Life After...

NewKid

2007-11-07T10:45:00.001-05:00

Sorry that was so short! Yes, I am pregnant. About five minutes pregnant - 4 weeks, 2 days.

After Eleanor was born, as much as I loved her, I didn't think I'd be able to do it all again. The sleeplessness, the isolation, the anxiety...I just didn't think i could handle it.

The miracle of sleep, plus Prozac, when she was 5 months old went a long way toward making it better. By the time she was six months, I knew we'd do it again someday, but I figured we'd start in fall 2007 so they'd be about three years apart.

When Eleanor was 11 months old, I started to feel the first stirrings of baby fever. She was so much fun! How could another one not be even MORE fun? But we decided to stick to our planned timeline.

In September, when Eleanor was 14 months old, the baby fever got intolerable and I finally broached the subject with Andy. To my surprise, he said he felt ready, too. We decided to wait until after my first appointment with my new GYN, scheduled for late October. I wanted to meet her, discuss pregnancy timing, whether I should stop the Prozac, etc. But we had a plan! In preparation, I started charting, just to get an idea of my cycle.

In mid-October a friend of mine got married, and we got a babysitter for one of the first times ever. The wedding was a blast. Do you see where this is going? We had fun. But...two days later I looked at my chart and realized I was ovulating. Oops!

One week after that, I got heartburn and sore boobs. By 8 DPO, I decided I must be imagining it, and took a test that evening to shut myself up. I knew it would be negative, and I could go back to wondering for a few days.

It was positive. So were the approximately 1,000 other tests I took over the next few days to make sure.

So here we are! I did meet with the new doctor, and she's great. I'm off the Prozac for now but she'll try me on Zoloft at soon as NewKid is born (Prozac is no good for breastfeeding, unfortunately.) My first prenatal appointment is December 19.

Wish us luck!

July 14, 2008

2007-11-01T13:10:00.000-04:00

Is it:

a) Bastille Day?
b) the day after Eleanor's second birthday?
c) EDD of Eleanor's new brother or sister?
d) All of the above?

Answer: D.

2007-09-10T09:47:00.000-04:00

My brother and SIL (yes, THAT brother and SIL) recently announced that they're expecting another baby. It was nice to greet that news with genuine happiness and not a months-long meltdown, I have to say.

Sometimes little things still nag at me. On Father's Day when they made their announcement at dinner with my dad and his family, we got in a discussion of all the babies born recently and how they've all been girls. We have Eleanor; my brother and SIL have Emma; my stepbrother and his wife have a two-year-old daughter. My dad said something like, "Well V [a cousin] has two boys, but she's the only one so far."

I said, "Well, we had a boy."

Silence.

It felt like it went on forever, but it was probably only a couple of seconds; then my dad recovered himself and said, "That's right, you did." And the conversation moved on. But that kind of sucked. I don't go through every day thinking about Joseph constantly any more, and I don't expect anyone else to, either, but I had the sense my dad had completely forgotten.

2007-08-10T14:54:00.000-04:00

It's nice to know there are still people out there checking this blog! I've done some reading to see what's going on with everyone and thought I'd check in and let you know how we're doing.

We moved to Fairfax, VA at the end of January. It's been wonderful! My husband is happier than he's been in years - he's loving his job again, he has a 15-minute commute, and it's no longer a 15-hour ordeal to see his family. I think we've visited them more in the last six months than in the six YEARS we were together before that. They're thrilled, of course, since they get to spend time with Eleanor.

I found a job within two months of getting here, and started at the end of April. I'm a writer/editor for a big government contractor, and I like it. I'm learning a lot, and I love being able to write again. We found a daycare less than two miles from the townhouse we're renting, and we love it. Eleanor was 9 months old when she started, and she adjusted really well. (The first day, the teacher told me when I went to pick E up, "We wish ALL our babies were like Eleanor!") She's been in a separation-anxiety phase of crying at dropoffs lately, but overall they tell me she's doing great there. I drop her off a little after 7 am; then Andy leaves work at 3 (he gets there at 7) and picks her up on his way home. They have about two hours of daddy/baby time until I get home around 5:30. She's gotten really attached to him, and he's gained a ton of confidence in his parenting skills without me being the default because I was around all the time.

I miss E while I'm working, and sometimes it seems like there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done, but overall, being a working mom feels much more balanced and fulfilling than being at home did.

We celebrated Eleanor's first birthday on July 13:

She is a joy and a delight. Ever since about 5-6 months, motherhood has gotten better every day. I love tickling her and making her laugh. I love watching her eat things I never thought a baby would like, like Gardenburgers and pasta with pesto and dill pickles. I love that she sleeps through the night and we all wake up happy and refreshed. I love her chubby little arms.

She started crawling around 10 months, and from there things just exploded - a month after she first crawled she pulled up for the first time; within a few weeks she was cruising, then letting go to stand momentarily on her own, then taking a few tentative little steps here and there; and last night she strolled across the room so nonchalantly that it took me a minute to register what I was seeing.

Life couldn't be better right now.

A few more pics:

About 9 months old:

Trying out a first birthday gift:

2007-08-09T16:39:00.001-04:00

Anyone still out there?

Six Months Old!

2007-01-23T07:12:00.000-05:00

I am a bad blogger. I apologize.

Eleanor turned 6 months old last Saturday. So much has changed since I last wrote. As is probably obvious, I was so anxious all the time and I really wasn't enjoying motherhood as much as I wanted to. In November, the counselor I've been seeing since I had Joseph suggested I go see her colleague, the psychiatrist, about possibly going on meds for PPD.

I wasn't sure about it. I wanted to feel better, but I didn't want to take meds if I didn't have to. I thought maybe my problems were related to sleep deprivation - by November, Eleanor had become completely dependent on her pacifier to sleep, and was waking up 6-8 times a night wanting it put back in. I was a zombie. So I met with the psych, but we decided we'd work on the sleep issue first and see if that helped.

In mid-November, we taught Eleanor to sleep without the paci, which was remarkably easy and involved almost no crying. The very first night after we took it away, she slept ten hours straight. TEN HOURS. Now, she's fallen into a predictable pattern - bedtime around 7:30, wakes once to eat around 4:30, and then sleeps until 7 or 7:30. It's like heaven.

But I was still a wreck. I can't really describe it - it was just the creeping feeling of always feeling like I was doing something wrong. Even though she was sleeping, I had insomnia. I was anxious and lonely and bored. So around Christmastime, I went back to the psych and we agreed to start me on Prozac.

And...I'm like a different person. I don't know if it's all the Prozac or if Eleanor suddenly got about twice as cute and fun as she had been, or a little of both, but it's been a revelation. She is the BEST. She laughs all the time. She rolls over. She sits up without support. She's learned to scoot herself around on her back. She loves to be bounced up and down. Being her mom is SO MUCH FUN.

In other news, we sold our house. We close on the 31st! I've been running around scheduling movers and packing stuff up and getting ready to go. I'm really excited. I'll also be looking for a job once we get there, which I'm looking forward to.

Rambly post - but I'm hoping to start writing again more. Here are some recent pics:

With Emma (Eleanor's on the right) at Christmas:

Six months old:

Falling apart

2006-10-19T11:37:00.000-04:00

I'm not doing so well here. I need to get all of this out.

Eleanor recovered from her nursing strike. I figured out that for whatever reason, she didn't want to lie on her left side in order to nurse on the right. I brought her to the ped, but no ear infection; she was just being picky. She's back to nursing normally, but now we have the opposite problem - all of a sudden, at three months, she's refusing the bottle. She took it fine from the time she was 3 weeks old - she'd even take it from me. Now all of a sudden when you put it in her mouth, she just sits there, then cries if you try again. We've tried breast milk, we even tried formula. We tried bottles and nipples from Medela, Dr. Brown's, Evenflo, and Nuk. We tried Andy giving her the bottle and we tried me giving it to her. Nothing works.

This is a big problem. I have not been away from her for more than two hours since she was born, and it was only two hours on two occasions, and on both of them it was just me, not Andy (he stayed with her). I am going crazy. I need to get out. Things have been better since I joined Gymboree and met some nice-enough women - we even went to a Reel Moms matinee this week, which was fun. But I need some non-baby time. We have a wedding coming up in a few weeks and my mom was going to watch Eleanor (not overnight, we were going to stay with my mom too, but we'll be gone from 3 pm - 12 amish. Now if the baby won't eat, I don't know what I'll do.

All of the information I can find online says that maybe she'll take a sippy cup, but a baby can't get a lot of milk from a cup at this age. And that's a problem because...well...please don't flame me but...I want to stop breastfeeding in the next few months.

I don't mind the actual physical act of breastfeeding - it's fine, although I don't get the whole magical mystical bonding experience from it that people go on and on about. It's just feeding her, plain and simple. But I hate so many things that go along with it. I hate being the default middle-of-the-night parent. I hate not being able to go anywhere without the baby. I hate that none of my shirts fit. I hate strapping myself into industrial bras even to sleep. And most of all I hate the breastfeeding information I find online. It's almost all of the breastfeeding as religion/lifestyle type, the kind of information that cheerfully advises me that no, my breastfed baby will never sleep through the night, and that's as it should be, and I really should give in and let her sleep in the bed with me, and why should I mind not being away from her when I can just wear her in a hand-sewn organic hemp sling 24 hours a day? All of this does not make me feel better. It makes me feel worse, much much worse. I think of spending the next year waking up multiple times a night to nurse, and never going anywhere alone or with just my husband, and I feel this uncontrollable panic.

And the worst is the guilt. How can I feel this way after what I've been through? Why should I WANT to get away from this baby we waited for for so long? What's wrong with me? Why should I not want to nurse her til she's 20 to make sure she's as healthy as possible? Maybe Joseph is better off, not having to be parented by me. Maybe I should have taken what happened as a sign that I wasn't meant to be a mother.

I still see the therapist that I've been seeing all along, but she's no help at all. Honestly, I don't see why one needs a social worker license to sit there and tell me, "Well, you're going through a lot of hormonal changes. You'll be fine." Shit, I could tell myself that for free. And I can't talk to Andy because we end up fighting; he accuses me of LIKING or NEEDING to worry, and of making everyone around me (read: him) suffer because of it.

I just don't know what to do.

Strike!

2006-09-21T09:43:00.000-04:00

Starting on Tuesday afternoon, Eleanor is refusing the breast at random. Tuesday she was fine in the morning and started refusing in the evening, even though she was starving. We had to give her a bottle of pumped milk before she went to bed. (She then slept through the night - 10 pm - 6 am - for the first time, but I don't think it was related.)

Yesterday she refused the breast first thing in the morning, but took it 4 times during the day; then in the late afternoon she started refusing again. She seems perfectly happy most of the time, but when she starts to act hungry and I offer her the breast, she screams at the mere sight of it. So again, she got a bottle of EBM before bed. This time, she slept much worse than usual. Who knows? When she woke up around midnight, she nursed. Then at 3:30, she refused and drank part of a bottle. At 7:15, she nursed. So we'll see. I am noticing that it's mostly the right side she's refusing - all but one of the times she's nursed in the last few days, it's been from the left side. I think I'm going to call the ped and ask about a possible earache on the right, although like I said, she seems perfectly happy as long as she's not looking at my right boob.

I have pumped more in the last few days than I have since her birth, and I'm already sick of it. Bleh.

We should have named her Norma Rae.

Step Away From The Parenting Manuals

2006-09-11T22:19:00.000-04:00

When Andy and I were first dating, I was surfing the internet one day at work (some things never change...) and came across a site devoted to The Rules, that sick-making relationship book that advised women to pretend to be total bimbos in order to get married. I was bored, so I started poking around on the site and the forums, and then it was like a train wreck that I couldn't look away from.

According to The Rules, I learned, I was doing absolutely everything wrong in my new relationship. We were spending almost all our time together; we'd slept together within a few weeks of dating; he'd seen me without makeup. According to The Rules, Andy was due to drop me like a hot potato any old time now, since I'd "lost my mystery."

Now, obviously, I thought this was the biggest pile of bullshit I'd ever heard. And yet...for some reason I couldn't stop reading those forums. And for some reason, even though I really didn't believe in any of it, that little voice in my head started to say, "but what if you're wrong, and they're right? what if your certainty that this is BS is wrong?"

I clearly have anxiety issues and always have, and it was a tough situation to be in, -- pretty sure I knew what was right for me, and yet unable to silence that little 1% of doubt. It was hard for me, and it made the beginning of our relationship a lot less enjoyable than it should have been. Of course, we got married anyway, so obviously the Rules bimbos can suck it.

Do I sound like a head case yet? Just wait.

So here I am, embarking on the second biggest change in my life, after getting married - having a child. And even though I've always had definite ideas about what kind of parent I would/wanted to be, I fell prey to the same situation.

It started when I was looking up information on breastfeeding in those first days home from the hospital, when I wasn't sure if Eleanor's 5-minute feeds were normal. I started with "So That's What They're For!" which several people had recommended to me. It's supposed to be a lighthearted but informative book about breastfeeding. Personally, I found it neither. It was poorly organized and low on concrete information, and it made breastfeeding sound about as much fun as a prison sentence.

I moved on to my giant AAP "Caring for Your Baby and Young Child" tome, which gave advice that seemed much saner. I felt better. I should have stopped there. Did I? Of course not! I looked up information online. And discovered Attachment Parenting.

It was The Rules all over again. I knew right away that this was a philosophy that was not and never would be for me, but I couldn't stop reading. (And to get slightly off topic, here's something that really annoys me--why does so much breastfeeding information out there make it sound like you can't breastfeed without also co-sleeping, strapping the baby to your body 24/7, and refusing to take even a moment for yourself? Isn't it possible to feed the baby and not make an entire lifestyle out of it? It's enough to make me want to stop altogether - not that I will, but still.)

