it, we tell pregnant women that they look great but most of the time I really think that it’s true. There are occasionally a few that I tell this to because it’s obvious they are miserable and I want to make them feel better. This is what people were doing for me evidently.

Last night at Bunco someone brought some pictures to give to me from the Christmas party when I was 35 weeks pregnant. I looked at the picture of me and another member of the group who was 5 months pregnant at the time and thought “I was that big!”

For the last few months of my pregnancy people kept saying “You don’t look like you’re having twins,” and I didn’t, apparently I looked like I had swallowed a truck. And this picture is four weeks before I delivered, by then I must have looked like I had swallowed a fire truck, unfortunately there are no pictures to prove one way or another.

*(Faces have been changed to protect our identities)

Thing is, those same very people who told me I looked great then are saying the same thing now. My father has yet to see me, maybe I should just wait to hear what he has to say.

-June

Their First Photo

The first picture I have of Trauma and Trouble, they are three days old and consist of eight cells each. I don’t mean three days old in the conventional way, I mean they are three days from conception, it is the photo of them before they were returned to me. In the photo they are two clearly distinguished embryos, each with eight beautiful overlapping circles. During my two weeks in bed I looked at this photo several hundred times.

We had been here before, hopeful and optimistic. But each time failed and we got more distrustful of the whole procedure. We were told the first time that our chances were high, 75%. Never believe home grown statistics. We tried three times in nine months, the first failed completely, the second was an early loss with a number of 40 when they like to see 60 or higher. Each failure was difficult but we somehow managed to convince ourselves to give it one more try.

The third try would be our last we decided, three strikes you’re out. But we also decided we would do everything we could so there would be no regrets, no second-guessing. I stopped drinking caffeine and eating soy. Ward took a dozen vitamins daily. Exercise, but not too much. Lupron this time and assisted hatching. Gonal-F instead of Bravelle. Vitamin B supplements. The doctors were anxious, they suggested transferring four instead of the usual two. A different antibiotic. A larger starting dose of follitropin.

And so began the daily injections, three in the evening, all given ‘subq’ (in the belly) by Ward. I went daily for ultrasounds, counting and measuring the progress, and blood checks to follow my estriodol levels. As usual, I went too fast, they lowered my medicine but by this point it was too late. No one other than my sister and my grandmother knew we were giving it one last try. There was no reason to get everyone else’s hopes up. On the day my nephew is born I have to sneak away into the labor and delivery suite bathroom to give myself my injections. And still the levels rise too quickly which is a bad thing. One morning after my appointment the doctor himself calls, the levels are too high, I am instructed to go home immediately for an emergency dose and then another one that night with my HCG. I will have my retrieval in 48 hours. Two days sooner than the soonest they like anyone to go.

I am told to remain optimistic.

The retrieval doesn’t go well. The anestiologist tells me he and his wife gave this several tries, then they adopted. After I am awake the nurse comes in, they got six eggs even though there looked like twenty. I am devastated. Over the next few days I fall into a depression, the nurse calls daily with updates and appointment times. On the day of the transfer the doctor comes in, good news finally, two eggs looked perfect, he suggests only transferring three of the remaining four, we agree.

During the transfer they snap a photo; this will become their first picture. They really do look good; I have other photos at home to compare to it. After the transfer, the embryologist asks to speak with us. This is a first. He tells us they really do look very good, he thinks this will be our time. I am surprised to even see him, he is like the great Wizard of Oz, you don’t usually get this luxury.

I go home and lay down as flat as possible for two weeks. I don’t even shower for five days for fear of standing up. This is the dreaded two week wait and the only things that get me through it are my photo and my Ward. He cooks, he cleans, and he visits me. He packs a cooler, he goes to Walmart, and he loves me.

At one week the office calls as usual but instead of a nurse it is the embryologist again. He tells me he is pulling for me, and I believe he is sincere. At two weeks I go for my blood test. I haven’t been down the stairs or outside in two weeks. Afterwards I come home, I must prepare for what may happen next. As is our ritual Ward will call with the results, I can’t handle hearing it from the nurse.

At 1 p.m. he calls. It is too early for results, I think. He has heard from his brother and the nurse. They’re having another girl, he tells me. I will be happy for them later, right now I need the results.

“So, what is a good number?” he asks. We’ve been over this a dozen times, “Anything over 60” I remind him. “What about 640?” he asks. I break down, I really wasn’t expecting good news. I cry harder than I did when the results are bad.

This is what I think about when I look at that first photo of my children.

-June

I have been misled

After almost six years of trying we finally succeeded in getting pregnant.

At six weeks, we learned it was twins.

So after finding out I was going to have not one but two babies my pregnancy was recategorized as high risk. This didn't mean that I got to see the doctor more often but only that when I saw her that she would continue to remind me that twins are often born premature "small and sick", that their mothers almost always develop gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, anemia, placental problems, or something just as bad and that I would almost definitely experience bedrest no later than week 20. My many books on twins reinforced the notion that twins often come early, too early and have to spend time in the NICU, so gain weight early, at least 50 lbs. These books, as well as magazines and other helpful advice from friends and family continued to remind me that I would be lucky to carry two babies for 32 weeks, the majority of twins are born premature.

I was warned about vanishing twin syndrome.

I was warned about the costs of twins and the medical costs associated with prematurity and long NICU stays.

I was warned to buy a pump and plan to use it to keep milk production up while the babies spent time in the NICU.

I was warned that most twins are born via C-section.

So I expected Thanksgiving babies even though my due date wasn't until January 2008. But (fortunately) they didn't come. Then I expected early December babies. As we neared Christmas and I began to dilate I began to expect Christmas babies. They'll be here by New Year's, I thought. It has finally dawned on me that these babies are never going to be born.

Now don't get me wrong, I love carrying around 40 extra pounds and so does my back. I love having feet that look like bricks but feel like jelly. I love having stretch marks that don't just cover my belly but everywhere else, at least those places I can still see. But I must admit that why I was warned of prematurity, bedrest, small babies, and weeks in the NICU I was able to prepare myself emotionally at least a little bit for what was in store. BUT what I wasn't prepared for was making it until my 39th week, which is a miracle for which I am grateful when well rested, but I feel as though I have been misled.

-June