One year later: first positive pregnancy test

It was a grueling, yet successful, weekend of Ferberizing/sleep training at our house, which I’ll write more about later.

It was also one of those weekends full of emotions. Do you know what I mean? Do you have times when you are raw, fragile, and things feel more real than they should?

It was a year ago that I got my first ever positive pregnancy test. I remember it so well. The quiet, dark bedroom early in the morning. I woke up my husband to look at the test.

We were supposed to clean out the garage that day, but my husband cut his hand open on some glass. We abandoned the garage project and raced to Walgreen’s for first aid supplies.

I was so excited to buy some brand-name tests so I could see if I was imagining it.

One year ago. I tend to overreact to these sorts of anniversaries. I become very reflective. Couple this tendency with a weekend where I move my son to his crib and pack away his bassinet, and it was all just a little much.

The beast of infertility robs me of the confidence that I’ll ever pull that bassinet out again. I wish I could fold it up and think “until the next baby”, but instead I have a heavy heart. A broken piece of me whispers “what if there’s never another?”

One year later, and the baby I worked so hard for is here. Am I a bad mom for already wanting another? When part of me screams “not enough!”, am I ungrateful?  

One year later, and that faint second line is a person.

One year later, and we still need to clean out the garage.

Things no one told me about having a baby

I was reflecting on all the things I want to remember to tell my sister and friends when they get ready to have their first babies. I thought it would be worth writing them all down. Here is a quick collection of things I feel like I learned the hard way!

Visitors - just don't have them the first 2-3 weeks, if you can help it. People want to "help", but they don't really mean it. They want to hold the baby. I can hold my own baby, and very much enjoy doing so, thank you. When they're that little, they just sleep anyway. If you want to help, I need you to do the dishes, sweep the floor, clean the toilet, go grocery shopping, make me a meal, bring me a glass of water, listen to me while I cry....there are a million things you can do to help. I felt very possessive over Alex and I got so annoyed when people would come over to hold the baby, and I ended up feeling like I needed to offer them something to drink or entertain them.

Night sweats - gross. In the first few weeks, these were so disgusting I felt like washing the sheets every day. I would sweat all night and even when I snuck in a nap. I still have them occasionally, and I'll wake up with sweat literally dripping down my chest! When they first hit, I felt like maybe I was getting sick, since I didn't feel hot but I was so sweaty. I almost took my temperature one morning! I googled it and found out this was common, but I couldn't figure out why none of my pregnancy/childbirth books mentioned it.

Postpartum hormones - I guess people did prepare me, or tried to. I was warned vaguely about the baby blues and PPD, but no one told me how completely fragile I would feel, all the time, for days. Everything made me feel like I could just fall apart. I felt like an infant myself, a lot - wandering around and crying, incapable of pulling it together. The sleep deprivation didn't help.

Appetite - this has been all over the place since Alex arrived. Initially, I had no appetite at all. I had to force myself to eat because I knew I needed to for my milk supply. I remember gagging on a granola bar, just trying to choke it down. I wonder if this is some preservation thing that kicks in, because you don't have much time to prepare food for yourself? Now, though, I can't eat enough. For instance, it's 2pm and I've had the following to eat today: a bowl of cereal, cheeze its, two fried eggs, hashbrowns, and a frozen Amy's burrito. I'm still hungry.

Nursing - when you sit down to nurse, you need to have the following things, always: your cell phone, the remote for the TV, a glass of water, a snack. Also, pee before you start. Nursing a newborn takes a good 30 minutes and once you get them latched on I promise you won't want to go anywhere.

Going poo - I have a well documented problem with constipation. During pregnancy it was awful. The first few weeks of Alex's life I was constantly in the bathroom with the opposite problem. The weird thing was that nursing stimulated my bowels. Many times I was forced to choose between taking him off the breast so I could run to the restroom, or nursing on the toilet, which seemed really really gross to me.

Leaving the house by yourself - just do it. It won't get easier, even if you wait until he's six weeks old. Try to make yourself leave the house as soon as you can get 2 ounces pumped in a bottle for someone to give the baby. Even if you only go get your oil changed, you will feel better and more like a real person.

Leaving the house with the baby - just do it. The worst that will happen is that he will scream and it will stress you out and potentially embarrass you. That has happened to everyone! You may need to nurse him in the car in the parking lot. It will be worth it to get out into the world.

You're not doing it wrong - because you will feel like you are. If the baby is fed and doesn't have a poopy butt, you're not doing it wrong, period. This one is REALLY important, because I felt like I was doing it wrong for a long time.

Support system - make sure you have one. You will need advice and people to vent to. Make sure they have the same values as you do - you don't want to blow off steam to your mother about breastfeeding if she's going to ask "why don't you just give him formula?"

Egalitarian, non-gendered parenting - I am a huge believer in this. I swore up and down that my husband and I would be totally equal when it comes to parenting. And he is a great dad and loves Alex so much. But I still feel that parenting is primarily my responsibility. I can't shake that feeling no matter what I do. When A is holding the baby and he cries, I physically cannot resist trying to take him.