Anyway, postpartum hormones and new-mother anxiety combined with the stuff I was reading to make the last few weeks kind of hellish. I KNOW I love my baby more than life itself and that I want the best for her, and that I don't have to sleep with her or "wear" her all day to prove it. And yet...there's that little voice again. What if Dr. Sears is right and I'm wrong after all? What if my crib-sleeping, stroller-pushed, binky-sucking, bedtime-ritualed, occasional-bottle-of-expressed-milk-drinking little daughter ends up at the top of a clock tower, sighting down the barrel of a rifle, sobbing, "Mommy WENT BACK TO WORK! And she didn't let me sleep in her bed! AND SHE GAVE ME A BINKY!"

Edit: I should clarify here that I'm not equating something like The Rules for relationships with Attachment Parenting as a philosophy. I think The Rules are actively harmful to relationships, whereas AP is just a style that's different from mine. I don't think it screws up kids or anything...it's just that I take issue with it being presented as the ONLY way to raise well-adjusted kids.

The Ugly

2006-09-01T16:01:00.000-04:00

On a lighter note...

The other day I was out with the baby in the town center, running errands. I was walking down the street when I heard someone calling out, "Hey, lady? Hey!"

It finally registered that someone was trying to get my attention. My first thought was that I'd put the carseat on the stroller wrong without realizing it, or that someone was going to opine that the baby needed a hat.

When I turned around, it was a very elderly man with no teeth, sitting in the passenger side of a parked car at the curb. He leaned out the window and leered, "Hey, lady...going my way?"

Hey, I may have a seven-week-old baby, but I've still got it!

The Bad

2006-09-01T15:45:00.000-04:00

OK, I finally have some time while Eleanor takes a nap.

I'm thrilled that she's here, but I am having a little trouble adjusting, I think. It's not the "baby blues" of the first two weeks, where I was sleep-deprived and crying and worried I'd made a big mistake. Whatever this is, it's manifesting itself in extreme self-doubt and anxiety. Which is not new for me, but motherhood gives it a whole new thing to attach to.

Basically I feel like I can't do anything right. How much should I be holding her? What kinds of things should I be doing with her when she's awake? Is it OK to put her in the swing for half an hour while I take a shower? Am I wrong to want her to sleep in her own bed, eventually even in her own room?

When she's awake, we sit in her room and play on her playmat. She'll lie on her back and look in the mirror, or at the dots and stripes on the arches. I'll flip her to her tummy and encourage her as she lifts her head and tries to roll over. I'll hold her upright, her favorite thing, and let her look into my eyes. I'll sing to her and make the "heh, heh, heh" noise to make her laugh. I'll read her a story, if she's willing to sit still long enough.

And once I've done all that, half an hour or so has gone by and she's still awake. And I have no idea what else to do. And, frankly, my arms are tired and I'm, well, a little bit bored.

We'll go to the mall in her stroller, and I'll look around at all the other moms with their strollers and wonder if they made up reasons to be there, like I did, just so I could get out of the house.

I'll go to lunch with two women I know from college who are home raising their kids, and then feel cold inside as they spend the whole time talking about how useless their husbands are (good men that I went to school with, men I've known as long as I've known them) and how their babysitters "preserve their sanity."

Other times, I'll go meet Andy for lunch at his office, and we'll sit outside on the MIT campus and eat lunch while the sun shines and a nice breeze blows and Eleanor coos at us, and I think I couldn't possibly be happier.

I'll nurse Eleanor in the recliner in her room, and she'll finish with a soft little sigh of satisfaction and fall asleep on my lap, and I think I could stay there forever.

I used to read five or six books a week. I haven't gotten through an entire one since Eleanor was born. I miss it.

I tried a politically correct baby sling and hated it. I returned it and bought a secondhand Bjorn.

I guess I just feel isolated. I don't know many other women at home, and the ones I do know, well, we don't have a lot in common. I try to get out as much as I can, but it's usually just Eleanor and me. I need to try harder to go to museums, and the zoo, and places like that instead of inventing errands to run.

And I feel so guilty that I feel this way. Aren't I supposed to be submerged in domestic bliss, or something? How can I love my baby and still feel this way? And then other times I get mad - why should I feel guilty? I'm still me. I should still have my own identity. Shouldn't I?

I'm trying to put Eleanor down for a nap whenever she seems really tired. Most of the time I guess right and she goes to sleep. Sometimes I guess wrong, and she's crying for me five minutes later, wide awake. And then I wonder, did I really think she was tired, or was I just hoping she was so I could check my e-mail?

I'm totally rambling. Is this making sense to anyone? Am I horrible?

I don't want to raise my daughter to feel this all-encompassing guilt.

The Good

2006-08-31T10:02:00.000-04:00

Soon to be followed by, of course, The Bad and The Ugly, but I don't have time for all three right now.

The Good: We're all getting a lot more sleep! Eleanor's general pattern lately has been to do one four-hour stretch, followed by one three-hour stretch, followed by a second three-hour stretch that's a little more restless and dozy than deep sleep. Usually for that last stretch I bring her into bed with me, since Andy's gone for the day at that point. She was going to bed when we did, so I was getting the same amount of sleep as she was, and it's totally doable. I had tried her out in her own crib a few times and she did fine, but her room is directly below ours, down a short flight of stairs in our townhouse, and I got tired of going up and down...also, something about her being on a different floor bothered me - I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. So she's been sleeping in our room, off in a darker alcove so we can read or watch TV without disturbing her. She does nap in her crib, so I don't worry that she won't be used to it.

I did recently decide that she probably needs a more normal bedtime, since we were keeping her up with us until she conked out on her own (generally between 11 pm and 1 am) and she, not to mention me, was way overtired at that point. So last night I decided to try putting her to bed earlier. We gave her a bath at 7:45 - she loves her bath and it really relaxes her. Then we put her in jammies, fed her, and read her a story, and I put her in her swing in our room (she sleeps really well in that swing, although I don't want it to become too much of a habit) at 8:15. She fell asleep immediately, even though she'd been awake when I put her down.

She woke up a half hour later and wanted her pacifier - she seemed wide awake, but content, so I just gave it to her and left her. Then she wanted the paci about every ten minutes for the next half hour, but I just kept giving it back to her and she seemed happy, so I left her. (I would not let her cry, just so y'all know.)

About 9:15, she fell asleep. I figured she'd be hungry again by 11, so I planned to sort of semi-wake her to eat and then go to bed myself. But when I tried to feed her at 10:45, she was fast asleep - she didn't even wake up until I changed her diaper. So I put her back down and turned out the light, but I lay awake, certain she'd wake up at any moment.

She didn't wake up until 3:30 a.m. Three. thirty. A. M.

Of course, I hardly slept at all. I know I got up at least once to make sure she was breathing, and on at least two other occasions I woke up Andy by poking him and whispering "Are you awake? She's still sleeping! I don't believe it! Do you think she's OK?" He was not amused.

Anyway, she woke up long enough to eat at 3:30, and then fell asleep again tuntil Andy's alarm woke her around 5:30. Honestly, I don't think she'd have woken up if she'd been in her own room, because she barely snacked and then fell right back to sleep. She was restless after that, though, and I brought her in with me and we dozed on and off until 7.

She's also taking a nap now. For two hours so far. In her crib.

Lest it sound like I only value my baby for her sleeping habits, I have to say she's an angel. We avoided the dreaded colic, although she's been a bit more fussy the last few days. I'd heard that increasing fussiness at approximately six weeks after the due date was normal, so I'd bet that's what it is. She has started smiling more and more often, which is the best thing in the world. I recently figured out a foolproof way to get her to do it - apparently, repeating back to her the gruntly, snuffly noises she makes is the funniest thing ever. Now all I have to do is go "heh, heh, heh" in a low gravelly voice and she gives me the hugest, gummiest grin. It's amazing how much more of a little PERSON she is now, with her own personality. She loves to be held in a standing position so she can bear weight on her legs, and will do it for hours if we hold her. She loves her bath but hates her carseat buckles (not the carseat itself, thank goodness).

Here's a recent photo of bathtime:

and another:

The Last Diaper, or, how my day went yesterday

2006-08-24T10:26:00.000-04:00

Eleanor and I are pretty good at getting out and about together. I thought I'd be a wreck driving with her, but I'm really not; at first it was hard to work up the motivation to get out of the house, but I realized that the more I did, the better I felt, so we're really making an effort. On Tuesday we took the T into Cambridge to visit Andy at his office; yesterday we went to breastfeeding clinic at the hospital and then to the mall; today I'm meeting some friends for lunch.

But every once in a while we have a day that makes me think maybe I should have stayed home after all.

Yesterday started out fine - I really only stopped by the breastfeeding group because I had plans to visit with Patty, the nurse who heads the pregnancy loss team at the hospital where I had Joseph. She'd been on vacation when I visited the other nurse and the neonatologist, and I really wanted her to meet Eleanor.

Eleanor fed well at the clinic and charmed everyone with how alert she was (and she's just learned to smile!) and our visit with Patty was sweet. So we stopped by the mall because I needed a few new T-shirts...I never realized how many of my clothes are really only good for work, or anyway not so good for nursing a spit-uppy infant.

Eleanor had eaten at the clinic at 1 pm, so I figured we had until at least 3:30 or 4 before she got hungry. No such luck. As I browsed in the Gap, she began to fuss and suck on her fingers, so I took her to Macy's, where I knew there was a big dressing room with a chair in the baby section. But first, I needed to use the ladies' room, so we stopped there. I had barely maneuvered the stroller into the handicapped stall and sat down when Eleanor let out an earsplitting wail. She NEVER cries like that; she must have been really hungry (maybe a growth spurt?). But there was nothing I could do at the moment except frantically offer her her pacifier, which she was having none of.

There were several women out by the sinks, and I heard one of them say disapprovingly, "That baby is in pain!" I wanted to sink into the floor as Eleanor screamed even louder and I heard more half-whispered conversation about me; I couldn't tell what they were saying. I finished as fast as I could and emerged to find several older ladies clucking at me. The original speaker said officiously, "Ma'am, is your baby all right?"

"She's hungry," I muttered, red-faced. "I just need to get somewhere and feed her." I washed up as fast as I could, not meeting anyone's eyes. As I wheeled her out, a little girl of about five asked, wide-eyed, "What's wrong with the baby?"

"SHE'S HUNGRY," I repeated and got the hell out of there.

We found our dressing room and I started to feed her, but she was worked up from crying and kept popping off the nipple to fuss. Finally we were done - sweaty and tired and fussy, but done. And then I did a stupid thing...I decided to change her diaper. I got the changing pad set up and, crouching on the floor of the dressing room, awkwardly got her wet diaper off and a fresh one on. Then I buckled her carefully back into her stroller. The instant I snapped the last fastener I heard:

SPLURRRT!

So off came all the straps, out came the changing pad, and I did it all over again. This time as I reached for a diaper I realized it was the last one in the diaper bag. Oh well, I thought, at least I'm going home now.

I didn't even get it closed before she exploded again.

So my poor child had to go home in a dirty diaper, and CPS should be knocking on my door any minute now, since Ms. Officious probably had me tailed.

Amazing that I actually left the house again today, isn't it?

settling in

2006-08-18T23:37:00.000-04:00

Can you believe that six weeks - half! - of my maternity leave are over as of today? Where did the time go? Eleanor was five weeks old on Thursday. Sometimes it feels like it's flown, and sometimes it feels like she's been here forever.

It's hard to believe how much she's already changed. A month ago she was just a tiny bundle of needs - now she's starting to have a personality. We're starting to discover her likes (being held upright, looking at herself in mirrors, peeing on us as soon as we open her diaper) and dislikes (being strapped into her carseat, being put down while mom and dad eat dinner). She started smiling, very occasionally, last week - there is nothing more heart-melting than sitting down to nurse and getting a huge gummy smile. (I think she may actually be smiling at the boob and not me, but I'll take what I can get.)

She's starting to develop slightly more predictable eating and sleeping patterns; she's going longer during the day (3 hours or so), then cluster feeding in the evening, then going 3-4 hour stretches at night. My mom was visiting again last week, and she helped me get started with a bedtime routine and with transitioning Eleanor to her crib in the nursery instead of the swing in our room. This "bedtime routine" stuff actually works - I think it's the fifth night we've done it, and tonight she went down faster than ever. I'm about to go grab some sleep myself before her first night waking (generally around 2:30). I'm doing pretty well with the sleep deprivation - going for two three-hour stretches with a short feeding in between feels like a hard-earned luxury. Often on weekends Andy will get up with her first thing in the morning and give her a bottle of pumped milk, which also helps.

We're getting better at taking her out and about - when I'm home alone with her during the week it gets hard to work up the motivation to get out, but I feel so much better when I do that I really need to make the effort. She's been to a few restaurants (mostly fast-food places like Quizno's, but a few sit-down places during off hours); to just about every store around; to friends' houses; and today we took her to a local county fair, which she slept through entirely but which gave us some good practice.

Oh, and we're moving...the Northern VA move is definitely on. We're getting ready to put the house on the market. This seemed a lot less daunting before the baby was actually here, but I'm still really excited about it.

OK, need some sleep.

2006-08-01T16:11:00.000-04:00

I can't believe it's been two and a half weeks since Eleanor was born - it feels like she's been here forever. I wouldn't go so far as to say that we're settling into a routine, but life at least feels like it's returned to some new semblance of normal.

I was hit hard by the baby blues in the first few days after we got home from the hospital. Breastfeeding was going OK, but there were a lot of new-mom questions and concerns - for example, E spent her first few days home sound asleep and her first few nights home eating for 5 minutes, falling asleep, waking up when put down, eating for 5 more minutes, falling asleep...and over and over. I had a few nights in a row where I didn't sleep at all, and I tried sleeping during the day but I've never been good at that. Last Monday, I broke down in front of Andy and my mom and sobbed that I hated having a baby, that it had been a huge mistake. I felt horrible, but it was even worse that Andy got upset hearing me say that (not that I really blamed him) and we had a big fight about it. I felt horribly guilty and sad.

Miraculously, that was the night E decided to sleep for 3-4 hours in between feedings. We figured out that she likes to sleep in her swing, so we tried it and it worked. She's had pretty good nights ever since - she's been going between 2 and 4 hours between feedings and going right back down afterward. After nights of not sleeping at all, getting up every two hours feels like a luxury. After a few nights of sleeping better, it was like the "mom hormone" finally kicked in - I am just enthralled with E. I had no idea I could love another human being as much as I love this tiny girl.

