OB Jackpot!

Yeah, so I had my first meeting with the actual OB, and she's a total badass. I need to come up with a clever nickname for her, but I'm afraid I'm creatively tapped at the moment. I had assumed that this would just be a quick issue-check appointment, since I was having that issue with the abdomen pain for which the appointment was made, but it was actually a first-appointment-with-the-OB plus issue-check appointment. So, I had the pleasure of dropping trou for a chlamydia/gonorrhea test (though I escaped a pap since I had managed to convince them that the one I had in late July was sufficient-- though I somehow was unable to convince them that the full STD panel work up I had at the same time was also sufficient. Oh, well.), but I also got the unexpected thrill of another ultrasound, just to check the heartbeats. They had a real dinosaur of a machine, so I didn't get any pictures, plus after trying with the normal scanner, they had to switch to the trans-vaginal scanner to get a clearer look at the heartbeats. Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Dildo Cam!

Pausing here to note the pointedly second-class way cycling IVF patients are treated as opposed to those who actually get pregnant:
-heated speculums
-warm ultrasound goo
-large and comfortable gowns
-generously sized sheets in which to wrap your bare lower half
-large, well-lit rooms with cushy-squishy tables to lay on
-pillows

Yeah. So not only do you get the bonus of a possible baby, you also get treated like a human being as opposed to a test subject. That said, my experiences with the actual facilities at the RE's office were totally fine. The rooms were well-appointed and modern, but the personal touches found in an OB's office clearly showed the desire to make patients as comfortable as possible, whereas those considerations seemed to be missing at the RE.

Anyhow. Back to the appointment...

So, we discussed the abdominal pain, and her theory right now is that it is pain caused by scar tissue from the prior gall bladder surgery. However, she wants me to have an abdominal ultrasound to rule out residual stones. How incredibly unfair would that be to get fricking gall stones with NO GALL BLADDER. WTF.

She had a ton of information for me, and she spilled it all with such rapidity I could barely catch up (which I like, actually.). There was not much silence in that room as she told me about her preferences for my treatment during this pregnancy. For instance, her husband is head of laparoscopic surgery at the medical school's hospital, so if I ever need urgent treatment, she prefers that I go to that hospital (as opposed to the other) because she actually has some pull at that hospital. Which is not a problem, except that my prior surgeon who I LOVE doesn't practice at that hospital, nor is it the hospital with which my primary care doc is associated. It's really frustrating to live in this tiny town with two major hospitals and to have doctors so divided as to which hospital they associate with.

Anyhow, in this early part of pregnancy, she prefers appointments every two weeks, just to check on the heartbeat. So (pointlessly, in my opinion) on the day I have my NT scan, I also have an appointment later in the day to have a heartbeat check. So two ultrasounds in one day, I guess. I would think that the NT scan would probably not progress too far if they don't see a heartbeat, right? They're so tiny right now, how could you measure the nuchal fold without catching the heartbeat? But whatever. It's another chance to gaze adoringly at tiny flickering blobs on the screen.

As it turns out, she grew up in Germany, in the south, but spent considerable amount of time in a town on the North Sea, and so, she just randomly happened to be familiar (at least with the name) of H's teetiny hometown. She also happens to live in the neighborhood across the street from me. She asked if I wanted to join her for a 5:15 a.m. run everyday (um, thanks. But no.). Which brings me to my one and only complaint about her.

She casually asked me what I was doing to "keep [myself] healthy", and I told her that pre-pregnancy, I was a runner, but that IVF took a lot out of me, and that I had been so desperately fatigued that I was having a very hard time motivating myself to do much, but that I anticipated that after I was back from the holidays, that I wanted to join the YWCA and start swimming. She approved, but encouraged me to be walking 2-3 miles a day (um, running three miles takes me more than half an hour, closer to an hour with warm up and cool down-- exactly how long does she want me to be exercising every day???). And that exercise was the key to (and here's the issue I had) preventing weight gain during pregnancy.

I am 100% in support of keeping myself healthy during this pregnancy. However (especially with a twin pregnancy), weight gain is critical during this time. I really, really do not want to get myself in that mindset, approaching this pregnancy with a desire to keep myself as skinny as possible. It's not healthy, and it's a dangerous mindset for someone who has struggled to lose weight and keep it off for years. It's been very hard for me to reverse that instinct and start focusing on eating well regardless of what my weight does. My instinct in these situations where I start gaining weight is to eat substantially less and bump up my exercise regimen, and that's not the best plan during pregnancy. As of this morning, since the day the peestick turned pink, I've gained exactly 5.5 pounds. I weighed 207.5 this morning (down a pound from yesterday-- no idea why), so since late July, when I first started down the IVF path, I've gained about 8-9 pounds. As I said in my last post, I refuse to get wound up about this, but I have to make sure that my doctor is on board with me. And right now, it doesn't look like she is, and I really hope this doesn't become an issue.

And I get her reasoning. She was a trim 130 lbs when she got pregnant with her first child, and she gained 68 lbs, which she has never lost (despite being a runner). Granted, she's tall enough that even at 198, she looks totally normal, thinner than me, so at 130, she must've been emaciated. And that's something I've noticed, the weight attitude difference between people who once had that (generally) unattainable level of skinniness, and people who have always been a bit round. I don't see roundness as the enemy. But I'm pulled because I was once much, much heavier than I am now, and I know how hard it is to lose those pounds. So part of me doesn't care about weight gain right now, but the other part keeps piping up in the back of my head about how hard it is to lose those pounds. And had I been ridiculously skinny in the first place, and was presented with the possibility of never being skinny again, I might think differently about advising people on weight gain during pregnancy, especially if pregnancy was the event that caused my seemingly irreversible weight gain. But five pounds to a skinny person is far different than five pounds to a plump person.

(Oh, and just a side-note to the anorexic a-holes who occasionally stop by this blog courtesy of an ancient fat-positive post I wrote that got linked on some stupid anorexia celebrating blog-- seriously, a blog that celebrates an atrocious eating disorder-- but YES. It's super easy to lose five pounds with diet and exercise, and thus, when you are super skinny, and "get fat", it's super easy for you to get back down to being skinny because you've only gained FIVE FRICKIN' POUNDS. Losing sixty pounds is simply not the same as losing five pounds 12 times. Bodies don't work that way, though if you haven't ever had 60 lbs to lose, I could see why you might be deluded into thinking so. So perhaps don't be so quick to advise fatties when you haven't walked a mile in their shoes...)

Anyhow, I like her personality, and I like her level of expertise, and I like that she insists on ultrasounds at every appointment (twist my arm, lady!), but we'll have to work on our discussions about weight. Overall, I couldn't have been more happy to have ended up with her as my OB. She's smart, funny, consciencious, kind and informed. I just wish she had a different attitude about weight, but I can basically lie to her and/or ignore her advice if it conflicts with what I know to be true about myself.

Oh! And I almost forgot! As we were trying to get a good look at Twinkle (little bugger has never been in a cooperative position), it waved it's little hands at the screen. I know that there isn't coordinated movement at this age, but it was cool to see movement anyhow. And Twinkle was sitting with it's legs as though it was sitting on the side of a pool, but Sparkle was sitting with tightly cross-legged, arms crossed, too. I guess I did something that rubbed Sparkle the wrong way! They were both moving around a ton, and it was very hard to get a good look at the hearts, but eventually, we were able to see both babies' pulsing beats, right at 150 bpm. Awesome.

So, that's the story of my first real OB appointment. Any good doctor stories to share (OB or non)?

Nine Weeks (plus six days)

Sparkle (aka John Lennon), nine weeks

Twinkle (aka Paul McCartney), nine weeks

What can I say? I'm still working on the embryonic (soon to be fetal) nicknames... But nonetheless, there they are. Weird to think that almost a full week has passed since I last saw the Sparks, but tomorrow does in fact mark the day I turn ten weeks. GAH. Can you believe it? Ten weeks already! Were this a singleton gestation, I'd be 1/4 of the way there already. Crazy.

