pixi.bits

+

Hey, everyone. Thanks for checking in on me and sorry for the mini disappearing act. Once the holidays were over (hallelujah), I went back to work and found myself buried in a rather deep hole. So I've been digging out. Digging and digging.

This past Saturday, I was so wiped that I spent most of the day on the couch with my super fat & furry cat, Miti. Really, I had little inclination to move, and having the big warm fuzz machine curled up next to me didn't help. But around dinner time, I decided to get up, and when I did, that's when I noticed that my boobs felt heavy (sound of lightbulb blinking on). So, I called my husband who was out erranding, and I asked him to bring home a test.

He got home an hour later, but instead of coming right upstairs he went downstairs to our tenant's apartment and stayed there for about a half an hour. All the while, I'm holding it, not so much concerned about doing the test right away, but I had to GO. Eventually he came up and said, "Do you mind if I go first?" So much for eager anticipation.

Anyway, I finally got to pee on the stick, and I got a faint second line, but definitely a line. I brought the stick out to show M. and he said, "OK...How should I cut this lettuce?" I told him that I usually tear it with my hands. Then I put the stick down and went over to flip the chicken and onions I had on the stove (peeing on a stick while cooking, yes). M. did his thing with the lettuce and then came over and gave me a little hug. "We'll see," I said.

My mom called the next day, and I told her. She sighed and told me to tell her what happens at my next doctor's appointment. Speaking of which, I don't actually have one yet. I've been playing phone tag with the nurse. I'm not feeling so urgent about getting in there either, even though I probably should be. Right now, I'm not on anything, no baby aspirin, no progesterone, nothing. I figure I'll get that squared away this week some time. Or next. Somehow, I don't think the trouble starts this early on for me.

So we're taking it slow (emotionally) with this one, much as I had suspected we would. It hasn't all been so blasé, though. We've had our moments of cautious hope and celebration. We went out to lunch at a cute little Mexican restaurant in Cambridge to quietly acknowledge this latest development.

So that's where I am. 4 and 1/2 weeks (LMP) and sort of in a daze. Trying to stay positive.

the dc gathering & looking forward to '06

Two nights before the DC Infertile's Luncheon, I asked M. if Expedia would let you exchange a ticket, if you decided not to use it. "Sure," he said, "but why?" I told him that my throat was scratchy, and I had a headache. And there was a good chance that I'd be feeling really lousy come Wednesday morning. Plus I was really backed up at work and couldn't afford to take the day off. AND I should be attacking the laundry piles instead of jetting off for lunch AND...

Truth is, I was having a bit of a fit. This has become my modus operandi whenever I'm meeting new people these days. Or leaving the house for that matter. For the day-to-day stuff it's more of an internal freakout, and I manage to pull myself together and do what I have to do. I do, however, find myself retreating more and more from social gatherings. Especially when it involves meeting new people or people whom I haven't seen in a long time.

You see, I've gained fifty pounds in the past two and a half years. I partially blame the fact that I was pregnant for nine out of those 30 months and I ate to console myself after each miscarriage. But now, it's just become a bad habit - not making good choices, not stopping myself when I should. So, my weight gain + my reproductive struggles + another source of frustration that I, following Dooce's advice, don't blog about = a pretty unhappy me. A me who prefers to stay home and face the world through a computer.

However, when my alarm went off at 5:00 AM on Wednesday morning, I jumped up and got ready. And in control top pantyhose, a long black skirt, and a lot more makeup than usual, I went out the door feeling reasonably OK. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to bag out at the last minute, not after saying I would attend. Plus, I truly wanted to meet the bloggers (Lori, Flicka, Thalia, Jenn, Cass, & Manuela) who would be there.

And I am SO glad that I went. The Tabard Inn was absolutely charming. The tour of the Capitol building, spectacular. The company? Incredibly warm, lovely, brilliant, funny, vibrant, insightful (and very stylishly accessorized) - women from interesting and varied backgrounds united in the understanding of what it's like to struggle hard to become a mother. It felt great to spend the day connecting with others who really get that. It was truly good for the soul. For a detailed play-by-play of the day, visit Flicka's site.

When I got home, my husband asked how it went. I told him, "better than I could have hoped." Now how often do you get to say that?

And I'm finding myself rather inspired by my experience at the DC gathering. Knowing what I might have missed had I chosen to stay home, I'm thinking it's high time for me for me to stop hiding and start living life with more gusto. I don't know what that means exactly yet, but I do know that something's got to change. I've had enough of my current scene, really. And hell, I figure this is as good a time as any to make a fresh start.