By chance I discovered that the hospital I delivered Joseph at (which is closer to our house than the one I delivered E at) has a drop-in breastfeeding support group 5 days a week. When my mom was here last week, we went three times - I love the LC who runs it, and it was great to meet so many new moms going through all the same things. I think I'll be going at least once a week for a while, if for nothing else than the companionship and advice. E is now 8 lbs 2 oz, so she's one pound 4 oz over her birthweight and one pound ten ounces over her hospital discharge weight, so I guess I'm doing something right!

The first day we went to the group, we decided to go up to the birthing unit and see if any of the wonderful nurses who took care of me last year were there. As it turned out, the nurse who was with me all through my labor and the neonatologist who took care of Joseph were on duty, so we had them paged. As soon as they came out in the hall and saw me, we all started to cry. It's amazing that the staff there remembers us so well - I think our story really touched them. I'm glad we went.

E is crying...more later

Introducing Eleanor Grace

2006-07-24T19:50:00.000-04:00

I don't have a lot of time to write, but I wanted to thank you all for your good wishes - and most of all for the support you've all given me through this journey. Nora is 11 days old and things are going well. I had a touch of the baby blues over the last few days because I felt so overwhelmed and trapped in the house, even though Andy was being wonderful. Then my mom arrived last night, and today she forced me to get up and shower and leave the house like a normal person, so I feel much better.

At the breastfeeding clinic we went to today, we learned that Nora has gained almost one full pound in the last week - she's now 7 lbs 7 oz, 15 oz higher than the weight she left the hospital at and 8 oz up from her birthweight. We've had a few hurdles with the breastfeeding, but it's getting better all the time, and I guess I'm doing something right!

Birth Day (or, Torture by Bacon)

2006-07-13T07:46:00.000-04:00

It's finally here - I can't believe it. In the last 24 hours I've finally let myself think a little bit about how this is going to feel. I imagine myself crying when they give me the baby - crying with joy for her, but also with sadness for her brother. I can imagine the incredible gratitude I'll feel toward Dr. Riley if everything goes well. That's about as far as I've gotten with imagining the baby actually being here. I can picture all the rest of it - the hospital room and my family gathering around and the operation itself - because I've been there before. But not the baby part.

My in-laws arrived yesterday afternoon, and my dad and his wife got to Boston last night and checked into their hotel. My parents are on their way and will be meeting us at the hospital. We have to be there at 11:30 for the 1:30 procedure. I slept a little bit more than I thought I would, but still not much - I was relieved when it got to be 5:30 am, so I could legitimately get up.

I wasn't allowed to eat after midnight last night, so I had some hot cocoa last thing before bed, about 11:30. Right now, though, my husband is cooking breakfast for his parents, and the smell of bacon is about to drive me insane. I'm not even allowed to drink water. UNTIL 1:30. Well, really until tomorrow, but I guess the IV will keep me from being hungry once I get it. I hope so, anyway.

Thanks to everyone for all the good wishes. I can't wait to share the news. I just hope it's good news.

Now I have to go upstairs where I can't smell the bacon anymore.

2006-07-10T16:41:00.000-04:00

I went in for my last nonstress test this morning. It seemed fine to me - unlike several other times, the nurse didn't need to wake the baby up with the buzzer, and she seemed to move as much or more than normal. So when the nurse got back from bringing the printout to the doctor, I was unprepared to be told that the test was "nonreactive" and that they wanted me back in 90 minutes for an ultrasound.

I know it's fairly normal to have a nonreactive NST once in a while, but I panicked, of course. I called Andy, and thanked God his office is right across the bridge from the hospital. He came over and we forced ourselves to go eat lunch before my ultrasound appointment. When we got back to the office, we had to wait about an extra 45 minutes - which actually sort of made me feel better. I figured that if they'd seen something truly dire, they'd have rushed me in for the ultrasound right away.

As it turns out, the Pad is fine. The technician pointed everything out - the different parts of her heart, her stomach and kidneys, and her labia (it's definite - she's a girl). We got to watch her practice breathing, and we got some astonishingly clear shots of her face, even though it wasn't a 3D ultrasound. She has fat little cheeks and a squishy little mouth.

I am home now and collapsed on the couch with rubber-legged relief. Kid, don't ever scare me like that again, OK?

Single digits!

2006-07-04T10:21:00.000-04:00

We're down to 9 days and counting! I saw the doctor for the last time yesterday and had one of the few NST's I've had so far where the Pad did not move either too much or too little. One more NST on Monday, and that's it!

I've been convinced for the last few weeks that I'm about to go into labor any second, and keep changing my mind. I've had a bunch of what could be taken as signs of imminent labor (upset stomach, crampy feelings that come and go, more Braxton-Hicks, mrandom bursts of energy) but they always go away and leave me sure I'm NOT going into labor. Either way it would be OK at this point. Aside from the occasional random bursts of energy, I am ready to be done with pregnancy for now. No matter how early I stop taking in liquids, I'm still up 5-6 times a night to pee. Also, the period around 10-11 pm is apparently Party Time in my uterus; unfortunately it's also the time I'm trying to fall asleep. I love feeling her move, but she's so low now that it can really hurt. (I have to say, though, it is so cool to feel her different parts. For the last few weeks I'm able to feel definite feet over on my right side, and a little baby bottom keeps poking out just to the left of my navel. Poking WAY out - when she arches her back, that side of my belly will stick out at least a few inches farther than the other side.) Luckily for my sleep-deprived self, Friday is my last day of work. I was originally going to work up to Tuesday the 11th, but last week as I dragged myself in after another night of crappy sleep, I realized that I didn't need to be such a hero. I'm ahead on everything and have planned well for my leave; two more days isn't going to make a difference, and I'd rather have the 5 free days this will now give me to catch up on sleep...before I found out what sleep deprivation really means.

I did the hospital tour last week; it makes the day seem so much more real now that I can picture where I will be. I'm getting sort of nervous - not even so much about the baby, but I've been so focused just on getting to D-Day that I haven't really thought about what that actually means. I hadn't really focused on the "major surgery" part of it until recently, and it's freaking me out a bit. I know it's something that is done every day and very few people have major complications, and I know what to expect from it in may ways, but still - major surgery! I still haven't let myself think much about the actual BABY part of the equation - still self-preserevation, I guess - but I'm starting to think about that a little more. I'm nervous for her, but I'm also nervous for me - I'm starting to get a bit of that "Am I ready for this? What's going to happen? Will I ever sleep again?" freakout that I got before Joseph. I know we're ready, I just don't know exactly what to expect.

Finally, I got a call from my brother last week. He has to be in Chicago for a bachelor party the weekend I have the Pad, so he and my sister in law and Emma weren't going to come visit until a few weeks after the birth. Last week he called and said that he decided that he wouldn't be able to go away without seeing us and making sure everything was OK, so he wanted to come up on Thursday night to see us in the hospital, and was that OK with me? I was touched - things have been a lot better between us, but that did surprise me. Of course I said yes, and then he told me that one of my stepbrothers and his wife also wanted to come that night. So in addition to six parents (Andy's parents, my mom and stepdad, and my dad and his wife), we'll also have two brothers and their wives (and two babies, although they won't be allowed in to see me). I have no idea how I'll be on Thursday night - probably kind of drugged up - but I'm glad they'll be there, and the brothers will be leaving Friday morning to go to Chicago, so it won't be too many people for too long a time. (I did let my local friends know that, while I'd love for them to visit me in the hospital, they should probably not come Thursday night.)

Sorry for the rambling...just a lot going on in my head today.

2006-06-28T13:51:00.000-04:00

I really hate to call anyone out like this, but has anyone heard from GabesMama? When I try to access her blog I get an error message. GabesMama, if you're out there, I hope you and the baby are doing OK!

20 days

2006-06-23T15:57:00.000-04:00

I've been horrible about writing, I know. I've just come off two of the most hectic weeks of my entire career, and that's mostly why. A big project I'm in charge of needed to be done so it could bill by the end of the fiscal year, and it got held up by a lot of things beyond my control. I finally did finish it on time, but not in time to prevent the two weeks from hell (which included a day where I raced into Demanding Scary Boss' office with a giant stack of proofs that prevented me from seeing my feet, stepped on her umbrella, and broke it).

Everything continues to go well with the Pad. I've had three or four nonstress tests so far - although she's passed all of them, it seemed like something was always going wrong. The first two times she moved so much that it took the nurses ten minutes each time to even get the heartbeat monitor on me. The third time, she barely moved at all at first and had to be awakened with a little buzzy wand kept for that purpose. Nonstress, my ass. (We did get through the most recent one with no problems.)

I'm up to weekly visits and weekly NSTs now. I was a little taken aback earlier this week when I was making my next appointment with the receptionist and she asked me why I needed so many NSTs. She didn't ask in a snotty way, but WTF? a) It's none of her business, b) There are at least two high-risk doctors in this practice; I'm certain I'm not the only one getting multiple NSTs. I answered without even thinking, very matter of factly, "I had a baby last year who died." I think that embarrassed her; she mumbled that she was sorry. I wasn't hugely offended by the whole thing, but really, what kind of question is that? I bet she learned not to ask anymore, though.

The Pad is healthy, but I don't feel so hot - I'm way bigger than last time and it's starting to wear me out. I'm much more tired and sore than I was with Joseph. I had planned to work right up until the end - I'd made my last day July 11, giving me one day off before the section - but yesterday I decided to change it and make Friday the 7th my last day, giving me 5 days free beforehand. I am going to need to catch up on sleep before she's born and I REALLY learn what sleep deprivation is. I need to run it by my boss, but I think she'll be OK with it - it's only 2 days' difference.

Hm, what else is new? Well, this may sound funny after all the ranting and crying I did when my niece was born, but I've fallen completely in love with her. We went to Long Island last weekend for Fathers' Day, and my SIL let me take her for long stretches (I think she was happy for the break). So I got to feed her, change her, and play with her for ages. I think it was good therapy.

Optimistic? Stupid? You be the judge

2006-06-11T21:46:00.000-04:00

I did something this weekend that I swore I would never do again. I set up the Pad's nursery.

True, we'd left the furniture in there from before, and I'd bought those Alice in Wonderland pictures to hang up. But for a year now, the crib's been in pieces, the bedding's been packed away in a plastic tub, the walls have been bare, and the bouncy seat and swing have been gathering dust.

I don't know what came over me. In fact, yesterday morning I actually cried for Joseph for the first time in a long time - because I saw some pictures I'd taken last spring of the newly completed nursery. Coming home to that empty room so lovingly and hopefully set up was one of the hardest things about the whole ordeal. So why would I do that to myself again?

I still don't know. Part of it is that I realized that the closer I get to the Pad's birth date, the more I seem to detach the pregnancy from the idea of an actual baby. The more preoccupied I got with the physical discomforts of late pregnancy, the less I thought about the baby herself. I'm sure it's a self-preservation mechanism, but somehow it didn't seem right. Part of me feels that this baby deserves as much anticipation as her brother had. So the next thing I knew, I was in the nursery, dragging things out of tubs and hanging up pictures. And Andy, who had originally wanted to wait to set up the crib until the Pad came home, even got into it - maybe for the same reason. He even offered to put the crib together without my saying anything.

Once I got started, I couldn't stop. So today the nursery has a crib, with clean bedding, and pictures on the walls. I threw the gray-with-dust pads from the bouncy seat and swing into the wash and then put them together again, with fresh batteries. I washed a load of newborn onesies and folded them into the dresser drawers. I organized all the baby odds and ends I'd just tossed into the drawers or the back of the closet.

I just have to keep telling myself that doing all this won't CAUSE anything bad to happen. It feels good to walk by and see the room looking so cheerful and ready for a baby - it's really the nicest room in the house - but it also scares me. A lot.

Thank you

2006-06-03T16:54:00.000-04:00

First of all, thank you so much to everyone who left comments about Joseph's birthday and Andy's blog entry. I am so lucky to have my husband...and to have the support of friends like all of you.

Last weekend turned out to be really not so bad. We just tried to be good to ourselves; the weekend included more social activity than we've had in a good while (dinner with friends on Saturday night; a trip up to New Hampshire, just to drive around pretty places and ooh and ah, on Sunday; lunch with girlfriends on Monday) and that was good. Also, we had some pretty big news to occupy us and make us think ahead to the future instead of the past.

The Wednesday before Joseph's birthday, Andy called me from work all excited. It seems his company is expanding their operations in Reston, VA, just outside DC (they currently have a sales office there, but they're opening an engineering office now too) and wanted to talk to anyone interested in relocating. As I've mentioned here before, we've been talking about someday moving to that area for years; it's the one place in the country that's exactly halfway between my family and his. Living there, we'd be the same distance from my family as we are now, but the 13-hours-each-way trek to his parents' would become more like 5-6 hours each way. Not to mention, Andy's favorite aunt and uncle live near DC, as does one of my stepbrothers and several of our friends.

He spent the next three days discussing the new office plans with various people at the company, as well as with me, and on Friday he verbally agreed that we'd like to do it. So it looks like we're moving! They will help with relocation expenses, and the new position would be a great one for him - possibly more money and responsibility, but also an interesting new project and more room for advancement. I'll have to find a new job, but there seem to be a lot of opportunities in my field down there.

We don't know the exact timeline, but they're talking about late summer/early fall, which, GAH. But they know we're having the baby, so they're willing to be flexible - and anyway, it might work out better for me to just resign when I go on leave and then find a new job once we get down there. That could even give me a little extra time with the Pad after she's born, and we've got enough put away to cover it. We'll also have to sell our house - I think once we get down there, we'll rent until we know where I'll be working and what my salary will be. So the next few months are going to be VERY busy, but we've got plenty of offers to help from parents (Andy's parents, understandably, are thrilled).

I think it will be good for us to have a whole new start. And I'm looking forward to the Pad knowing both sets of grandparents, instead of thinking of Andy's parents as strangers she gets to see once or twice a year after a grueling car trip.