At almost ten weeks now, I am thrilled (if a bit worried) about the fact that, other than a few question-mark moments, I seem to have escaped without any real morning sickness. I have some food aversions, but other than a time when I was reading a graphic description of someone eating their boogers, I haven't had much real nausea. The bloating continues, though it has been somewhat alleviated by the fact that I'm no longer on supplementary progesterone (I forgot to mark the occasion when it happened because my last dose was the night before I left for San Diego, and I was wound up about other stuff), though some of the bloat seems to have been replaced by real, live fat instead. So much better, right? But so far, total, I've gained about 8 pounds. And considering that this is the exact amount I gained after one week in Texas and two doses of Lupron, I don't feel too badly about that. I know that a big part of that gain is caused by IVF stuff, and plus, if I'm following Dr. Stuff-Your-Face-Then-Nap (aka Dr. Barbara Luke), I should have gained about two more pounds than that by now anyway. So. I hereby absolve myself of any weight-gain guilt.

I do have a doctor's appointment today with my new OB (I only met the new patient nurse last time), because I've been having pain that starts where my gall bladder used to be (seriously, if I didn't know for sure that the gall bladder was removed, I would think I was dealing with gall stones again), but then it starts to move down my right side, along my side to the midline of my belly, and around my belly button. By the time I finish eating dinner, my whole belly is tight and achy and tender. It's probably just IBS issues (compounded by the whole pregnant tendency to digest as though my food were plodding along on a death march), but nevertheless, I'd like to make sure there's not something else wrong, like a tumor or some crazy nonsense ("eet's noht ah toohmah!"). I'm looking forward to meeting with her. While I got a ton of information at the last appointment with the nurse, I didn't get any idea of how often I'd be seeing the doctor. I know there's not necessarily a set schedule, but other than the copious ultrasound scans I'm scheduled for over the next couple of months, there didn't seem to be any indication of when I would have normally seen the obstetrician. I mean, were it not for the TOOHMAH, I have no idea when I would be meeting this person who is supposed to be caring for me throughout this pregnancy.

Oh, well. I know I'm supposed to be all wound up about the obstetrician thing. I'm supposed to actively champion for my proper care, invest in my own health, be proactive, etc., but after having a fit with a few other obstetrics offices in this area, I just decided to let go of that fret. I have enough to fuss over. I don't need to worry about this one. As far as I understand, the person I've decided to use is the head of obstetrics and gynecology at the local medical school, and she's delivered a ton of twins, and she's supposed to be an all-around badass, so unless her bedside manner is absolutely horrid, I think I'll just deal with it. As long as my questions get answered, and I feel like she's got my (and the babies) best interests in mind, I'll be okay.

Thanks to everyone for all the suggestions. I dug through Amazon this past week and dropped a bunch of random stuff onto a baby registry list. I have no idea whether most of it will be of use or not, but I don't really care. I intend to cloth diaper, so I definitely put a bunch of cloth diapering stuff on the list (since those emther-efkers are expensive!), but I don't know exactly what it is that my MIL wants to buy. I ended up putting some things on there that are more gift-ish items (1-2 clothing items and a toy or two), but I tried to keep it to things I really thought we'd need, which end up being the practical crap that no one wants to get for you, things that aren't the kinds of things you coo over at a baby shower (I've never heard someone say, 'AWWW! An ear thermometer! Isn't that the cutest thing, EVER??'). I don't know. My MIL has already informed H that there will be a present coming for once we get the whole boy/girl thing sorted out, and another for Christmas (I don't think she realizes that the boy/girl sorting-out-thing won't be done until after Christmas, but whatev.), and to be honest, it all makes me a little uncomfortable. I'm just not ready to be making these kinds of decisions, and I know they need to be made, but I'm just not ready. I'm not ready to get baby gifts yet, when I feel like I barely know these babies at all (John and Paul can be so private at times. Comes off as aloof.).

However. Non-baby gifts are ALWAYS appreciated, and I've been remiss in not telling you about a couple of weeks ago when I got not one, but TWO sweet surprises in the mail on the same day! Melissa over at So It Goes offered a craft swap thingy, and I signed up (and greedily never offered my own...). And she sent me the CUTEST little pictures, all sparkly and sweet, perfect for a spot in the sweet Sparks' nursery. Melissa, you're the BEST! Thank you!!! And secondly, my non-blog-having-friend, Serah, sent me three pounds of potato salad! Er, okay, actually, it was a gift certificate to Whole Foods so I could procure my own potato salad, being that every pregnant lady needs some potato salad, but still! How AWESOME! It was everything I could do not to go and splurge on a big fat bottle of ripe, round, warm, fruity red zinfandel, but I've so far managed to shove aside the siren song of delicious wine. Anyhow, SERAH IS THE AWESOMEST. If you have the pleasure to know her, count yourself among the luckiest.

Lastly, I don't know if I'm getting a burst of nesting energy early or something (or if I have finally moved past my obsession with napping and can now think about other things), but the desire to rearrange the house is overwhelming. I have wanted for a long time to move my refrigerator to a different location in my kitchen and buy some countertops/cabinets to go on either side of it. It's not a hard project. There's already an outlet where I want to move it, and so I'd just have to move the existing water line. Unfortunately, the outlet currently in place isn't a grounded outlet, so I really need an electrician to put in a new one there, but then again, we also need a second outlet changed on that same wall, plus another outlet run into the adjacent room, so we should wait until we're ready to do all three before we do the one. I can move the water line myself, easy-peasy (drill hole in floor, string 1/4" hose through hole...), but I'm being hung up on the whole electricity thing again. However, once I move the fridge, I can move the table into the kitchen. And once I do that, I can set up the dining room as a playroom-ish area. And once I do that, I can make a decision about where to move our office, since the office will eventually become the nursery, but part of the office might move into the old dining room with the playroom, but I just won't know until I can get in there and move things around myself. And see, I hear after a certain point, pregnant ladies shouldn't be shoving heavy things, and crawling around in dank basements, moving things around hither and yon, etc.

But, until I do all of this other stuff, I won't be able to do the nursery, and I think that for my sanity, even if the babies room in with me for the first couple of months, there needs to be a dedicated baby-space where they can go when mama needs some quiet time. And until I figure out the nursery, my MIL will be breathing down my neck to put stuff on that registry. But whatever. We'll figure it out.

Yeah. So that's my world. What's up in yours?

Thanks-to-be-given Soon

I'm in Asheville for Thanksgiving today-- there has never been a more truly pregnant-perfect holiday than Thanksgiving. I mean, I'm hungry, pretty much all the time, and Thanksgiving is all about eating, and eating all day long. And eating *lots* of carbs, which suits me very well right now.

Anyhow, we had our first OB appointment yesterday. I really love the new patient nurse. She's 150 years old, but so incredibly kind and patient and informed. And the clinic seems to be on top of their game as well. I go in on Monday for a check-up because I've been having some pain in my abdomen, probably related to bloating (and probably tangentially related to the two giant cysts on my ovaries that are still hanging around...). I have 4 more ultrasounds between now and the end of January, which again, suits me just fine (nuchal fold, cyst progress scan, anatomy scan and one more that I can't remember the reason for right now...). Awesome. Once I'm back, I'll scan in the latest ultrasound photos. They're still looking great, hearts still beating strongly.


Sorry for the brevity, but as it is the holiday, and 11:00 a.m., I should probably go ahead and shower at some point so we can get going on cooking dinner.

Oh, but one last thing... my very sweet MIL would like to send me gifts periodically and has asked me to set up a registry so she can send things we want and need. And I'm feeling like it's a little early, and I have no idea what I would want. So, are there any suggestions for things I can put on a registry that will be useful, but not too committed to a particular gender or theme? I just have no idea.

So. Have a brilliant Thanksgiving. I hope you get to eat lots and lots of food with lots and lots of people you like.

Eastward, Ho!

Ah. We arrived yesterday evening from our westward jaunt. I would have told you more about it along the way, but you know what I hate? Stupid hotels that charge stupidly high rates for internet access. Stupid, is what it is.