More babies - you will think about this way earlier than you think you will.

Resentment - no matter how much you yearned for, tried for, and ultimately love your child, you will have moments (or okay, days) when you miss your old life. You will get on facebook and hate all of your bitchy friends who are out drinking without you. That's okay. It doesn't mean you don't love your baby. Your old life is all you know, and now you are getting used to this one, which is a great life but it does mean you don't get to have a summer suntan because you're stuck inside with a baby all day.

Moms, what did I miss?

Wish I had more time to write more coherently.

1. Breastfeeding is a challenge. As soon as I think I have it figured out, something changes. I'm still waiting for it to get easy.

2. Some nights, little man will fall asleep nursing, I'll put him in his bassinet, and he'll sleep for 2ish hours. Other nights, he wants nothing to do with the bassinet and will only sleep in my arms, and then he'll sleep for 4ish hours. What gives? I'm not really all that comfortable with co-sleeping in that way, and I don't get good rest when he's in my bed. Some nights maybe he just needs mommy more than others?

3. I would be just about completely healed from my c-section by now, except that, like an idiot, I decided to get the stroller out and go for a walk Saturday morning. Carrying the heavy ass stroller up our porch steps totally effed up the right side of my abdomen, which is now very swollen, and I have bruises all over. I'm a bit afraid of what my gyno will say at my postpartum checkup today.

4. I can't believe my little man is 2 weeks old today. His cord fell off last night. I feel like he has already started changing so much! He goes to the ped tomorrow and will hopefully be back at his birth weight. If not, I'm afraid they will give me a speech about supplementing formula, which I am not at all interested in doing. (AT. ALL.)

5. We got the ergo out and played with it this morning. Once it cools off tonight I hope to go for another walk with that instead of the stroller.

6. I think someone is going to have to literally push me out the door to get me to leave the house. I have been pumping and have plenty now to leave him with my husband for a few hours. But I'm afraid to go.

7. Pumping mystifies me. I have worked up to 3x a day (4x on a good day) and I consistently get about 1.5-2 ounces a day. I'm happy with that. But it's completely unpredictable when I'll get a good amount and when I'll be eeking it out drop by drop.

8. I have watched more tv in the past week than the rest of my life put together. Right now I'm enjoying the show New Girl.

9. I am much better, emotionally, than I have been. The first few days home from the hospital were really, really rough. Everything felt so raw. Sometimes I could hardly look at him because his little face just broke my heart. Things feel better now.

10. The hardest part, by far, of parenting (for me) is learning to silence the voices around you and listen to your gut about what is right for your child. It's difficult when you're new at this and everyone you go to for advice (La Leche League, the pediatrician, the Lactation Consultant, your friends, the internet) contradicts one another. I have stopped going to people for advice for a while and I'm just trying to make my own decisions (one mistake at a time).

11. Breastfeeding is a lot easier with a smart phone. I am reading all of your posts, but it's hard to comment one-handed, on a mobile device, at 3 am.

12. Sometimes I ache to be pregnant with him again. Sometimes I really miss having him all to myself. When he hiccups, I think about how they felt inside of me. But on the other hand, I spend far less time in the restroom and I can finally (!!!) sleep on my stomach again! When I miss being pregnant, I just tell myself I can get pregnant again, which I hope is true.

More later, for now, here's a photo of my sweet little boy.

The craziest day

Well yesterday was crazy.

The baby did great on the NST, which was a relief. When my OB came in the room, she started by telling us that the baby is above the 3rd percentile in growth, which is good, but is less than 10%, which is not-so-good. Then, without ceremony, she said "So we're going to deliver at 37 weeks."

I really wasn't surprised by this at all, but all of the blood left my husband's face. I've never seen him look like that before in my life! He kind of gasped out loud. He looked like he might cry or throw up. My OB kept glancing at me like "is he going to be okay?"

We discussed the things that may happen after delivery, and the necessity of a c-section in this case. I asked if any tests would be done to determine lung function, and she said quite bluntly no, because it doesn't matter, he needs to come out regardless of how his lungs are. I asked if I'd get a steroid shot and she said there's really no use for it after 34 weeks.

So, that's settled. I was feeling pretty okay with it all, besides being concerned for A. He still looked quite shaken. All in all, it took him about an hour to come to terms with the fact that we have just a few days remaining in this pregnancy, as opposed to the weeks he thought we had.

The timing works great this way. He's on break between semesters, so he'll have a solid three weeks to stay home with me and the baby before going back to work. I'm happy about that, especially since I'll need TLC too while I'm recovering from the c-section.

Me? Well, my emotions are all over the place. I am a bit of a mess.

Overall, I'm excited to meet my son on Tuesday. I'm also scared that he won't be as healthy as he would have been if he could have baked a bit longer. I'm terrified that he'll have to go to the NICU and I'll have hours or days before I can hold him. I feel sort of like a failure that I can't grow him any longer. I thought IUGR was usually an issue with uterus shape or something, which I didn't think I needed to worry about.