So that's been the excitement around here this week. In other news, the Pad continues to squirm and kick - I had my first NST last week and got more comments on how much she moves. I've heard that at every ultrasound and other test I've had - it's starting to make me wonder if this kid will ever sit still once she becomes external!

40 more days. 24 more work days. It is starting to drag. I can't wait to meet her.

Happy birthday, Joseph

2006-05-26T09:22:00.000-04:00

I miss you so much.

2006-05-25T12:30:00.000-04:00

One year ago today, I was in labor. I remember this day like it was yesterday; we spent the day at home together, waiting for the contractions to get closer. I was in a house-cleaning frenzy in anticipation of my parents' arrival. We stopped at the library to get books to bring to the hospital. We almost got into a car accident - the shock of almost crashing sent me into hysterical sobs that wouldn't stop. I got my bangs trimmed because they were falling in my eyes and I knew that would drive me crazy during labor.

Never once did we consider the possibility that things wouldn't go the way they were supposed to. I remember that late in the afternoon, we took a walk in the cemetery across the street to see if the contractions would continue or stop. I always read the headstones as we pass, and at one point I realized that we were passing a cluster of childrens' and babies' graves. Reading the heartbreakingly short date ranges on those headstones gave me a cold chill, and I had a moment of "what if that's bad luck...or a premonition?" but I put it out of my mind. After all, these things don't happen to people...do they.

I want to share something here that my husband wrote in his own blog today. I won't link it, because he doesn't know the URL of this blog, although he knows I keep it - we decided that it should be private. But he gave his permission for me to share this, because I thought parts of it might resonate with others.

"A year ago today, my wife began labor for the birth of our son, Joseph William. In the afternoon of the 26th of May 2005, he was born by caesarian section. His lungs had become filled with fluid during labor, and he was unable to breathe on his own.

The team of doctors worked frantically. They were preparing to move our son from the operating room to the neonatal intensive care unit when they called me over to see him. He was squirming and crying, but I wasn't able to hear the sound of it through the breathing mask that was over his face.

The time between that moment and when I learned that he had died has disappeared from my memory. In the days after his death, especially one long horrible day in the windowless recovery room where we stayed for some time, I became paranoid about the missing hour. I could remember phoning my mother, walking into the chapel and leaving because there was no one there. I must have wandered around the hospital; my wife's parents were there and I know I told them the baby had been taken away for help. Once I woke at night sure that someone had simply taken him, and that if I could understand where the hour had gone I would know where my son was.

It's been a year and that's still all I know. That story is sad, but I don't want to tell you a sad story.

The hour after my son's death was the greatest enlightenment of my life. Opaque memories from my youth revealed themselves with a terrifying clarity. The sound of my Aunt W.'s cries as my uncles bore my cousin J.'s casket to our family cemetery. The mother of my childhood friend hugging me at his funeral when I was 17. My own mother's story of her sister Gayle, my own sister's namesake, who died as a toddler. Every selfless act I had ever witnessed between a parent and a child.

All these moments suddenly had a meaning that was deeper than anything I had experienced before. We are being prepared our entire lives to feel the love I felt for that tiny baby, but life is also trying to teach us something else, something less obvious and frightening. Concealed in those memories is the knowledge that our children may not outlive us. We had only loved our son for 9 months; how could one survive a loss after twenty years?

There was a second, more staggering revelation. The people who had taught us had been right about it all. All our lives, all those who had loved us; they had been right.

They had been right to teach us to love those things small and helpless, but also to love ourselves such that when those things are taken from us, we may continue to live. They had been right to teach us integrity toward our friends, knowing that we would someday need them for more than moving a refrigerator. They had been right to teach us faith, as it is the sole thing that can guide us when life loses its meaning. They had been right to teach us dignity, because it is the true essence of strength and we may hold it even in times when our strength is taken from us. They had been right to teach us tolerance, because without it is impossible to accept forms of love and care that may seem wrong at the time. They had been right to teach forgiveness, as vengeance binds us to misery.

More than anything, they had been right in teaching us to persevere. When we were children and crying on the ground, they had been right to take us and stand us up, not to wipe our tears but to make us taste them and swallow them.

They had been right to make us optimistic fools. Without blind trust in life, how could we take this risk again? How could we tell each other that it would simply be fine, and believe it?

At many retirement parties, 60th birthdays, that manner of thing, I have heard men say: "My wife is amazing." It is written in book dedications, it is spoken in awkward moments in public ceremonies both in real life and fiction. I find these moments embarrassing cliches, but then I am a misanthrope and find a way to eliminate the joy from most things to avoid having Kodak Moments that women will make a fuss about later. So I will say it this way, instead: if you are a man and you are looking for the perfect woman, find a smart one and an honest one. But there is no virtue of a woman that you will ever find more moving than the strength of heart that my wife demonstrated to me one year ago. Its power is impossible to describe; its origins are a mystery to me. It is bottomless and eternal, but rare, and even where it exists it blooms rarely in a lifetime. It is why our species has existed for a hundred thousand years and will see a hundred thousand more.

These babies, to be sure, are flesh and blood. Their loss is an agony. But in reality, they are the flower that blooms of your value, your combined character. If they are lost, a part of you is lost, but the love that created them is not. If you hold fast to that, you will make it."

Well! That was fun.

2006-05-19T13:52:00.000-04:00

(warning: TMI.)

I've been having this sneaking feeling that his baby is coming early - I mean, even earlier than I'm already scheduled for. I don't know why, maybe just the fact that I seem so big - I haven't gained weight all around, except for my face, but the belly sticks out SO far - and the fact that I'm already so achy and uncomfortable.

This morning when I got to work, I stopped to use the ladies' room, and discovered two biggish clumps of clear mucus - almost like EWCM, but stickier. I had a lot of that in the very beginning of pregnancy, and knew it was normal, but I hadn't seen any in so long that I got a little freaked. When I went into labor with Joseph I lost my plug that same morning, and there was no mistaking it since it had blood in it and I was already having contractions.

I wasn't in a panic, but I talked to Andy and decided I should call the doctor, just in case. When I spoke with the nurse, they said as long as I was downtown for work anyway, I might as well come in. So I went in and met with a CNM in Dr. Riley's office.

And, as I suspected, I'm fine. She checked my cervix and I'm 1 cm dilated, but she said that's normal for someone who's already had a baby. My cervix is as long as it's possible to be, which is good. And although the baby's head down (what I thought was her head on the upper left is actually her butt), she's still "floating" and not engaged in the pelvis. I got the usual warning about calling if I had painful contractions or bleeding, and was sent back to work.

I feel a little silly, but overall, I'm glad I went. I'd rather go and have it be nothing than not go and have it be something.

Surfacing

2006-05-18T16:58:00.000-04:00

I haven't posted in ages because life's been really busy. This new job means I'm in charge of several codes of the budget, and the end of our fiscal year is June 30, so I'm simultaneously trying to get everything closed for the fiscal year and also look ahead to what's going to be happening while I'm out on leave. I think I might actually be getting the hang of this, too.

Mr. NK and I went to Virginia weekend before last to visit his favorite aunt and uncle; his parents drove up and met us there. It was a nice trip - I love this particular aunt and uncle, and am almost closer to them than I am to my in-laws. Uncle C. took us fishing (I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but not only did I help them catch crawdads in the stream for bait, I also spent several hours on the fishing boat...only caught one smallmouth, though) and the weather was gorgeous. Even the 9-hour drive each way wasn't bad.

This past weekend we went to my mom's for Mother's Day. On Saturday I took a big leap of faith and allowed my mom to take me baby-clothes shopping. I've never been the type to go all gaga over baby clothes, but maybe that's because I had a boy last time - something about the girl clothes made it almost impossible to restrain ourselves. I came home with a little lavender-flowered sleeper to bring the Pad home in; an adorable navy dress with daisies and a matching hat; a tiny pair of pink striped overalls; and tons of other cute things. I had a moment of panic, thinking "Oh god, I can't do this - what if something goes wrong and I have to look at this stuff hanging in the closet, unused?" But then I thought that a) I'm not going to CAUSE something bad to happen by buying clothes; and b) I want to have some happy memories of this pregnancy, no matter what happens. Now let's just hope she's really a girl, because I love that daisy dress so much that I'm putting it on whatever comes out.

On Sunday my brother and SIL brought baby Emma over - the first time I'd seen them since the hospital. I was nervous about that, but it actually went really well. Emma is adorable, and I was able to be natural with my brother and SIL - in fact, I was even able to remember how much I like them both. What happened is never going to not hurt, but I don't have the urge to never speak to them again like I once did.

The day before, SIL had called my mom to finalize their plans and asked to speak to me. When I got on, she shyly said that they had a bunch of little onesies and sleepers that Emma had outgrown, and if I wanted them, she'd be happy to bring them. I said yes because I felt like I couldn't say no, but when we hung up I felt sort of crappy - the one thing I swore I wouldn't do, when I found out Emma was a girl, was take their hand-me-downs. But the next day when she brought the bag of clothes, I didn't feel as weird as I expected taking them.

Maybe I'm finally growing up.

In other news, I'm officially on to biweekly appointments - had one last Tuesday at which I learned that: I'd gained 7 lbs in the month previous, breaking my pound-a-week streak (I blame the biscuits and gravy Andy's family served us every morning) but keeping the total to 22 lbs so far; the Pad is growing on track; she's lying sideways with her head on my left side and her feet on my right, a fact backed up by the left-side head butting I keep feeling; and I don't have GD or anemia. Next Tuesday I have my first non-stress test, and will continue to have them from now on.

The Pad is moving so much that it's almost uncomfortable, especially at night. I still love the feeling, but I love it a little less when I get a sharp kick to the bladder. I'm also noticing that I'm getting pretty uncomfortable, especially when I have to get out of bed or roll over, or climb the stairs (we have a townhouse, so I have to climb a lot of stairs). I probably should have exercised more, but I guess it's too late now.

Overall, I'm feeling decent, and even optimistic. Next week is Joseph's birthday, though, and I really don't know what that's going to be like. I am sort of feeling OK about it and dreading it at the same time.

Anxiety

2006-05-10T16:12:00.000-04:00

Like many of us in this circle of bloggers, my sadness and shock at Catherine's news is manifesting as increased anxiety for my own pregnancy. I think when something like this happens to us, we tend to feel somehow "immune" to it happening again, on the theory that lightning doesn't strike twice. This has been a sad reminder that that's just not true.

I sent back the doppler on Monday because the lease was up, and I'm already sort of regretting it. Most of the time the Pad moves around enough to be reassuring, but she's particularly quiet when I first wake up in the morning, and I find myself reaching for the doppler on the nightstand at those times.

Oh, and by the way, if you're a fan of "House" on TV and haven't watched last night's episode yet...don't. I love the show (and Hugh Laurie is so my imaginary boyfriend) but...just don't. Not what I needed before bed last night, for sure.

Life is so fucking unfair

2006-05-08T16:08:00.000-04:00

I was away and so I'm probably the last to do this, but if you haven't done so already, please go give Catherine your love and support.

There are no words...except that I'm sorry.

just in case it wasn't clear...

2006-05-01T22:15:00.000-04:00

I'm cracking up at the responses to my pissy post on Britney. I was in such a bad mood that day and I know the whole thing was irrational, but just to set the record straight, the c-section part was the only thing that was bothering me. Regardless of the time between her c-sections, Britney is gross. Her husband is gross. The thought of them spawning, let alone TWICE, is gross.

...just so no one mistook me for a fan, or anything. :)

today's irrational irritated pregnant lady rant

2006-04-26T15:22:00.000-04:00

Far be it from me to defend Britney Spears and her chicken-fried husband, but yes, it IS OK to get pregnant 4-5 months after a c-section. At least according to every single doctor I spoke to. So shut up, okay?

edit: this is in no way directed at anyone in particular...i've just happened to hear that comment a lot today and because I'm irrational irritated pregnant lady, it struck a nerve.

Well, how about that

2006-04-25T16:45:00.000-04:00

I was all set to write one post this morning, and then things changed. For the better, so that's good.

But here's what had originally happened. It's a long story, but I realized last night that of all the women close to my age that I know who have had babies in the last year or two (and that's a pretty big number), all but two of them left their jobs to stay home. In some cases, they were fairly high-powered jobs: one was chief of staff for a congresswoman, one was a successful accountant, one has a Ph.D., and so on. It never really occurred to me before that so few people I know, and no one I'm close to, has gone back.

This came to a head last night when I was at a fairly new friend's place with another woman I don't know that well. It was hard to begin with because they both had their baby sons with them - one is 19 months old and one is 8 months - and so the conversation was starting to be All Baby All the Time. Then it turned to work, and they both started talking about how great it was that they've stayed home, how well-adjusted and perfect their sons are because of it, how non-well-adjusted their sons would surely be if they were working, and so on. I think at some point one of them realized that I hadn't said a word, because then they started falling all over themselves to point out that some babies, and some mothers, do just fine with working/daycare. I still didn't say anything, so the conversation just died. But it bothered me all night.

I have absolutely no problem with anyone choosing to stay home - I think it's great. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it. And financially, we probably COULD do it, but it would be a bit of a stretch. But there's so much I worry about - what if something happened to Andy, or to his job? What if I took some time off and then could never get hired again? What if I got bored? What if I wasn't patient enough to be home with a baby? So for me, it makes sense right now to plan to go back. My job has tons of sick/vacation time; they're probably going to let me work a day from home each week; we have a wonderful daycare lined up; I never work more than 9-5. It just doesn't seem like it will be that bad.

Anyway, I was sad today because I was just wishing I had enough confidence in my own decisions not to feel inferior in conversations like last night's. I also wish I had more friends in situations like mine so I wouldn't always feel like I had to defend myself.

Then my manager called me into her office. And...my promotion finally came through! And it comes with a 30% raise, retroactive to January 1. I guess I'm doing something right, career-wise - and if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?

I hope this doesn't sound like I'm putting money ahead of my daughter. Obviously this is a decision I can't really make right now - I have no idea how I'll feel when she's actually in my arms. Maybe I'll completely change my mind. But to me, when I think of being the best mother I can be to her, that includes making sure her future is secure, and if I can better do that by working, then so be it.