Anyhow, forgive my silence. I didn't have internet access. Granted, even if I did, I wouldn't have had time to use it anyhow. We landed Thursday evening, and despite being asleep on my feet, we managed to walk around the downtown area a bit and find a place for dinner (mexican food! mexican food that doesn't suck! guacamole made with actual avocado, fresh avocado at that! salsa that has actual heat! I had almost forgotten what it was like...).

Thanks for drinking that giant margarita right in front of me, dear. I didn't want one anyway.

Anyhow, after dinner, I demanded rest, and so went back to the hotel and slept the sleep of death (aka the sleep of a person in the early part of a twin pregnancy who has been travelling all day without a nap). Which is fine, because I needed to be UP and ENERGETIC and HAPPY the next morning for my day with the awesome KARA!

And I'm glad I did get some sleep. We started the day with a late breakfast (aka breakfast, the second, as is the habit of the twin-pregnant lady...) at Cafe 222, a great spot for breakfast with out-of-sight waffles. I am a waffle lover, and I think I pretty much horrified Kara by plowing in to my waffle with fruit, not stopping till I hit the ceramic of the plate. Ever watch a hungry pregnant person eat? Scary.

Anyhow, after breakfast, we drove over to Balboa Park, and walked around there a bit.

Gorgeous architecture, beautiful blue skies, nice wide open green space in the middle of the city, which I love-- it's a great park. We walked for a bit at the Botanical garden building:

and then left to head to our next destination...

Which happened to be a place called Extraordinary Desserts, a place I wouldn't recommend missing if you ever happen to be in San Diego. We ordered a slice of Blood Orange Ricotta cake to share, and it was DIVINE.

A perfect lunch, indeed.

We then drove out to the beach at La Jolla (a fabulous Spanish word, which perfectly shows how very differently we pronounce certain consonants...), and saw the seals that hang out on the beach there:

So orderly, in their tidy rows laid out like that!

La Jolla is really very pretty:


Oh, and this is Kara looking at the ocean (inside joke that's a little difficult to retell, I'm afraid):

I also had to post this picture, because behind Kara is the retirement home into which we walked, bold as brass, to use their restrooms. This I like, that tendency to ask forgiveness rather than permission. It's something I don't practice in my own life often enough. It was a very nice restroom.

Anyhow, we went from there, driving up into the hills around the beach, looking for Soledad monument thingy, which we eventually found. The view from up there is spectacular:


After that, I went back to my hotel to rest a bit and to meet up with H after his conference. Kara picked us up for dinner and we went to a place called Filippe's, in Little Italy. Yum. I've really been digging the italian food lately, and this place didn't disappoint. And after that, we both happily went back to our respective hotel rooms and crashed.

The next morning, we went to see New Moon (yes, I know. I went to see it, anyway, even though you all think I'm some obsessive fan now. I'm not. I just made the mistake of starting the series and had to finish it, and thus had to go see the movie when it came out, too. Sigh. I'm not a proto-goth teen anymore. I promise.). We had a great time watching the movie and making fun of the trailers, and afterward, we had lunch at Nordstrom's, something I rarely get to do, since we don't have a Nordstrom's here.

And after that, sadly, it was time for us to part ways. Which is a good thing for my voice box, because I don't think that either of us stopped talking for more than 30 seconds during the entire time we spent together. Have you ever met someone and just instantly known that they would be your friend? Well, I had that experience when I met Kara through my blog, and so, upon meeting for the first time, it was like there were hundreds of thousands of words that had been saved up since that first time we "met", and they all had to come spilling out when we saw each other in person the first time. It was nice, is what I'm saying. I don't have a lot of friends in this area, so the chance to talk in person to a girlfriend is really, really great.

So, that afternoon after H was done with his conference obligations, we decided to find a place to get a snack, and ended up at another dessert restaurant, which specialized in crepes and gelato. So I had a chocolate and strawberry filled crepe with vanilla gelato on the side. And after a snack like that, we had to walk it off a bit, so we wandered down by the water for an hour or two until it got too cold to stay out.

We had dinner at some random restaruant (italian again, but nothing special), and then went back to the hotel to meet a colleague for a drink (again, thanks for drinking all that yummy, yummy beer for me, darling. I appreciate it.). And after that, I went back to the room and went to sleep early again.

And that was pretty much it for our trip. Our flight left at a unholy hour on Sunday morning, and since it's a cross-country flight, we spent almost all day just traveling. Never much fun, but especially not fun when your sleep schedule has been all wacky for several days, and you arrive home in the pitch black darkness, even though it's only 6:30 p.m. Ah, well. It was a fun trip, and I'm glad to be home, and I can't wait for my next excuse to go back to San Diego.

And how was your weekend?

quick like

I'm minutes away from leaving to go to the airport. I'm visiting the SUN. And the NOT-FREEZING-ASS-COLD. (aka San Diego)

Pardon if posting continues to be light over the coming days. I'm taking the camera, so I'm sure I'll have some excellent travel photos to share on my return.

In the mean time, I recently discovered that a friend I went to school with back in the day also just underwent a successful IVF procedure. And I couldn't be happier for her. She had 6 IUIs before moving on to IVF, only to discover that she was dealing with Empty Follicle Syndrome. In all my travels through the infertility blogosphere, I've never heard of this before. From our conversations via email, I get the distinct impression that she doesn't have much of a community. While I may eventually share my blog with her, I'd be interested to find some other blogs of women who have dealt with a situation similar to hers (this Empty Follicle thing that I know nothing about). Anyone know anything about this, or know anyone who's dealt with it? Honestly, the way she describes it, it sounds sort of like premature ovarian failure (she had 18 follicles and got 3 eggs), but she says it's something different (it probably is, but I'm just trying to fit this in to what I already know, I guess).

Anyhow, any suggestions or information would be appreciated!

Otherwise, see you on the flip side, people!

Preg-zilla

It may have been a while since I said it, but have I mentioned how much I HATE working? I know, I know. People have to do far worse things to get by in this world, but I'm really, REALLY not one of those people who is jazzed about my "career", whose identity is tied up in any way with my occupation. Why is it that one of the first things we ask someone we've just met is, "What do you do?", as though that can really tell us more about a person? I mean, with the exception of those individuals for whom their occupation is their life, why would we count this as a "get to know you" question?? It's especially irritating to answer that question when you're not working by choice. These days, that just does not compute with most people. You mean you don't work??? WHY? Did you get laid off? Have you not been able to find a job? What do you WANT to do?

Ahem. So for those that don't know, here is what I want to do:

Nothing.

Maybe someday, I'll want to do something again. I may want to complete additional education. I may eventually find a field that revs my engine, but for now, reading and thinking and writing and maintaining my house are what I want to do. I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, so for now, that's as far as I'm willing to plan. I hear twins are kind of a lot of work. The people I work with don't really get that. Twins, people.

My co-worker (who manages our reporting application university-wide) keeps pushing me to consider coming back full-time. And I keep telling her that I'm not suited for this job, and she doesn't get it, because my skill set and my job experience both make me VERY well-suited for this job. I'm a data monkey. I know how to talk to the computer and I know how make the pretty, pretty data be lovely and accurate. But I hate it. And she has an infant and a toddler, so she knows how expensive daycare can be-- my entire salary (with maybe a couple hundred left over) would go toward childcare for two infants. If I HATE my job, and I can't afford to work, WHY would I even consider coming back full-time???

So, if you meet me, and ask me what I do and I get all huffy and tell you that I'm a homemaker, PLEASE don't ask me what I really want to do. I'm doing it already.

Anyhow, that happens to be number one on today's list.

How to piss off a pregnant lady:

1. Ask her what she wants to do for a career as if raising twins isn't enough, like she should be super-career-woman/super-mom-woman. Act sad for her when she says she wants to stay home. Pity the fact that she has to "give up" her shitty career.