So no specific resolutions, only to live better and to live more. And thanks, ladies of the luncheon, for providing the spark I so desperately needed. Y'all (wink wink Lori) are amazing!

And special thanks to Flicka for doing all the leg work (and what legs!) for us. And for making those incredible Infertility Survival Kits. And, yes, my candy is already gone! Hey it's not '06 yet!

And also special thanks to Lori & her husband for hooking us up with that fabulous tour of the Capitol building. It was the perfect afternoon event. And thanks again, Lori, and also Manuela for sticking around & having dinner with me since I had time to kill before my flight back. It was great to have some extra time with you both.

Happy New Year everyone. I hope '06 is a good one for us all!

personal symbols

I can't remember how it started, but for roughly fifteen years I've thought of red as my lucky color. Whenever I spot a certain red object, I take it as a "sign" of good things to come. Some of my lucky red objects include:

lady bugs
red birds (esp. cardinals)
red volkswagen beetles (the old kind, a convertible is doubly good)
red karmann ghias (a convertible is super double plus good)

Sort of silly, I know. But the thing is, I don't literally believe these things foretell a specific event. To me, they aren't signs of a superstitious nature. Rather they are reminders that good things do and will happen. The infrequence of the sightings is part of what gives them special meaning. That's why red flowers aren't on my list. I see them all the time. It takes a bit of serendipity to give me a little lift. Typically after spotting a cardinal, I think to myself, "Boy, I needed a cardinal today."

I haven't shared this with many people. For certain, it's been a long while since I've mentioned it to anyone. A good long while. Well, on Dec. 22nd, I received a small package from my friend, L. (formerly known as friend #2) that just about knocked me over. Inside was small red plastic ornament made with dyed-feathers and wire legs that were somewhat smooshed inside a cellophane wrapper. It was an ugly little thing, really, but the sentiment was beautiful and clear. With all that L and I have been through in the past several months - so much hurt, so much anger, so much awkwardness about being at opposite ends of the fertility spectrum - she found a way to let me know that she wishes good things for me. I don't know how she found it, but let me tell you, I needed a cardinal that day. That cardinal was a long time in coming.

When it comes time to take down the tree, I won't pack away my special ornament. I'll hang it in the kitchen so it can it can continue to hint at good things to come - hopefully in 2006.

Also, I drew <---this cardinal and placed it here as a way of saying that I wish good things for you all. I really do.  And I'd love to know about the personal symbols that any of you might have. Surely I'm not the only one?

the honeymoon is over

Sorry for disappearing this past week. I'm playing catch-up in many areas of my life right now.  Things are basically fine, though.

The post-miscarriage waiting period is all but over, so it would be logical for me to write about the up-coming attempts at baby making. But I'm having trouble finding words. Definitely having trouble getting excited about all that business. Don't get me wrong. I still want to be a mom - more than ever - but the thought of trying to conceive again - I'm not sure how to describe how I feel about that - flat, I guess.

I've been thinking about what "the quest" was like in the beginning, and how much I've changed with all that's happened. Here's a look back:

This is M. and me on our wedding day in May of 2003. See the way I'm looking at my new husband? I can't tell you exactly what I was thinking at that moment, but I know the idea of our future family and our happy little life together was in there somewhere. We started trying that night.

---

I didn't get pregnant on our honeymoon, though. It didn't happen until 8 months later. By then, I was tired of the process and of having my hopes dashed. I hadn't bothered to count post-ovulatory days that cycle, as I had, eagerly, in previous months. Here I am on day 31 when I finally realized that I was late. My first positive pregnancy test did a lot to wipe away the built up frustration.

---

And I can't believe I'm showing you this picture, but here's my husband and I giving the test the "thumbs up." It's corny as hell, but that's where we were at that moment - so thrilled and optimistic about what the future would bring.

---

Here we are in Washington D.C. a month later. We were there, because I was speaking at conference about instructional technology. My session was about the use of blogs in education! I think I look tired, but happy. Happy and hopeful. That's the Washington monument hovering above my head.

---

Here's another shot of M. and me, this time with the Capitol building in the background. See that white dot? Every time M. and I take a trip, he takes a picture of us by holding the camera at arm's length. We have dozens of them. A while ago, I started thinking about how great it would be to share the photos with our children some day. When we took these two shots, I was thinking that our first kid was on the way.

---

Here's another DC shot, this time at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden. To me, it felt like the top of the world. I was surrounded by great art. Spring had finally arrived. And I was pregnant! In that moment, everything seemed to be going right. Later that night, I spotted for the first time. Just a tiny speck, but it was the first hint that something could go wrong. And it did - again and again.