2006-04-21T14:22:00.000-04:00

I am happy to report that I am, in fact, no longer in the bathroom next door. :)

I just haven't had much to write about lately, but here are the updates on my life:

- I'm 27 weeks today...83 days to go (but who's counting? Well, I am, if you look at the very bottom of the page). One thing I notice is that I'm starting to get into the uncomfortable phase way earlier this time. This week I developed that bruised, kicked-in-the-crotch feeling in my pubic bone area that makes walking and rolling over torturous - I know that didn't happen until at least 35 weeks last time. It's harder to get comfortable in bed, too, and this morning I woke up screaming at 5:30 with cramps in both calves at once. YOW. But overall, I still feel pretty good. The Pad is moving like crazy now, which I really do love.

- Oh, and I'm outgrowing some of my maternity clothes. This morning I put on a pair of full-panel khakis to find that they fit everywhere but, weirdly, the thighs. I tried my old demi-panel khakis instead...hahahahhaha. I can't believe I'm outgrowing full panels with 12 weeks to go (and when I've gained less than 20 pounds...wtf??)

- Work is ridiculously slow/quiet. Still no word on my so-called promotion. Bah.

- The weather's been BEAUTIFUL. As much as I hate winter in Boston, it can be almost worth it when spring comes...the change is amazing, makes you feel like you've risen from the dead. All up and down Commonwealth Avenue, the cherry and apple trees are blooming, plus daffodils, magnolia, and crocus. It's hard to be in a bad mood when the weather's this nice.

- My cats seem to have taken it upon themselves to start giving me a taste of what it's going to be like to be up all night with a baby and run around after a mischievous toddler. First Trouble managed to get out onto the balcony off our third-floor bedroom one night when we'd left the sliding door partly open to catch the breeze (screen? what screen? it has a cat sized - well, it's cat sized NOW - hole in it). He then climbed from there onto the slope of the roof, and from there crawled up over the peak of the roof and started to walk down the other side. It was at this point that he must have realized he couldn't remember how to get back where he started. We were awakened at 6 a.m. by plaintive crying through the skylight - we had to take the screen off and lift him through. Meanwhile, Sabrina the Original Nervouskitty has decided she loves the wrappers from my new addiction, Edy's Whole Fruit Bars. She especially loves them, and the loud crackling noise they make, in the middle of the night. On the floor of our bedroom, after she's dragged them out of the trash. Oy.

OK, OK, I promise not to become one of those crazy people who talk about their pets all day. Good thing I'm having a kid.

They're joking, right?

2006-04-14T14:17:00.000-04:00

At 1 p.m. today we got an e-mail saying that there'd been a water main break, and all of the water supply to our office building was being turned off at 1:30.

But not to worry! The restrooms in the building next door are still working just fine!

Ha. ha. ha.

I looked at my team and said, "I'll be next door for the rest of the afternoon if you need me."

July 13, 2006

2006-04-11T18:39:00.000-04:00

I had my OB appointment today...once again, everything looks good. I've only gained 15 pounds (amazing, given my appetite), heart sounds great, measuring 28 cm.

The amazing thing about Dr. Riley is that somehow she anticipates every question I have before I can ask it. Today I went in thinking I would ask when they planned to actually schedule my c-section. But before I could, she said, "We're going to get you scheduled today."

So Thursday, July 13, will be my daughter's birthday, unless something changes or I go into labor before then. I'm scheduled for 10:30 am. It's one day before I actually hit the 39-week mark, but the doctor said that was fine.

It's so strange, and yet kind of neat, to know already when she'll be born.

99 bottles of O'Doul's on the wall...

2006-04-06T12:38:00.000-04:00

I don't have a scheduled date for the Pad's eviction yet, but if it's right at the 39-week mark, July 14, that means that as of today I have 99 days left. When I was pregnant with Joseph, we started a countdown on our kitchen whiteboard when there were 90 days left until my due date, and it was amazing how fast that seemed to make it go.

I hope it does go fast. I'm starting to feel like I'm hitting the wall. I'm much bigger than I was at 25 weeks last time, which means that the discomfort of being big is starting earlier too. I haven't really been exercising or anything, so last Friday when I made the mistake of walking 2 miles during a lunchtime errand, it nearly took me down for the count. We had a birthday party to attend that night, and by the end of the evening I felt like I'd been beaten up...back hurt, ligaments hurt, everything hurt. Ugh.

My favorite cousin. V. (daughter of my dad's sister) had her baby on Tuesday - her second, about a week and a half early. I spoke to her mom, my aunt, last night and then spoke to my cousin. I'm happy for them - I saw some pictures of the baby and he's doing great, and apparently his big brother (2.5) is thrilled, if not entirely comprehending what's going on yet.

I did notice something weird, though. Both of them seemed eager to hear how I was doing, but I basically had the same conversation twice in a row, and it went like this:

Aunt/Cousin: "So how are you feeling?"
Me: "Oh, I'm feeling pretty good! I'm kind of big, but the baby's moving a lot, and--"
Aunt/Cousin (interrupting): "But you know everything's going to be JUST FINE, right?"
Me: "Uh, yeah - I have a good feeling about it. I got nervous for a while in the--"
Aunt/Cousin (interrupting): "Oh, of course! It's so normal to be nervous! But everything's going to be JUST FINE!"

It seemed like such a weird combination of expecting me to be a much bigger wreck than I am, and denying that there could ever be any reason to ever be nervous. It made me wonder just how uncomfortable they are talking to me after what happened.

I haven't noticed the same phenomenon as much from other people - many people have sought to reassure me that everything's going to be fine, but not in that same weird way.

2006-04-04T14:46:00.000-04:00

I had sort of an epiphany about my job today, and I need to sort of ramble and write it down before it gets lost in my head.

I don't remember when I first started wanting to be a writer. It must have been in late junior high sometime, because before that, I remember I wanted to be an actress. Eventually I realized that I didn't have the talent, although I did have fun being the third tree from the left in the high school musicals. But I'd always been praised for my writing, even very early on in school.

It's odd, though--I started to say here that in most cases, writing comes naturally to me, but in many ways that's not true. Writing here, for example. I used to keep a different blog, more of a general journal, when blogging first got popular - but I gave up because the blogs I liked to read were more of the "funny essays" type, and I just wasn't good at that. I do better with this blog, but only because it has a focus the other one never had. I've never, ever been able to write decent fiction. Every time I tried, the dialogue sounded stilted and fake, and I've never been able to come up with imaginitive plots. (And don't even ask about poetry.)

I did much better with critical writing for my English classes and with journalism, so eventually, my ambition became to be a journalist. I was good at it--when I got to college and started writing for the student paper, the editors immediately noticed me and groomed me for an editorial position. I was features editor for a few years and then business editor. I got an internship with a business magazine in New York, which led to my first post-graduation job as an associate editor/reporter there.

I loved that job, and I really was good at it. I don't want to sound like I'm patting myself on the back, but that kind of feature writing suited me well. However, I had one major flaw: I wasn't good at coming up with story ideas. Once a week, we'd have a staff meeting at which we'd throw out ideas and then assign them. I DREADED those meetings. I usually had one or two really minor things to throw out there, but never anything big. But give me an assignment, and I'd be all over it, and I'd do a good job.

That pattern held up in my next job as head of a small college's alumni magazine. I even went to graduate school for a journalism degree, and I did well, but it didn't make me any better at coming up with my own ideas. My third job, at the place I'm at now, seemed well suited to me-- it was writing correspondence and marketing copy for a university. I did well for three years, because my boss and her superiors set the marketing strategy. They'd decide what publications we were going to create, and I'd write them.

Now, my boss is gone and I'm in her place. The payoff for all those years of hard work...right? Except that so far, it's not going so hot. I mean, everyone seems to think I'm doing fine, but I don't feel like I am. I'm struggling to just stay afloat within the parameters my old boss set. But I know that eventually, that's not going to be good enough. I'm going to have to come up with ideas, set marketing strategy, all of that--and I don't know if I can.

I feel that I'm a good writer (and now I'm cringing that I put that out there, knowing that this blog definitely isn't representative of what I can do). Writing can be technically perfect and still just not have "it," but I think that most of the time, as long as it's the right type of writing, I do have "it." I'm also a great editor; there's nothing I love more than taking a mediocre piece of someone else's writing and making it better--I find it soothing in a weird way. However, I realized today that I am not the least bit creative. I have no sense of strategy. (I was never any good at checkers as a kid, either.) I'm a pleaser-- every boss I've had has loved me, because I don't complain; I do what I'm told and I do it well. I'm a soldier, not a general. I think that all this time, I've been trying to fit myself into this "creative" mold--I've sought out jobs with more creative control and responsibility, only to find when I actually got here that that's not what I'm suited for at all.

In some ways I think this sounds incredibly depressing, like I'm doomed to life as a small-time clock-puncher. Universities are great places for small-time clock-punchers--I could probably stay here forever and even be praised for my work without having to take any real initiative at all, but that's not what I want, either. I want to figure out exactly what kind of job would play to my strengths the most, and do that. I don't even need to be the boss.

I just have no idea what that job would be, or how to get there. And it is hard, after all this time, to admit that I've been chasing the wrong dream. I feel like a failure, and I don't want to feel that way.

The kindness of strangers

2006-03-27T16:22:00.000-05:00

Almost every day, I buy my lunch at the cafe in the dormitory across the street from my office. The man who runs it is one of those friendly, smiley people who will always say hello if he recognizes you. Last year when I was pregnant with Joseph, he always had a kind word for me - he'd ask me how I was feeling, or ask when I was due, or something nice like that.

When I returned to work after being out for a month after Joseph was born, I ran into this man while getting lunch during my first week back. Of course he wanted to know how the baby was...so I had to tell him. (I didn't get into it, I just said, "He was born May 26, but we lost him.") You could tell that he felt terrible; he told me that he was one of six children, and that he was born after his parents lost their first child at birth.

Today it's actually getting pretty warm here, so I didn't wear my coat when I went over to get lunch. The coat does a pretty good job of hiding the bump, but without it, you can see how big I'm really getting. So when I went to pay for my lunch, this same man was working the register, and he noticed how pregnant I was. And his face just lit up.

"Congratulations!" he said, and when I thanked him, he said softly, "I'm praying for you. Take it easy - I hope everything goes well."

I don't even know this man's name. He doesn't know mine. Knowing that someone who doesn't even know me is thinking about what happened and wishing me the best...that's a good feeling.

Random thoughts

2006-03-24T10:12:00.000-05:00

The first thing on my mind today is hope that everything goes well for Julian's Mom and Lorem at their respective doctor visits. My thoughts are with them.

Other things I'm thinking about:

* I'm 23 weeks today and twice this week I had to pull out the full panel pants. FULL PANEL PANTS, people! Last time I wasn't even in demi-panel until 19 weeks. I ended up going with the demis today but I'll tell you, the full panel sure beats hitching up the demis that won't stay put under my belly.

* Current name short list: Alice Virginia, Eleanor [undetermined middle], Susannah Iris. Susannah has been my #1 pick for years before we even got pregnant; it would be to honor my grandmother, Susan. Andy has gone back and forth on it, but currently he likes it so I'm hoping to get to use it (although I really like Alice and Eleanor too).

* The baby's still moving, but it seems like not as much as last week. Of course this has completely freaked me out, but every time I listen with the Doppler, everything sounds fine. Is it normal to have a slow period around now? The doctors told me not to even think about whether the movement is consistent until at least 26 weeks.

* All of a sudden I cannot stop eating.

* Andy was away last night because he had a rehearsal with his band in NYC, so it was just me. I kept teasing him that the cats wouldn't miss him, because they'd be happy to only have to share the bed with one person instead of two (lately they need to sleep with us every night). Well, instead, they completely ignored me all night and this morning. Like I wasn't even there. I guess I know whose pets they REALLY are!

I survived

2006-03-20T21:10:00.000-05:00

Well, the dreaded hospital visit is over with. We drove down to my aunt and uncle's on Friday night, slept late on Saturday, and then headed over to the hospital with my aunt and my 16-year-old cousin. It helped that there were a ton of people there - at various points including the two of us, my aunt and cousin; my mother and stepfather; my father and his wife; my stepbrother, his wife and their two daughters; and a college friend of my brother's who looked a little shocked to find the room so full. I think that helped - it would have been really awkward if it had been just us.

The baby was wide awake when we got there - I don't know if I've ever seen a baby so alert and yet so quiet at the same time. She's cute, with black hair and pink cheeks. It was kind of sweet to see my brother hovering over her and changing her diaper, handing her around to be held, taking her picture. He was doing it all because SIL was still in pain and couldn't really get up. They seemed exhausted and very young, but happy.

I had gone in not sure if I would be able to hold her - I haven't held a newborn since before Joseph was born. I couldn't even hold Joseph. But when my mother handed her to me I took her...tears started to well up and I was afraid I would cry in front of the whole room, but I managed not to and I don't think anyone noticed.

We stayed for a few hours and then left for the drive back up to Boston. It was a weight off my mind, so I guess in that sense going made me feel better. The strange thing is that I was sitting there holding this newborn baby girl and yet I still couldn't picture myself holding my own new baby girl. Even being pregnant, even feeling her move at the same time I held her cousin, didn't give me that feeling of "that's going to be me soon." Why not??

Here I am with Emma:

Well, it's here

2006-03-15T16:36:00.000-05:00

This day came so fast.

My SIL had her baby at 1 pm via c-section. I still don't get why her doctor was so insistent on doing a c-section at 38 weeks for the baby's supposed huge size, especially since the baby, who they estimated was already 8 lbs a week and a half ago, was born weighing only 8 lbs 1 oz. Whoops.

Anyway, it was a girl. They named her Emma.

I feel...flat.

Update

2006-03-14T19:26:00.000-05:00

I have been meaning to post for over a week, but it's been so crazy I haven't had the chance. First, though, I'm feeling a lot better.

Last Tuesday I had an appointment with my therapist, and we talked about my increased anxiety and my issues around my brother and SIL's baby coming so soon (c-section is now scheduled for tomorrow at 1 pm). I didn't expect it, but she told me it was OK to feel the way I did, and that it sounded like the best thing for me would be to skip going to the hospital right away; that I had to do the right thing for me and the Pad, and not to worry about expectations of me. That made me feel a lot better. Until I talked to my mother.