2. Remark on how she's already showing. Dude. I'm not even eight weeks yet, so even if it's twins, I am NOT "showing". I'm fat because I've gained weight and because I'm still bloated from the hormone party that's going on in my abdomen due to the treatments used to conceive. And I'm gassy. And running hurts, so I'm not exercising as much. All of which are very (valid but) personal reasons for having a nice, plump Buddha belly, which means NONE of those reasons are appropriate to discuss with work acquaintances. It is none of your business, and pointing out to me EVERY. FRICKIN'. TIME. I. SEE. YOU. that I am "getting bigger" is just downright rude.

3. Drive in such a way that makes me question your intelligence and/or sanity.

A. Left turn lanes are for turning left. When making a left turn in the presence of a left turn lane, it is appropriate to move your vehicle INTO THE LEFT TURN LANE. Not halfway in. Not sort-of-maybe-thinking-about-it, two-wheels-outside-the-line in, definitely not still-in-the-moving-lane-of-traffic-blocking-all-other-traffic-from-proceeding-while-you-pull-your-head-out-of-your-ass "in", but all the way in. If you are unable to operate your vehicle in such a way as to place it between these two parallel lines, you should consider practicing a little more before actually getting on publicly maintained road space.
B. Additionally, if you also suffer from the inability to place your car between two lines when you park, because your car is too big, or because you are too lazy to try, or because you are mentally or visually or physically unable to place your car between two lines, you should consider buying a much smaller car, and you should not be surprised to come back to your vehicle to find that a rageful pregnant lady has scratched the word "fucker" onto your side panel with her key.
C. Also, if you intend to change lanes, you should 1)make sure that you have room to do so (and NOT flip me off for honking at you when there isn't room to do so), and 2)actually complete a full change from one lane to the other. I know we'd all love to take our halves down the middle, but that's not the way civilized driving works.
D. Lastly, if you really, really need to go 25 miles under the speed limit, as is your prerogative to do unless otherwise posted, please move your car toward the right or at the very least, create a spacing situation where others who want to (gasp!) drive closer to the posted limits can pass you in order to do so. Ooh. One more...
E. HANG. UP. YOUR. CELL. PHONE. I don't care if you think you drive just fine while talking on the phone, you DON'T. You really, really don't. Yes, even you. You don't, I promise, and you don't realize it, because you're not paying attention. If you were paying enough attention to notice how recklessly you drive while having a conversation with someone who is not in the car, you would NEVER drive while taking a call again. But you don't notice it, because your phone call is distracting you. Period. Not only is it against the law here in NC, but it's dangerous and rude to that person you just accidentally cut off because you were jabbering away on your phone. I work hard to make sure I operate my vehicle in a safe way. I shouldn't have to do all of my own thinking plus the thinking for you, too, just to get home safely with my car intact.

4. Patronize her, as though she can't think clearly because she's knocked up. Yes, there are times when I get a bit of preggo brain (a slightly floaty and not altogether unpleasant sensation), where the words are on the tip of my tongue and I can't quite get them out, or I have trouble completing a sentence, but I am not stupid. As a matter of fact, even in my preggo-brain state, I'm still far more intelligent, educated, experienced, and articulate than you are, Rude Co-worker. Do not try to put words in my mouth or pretend that you've "got [me] covered" when you don't know the first lick about what I do. Do not try to filter my conversations with people requesting information from me. You don't get enough information and you don't get the right information, and I end up looking like a picky brat for contacting them AGAIN to get the information I need to do my job. You are not helping things in the slightest, and by acting as though I'm pregnant and therefore incapable of making a phone call is just baloney.



Um, that's enough Rage-o-hol for today. What are your pet peeves, pregnant or not? Did things get under your skin more while you were doing hormone-based treatments or when you were pregnant? How do you manage to keep yourself calm (pregnant or not, trying or not, during treatments or not-- just general tools for keeping oneself sane in the face of other's insanity)?

I'm thinking I really need to look into starting a prenatal yoga class when I'm back from the holidays, because I'm not managing the stress very well, and I need to find something active to do that doesn't jostle the enormo-boobs or the currently-delicate ovaries... running is my calming drug of choice (after giant glasses of red zinfandel, which is not on the menu right now for obvious reasons...), and that's out of the question for the time being due to the whole bouncing and the respiratory crap ravaging my lungs. Even walking gets me out of breath... sad. My allergies and asthma have definitely gotten worse, and I'm kind of worried about keeping myself active (as much as reasonably possible for a twin pregnancy-- not that I expect much!) through this pregnancy, when the first trimester already has me gasping for breath. I keep thinking swimming, but I don't have a membership to a pool. I did some gardening this weekend (YES! After three years of planning to, I finally planted bulbs at the right time of year!), but soon enough, it will be far too cold to do that, not to mention being the complete wrong season for planting anything and fall yard maintenance is pretty much done. So. Calming, relaxing exercise/movement, appropriate for someone who would prefer to be kickboxing but can't because of boob/belly/lung reasons. Any ideas?

Lastly, I GET TO SEE (the unsinkable) KARA (mcgee) THIS WEEKEND! YAAAAY! I'm flying to San Diego on Thursday, because H has a conference there. I'm so glad to be headed to the land of perpetual summer, but mostly, I'm beyond excited to get to meet my lovely, lovely friend, Kara. We've been bloggy buddies for a long time, and this particular conference-cum-meetup has been on the calendar for almost a year. I'm thrilled the time has finally arrived! Yay!!! Anyone else in the SD-area who wants to connect, let me know, and I'll see if we can work it out. But above everything, YAY FOR MEETING KARA!!! Expect tons of pictures, maybe even a few from the road while there, but mostly, I just want to soak up as much of the sunshine as possible and relax as much as possible.

*sniiiiiiiiiff*

So, what's worse than early pregnancy fatigue? Early pregnancy fatigue combined with a wicked cold, knocking down my already-somewhat-compromised immune system.

Monday when I went to the doctor, I felt pretty icky. Sore throat, raw sinuses, etc. But I started to feel a bit better through the rest of the week, even though the sinuses started to feel a little pressure. Feeling better and better all along, until last night, when the cold came back with a vengeance. My head is full of snot and my throat is raw, yet coated in such a way that I have almost no voice. I'm starting to cough, and there's literally nothing I can do to relieve the symptoms. I know I can take Tylenol, but I don't have any sort of fever, and while my body is sort-of achy, it's not really a bothersome symptom compared to the rest of it.

Steam, salt water, warm compresses-- these are for normal colds. This is a preggo cold, and this cold laughs at my moist advances. Ricola, my drug of choice for most throat issues, seems to work a bit, but the relief is temporary, and I don't know how many more herb-candies I can eat before I start barfing them back up.

I'm pretty convinced (and I've told H so, though he disagrees) that the advancing German army in my uterus is trying to kill me from the inside by knocking me down with fatigue and then leaving major holes in my immune system. He thinks they're all sweet and innocent and stuff, but these are MY kids we're talking about. They're crafty mo-fos, I'm sure, who are right now giggling over how easy it is to f*ck with their mother. Why, oh, why couldn't they be like their sweet, compliant father, just for a little while???

So. It looks like my best option at this point is to lay in bed and moan. I'm out of ginger ale, so it'll be plain water and crusts of bread okay, grocery-store-bakery muffin for me while I attempt to hydrate and feed myself through this stupid cold.

Most disappointingly, I was due to have JJ and Mook over for dinner tonight, but I'll have to postpone, lest I give them this disease, or worse yet, pass it off through them to the sweet O-man. Sad.

So now, I'll retire to bed with my moaning and my plain water and no meds and no company to look forward to, and watch Charmed reruns until I fall back asleep.

*sniff*

What's on your agenda this weekend?