---

So starting this week, M. and I will have a fourth go-round at trying for our first child. Should we be lucky enough to get yet another positive, we certainly won't be taking any thumbs-up/pee stick pictures. The days of our "TTC" honeymoon are over. Long over. And while this next attempt won't be without hope entirely, it will be a different kind hope than what we had in the beginning. A quieter, more guarded sort of hope. One that comes with a deep understanding that there are no guarantees in any of this.

38

Today is my birthday. Any guesses what I'm wishing for?

Here's a sketch from a journal I was keeping in 1999. Of course, back then, I couldn't imagine what the pursuit of my dream would entail. I guess most of us here could say the same.

And today (as in this day), I'm doing reasonably OK - not focusing too much on "38" and what that means.

a good & bad day, but mostly good

On Monday, I got a call from friend #1 asking if I would be interested in visiting friend #2 in the hospital. That's right - she delivered.

I asked friend #1 if she had discussed it w/friend #2. She told me she hadn't, but she thought it would be OK. "I really don't think she'll be rude to you," she said. I sighed. I thought about it. I sighed some more. Then I decided I couldn't go, unless I knew I would be welcome. I couldn't handle seeing someone's newborn AND getting the cold shoulder at the same time. That would be beyond beyond. Friend #1 said that she understood, and we left it at that.

A half hour later, she called back saying that friend #2 would indeed like to see me. Without hesitation, I said OK. We agreed to meet in the hospital cafeteria and go up to the maternity ward together. I told her I'd call once I'd reached the hospital, so she could come down to get me.

The hospital is two miles from my office. Unfortunately, it took me a long time to get across town. And another 10 minutes to park. And I left my cell phone at the office. And I didn't have my friend's number memorized. And she was not in the cafeteria. Or the coffee shop. Or the gift shop. Crap.

I wandered the halls, thinking about what to do. I decided to bite the bullet and go up to maternity on my own. Only, I was lost. Walking back and forth and starting to feel overwhelmed. You know how it is when you're in a fragile emotional state, and stupid things have you in tears?

Eventually I found my friend’s room, but her privacy curtain was pulled shut. So, I listened outside the door. There were hospital staff with her, but I didn't hear friend #1. So I waited. Eavesdropping. It felt weird and wrong. Before our falling out, friend #2 told me everything. Now, I wasn't sure I should be privy to anything taking place behind the curtain.

But I stayed and waited. As I stood in the hall, a new mother hobbled by, pushing a tiny baby. Then a nurse emerged from the room. She told me my friend was with a lactation consultant, and that she'd be done in about five minutes. Ten minutes passed. The nurse came out again and said, "about five more minutes." It was a thousand degrees in that hallway. I felt weak. The world swirled around me with flashes of babies that never got to be. Still I waited.

In time, friend #1 showed up with friend #2's husband, E. He hugged me hello; said it was great to see me. The three of us waited together, until we were granted permission to enter. I let them go ahead of me, choosing to go in last. As I did, I looked at my friend; she looked at me and nodded. I nodded back.

For an hour and a half, we proceeded to have a normal visit. Somewhat subdued perhaps, but friendly and comfortable. We contemplated her 4 name choices. We talked about her postpartum puffiness (heh). We marveled at her son's mop of dark hair. She never offered to let me hold the baby (as she had with her others), and of course, I didn't ask. And, yes, she and I still have a lot of unpleasant business to deal with. But we put it aside, because this was an important ritual, and we needed to do it. It would have felt wrong not to.

When it was time to go, E. asked the three of us to pose for a picture with the baby. So we obliged, no big deal, really. As he was snapping the shot, he said, "The Witches of Eastwick." Funny. We get that a lot.

And so that's that. The baby is here. The status of the friendship is unclear, but there seems to be hope. I don't know how we're going to resolve things, and I don't really care. One step at a time. Right now, my head's still spinning.

preliminary results are in...

I had my follow up appointment with the specialist today, and it turns out that I might have a clotting issue of sorts. I'll refrain from giving a full explanation, because my understanding of the situation is still limited. The essential bit is that the levels of one of my coagulation inhibitors (protein S) is off. I need to be retested, and we're not 100 percent sure that this is the real problem, but it's a lead.

Next stop: the hematologist's office. Yep, I get passed on to someone else for awhile. She'll decide what further tests I need, whether or not to test my parents (because it can be an inherited mutation), and what the course of treatment should be (most likely baby aspirin and/or heparin shots, if anything).

So there we are. It's good to have something to go on, and a glimmer of hope. We're still on hold for trying, and I have no idea when we'll be given the nod.  And right now, I'm strangely OK with that. More time to focus on getting healthy, I guess.