She didn't flip out when I told her I didn't think I could go to the hospital. I'll give her credit; she did try her best, really she did. But I know I can't expect anyone who hasn't been through this first hand to really understand, and sure enough, she didn't. She didn't seem to get that the main reason I felt I couldn't go was because I was worried it would make me too sad and anxious - she only focused on the anger I admitted I still felt toward them, and she didn't really believe that I wasn't just planning not to go out of spite. In the end she said that even though she didn't understand my decision, she would try to respect it. The discussion didn't really make me feel much better, though, especially when she said, "You've gotten a lot of support up to now - a lot of people agree that your brother's timing was bad - but I think if you do this, people are going to say 'Enough already, get over it.'" Enough already? Get over it??? Ugh.

A few days later, last Friday, my father called me early in the work day. I hadn't talked to him yet about my decision, but of course it came up, and again, he didn't believe me that it wasn't out of spite. And again, he tried...he really did. And he did a little better than my mother did. When I confessed that I was afraid people would forget Joseph because of my brother's new baby, he said that even though he will love that baby, that it will never be his first grandchild. He said that when people ask him if it's his first, he tells them right away that no, his first grandchild died. That took me aback. It was one of the things I found myself lying awake wondering these last few weeks...whether or not my parents told people this was their first grandchild. I was glad to know that my father doesn't at least.

The bad thing was that by this time I was crying hysterically (thank God I have an office with a door). Some of it was out of frustration that he couldn't understand my hurt and anger (he just would not understand why I might be upset that my brother and SIL chose to TTC a week after Joseph died) and some of it was catharsis, I guess, that came with the knowledge that at least he was trying, and that he wasn't pretending that Joseph didn't exist. By the end of the discussion, I felt like a limp, wrung-out dishrag. There was just no way I could have stayed at work, so I told them I was sick. Then I went to Downtown Crossing and bought a pair of shoes. Then I had lunch with Andy, and then I really did go home. I've never been so tired in my whole life. It was like something inside had just...crumbled, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I woke up the next day feeling better than I have in a while. I guess I must have been thinking about it while I slept, because the first thing that came into my head was the thought that if I waited to go see this baby, and it became any more of a family drama than it already was, then it was going to be so much worse than if I just sucked it up and spent a few minutes visiting the hospital. I talked to Andy about it and in the end we decided to go. We're leaving on Friday and spending that night with my aunt and uncle, and we'll all go to the hospital on Saturday. This way we don't have to hang around their house (not that I think they'd even want us to) and we can just get it over with.

I don't think my relationship with my brother will ever be quite the same. I can't see myself being as close with him as we once were. I still think it was a shitty thing to do. But I can't have another week like this last one. The anger and the hurt and the anxiety...I just don't have the energy for them. I give up.

But I do feel better. The baby is moving like crazy, particularly today, so I'm less anxious about her in a day-to-day sense. I'd been having a lot of worry about the delivery, about whether a c-section at 39 weeks was really the safest course, about whether her lungs would be OK, etc. I brought a whole list of questions to my doctor today, and it was really helpful. She reiterated that she doesn't think VBAC is a good option for me either physically or psychologically, especially since she believes that the stress of my long labor, particularly my long, non-progressive pushing phase, was what caused Joseph to gasp in so much fluid. She believes VBAC is risky enough, and said that she couldn't let me attempt labor and spend the whole time wondering if my uterus was going to rupture or if labor would stall again and hurt the baby.

Honestly, this is fine with me. I know I'd be a wreck anyway, and I just want to do what's going to get the Pad external as quickly and safely as possible. The doctor also reassured me that waiting until 39 weeks means she won't have to do an amnio to check the baby's lungs, since they'll definitely be mature by then. If I go into labor before the scheduled section date (a possibility, since I went into labor with Joseph at 39 weeks 3 days) then I'll just come in right away and have the operation then. Finally, she said that barring any unforeseen problems, I should be fine to go on and have at least one more child after this, probably even two (we think we want two children besides Joseph, but just in case, it's good to know I could have three).

The baby's heartbeat sounds great, my uterus is right on track, and I'm still on the regular prenatal visit schedule. When I hit 36 weeks and start having weekly appointments, this time I'll have non-stress tests at my 36, 37, and 38-week appointments, just to be sure the baby is safe. I love this doctor and this practice.

Issues R Us

2006-03-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

My brother called me yesterday to tell me that, at her 36.5 week checkup on Friday, an ultrasound estimated the baby to already be 8 pounds. She's been measuring ahead for several weeks and they've been keeping an eye on it. After Friday's ultrasound, the doctors decided that they'll let her go to 38 weeks on her own, but if she doesn't go into labor by then, they'll schedule a c-section for March 14, 15, or 17. The doctor wanted the 14th or 15th, but my brother and SIL specifically requested the 17th if possible. It's my grandfather's birthday (my mother's father, who died before we were born) so I guess that's why. Suckups.

So anyway, the baby will be here in less than two weeks. And even though I know it's not about me, I am dreading it. I am starting to realize that somehow I've tied up a lot of my issues about Joseph's death into SIL's pregnancy and now it's all coming to a head. I feel horrible, because so much of it revolves around the "new baby fuss" and that makes it sound like I just want to be the center of attention. But I don't think that's really it - I think it's more that I'm afraid that people will forget Joseph.

For example, I was thinking that I hope their baby isn't a girl, because I want at least ONE thing to be just mine and Andy's. If they have a girl, then ours will be nothing to get excited over. Plus I imagine being pressured to take SIL's hand-me-downs. Bleh. But then I started thinking that if it's a boy, everyone will make that sexist fuss over the "first grandson"--even though it won't be. My mother tries to tell me that Joseph will always be the first grandson, but I don't believe for a minute that that will be true when faced with the reality of a real live baby (especially one born on her father's birthday).

So, sometime in the next two weeks I will be expected to drive down and coo over them and their new baby that was born 9 months after Joseph's death. I can't stop thinking about it. And I had a nightmare about Joseph last night. In this one, I was still pregnant with him, but they'd somehow found the lung problem that would kill him. I was in the hospital and they were going to do a c-section, but they wanted me to go into labor first, and they told me they did not expect him to live afterwards. I was in an L&D room with my mother and there was a giant 3D ultrasound screen type thing in which I could see Joseph perfectly, rolling around in the womb.

It seems as though the further along I get in this pregnancy, the less confident I feel that the Pad is going to make it. All of a sudden all of the unresolved questions about Joseph's death are weighing heavily on me. The doctors never figured out why Joseph gasped in utero and took in so much fluid, and they never figured out why taking in fluid killed him, since he had the routine lung suctioning that all c-section babies get. The "one in a million fluke" thing was good enough for me last July, but it's not good enough for me now. This time I'll be having a section again, at 39 weeks. What if the baby's lungs aren't mature enough? What if the c-section causes some kind of fluid problem, since I read that one benefit of labor is to squeeze the fluid out of the baby's lungs? Would it be better for me to go into labor on my own and then go in for the c-section at an early stage of labor?

I'm not doing so well, all of a sudden.

Musings

2006-02-22T12:19:00.000-05:00

This is the stage of pregnancy where I start to think of the baby as not just a possibility inside me, but a person. And since that's happening, it's made me think about lots of things in a new way.

I'm thrilled that the Pad is going to be a girl. Of course, I'd have been happy either way. But this is such a strange feeling of deja vu, as well. As I start to get to know her as a person -- as I start to know what her little kicks and pokes feel like, as I learn when during the day I'm most likely to feel her moving, as I start to imagine what she'll look like -- I remember this same getting-to-know-you period with Joseph. And I feel sad, thinking that I only got to know him for such a short time, on the inside.

I'm afraid to be happy, and I'm afraid not to be.

A few days after the ultrasound I went into the room we'd decorated as a nursery. (I started to say "Joseph's nursery." And that's just what I'm about to say here anyway - is it ever not going to be Joseph's nursery for me?) Not being a pink-ruffles or blue-with-trucks person anyway, I insisted on doing the nursery in as gender-neutral a manner as possible. The room has pale yellow walls, white and pine furniture, and bedding in bright primary colors - a patchwork quilt and bumper in reds, yellows, light and dark blues, and a bit of light green. I used pale blue as a major accent color - curtains, etc. Overall I love how it came out - it's bright and cheery and it doesn't scream "boy!" or "girl!"

I always envisioned being able to use the room for any siblings Joseph would have. But of course, things are a little different now. I looked around the room, and the idea of keeping everything the same somehow seemed...unfair. Like I'd be trying to squeeze this little girl into a spot prepared for Joseph, as though I'd just be expecting her to magically take his place.

I don't feel that way about the baby gifts we got at my shower - the activity gyms and car seats and strollers. Most of that is still in boxes - it has no significance that's specifically about Joseph. But somehow, the room does.

I don't want to redo everything - it's never even been used. But I feel like I need something to make this a space of her own, something just for her, something she won't have to share with the ghost of her brother. How can I do that? I thought about putting away the Curious George pictures I had framed on the walls - I don't think of them as boy-specific, since I loved Curious George myself. But I did find these, and I love them, especially since Alice is one of the names we're considering.

Part of me feels shallow, like maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to do foofy baby things. But even that - maybe I am, in a way. Maybe I think this baby deserves some anticipatory foofiness. There's nothing we need to do to get ready for this baby, since we did it all with Joseph. And before we were pregnant, we swore we wouldn't do anything that implied we expected to take a baby home. But now that doesn't feel realistic - I don't think I'm capable of that level of detachment anymore - and in a way it also doesn't feel fair. I know she won't know or care what I did/felt while I was pregnant with her, but I would know. I want to be able to look at her and know that she was joyfully anticipated.

I don't think I'm making much sense. I'll bet it isn't obvious that I write for a living, is it?

One thing we HAVE been able to do that has given me some of that sense of anticipation is talk about names. Neither of us wants to pick the One True Name ahead of time, since a) personally I find it creepy to talk about a baby by his/her name while still in utero and b) we want to see what she looks like. We'd rather have a short list and go in with that. So, after many hours of discussion and a few arguments (can I just say my husband is impossible when it comes to this?) we have our short list:

* Alice, with either Margaret, Virginia, or Eleanor for a middle name. (Margaret = my mom's name and his mom's middle name; Virginia = his maternal grandmother)
* Iris as a first name, with the same choice of three middle names
* Susannah Gayle (for my maternal and his paternal grandmother)

(Morbid thought I just had - every time I try to type "Alice" it comes out as "Alive.")

Finally back

2006-02-14T20:40:00.000-05:00

Our vacation was great, but we were supposed to return on Sunday evening - the same night that a blizzard hit the East Coast. Our flight got canceled. Luckily we had driven from the Keys up to Fort Lauderdale to catch our plane, so we ended up going to my dad's new house in West Palm Beach - he happened to be there for the week, so we had a place to stay. The airline couldn't get us on a plane until this morning. I was so nervous that I'd miss my ultrasound appointment, but I went to the hospital directly from the airport and made it with some time to spare. The only really disappointing thing was that it didn't make sense for Andy to come, since we'd have had to drag the luggage with us. I had called yesterday about rescheduling, but there were NO open appointments in the next few weeks, so we had to do it this way. My best friend ended up getting out of work a little early, so she met me there - it was nice not to be all alone, and she got a kick out of seeing the Pad.

Speaking of the Pad, everything looks great - no problems that they could see. Size right on track, heart OK, brain OK. And...

...it's a GIRL!!

The ultrasound tech (and then the doctor, who came in and looked too) said that they never say with 100% certainty what the gender is, but the Pad's legs were wide open, and they showed me the three little horizontal lines that generally mean girl parts and said they're 90% certain.

Wow. A daughter. I can't get my head around it. I hadn't had a feeling one way or the other about what gender the Pad was, but I was so used to all those months of knowing I was having a boy, and in some ways this has felt like a continuation of the last pregnancy. That's one good thing about having a girl - it will make it easier to separate this pregnancy emotionally from my pregnancy with Joseph.

She's very active and was waving her arms and legs all around on the ultrasound. We got one great picture just after she kicked both legs way up over her head, almost like she was about to do a somersault. I wish I had a scanner - I'd post it if I could. It's adorable.

My daughter. I can't believe it.

whoosh whoosh whoosh

2006-02-07T08:49:00.000-05:00

I will go on the record right now as saying that the BabyBeat is the best invention ever. It arrived yesterday and as soon as we got home, I tried it out. By some stroke of luck, I picked up the heartbeat the instant the probe touched my skin - nice and loud and we estimated it at about 144 bpm. I also thought I felt the Pad kick the probe, just gently. So cool.

Even Andy was enthralled, although this morning he was making fun of the flyer that came with the doppler. "Listen to the amazing sounds of pregnancy!" he read aloud, and then proceeded to make farting and hurling noises.

So, life is good right now. We leave early in the morning for Florida - I can't wait.

Another one from the weird dream files

2006-02-06T17:07:00.000-05:00

This one wasn't disturbing - it had nothing to do with the baby at all. I dreamed I was at a bar with friends - I wasn't pregnant in this dream and I may actually have been back in college. In the dream, I'd had a couple of fruity alcoholic drinks (which I don't drink in real life) and then ordered another one from the bartender, only to have her hand me a FIVE-GALLON monstrosity of a drink. I tried to give it back but she made me pay for it. So I was walking around the bar with this five-gallon drink, wondering what to do with it. I knew I could drink a little bit more without getting sick, but I was afraid that I wouldn't know when to stop on such a big drink.

The weirdest part? I woke up with a recurrence of first-trimester morning sickness. The kind that lasts all day. The kind I haven't had in weeks. It felt exactly like...a hangover.

Bizarre!

According to the tracking feature on DHL's website, my BabyBeat arrived today. I can't wait to try it out, although I think I felt some more pokes this weekend, so I'm feeling more optimistic about what I'll hear.