Heartbeat...s

Thank you, everyone, for your advice regarding OBs (I still can't type that without thinking of tiny tampons...). Shortly after I posted, it occurred to me that the receptionist at my RE's office might know of some options, so I called her and she shared a few names with me. I had gotten recommendations from my RE previously, but he rattled off, like, 10 names to me shortly after I walked out of my first ultrasound when I was a little dazed at having seen two sacs and had nothing to write on and also was trying to absorb all of the prescription medication changes he was making, and instructions on how to use the new progesterone, and who I needed to talk to next, etc., so I clearly don't remember most of what he said. I did remember a few names, because at that point, I was thinking that I wanted to go with a doctor who practiced with the same hospital with which my GP is affiliated. But then, I found out that EVERYONE delivers at the hospital with which my GP is associated, so no matter which hospital group you're associated with, when it comes to obstetrics in this area, you're technically associated with both hospitals, so it doesn't really matter. Second, I also wanted to get my GP's recommendations, because I love her, and she knows me as a patient, and she has never disappointed me with a referral. So I asked for some from her, found the point at which her list and my RE's list matched and then went from there. Which would be the point at which I met disappointment.

So, again, I spoke with the receptionist yesterday and she suggested (duh) that I consider going through the local university practice, since they are technically the same practice group as my RE's office, and thus, they see a lot of IVF patients. So I called their practice (amylynn- I think Dr. Fernandez practices there, if I've got my groups right), and they got me in for a new patient appointment in two weeks, which I think is more than acceptable. At their clinic, apparently you see the nurse on the first appointment, and given your specific circumstances and desires regarding care and delivery, etc., they suggest doctors in their practice which suit your desires. And that sounds pretty practical to me.

Of course, I cannot see the OB until I am released from my RE's care.

So good thing I went in this morning to see this:


Sparkle, aka Baby A


Flicker, aka Baby B

So yes, for those of you playing along, Flicker decided to pony up and grow a little, catching up almost completely to Sparkle. Both little things were on their best German compliant behavior and let us get an excellent look at their heartbeats (120 and 140, respectively, though apparently that's a normal variation at this stage), and a crown to rump length measurement and a perfect view of their yolk sacs and fetal poles. Which means, barring tragedy (knocking on all wood in a 10 ft radius), it's officially two.

Fuuuuuuuugh.

Two hearts. Two babies. Oh, my.

So, that's what's up in my world. Six weeks, six days today.

Symptom watch finds me with some increasing boob tenderness (actually, to be precise, it's nipple/aureola tenderness, where if I roll the wrong way and put pressure on my boobs the wrong way, it feels like someone is jabbing a knitting needle through the center of my boob. Bizarre.), continued exhaustion, typical moodiness, continued smell aversion, a desire to eat all kinds of really bad food (the blander, the better- buttered parsley noodles for dinner last night with steamed squash- delish, but not very flavorful, mashed potatoes, applesauce, etc.), and what I think was my first hint of morning sickness, though in my case, it would actually be three-a.m.-wake-you-up-feeling-barfy sickness, to be specific. It went away after I ate a mini multigrain rice cake thing (the closest I could find to a cracker at three a.m.), and came back after the whole 5-ish calories was digested, but by that point, I was too out of it to go back for more, so I just suffered through till I fell asleep thirty minutes later. But today, it's just been a really growly stomach all day, and occasional uprisings of the ever-growing question mark in my belly. So, still mostly okay, still hanging in there. Considering that I've got an advancing German army in my uterus (and if you know the reputation of German invaders, they aren't the "leave only footprints, take only memories" kind of invaders... they're more the trash-and-conquer types...), or, as Rachel so quaintly put it, an "entire German squash team in there" (which led to an interesting discussion on the way to the doctor's office today-- are there really only two members of a squash team? Are there less in German squash? Or is it a universal sport? Who knows?)-- um, yeah, considering all of that, I think I feel pretty darn good.

Two. Holy McMoly. There are really, truly two extra hearts beating inside me...

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Stupid OB BS

I'm feeling really sick today (sinus and throat garbage), so I went to the doctor's office this morning, and got tested again for the piggy flu. Other than my typically low blood pressure issues, I seem to have a clean bill of health-- no real idea what's causing the fire in my throat with nasal congestion. Anyhow, I asked the practitioner that I saw what her estimation was of when they would get the swine flu vaccine as it appears that there is absolutely no supply in this area, AT ALL. And her recommendation was that I get myself established as a patient at an obstetrician's office, as they seem to be getting regular deliveries of the vaccine, since knocked up women are among the more at-risk population.

So. I set off to try to find an obstetrician today.

And right now, I really just want to cry/scream/punch my computer, because WHAT THE FUCK???? Seriously. How do you find an obstetrician???

I really would rather stay away from giant practices with hundreds of patients and teams of 20 doctors who rotate your care. That doesn't work for me. But unfortunately, two practices are consistently recommended, and both fall into this category. One of them is highly recommended by doctors but has been dissed by a few of my acquaintances for gynecological care (Lyndhurst). So I decided to check out the other one (WomanCare), and found a doctor there that was recommended by both my RE and my Primary care doc. And so I called their office.

And OH MY GOD, how incredibly dumb do you have to be to have staff who ask "What do you need to be seen for?" when the person they're speaking to has introduced herself as someone who is recently pregnant and looking for an OB. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I NEED TO BE SEEN FOR??? A BROKEN LEG??? When I requested a specific doctor, I was told that "you don't get to pick your doctor-- WE pick." And furthermore, I was informed that new patients are firmly required to wait until their 12th week of pregnancy to be seen, and at that point, it will just be a meet-and-greet with the nurse and/or midwife, depending on who is available. I said that I wasn't sure that was acceptable to me, and I was informed that "That's the way we do things", to which I replied, "Well, then, it looks like your clinic won't be the best match for me." and abruptly hung up.

And so, I checked the other clinic and found one doctor at that office who seems to possibly be in tune with me. She pursued IVF to become pregnant with her twins, so it seemed that she might be a good doctor for my particular situation. So I called their office. And their office is closed from 11:45 a.m. to 1:15 (though they don't start answering phones till 1:20) for a lunch "hour". So I called back at 1:15 (and 1:16, 1:17, 1:18, 1:19 and 1:20 until someone answered) and was told that "Betty" does the appointments and that she was on the phone, did I want to hold? And so I said I would hold, because in my experience, it takes hours and hours and hours to get a call back, if, in fact, you ever do get a call back. So I waited, and the receptionist at some point picked up the phone and told me that it might be a while, was I sure I wanted to wait? And I said that NO, I didn't mind waiting. She then said something else about how it would take a while, it really, really, really might take a while, so I said, "OKAY. Whatever works for you. I'll leave a message, " to which she said, "Oh, you don't have to leave a message. I just thought you might want to." GRR! WHAT THE FUCK! Do you want me to leave a message or not? You just threw me a long spiel about how it was going to take so long, was I sure, was I absolutely sure-- what, exactly, was the desired outcome???

So, she parked me back on hold again. And again. And again. And finally, "Betty" picked up the phone and snottily asked me what I wanted, so I told her that I was 6w5d pregnant with twins and Certain Doctor was recommended to me, etc., and she informed me that she had "nineteen calls to return" before she could speak to me, that new patients are "low on her list" so she was going to forward me to her voicemail (didn't ask-- just told) so I could leave a message and she could call me back when it was convenient for her. I told her that I would just call back another time, though what I wanted to say was, "DO YOUR DOCTORS KNOW HOW INCREDIBLY RUDE YOU ARE????" Jesus. You NEVER tell someone on the phone that you are too busy for them. It's rude. And it's false, because you clearly had the time to pick up the phone to tell me how vastly unimportant I am. If you are too busy returning calls to answer new calls, then clearly there's something wrong with your job organization skills or your boss is a cruel, cruel bastard who cannot hire enough people to get the job done correctly.

Anyhow, I'm just absolutely incensed and pissed off and GOD BLESS IT WHAT THE HELL DOES IT TAKE TO GET A MOTHERLOVIN' FLU VACCINE???


And so, I've searched the internet trying to find other offices in the Winston-Salem area, and have found that there are very few, and that they are mostly men, and not very well ranked by patients. Good god. It's enough to make me throw in the towel and refuse obstetric care altogether. I mean, last time I checked, health care was still (unfortunately) a marketplace economy, and if you think it's okay to be shitty to new patients, then how on earth do you stay in practice? Seriously.