I'm a little sad that I'll never experience any labor. I'll never know what a contraction feels like. It's disappointing, but it kind of fits the theme of how this pregnancy began: everything was very clinical, scientific, deliberate. No room for having a bottle of wine and a romantic evening to conceive your child - we're doing the painful retrieval, ICSI, just about as interventionist as you can possibly get. Similarly, there's no time to languish at home, waiting for contractions and a bloody show, 18 hours of labor. Nope, get that baby out of there so he can start growing.

I'm quite nervous about how all of this will impact breastfeeding. The issue of his growth puts a lot of pressure on me to produce and do it well and do it quickly. Also, if he can't be with me right away, we're kind of setting ourselves up for problems in that department, aren't we?

I'm a little scared of a c-section. Not too scared, because I know so many women who have had one that it can't be that bad, but just scared of something new happening to my body involving a scalpel and lots of anesthesia.

I'm overwhelmed to know exactly what day my pregnancy will end. I will wake up on Tuesday and that's the last day I'll be pregnant for years - what if it's my last day, ever, being pregnant? I'm trying to memorize the way this little one feels when he moves inside me, because what if I never feel that again?

So yeah, lots of strands in the old duder's head here. I'm going to keep busy this weekend cleaning and trying to get a lot of rest. In just a week we'll be home from the hospital with our baby.

Always Infertile - NIAW

It’s National Infertility Awareness Week.

Last year at this time, I was in one of the darkest places of my life. This year for NIAW, I am 34 weeks pregnant. My, how much can change in a year.

Right now, I’m focused on baby showers, car seat bases, and crib mattresses, but I am still infertile. My first 14 weeks of pregnancy were wrought with anxiety, and even now I have moments of terror that my baby will be born still. I picture my life in shambles after such a tragedy.

When people are excited about my pregnancy – when they want to touch my belly, or talk about names, or ask how I’m feeling – it shocks me. I never really learned how to be excited for pregnant people. I only knew how to envy them in a deep, dark, painful place in my heart, and I shut down around them because of this horrible feeling.

I don’t expect people to be happy for me, but they are, and I don’t deserve their kindness. Deep down, I still feel like a bitter infertile.

I am still infertile because pregnancy announcements still hurt. It’s a little easier to be enthusiastic, and I certainly don’t feel like someone is carving my heart out with a dull, rusty spoon anymore. But it doesn’t feel good.

I will always be infertile because I cannot remember my positive pregnancy test from IVF #2 without also remembering the many, many negative pregnancy tests. Those negatives are like tiny pebbles in my heart, as opposed to a giant boulder crushing my chest, but they are still there.

And I am still infertile because my son is not even born yet and I already worry that I won’t be able to give him a sibling.

Infertility has colored every aspect of my life. It has taught me how to be a better friend, wife, person. I am more patient. I am far, far more humble. I understand that I am not in control. I have learned how to advocate for myself as a medical consumer. I have learned to never assume anything about anyone’s family situation. I have learned to keep my mouth shut.

These lessons are valuable, but they were hard earned. Infertility is a life crisis. Don’t ignore it – don’t ignore friends going through it, don’t ignore those of us who are temporarily pregnant infertiles. Don’t ignore your support system when everything goes dark around you.

Thinking about #2, baby showers

My pregnancy is winding down. I have fewer than 10 weeks left until the day my baby is due. Realistically, he could be here in less than 7 weeks.

There have been days that I’ve come home and cried because sometimes it’s hard to be pregnant. The constipation is difficult, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable, and I have other complaints I could mention if I wanted to.

But overall, I’ve enjoyed being pregnant. I love feeling my baby move inside me. I love knowing he’s always with me.

As I start glimpsing the end of the road, I have started feeling a little panicky that I’ll never be lucky enough to experience pregnancy again.

I want siblings for my son. My husband and I are open to and have discussed adoption. He’s actually very excited about the notion of adopting in the future. I would be too, except for the fact that we can’t afford adoption, and we have 2 more retrievals covered under our medical insurance. Our bank account dictates that if we are to have a second child, IVF will be our method.

I wish I could take baby number 2 (or even babies number 3, 4 and 5 if we wanted them) for granted. But I’m infertile, and everything is harder for us.

If this is my only pregnancy, I will be thankful that I even got to experience one. But I desperately don’t want that to be the case.

--

We have a baby shower this weekend. My family is so generous that I know we will be literally showered with gifts. I’m excited to get more baby stuff set up in our house, but mainly I’m excited that everyone’s excited about this baby.

It will be so nice to be surrounded by people who already love this little person. He has been prayed for, cried for, and anticipated for years, and he doesn’t even know it.

What a great way to come into this world: enveloped in layers of unconditional love. He has not only my love, but his father’s love, the love of four grandparents, six great-grandparents, 2 aunts, an uncle, 20 great-aunts and-uncles (I may be missing a couple of those), and countless cousins (first, second, third…).

He has done nothing to earn, deserve, or ask for love, and yet it has already been sent to him in abundance. It amazes me.