Bad Dreams

2006-02-01T14:04:00.000-05:00

I hate pregnancy-induced vivid dreams. Usually they're just weird to mildly disturbing, like on Sunday night when I dreamed that hit men came after me and Andy because he wouldn't stop illegally downloading music. (I think the trigger for that one was having gone to see "Munich" earlier that evening.)

But last night I dreamed that I went for my 18-week scan and found that the baby was dead. The dream didn't focus on the actual moment I learned this, but on my thoughts about having to start all over and about how, since I am now showing, the whole world would have to know what had happened...again. I woke up practically in tears.

I would have chalked this up to one disturbing dream if I hadn't had that horrible dream about Joseph dying...three days before he actually was born and died. I don't REALLY believe in prophetic dreams, but after that experience, I can't stop thinking about last night's nightmare.

I've been pretty calm throughout this pregnancy so far...so much calmer than I ever expected to be. I feel like that ended today. Even though I haven't been feeling movement with anything approaching consistency, I found myself obsessively waiting to feel it today to prove to myself that the Pad is still alive. Of course, I haven't felt anything yet, which I KNOW is normal since I don't feel it every day and it's so light and quick when I do that it would be easy to miss it.

So I rented a doppler. It should be here in a few days. I hope it helps. And I hope I don't have any more scary dreams.

Pop!

2006-01-30T16:14:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I moved into almost exclusively maternity pants. I probably could have stuck it out in my old pants a little longer than 12 weeks, but the maternity pants were so comfortable that I said screw it. Anyway, even though I've been in maternity pants, my old shirts still fit.

Until this weekend! On Saturday I put on maternity jeans and a long ribbed T-shirt - one I bought last year specifically for the time between regular shirts and maternity shirts. Anyway, it had fit a few days before, but by Saturday it was too short to cover the demi panel on my pants. I have a belly!

I'll be the first to admit that I have had some body image issues most of my life. I was a super-skinny, straight-up-and-down teenager; no matter what I ate (and I love to eat), I weighed 97 pounds. When I got to college, that started to change - I was still thin, but suddenly I had breasts and hips and curves, and it made me nervous. Not to mention that I have a very fat-phobic mother and everything in our house for a while was fat-free this and low-fat that. Enough to give anyone a complex.

Anyway, you might think and introducing pregnancy into that mix would be a disaster. In fact, it was the opposite. I LOVED being pregnant - the bigger my belly got, the more I liked it. My pregnancy with Joseph was the only time in my life that I've loved my body unconditionally, and it was an amazing feeling. I was a little anxious afterward when I wanted to lose the weight, but I told myself not to obsess, and I think I did a pretty good job. (I ended up getting pregnant again at about 9 lbs over my pre-Joseph weight.)

I have a friend, C., who's about 5 weeks ahead of me, also pregnant with her second child. A mutual friend of ours told me that she saw C. a few weeks ago and said, "Oh, you're getting a belly!" and that C. seemed insulted by that. I can't imagine that. When people say to me, "Oh, you're getting a belly!" I positively beam.

(It also doesn't hurt that Andy loves my pregnant appetite and pregnant body. I remember last time, I was changing one evening in our room and his face lit up as he said, "Your behind is getting so BIG! It's GREAT!" I told him that the genuine sincerity in his voice was the only thing that kept that from being #1 on the list of things not to say to your wife.)

In other news...

- the shower is this weekend and so is the memorial at the hospital. I'm proud of myself that ever since I made my decision about the shower, I haven't given it another moment's thought. Usually I second-guess decisions to death. Maybe I'm finally learning not to care what other people might think.

- still feeling vague flutters and blips but nothing more substantial for the last few weeks. I'm guessing it will pick up over the next month or so.

- work is busy but I think we're all setting into the routine of the reorganization. We're still short staffed but things are moving more smoothly than I'd thought they would. My promotion is still in the paperwork phase (damn academia) but I found out that I'll be getting a bonus to tide me over til then. Nice!

- Our vacation is coming up; I absolutely cannot wait.

Another appointment

2006-01-17T20:01:00.000-05:00

I realized today as I was waiting in the OB's office that I wasn't nervous. I've been a wreck before all my appointments so far, because they all involved firsts - the first ultrasound, the first time they tried the Doppler, etc - and each time, I was so afraid that what they were looking for wouldn't be there. This time, I didn't even think about it.

I heard the heartbeat again...what a great sound. I also got the results of the Early Risk Assessment - odds are 1/1205 for Down Syndrome, which they said was the same risk a 20-year-old woman has; odds are less than 1/10,000 for Trisomies 13 and 18. So, good news.

I love my doctor and especially her nurse. I was leaving the exam room when they located the genetic counselor who had my results, so the doctor and nurse were standing just outside, with the door open, while I got the results. When they were good, the nurse, who is short and perky and upbeat, practically jumped up and down with joy. She's cute.

My big ultrasound is 4 weeks from today - Valentine's Day. I'll only be 17.5 weeks, but the doctor thinks that's not too early. I'm so excited to find out the Pad's gender!

In other news, I decided not to go to SIL's baby shower. I thought a lot about it, and talked to my therapist, and talked to Andy, and finally came to the conclusion.

- I don't really believe in baby showers before the baby anymore. I don't think it's bad to want one or have one - I loved my shower and it was great to have everything we needed (even though in our case we didn't end up needing it, we will finally have a use for it this summer). But my friends who are Jewish have told me that it's a tradition with them to have showers after the baby, and I can totally understand now.

- I'm afraid I'll be too sad. Especially since the very next day, we're going to a ceremony at the hospital - they are unveiling a memorial that Joseph is going to be a part of. So many people donated to the hospital in Joseph's name that he's getting a little leaf on their memorial tree. I knew it was the same weekend as the shower, but until Andy pointed it out, I never thought about how hard it might be to go to a baby shower one day and a memorial for my dead son the next.

- What can I say - I'm still bitter. It's going to take me a long, long time to get over the fact that they started trying two weeks after Joseph's death. I wouldn't have expected them to put their lives on hold for me, but two weeks? They couldn't wait a month or two? Especially when they're 26 and hadn't even been married a year? The clock was not exactly ticking.

I'm sending a gift. I'm not interested in cutting ties to my brother or anything like that. It's just more that it's going to be a while before I trust them, or before our relationship can ever be as close as it once was. I thought being pregnant myself would help. Instead, the more time that goes by, the worse I feel about the whole thing.

blip blip

2006-01-09T21:19:00.000-05:00

You know how I thought I might be feeling the Pad? I've been sitting here at the computer for a while this evening, and I felt that little "blip" feeling again. And then again. And again.

Suddenly I'm almost sure it's the Pad. I don't think it's gas (trust me, I have had enough experience with that these last few weeks). How amazing! Just like Joseph, if this is the Pad, he/she is much more active at night.

I love this feeling so much.

More good news

2006-01-09T15:16:00.000-05:00

I could get used to this. :)

I had my Early Risk Assessment appointment today. They told me it would take 2 hours - ha! More like four, most of which was waiting. That kind of sucked, especially since Andy ended up having to leave before they actually called me in for the ultrasound. He was there for the boring, heard-it-all-before group meeting with the genetic counselor, and then didn't get to stay for the good part. Oh well.

The Pad is a regular little gymnast in there - it took the tech a long time to get the measurements she needed because it wouldn't stop rolling and flipping around. I could see it waving its tiny hands in front of its face and kicking its legs - so cool. (When I saw how much it was moving it made me wonder even more if that's what I've been feeling - it's not getting stronger yet, but I am still noticing it.)

Anyway, the tech got the pictures and then I had to wait some more on the table for the doctor on call (not my doc) to come in and look himself. I wasn't that crazy about him when he did show up; he was a bit unemotional and perfunctory for my taste. He did, however, say that the baby was "doing somersaults" and that the measurements were within the normal range and the baby looked healthy. I'll get the official results next week because they combine the measurements with the blood they took after the ultrasound.

Next appointment: January 17.

Next dilemma: Should I go to my SIL's baby shower or not? It's Feb. 4. Everyone understands, or says they do, but I think maybe they understand less now that I'm pregnant and it's going well. I don't know if I want to go or not. And if I don't want to, I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid it will make me sad, or because I don't really believe in pre-birth baby showers anymore, or because I'm still sort of pissed at my brother and SIL for getting pregnant when they did. Or some combination of all three. More fodder for tomorrow's therapy appointment, I guess.

The Long Trip Home

2006-01-05T10:32:00.000-05:00

(with apologies to Cathy for the title.)

We're back from West Virginia. We got back on Tuesday evening, actually, but I've been too busy digging out at work and home to think about posting. My in-laws are without Internet access at the moment, and it was actually nice to take a break.

Brief updates:

* The trip was relaxing, except for the 14-hour drive each way, which we at least broke up by spending time with Andy's aunt and uncle in VA, since they're on the way. It was nice to see all of Andy's cousins and our friends. However, there's no getting around the fact that Beckley, WV, is a fairly depressing place, especially in the dead of winter. It's less depressing than the town the ILs lived in until this summer, which is officially The Middle of Nowhere, but there's still not a whole lot going on.

* However, we did talk a lot about how a 28-hour round-trip drive is grueling, and getting more so all the time, and how we didn't think it was going to be possible with a baby/child. We could fly, but flights to WV are inconvenient and expensive. And yet I LOVE Andy's family, and can't imagine our children growing up without knowing all of their aunts and uncles and cousins. I don't want my family to be the "real" family and Andy's family to be the people they get dragged off to see once or twice a year. We talk a lot about moving, and we've never settled on anything, but we talked about the DC area being a possibility. It's the exact halfway point between my family and his, and it's a big city with plenty of job opportunities for both of us. It's also not any more expensive than Boston, at least. I definitely want to wait until after things are resolved with the Pad (I still can't bring myself to say "when the Pad is born") because I love this new doctor and hospital and don't want to try to relocate while pregnant anyway. But after that, it's worth thinking about, I think.

* Speaking of WV, many people have asked me if we had any friends or family in or near the Sago mine accident - we don't. It's fairly far north of where we were. It's so terribly sad, though, and makes me worry a lot about my FIL, who does work in the mines and who insists on being underground doing the dangerous work a lot, even though, as the superintendent, he doesn't really have to very often.

* After three years, we finally got it together to book a vacation. I'm in shock. (My therapist will be so proud.) We're going to be spending 4 days on Big Pine Key - we've booked into a B&B and we found a flight, although we haven't booked that yet. We'll be flying into Fort Lauderdale, renting a car, and driving down the Oversea Highway - I can't wait.

* The morning sickness is getting better, although not gone completely. I have a pooch, and several pairs of pants no longer fit, while others are fine. Freshly washed jeans are out, but broken-in ones are OK. I have my nuchal translucency ultrasound and blood test for the combined screening on Monday, at 12w3d.

* I have to be imagining this, but for almost a week I've noticed intermittent, very light little pings in my lower abdomen. It doesn't feel like gas...it sort of feels like the very first few times I noticed Joseph moving. But how could that be possible when I started noticing it at 11 weeks? It's always in the same area below my navel, but it's in different places every time. I probably feel it 2-3 times a day or so. I wonder...

We are cranks. But at least we're cranks together.

2005-12-25T16:24:00.000-05:00

We walked out of the Chronicles of Narnia after an hour. Part of it was that we got almost the last two seats in the theater; they weren't bad seats locationwise, but we happened to be next to the world's two most annoying people - popcorn-bag-crumpling, loud-talking, constant editorial commenters. There's nothing I hate more than that.

I might have ignored it or politely asked them to be quiet if we'd been enjoying the movie, but I hated it. I thought the acting was atrocious, and I hated all the child characters except for the little girl. When the first talking beaver arrived Andy and I looked at each other and got up without a word.

I'm sort of depressed now; I had wanted to leave for a while before we did, but I was fighting the temptation because I didn't want to succumb to total crankdom. But now we're back home and nothing is open and there's nothing to do and no one is around.

I am sad.

Merry Christmas

2005-12-25T13:26:00.000-05:00

This may be the strangest Christmas I've ever had. We usually switch off on holidays, spending one Christmas with my parents in New York and the next with Andy's family in West Virginia. This year, our year to be in WV, we have a wedding to go to on New Year's Eve. It would have seemed like a loooooong trip if we'd gone to WV on the 23rd like we usually do, so we decided to spend Christmas by ourselves and go to WV on the 27th.

We put up our tree a few weeks ago like usual, but it seemed a little hollow. We did a tree last year when I was pregnant with Joseph, and even though we didn't have children yet, it didn't seem weird. This year, decorating for Christmas felt a little bit pointless. I keep thinking that Christmas is really for kids, and we don't have any. Of course, I didn't realize this until I'd made Andy drag the tree and all the ornaments up from the basement, so we put it up anyway.

Last night I wanted to go to church, something I haven't done in a long time. I was raised Catholic, but I don't really consider myself religious anymore. But even though I disagree with almost everything about the church, I always loved going on Christmas Eve. I loved the decorations, the music (religious carols are so moving...the secular ones do nothing for me) and the feeling of solemn anticipation. So this year, we decided to go to the church across the street, which we've never set foot in despite living here for more than two years.

I wanted to go to midnight mass, but this church didn't have one, so we went to the 6:30 p.m. service. It turned out to the the service where the children of the parish did a little pageant - while the priest read the Jesus story from the Gospel, the children acted it out. They were adorable...they were in costume, and at the end of the reading, they all stayed in their tableau while the singer sang "Silent Night." I don't know what exactly happened, but suddenly I was sobbing; that carol has always made me tear up anyway, but seeing all those children and hearing the song about the birth of a child just broke my heart. It never occurred to me before how much of Christmas is about babies, and birth, and the anticipation of birth.

The other strange thing was that other than that, whatever I was hoping to feel at the service didn't happen. It left me as cold as church on any other Sunday does, which made me sad. The last time I felt the way I wanted to feel in church last night was when I used to sing with my college choir and we did our big Christmas concert. So I think from now on, instead of going to church, we'll just go to that. I'm glad I went last night, because it made me realize that I'm just not Catholic anymore. I'm not sure exactly what I believe, but when I go to church, I feel nothing.