So. How do you do it? How do you find an obstetrician, when you don't really know anyone like yourself in your area (wants attentive care, doesn't want out-of-the-box treatment, wants a woman, prefers someone who has experience dealing with IVF patients and/or twin pregnancies), when you're not from the area, and when the area you're in is so small that there's not a lot of options? I really am beginning to wonder whether or not I can find a doctor at all.


So, if you live in Winston-Salem, and you're looking for an obstetrician, Lyndhurst Gynecologic Associates' appointment maker is RUDE, and makes it clear that she doesn't give a flying flip about new patients, because she is very busy and important and you are not worth her time, could you please just shut up and leave a message? And Winston-Salem WomanCare is no better. While the receptionist isn't out and out nasty, their practices are BULLSHIT. If you have a twin (and thus likely high-risk) pregnancy, you cannot get the care you need from either of these places, because at one, you cannot actually make an appointment with and/or see an actual MD, and at the other, you should consider yourself to be blessed and lucky to actually be deemed valuable enough to merit a few minutes of someone's time to schedule an appointment.

Other than that, if you've got suggestions, let me know.

Sigh. Nice low blood pressure from this morning has clearly been raised to epic levels by this nonsense...

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Twenty

Where were you twenty years ago today?

Did you watch the news?

Did you have any real idea of what it meant, not just for Germany, but for Europe, and the rest of the world?

Did you know that the Cold War was coming to an end?

Did you know that many small people were doing many small things that would change the world?

Where were you...

when the wall...

came down?

Click here for more pictures from Berlin (and other points German...).

A First Concert of Sorts

Since I've learned that around the sixth week embryos develop tiny ear buds, my venture last night to hear Al Stewart I suppose counts as the first concert to which I've taken the kid(s). I'm certainly no massive fan of Al Stewart-- he wrote a few hits that were popular the year I was born--, but his music is great all the same. And really, concert events in our area are SO rare (seriously! Why does the music world shun NC? I don't get it.) that any opportunity to see a somewhat obscure artist of interest is one that we should take.

So, last night, we loaded up the car at 4:00 p.m. and headed over to pick up some friends and drive out to Holly Springs, which is a little over two hours from where we live. We discovered that Mapquest STILL hasn't fixed their mile markers through Greensboro for the new I-40/Business-40 split that was opened almost TWO YEARS AGO, and so we got a wee bit lost, though since I had also printed alternate directions from Google Maps, we ended up taking a slightly different route (you hear that, Mapquest? Your directions SUCK. Why, oh, WHY can you not get the mile numbers straight? Two years, folks. TWO years of mistakes on a fairly major interstate... grr.) Anyhow, we managed to arrive with only one minor last minute dive into a poorly marked left-turn lane, but otherwise without incident. We ended up turning around once we found the location in Holly Springs to drive back to civilization to find dinner and ended up at a Pizza Inn buffet kind of thing. Preggo stomach was questioning that choice throughout the rest of the evening.

But at any rate, the concert was excellent. It was an extremely small venue, very intimate, and Al Stewart spent a lot of time chatting between songs, explaining the significance of this song or that. And since his main "style" is a self-called historical-storytelling-folk, there's often a lot to explain. He still sounds just like he did in his recordings back in the 60s and 70s, which is surprising because he has such a youthful voice. It's weird to see a man in his mid-60s rockin' out on stage, sounding like a 20 year old.

Anyhow, here are two clips, one of the song for which he is most known, Year of the Cat, in a version you may be familiar with:



And a second clip of another semi-well-known song of his, On The Border, from a concert that looks much like our concert did last night (it was just Al and his new performing partner, Dave Nachmanoff-- Al is on the right, Dave is on the left):




The only small beef* I had with the whole experience is that we did not get home until almost 1:00 a.m. And if I haven't made it clear yet, the main pregnancy symptom I've had lately is the need for excessive amounts of sleep, beginning somewhere between 8:30 and 9:30 p.m. (9:30 is acceptable only if I get my daily 3-5 p.m. nap). So, staying out and staying mostly awake until almost 1:00 a.m. was torture. I tried to sleep in the car, even arranging for one of our friends to sit in the front seat to navigate for H so I wouldn't have to, but my well-meaning back seat companion kept talking to me, so I didn't sleep at all in the car. So anyhow, this morning, I'm feeling like I was run over by a truck. I did sleep later than I have in a long time (8:40! Party girl!!!), but it's still just not the same, depriving myself of sleep when I really needed it. BUT, it was a really good show, a great experience, and so ultimately, it was worth it. I just had to remark on the fact that the only negative from the whole experience is because I am old and lame and gestating and therefore, apparently, can no longer hang with the big dogs. Oh, well.


I know you only come here for gestation updates, so they are as follows: No news continues to be good news. I gave myself the progesterone gel thingy in the stall of a public bathroom during intermission last night, and if you've ever used these, you know that the applicator can make a distinctly farty sound as the gel is being squeezed out of the applicator. So that was fun. Symptoms continue to be tiredness, slightly achy boobs, a stomach that has an ever-growing question mark hanging over it, and bloating, bloating, bloating**. I am embarrassed to admit, but I actually bought my first pair of maternity pants the other day. I really, REALLY didn't want to, because I really felt like this is some sort of jinx, doing this so early, but with the way my bloat is sitting, I can't really button my jeans comfortably anymore. I have some jeans in one size up from my current size, but they are way too big everywhere else. I mean, I had no waist to speak of before I started IVF, so jeans were always slightly snugger in the waist than elsewhere, and with the bloat, there's just no way. So I tried some maternity jeans on, the kind with the giant blue stretchy panel. And all I can say about that is 'WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE???' I should have bought a pair three years ago! These would have been great for those IBS-moments or PMS when the random belly bloat strikes and I can't bear to wear anything with a real waist-band. I'm a convert. I've worn nothing besides these jeans and sweatpants since I bought them last Thursday. Yes, I'm a freak, I know.

Next big milestone is Tuesday's ultrasound. At that point, I get to know more about baby B. I don't know if I really shared it in the right way, but baby A had a clear, distinct, perfect yolk sac, and baby B had this disorganized looking, fuzzy, possible sac. Yes, there is clearly a baby B, but it really isn't clear that baby B is meant for this world. But then again, it's not clear that he/she ISN'T meant for this world. It's really a bit of a place I'm in, because while I was told to act like this was any twin pregnancy, there is the very distinct possibility, far higher than other twin pregnancies, that the second baby really may not be anything, other than a sac with some stuff in it, because despite the very best view they could get, there still wasn't much in the way of the markers they look for at a gestational age of 5w1d***. So. One worry at a time, and this is my one worry. What will we see with baby B?

So. Now I need to go and feed myself, before this lingering question mark gets any bigger. And your weekend? Anything fun and interesting?

*The only other beef I had with my concert experience was being seated in front of little Spasti McSquirmer-Twitchington, a 12 year old child who, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary (controlled, perfect movement when walking, the ability to open and drink from a soda bottle, operate his voice in a normal, even timbre), appeared to be afflicted with some bizarre form of Tourette's, wherein upon growing bored and/or (insert whatever adjective you'd use to describe general 12-year-old boy assholery), he must exaggeratedly stretch his neck and back, flex his elbows, pop his knuckles, etc., in an effort to ensure that the concert experience of everyone around him was as disrupted as possible by his lingering malaise at having to endure live music. Dude. Leave little Twitchy at home if he can't manage to sit still for the 3-5 minute length of a song...

**I had suggestions from some of you that the bloat may be caused by intestine issues. And I assure you that, indeed, some of this bloat is definitely caused by the lower digestive tract. I have IBS, and have been dealing with it's consequences for a long time now. I take fiber supplements daily, just to keep things operating in that area. As of yet, despite some early issues with constipation, I've been fairly regular (with the exception of days that I work-- I think that says something, that I can't poo on mornings when I have to go in to this job, even though every other morning is no problem whatsoever. Stress much?). Unfortunately, one of the side effects of a high fiber diet (plus fiber supplements) is... BLOATING! So, even though I'm used to this type of diet, having eaten this way for quite a long time, I know my intestines are acting differently now, so the fiber, while helping relieve the lower-belly-bloat, may actually be a cause of the upper-belly-bloat.

***this would be the absolute only reason why you should not have an ultrasound earlier than the doctor wants you to, especially if you have a cruel office like mine who doesn't do repeat ultrasounds for two weeks. Seriously. In this situation, with a tenuous baby B, why would you not offer a second scan at six weeks? Grr.

Just Some Pictures

Photos from my recent hike...


Upper Cascade Falls


Fall color


My new zoom lens has a macro function. Sweet!


Love the contrasting color here...


These are just a few. For the rest, click here to see Kate's flickr page.

Still fighting with the mouse, but have been promised a trip to Best Buy this evening to rectify the situation. YAY!

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Of Mice and Man, I'm Bloated

Hee, hee, hee. Hoo, hoo.

Oh, dear.

Eight Pound Man Removed From Woman's Vagina

(In case you missed it in the recent issue of the Onion...)



In other news, ProgesteRage and a jacked up computer mouse have combined to the tedious result of REFUSING TO USE THE EMTHEREFKING COMPUTER IF IT'S GOING TO GO AND ACT LIKE THAT. That'll show the computer. If the mouse wants to act up, I just won't use the computer AT ALL.

Yeah. Logic has flown the coop, and I am left here wondering what my damage is that I did not just go and buy a new mouse a month or two ago when it started to go all wonky. Ah, well. Instead I just scream, "What the FUGGGGH?" at a little palm-shaped inanimate object and curse Fox for preempting everything good with stupid baseball.

Forgive me for my lack of commenting these couple of days. Once I get my engraved apology from the computer for daring to be such an intolerable brat and/or purchase a new mouse, I imagine I'll be back up to speed.


Oh... in the mean time, I have a few questions for my fellow IVF pregnancy people, or pregnant people, or people who underwent IVF without pregnancy but had this side effect anyway... How frickin' long should I expect this massive bloat to last? Weight gain and/or a baby pooch is one thing, but this bloat is killing me. Shortly after transfer, I gained damn near 4 inches in the area above my belly button, which happens to be the first spot I usually gain weight. However, I seem to be holding steady at around 202 lbs., which is anywhere from 2-4 lbs over normal, weight which was gained during the early part of the IVF process and never really lost, but those 2-4 lbs are just not high enough to look like this already.

I mean, just today, as I was talking to one of my co-workers (she had three miscarriages, one of twins at 14 weeks, before having her son... not really stories I want to think about right now, but nonetheless, she has been someone who gets my struggle a little bit because she clearly had her own) she asks me if I've yet found out how many, and I say that they saw two, and she freaks out, and she says, "I was SURE it was twins... I mean, no insult, but you look REALLY pregnant, and you have for a while!", and then another co-worker chimes in and says something to the effect that she was thinking when I showed up in her office a week ago that I was probably pregnant because I looked so pregnant... So WHAT THE EFF. I mean, I'm just six weeks today, but with this belly puff, I look ridiculous. I really promise that I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with gaining weight for the sake of the baby/ies (yes, I bought Dr. Luke's book, and YES, I drank the Kool-Aid-- bring on the 3500 calories and the constant rest. I'm all about it.), but I do have a problem with this uncomfortable bubble that is perched about six inches north of the baby/ies current address. I mean, eventually, the ovaries have to shrink, right? Eventually, the bloat has to go away, else there won't ever be room in my abdomen for a growing uterus, right?

So, any advice on this early pregnancy bloat? I understand it may be related to the progesterone supplementation, or the slightly overstimulated ovaries (or my tendency to bubble up first in that exact spot regardless of pregnancy) or possibly even the already-slightly-larger-than-usual uterus. Is this normal, or should I call the doc to complain? Surely this can have nothing to do with the TWO chocolate-chip-cookie ice cream sandwiches I ate as a snack today... no way.

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The Wait Continues...

Next time a conversation comes up about me and working and whether or not I should pimp myself out for a few extra bucks, I want you all to remind me that I HATE working. I mean, I really, really hate it. I used to think that I just hated almost every job I've ever had, but truthfully, I just hate any form of bureaucracy, and even if you are self-employed, you are subject to the "rules" set forth by clients or customers. I'm really just not cut out to work. Some people really love what they do, it fulfills them in some manner beyond their bank account, and it excites them in some way. Not me. I love to write and I love to take pictures and I love to do craft-ish things, but if I ever made any of those into jobs, I would grow to loathe them.

So. Just remind me of that fact when in the future I come to the conclusion that working 10 hours a week is no big deal, and that the $35/hr will make it worth my time. It doesn't. It won't ever. Work SUCKS.

Anyhow, due to my doctor's wacky schedule, my second (and last with the RE) ultrasound was scheduled for Thursday next week, but she will be working Tuesday and Wednesday instead during that week, and so my ultrasound has been bumped up to next Tuesday. I know it's only two days difference, but it really makes me feel like I can handle the wait. I've been going crazy wondering how I'll make it to next Thursday, but somehow, it seems like it's instantly more bearable because it's two days sooner. Not that I'm complaining about having it moved up, but I'm a little confused as to why it suddenly matters that Dr. Lolly be there to do this final ultrasound. I mean, I haven't seen or spoke with her since the cyst aspiration way back in September. My retrieval and transfer and last week's post-ultrasound conversations were handled by Dr. Main Dude (including several medication changes so that I could be on the protocol that he prefers over that of Dr. Lolly). Why am I suddenly her patient again, to the point that they insist that I reschedule to a day when she can be there? I like Dr. Lolly far more than I like Dr. Main Dude, so honestly, I'm not complaining-- I'm just confused as to why it's suddenly so important that I see her for my last ultrasound.

Oh, well. Whatever. I get to have my next (and last!) ultrasound on Tuesday morning instead. I'll take it.


I've been coming back to this conversation I read via PJ's blog, and I'm very interested to hear what others think about it, especially those whose RE's have used day 3 transfers. The doctor who responded to this patient's query makes several points about 3 day transfers, and now, every time I read that someone will be having a 3 day transfer, a little part of me cringes. Among the points the doctor makes, the one that sticks with me the most is that some REs may be doing 3 day transfers because 1) they don't have a skilled-enough team of lab workers to properly grow embryos to day 5 and/or they don't have the resources or desire to put in the extra work, and 2) -and this is the big one- they transfer day 3 embryos because they don't want to be held accountable for those embryos failing to make it to day 5. So basically, the doctor in this conversation makes the point that successful embryos will, by definition, make it to blast stage, whether in your body or not. And so, by transferring day 3 embryos when they fear that none will make it to day 5, they can (essentially) put the blame on the patient, or lead the patient to believe that there was nothing further the embryologist could have done to get you to a successful pregnancy. If they keep the embryos and they don't make it, it appears to be the fault of the lab (even though it's the embryo's own genetic code that determines whether or not they'll grow past day 3), and patients feel hurt that they didn't even make it to transfer (oh, AND the RE doesn't get to charge you for the transfer procedure..). But if you transfer a few unknown status embryos at day 3, then the patient feels as though it's her fault that they didn't implant, etc.

So. The article/conversation is, in places, quite pointed. This doctor clearly has an opinion about day 3 transfers, and that opinion is decidedly negative. But I think she makes some points worth considering, or at least raises some questions you should ask your doctor before proceeding with a day 3 transfer, the first being why, exactly, are we doing this on day 3 instead of seeing whether the embryos make it to blast? And your doctor may have a very good answer for that, and that may ease your mind and convince you that this is the right path to take. But all the same. I think the question needs to be asked more often generally. In today's labs, is there ever really a circumstance where the uterine cavity is a better environment for development of the embryo than the lab culture medium/incubator?

Anyhow, the article/conversation made me think, and I thought I might share it here for those that hadn't read it yet.

Symptom watch has me with some sporadically tender boobs, still occasional cramping, still some twinges and pulls (likely due to the fact that at my last ultrasound, they discovered that both ovaries are crazy huge. Par for the course, but it doesn't make them any less tender), and increasing sensitivity to smells. I'm beginning to have some very mild nausea, more like a little cartoon-thought-cloud with a question mark in it hovering in the vicinity of my gut. It's weird. I don't feel pukey (yet), but there is definitely something not-normal going on in my stomach area. I won't say it, lest I jinx myself, but maybe I'll be one of those people, those bitches that get away without having this particular first-trimester-pregnancy symptom (furiously knocking wood...). The exhaustion continues, but is made more bearable by daily naps from 3:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. Other than the crazy belly bloat (thanks, ovaries!), you probably wouldn't know I was pregnant, unless you caught me during a nap.

In other news, I just got a bill for $3000 for my egg retrieval procedure because my insurance company are a bunch of f*cking idiots. See, all infertility procedures must be completed at my specific clinic, but because egg retrieval is a surgical procedure, everything is billed through the hospital with which the clinic is associated. So my dumbass insurance thinks that the egg retrieval isn't covered. Great. So now I get to go and sort that out. Awesome. Have I mentioned how much I *love* bureaucracy? Yeah. (and lest I be seen as completely ungrateful, I am so glad to have insurance coverage, period. However, dealing with insurance to ensure I get the coverage I was promised and have been paying for is another thing altogether. NO ONE should have to work this hard to make sure companies do what they promise to do, especially as it comes to health care. Can you tell how I feel about the necessity for health insurance reform???)

So. That's been my week so far: work SUCKS, I'm suddenly Dr. Lolly's patient again, some thoughts on day 3 transfers, minimal symptoms and EFFIN' INSURANCE. What about you?

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Effin' Pregnant Whiner

Yeah, so shortly after my last post, my world exploded a bit, in the form of a major clutch problem in my little old Hyundai. When you are a one car family, and that one car is jacked up in some way, things become difficult to say the least. My brother was due to arrive Thursday late, but their flight was delayed leaving Texas to the point that they would miss their connection, so they ended up coming Friday morning instead (except that their connection was delayed leaving Atlanta on Friday, and so they didn't end up getting here till noon...). Anyhow, I'm glad that their flight was rescheduled, because as we were driving home on Thursday, the clutch pedal went loose, and it was near impossible to get the car into gear, and so we couldn't have driven to the airport to pick them up that night anyway.

So Friday morning found me having our car towed to our local car care place, being picked up by the rent car place, getting a cab for H to get to work, refusing the first two rent cars offered because they REEKED of cigarettes (thus enabling my *first* admission to a stranger that I was pregnant, because he had a cold and couldn't smell cigarette smoke in either car, but with my super-preggo plus former-smoker nose, I couldn't be near the car without gagging, and I tried to explain why in a non-confrontational way-- go, preggo excuse!), then driving to the airport, only to wait another hour for their delayed flight, getting the call from the car place that it would cost a minimum of $1100 to fix my five-year-old, worn-out, cheap car, and then sobbing because it was too much to handle.

Which means that Friday afternoon found me at a car dealership, instead of snuggled at home taking my daily nap, trying to deal with the slimy bastards at my local Hyundai place to buy a new car. And against my better instincts, we bought a car from them. The car is great. It's a 2009 Sonata, used, slightly high mileage, but we got a decent price. My beef with them is the typical car salesperson tactics, the fake conversations, the "I have to go talk to my colleague and leave you sitting for 20 minutes", try to sell you the car for $2000 over the listed price online bullshit. I told the jackoff who sold us the car that I was pregnant (when talking about needing a bigger car-- stranger #2. Incredibly uncomfortable), and three hours later, when I was yawning, when I was clearly so f*cking exhausted, the dickhead told me I just needed a cup of coffee. I told him politely that I don't drink caffeine after 7 pm, EVEN WHEN I'M NOT PREGNANT, that I'M PREGNANT, you dumbass, I'm TIRED. You've kept us here for three and a half hours, your finance guy is an arrogant prick, but unfortunately, we actually want this car, so we bought it from you anyway. But I can assure you that not only will I never, EVER recommend your dealership to anyone, I will frankly go out of my way to convince as many people as possible to stay far, far away from you. I have already scraped off the dealer stickers and taken off the dealer license frame (that's a deal-breaker for me anyway-- I gave you my money, I'm not going to spend the next five or however many years giving your dealership free advertising on my vehicle...).

ANYWAY. Long story short, we got a new car. And I'm pissed about the process, but there's not much I can do about it at this point. These are the things the pregnant brain obsesses with when they are wide-f*cking-awake-alert at 6:00 a.m...

For entertainment yesterday, we ended up driving out to Hanging Rock and taking a short hike or two. It was misting most of the day, but as with my very first hike at this park, we got out to the end of Window Falls trail when it started to rain, to really, really rain, and ended up walking the 3/4 of a mile uphill shivering in rain that just wouldn't let up. Fun! I got some great photos, which I will process and post soon, but mostly, I was just playing with my new zoom lens that I received as payment for shooting Brother J's wedding.

I feel like I'm entering a really dangerous spot, because I have gotten myself to the point where I can no longer deny this pregnancy and it's physical impact on me. That hike took a LOT out of me. Things that I could normally handle with both hands tied behind my back are just way too much (even with the use of both hands!). I have so little mental energy, and so little desire to put that mental energy toward anything remotely stressful or taxing, and it's really gotten to the point where I cannot ignore that fact. And that puts me in a place where I have to actually acknowledge that this pregnancy may continue and that I need to make accommodations for that fact in the future. Which puts me in a place where I allow myself to believe that this is real and that I may actually take home a baby, which feels really, really good. Which is where the danger comes in. Because what happens when something happens to this baby/these babies? Man. What will I do? I'm already feeling pretty attached to both A and B, and there's a pretty good chance that B may not stick around, but I'm already finding myself referring to this as a "twin pregnancy" when it's really better referred to as a "very early pregnancy", plain and simple. How will I handle it in a week and a half when I have my second ultrasound and Baby B is gone? Or worse yet, both Baby A and B are not growing?

"Very early" puts emphasis where it's due, which is on the fact that normally fertile people would just now be coming around to the fact that a week and a half late is late enough that you *really* should take a pregnancy test. Normally fertile people would barely even know that there was something growing inside them. They'd chalk up the exhaustion to working too hard, or staying up too late, the twinges of nausea, the tender boobs, the moodiness to PMS. And they could get their "period", and never really know that the reason why the cramps are so bad this time is because they're miscarrying. But not us infertiles. We know. We've already counted blobs on the screen. We're already hyper-aware of the changes happening to us. We have been preparing for this exact eventuality from the moment we decided to get off our duffs and see a reproductive endocrinologist. We have so much more to lose, not just the financial costs of a cycle, but the incredible amount of emotional energy put into wanting this thing so badly, to hoping for something good.

It's hard. And I somehow thought I'd be able to handle this situation so differently. I know there are plenty of people reading this thinking that I need to STFU and quit whining about how hard it is, but the truth is that facing the fact that pregnancy does not guarantee a baby is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. And BELIEVE ME. I am incredibly grateful to be at a place where I do at least know that I can GET pregnant (I recognize what a huge hurdle that is...), but the fact remains that there are hundreds of miles still to go before bringing healthy babies home. And letting myself feel like those hundreds of miles are no big deal feels so reckless.

So. I'm officially acknowledging that I'm pregnant, that until shown otherwise, I'm pregnant with two, and that chances are that in eight or nine months, I'll come home with a real, live baby, maybe two. But I'm also officially acknowledging that I recognize the reality of the situation, that in a few weeks, there may be nothing inside me but a broken heart, that all the wishing and planning in the world can't diminish those chances of something bad happening. And it's a hard place to be.

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