After church we went out to dinner; we had wanted to try a new Middle Eastern place, but they were closed, so we ended up at a Chinese restaurant in Cambridge. It was delicious, and we were one of only two tables in the entire place, which felt weird but not in an entirely bad way (Andy, the hermit, was in heaven).

This morning the cats gave me their Christmas presents (nearly simultaneous yakking - thanks, just what I wanted!) and then we exchanged our own gifts. I'd gotten Andy tickets to see the Dave Brubeck Quartet; the show isn't until June, which prompted Andy to say he hoped Dave Brubeck would still be alive by then. Assuming he is, I think I'll make reservations at a downtown hotel and a nice restaurant and make a whole evening of it. I'm generally a rather uninspired gift-buyer, but I was proud of this one. My gifts from Andy were the professional-grade hair straightener my cousin the newly minted hairdresser recommended; it sounds like an unromantic gift, but I really wanted it, and it works great. He also gave me a Maneki Neko - ever seen those little cat statues in Japanese restaurants? They're supposed to be good-luck charms; Andy had seen one in a store window in Chinatown and said he just had to have it for me. I think we could use some good luck in this house, no?
It's sunny and fairly warm here; I took the cat for a walk (don't ask) and we sat outside for a little while and watched the people go in and out of the church; I love seeing little kids in their Christmas outfits. In a little while we're going to see the Chronicles of Narnia movie, and then we'll make dinner. We had a brief panic last night when we realized we had completely flaked on going to the grocery store - we'd had grandiose ideas of making a roast or steaks or some kind of fancy dinner, but by the time we thought of it, on the way home last night, all the grocery stores were closed, and we'd used up most of what was in the fridge over the last few days since we're going to be gone for a week. We had about resigned ourselves to eating frozen turkey burgers and tater tots (hey, Christmas turkey!) but at the last minute, we found some canned tomatoes, so we're having chicken Parmesan and spaghetti with homemade sauce. Could be worse.

Not the world's most ideal Christmas, but we have each other, and we have the Pad, and that's the best we can do for now. I have high hopes for 2006.

2005-12-20T12:41:00.000-05:00

I'm about to leave for my first prenatal appointment with Dr. R. She had said when I first met her that she might try to hear the heartbeat at this visit, but at 9w4d I think it might be too early. It sure would be nice, though. I'd hate to have a visit go by with no reassurance that everything's OK in there.

Wish me luck!

Update: Yay for a boringly normal appointment! Have I mentioned how much I love these doctors? I had a long intake session with the nurse, who answered all my questions thoroughly; then she tried to hear the heartbeat with the doppler. She tried for a long time and wasn't getting anything, but she had reassured me that it might be too early. Strangely, I wasn't really nervous. After about five minutes she gave up and said that Dr. R would try again when she came in.

Dr. R came in and did all the normal poking and prodding and said that my uterus was perfectly on track size-wise. Then she, too, tried the doppler, and after about five minutes of pressing hard, she found the heartbeat. It was hard for me to hear at first - definitely not the clear, loud, "whoof-whoof-whoof" I was used to hearing with Joseph - but she said that was because it was early. She estimated the rate at 160 and said that was great.

In two weeks I go back for the Early Risk Assessment, which is a blood test combined with that new nuchal translucency ultrasound. I'm looking forward to getting another look at the Pad. Other than that, though, Dr. R. says I can be on the normal prenatal visit schedule, so my next "real" visit is in four weeks.

I think I'm starting to believe this is really going to happen.

Ready to have a baby? Stop reading stupid magazine articles.

2005-12-12T11:19:00.000-05:00

Someone on a board I read posted this link today. Here's part of the beginning:

"Women agonize over the trade-offs between family and career. Now, thanks to Amalia Miller, a young economist at the University of Virginia, there is a new and particularly vivid way to think about those trade-offs.

On average, Miller has found in a new paper, a woman in her 20s will increase her lifetime earnings by 10 percent if she delays the birth of her first child by a year. Part of that is because she'll earn higher wages—about 3 percent higher—for the rest of her life; the rest is because she'll work longer hours. For college-educated women, the effects are even bigger. For professional women, the effects are bigger yet—for these women, the wage hike is not 3 percent, but 4.7 percent.

So, if you have your first child at 24 instead of 25, you're giving up 10 percent of your lifetime earnings. The wage hit comes in two pieces. There's an immediate drop, followed by a slower rate of growth—right up to the day you retire. So, a 34-year-old woman with a 10-year-old child will (again on average) get smaller percentage raises on a smaller base salary than an otherwise identical woman with a 9-year-old. Each year of delayed childbirth compounds these benefits, at least for women in their 20s. Once you're in your 30s, there's far less reward for continued delay. Surprisingly, it appears that none of these effects are mitigated by the passage of family-leave laws."

Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but that strikes me as supremely annoying. As someone who'll be having her first child about a year later than she wanted to - hey, maybe I should be glad my son died! It saved me a lot of money, eh?

I felt like that was an irrational reaction, but then I got to this tidbit:

"So, professor Miller did something very clever. Instead of comparing random 24-year-old mothers with random 25-year-old mothers, she compared 24-year-old mothers with 25-year-old mothers who had miscarried at 24. So, she had two groups of women, all of whom made the same choices regarding pregnancy, but some of whom had their first children delayed by an act of chance. That's a fairer comparison—and it confirmed the 10 percent earnings hit."

Gee, maybe I'll try that the next time someone I know has a miscarriage. "Think of the bright side - you'll increase your lifetime earnings by 10%!"

Meanwhile, I would venture to guess that any woman who's lost a pregnancy or a child would gladly take a 100% pay cut to have that child back. I know I would.

Bleargh

2005-12-09T09:56:00.000-05:00

The last week or so, the nausea has kicked in a big way. Last year, right between 7-8 weeks was the worst of it, and it seems to be the same this time. I remember that after about 8 weeks, it got more sporadic - I kept thinking it was gone for good and then it would come back to taunt me.

The Pad apparently is quite the picky eater. So far he/she loves iced tea - I had been avoiding it because of the caffeine, but it's one of the only things that quells the morning nausea. However, his/her first experiment with oriental rice crackers, which I usually love, did not go so well (eating half the tub in one sitting probably did not help).

I have to learn to eat several small meals instead of letting myself get hungry and then eating a giant meal all at once. It makes me feel like I'm going to die. I ate a vat of Pad Thai yesterday and while I enjoyed every minute of it, I did not enjoy the next few hours.

Not much else is new. The "new job" (i.e., extra responsibilities with not-yet forthcoming extra money and title) is busy this week, as I have some budget stuff due today and I've never done the budget before. I did speak to my former boss on the phone yesterday - she and I got pretty close in the last few months, especially after Joseph died - I hadn't known it, but she had had fertility problems and several miscarriages before having her two sons (now 2 and 27 months). So it seemed natural to tell her about the Pad, even though I'm not "out" at work yet and won't be for at least a month. I think she was more excited for me than my own mother, which was nice. I miss her.

2005-12-06T22:09:00.000-05:00

I had a discussion with my therapist this week about something I've been thinking about for a long time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm coping too well.

That sounds weird, doesn't it? Shouldn't I be glad that I'm doing OK? And I am, I really am. But sometimes I wonder if I should be feeling worse.

I'm excited for Christmas. We put up our tree this weekend, even though we're going away right around Christmastime. Andy was a little more skeptical about it than I was - he doesn't see the point when there are no kids around (this doesn't really have anything to do with losing Joseph - he said the same thing last year). But for me, it just would have seemed depressing to not acknowledge the season at all. Of course I think about how Joseph should be 7 months old at Christmas. I should have pictures of him in the little Christmas frame my mother bought me last year. I should be taking him to sit on Santa's lap. But even though I'm not doing any of those things - I'm not sorry that it's Christmas.

I don't mind seeing friends' babies or holding them or hearing about new babies. I get hit with random waves of sadness, like I did at the christening last weekend. I get annoyed at the friend who's a month ahead of me in pregnancy who ordered a glass of wine when we were out last night and went on and on about how she wasn't going to be paranoid. I wouldn't have cared about her doing it once, but she did the exact same thing when I saw her two weeks ago. It's her second child and I'm sure she thinks, "Well, I had one healthy baby so I don't NEED to be careful." I would never wish harm on her or her baby, but I do get angry at people who are blase about the risks. I feel like they're looking at my seltzer and thinking, "Yes, it's good that SHE's being careful since HER baby wasn't healthy, but nothing like that could happen to me." (Maybe I'm reading into this incident way too much. I don't know.) But even though I have moments like that, I can still get joy out of my friends' and families' babies.

I don't want to be defined by my loss. I remember one of the very first thoughts I had when the doctor told me Joseph had died was the fear that I would forever be known as the woman with the dead baby. I don't want to deny that it happened, that Joseph existed, that I am a mother. It's something that has changed me forever and I wouldn't wish that away. But I don't want to be JUST the woman with the dead baby.

I have moments when I have the urge to be that woman - when I want to bring it up in conversation, maybe just to hear the other person acknowledge it - but I try to resist that urge. Then again, sometimes it seems like a natural part of the conversation and when it does, I talk about it.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. I guess sometimes I wonder if I'm normal - if I somehow skipped over some part of the grieving process. Would it be more normal for me to still be bitter? To blame myself? To want to avoid everyone and everything? Because I've been through all of those stages.

It's not that I didn't grieve. It's not that I've forgotten my son. I will never forget him. It's just that six months later, I feel like I'm healing. I am excited about the Pad. He or she will never replace my baby; I'll never pretend that the Pad is my first child.

I hope Joseph forgives me. I guess if there is any part of him out there anywhere, he would want me to be doing OK, right?

Huge sigh of relief

2005-12-01T20:00:00.000-05:00

Baby - check. Heartbeat - check. 126 BPM. I nearly cried with relief right there on the table.

I also felt privately vindicated because even though I'm 8 weeks today by LMP, I knew I was only 6w6d according to my chart. The doctor was sorta skeptical, which is why she ordered the ultrasound in the first place. Anyway, the tech said that HP is measuring...wait for it...6w6d. Hah!

I can already tell I'm going to love this practice. For one thing, I like that they have an ultrasound unit there in the practice - at my old practice you had to go to a separate facility for the ultrasounds, so the techs didn't know who you were and the doctor wasn't there. Here, it's all right there in the office, so the doctor (it wasn't my doctor, Dr. Riley, because of the schedule change) comes in afterward to meet the patients and check things again. Plus, the tech knew about Joseph, which amazed me. She understood exactly why I was nervous and did everything she could to make it better.

Afterward, I met Dr. Riley's nurse, who also knew my whole story, and she hugged me and practically jumped up and down with happiness at the good news. I feel like quite the pampered celebrity in this office already. They decided to take all the initial pregnancy bloodwork today, as long as I was there (nothing I really have to think about, unless Andy gave me syphilis sometime in the last few months).

Of course I had to call my parents. I didn't tell them about the pseudospotting; I figured why worry them? I just told them that an earlier slot opened up and I took it. I thought my dad was going to cry, too, when I told him that everything looks good.

I know I'm not out of the woods (and I guess I never really will be until it's all over) but it's good to know that the odds are pretty good from this point.

small update

2005-11-30T17:13:00.000-05:00

I finally did call the doctor, even though I haven't seen any spotting at all since 9 am. The nurse was WONDERFUL - I think I'm going to love this practice. She was pretty reassuring, and moved my ultrasound from Friday at 8:30 a.m. to tomorrow afternoon. I'm feeling OK about this. It was really SO little staining - the only reason I even noticed is because of course I've been monitoring it like a hawk.

nervous

2005-11-30T09:34:00.000-05:00

I just got to work and found the tiniest bit of pinkish-brown spotting. Really just a tiny tiny bit. But I'm terrified. I'm supposed to have an ultrasound in two days, but now I don't know if I should call earlier.

Update: It's totally stopped. Honestly, I don't know if I would even call it spotting - I hate to be graphic, but it was just a tiny bit of pinkish/brown CM on the paper. That's all. There hasn't been any more, even after I walked a few blocks to a meeting and then back.

I mostly feel better. If it comes back, I'll call the doctor. If not, I can wait until the ultrasound.

Thankful

2005-11-28T11:18:00.000-05:00

We're back from Thanksgiving and I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation. We took Wednesday off and got up at 4 am (no, not a typo) so that we could leave at 5 and beat the Thanksgiving traffic. Which we did, but, 4 am. I feel like I'm going to complain a lot in this post, but it wasn't an awful weekend, just hard and sad in a lot of ways.

On Wednesday evening as we sat around after dinner, the idea of playing a board game came up. My mother mentioned that we kept the board games in the closet under the basement stairs, so Andy offered to go look for one. I noticed that he was gone kind of a long time, but I figured he'd just been looking through all the books and games we keep down there. But later that evening, after everyone had gone to bed, he told me that he'd found the bag of Joseph's things from the hospital. My mother had hidden it in that closet and then forgotten about it. (I later spoke to her about it and she told me that she'd realized it was there after Andy went downstairs, and then she wasn't sure what to do, so she just sat there frozen until he came back up.)

Andy was OK when I talked to him, but a little bit shaken. Neither of us had looked in the bag at all since the nurses gave it to us in the hospital. It has the pictures they took of him, the little blanket and cap he was wrapped in, a lock of hair, his hospital bracelet, things like that. I asked if Andy thought I should go look at it too, but I was relieved when he said we should wait. I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Someday, but not yet.

The next day was Thanksgiving, which turned out to be a bit of a letdown - it was at my dad's house, and it was their year to celebrate with his wife's enormous family. There were about 50 people, and aside from the few I was related to, I knew none of them. I like family dinners where you can sit around the table and have a conversation, but there were just way too many people for that. I got the feeling that no one would have noticed if we hadn't shown up. However, it was great to see my brother and sister-in-law and my stepbrothers and their girlfriends/fiancees. My stepbrother Rob and his fiancee Danielle brought their 3-month-old, Alexandra, who had adorably fat cheeks and is one of the most cheerful infants I've ever seen. That cheered me up a lot.

On Saturday, Rob and Danielle held Alexandra's christening - they figured since everyone would be home, it would be a good time. My brother was the godfather, and he did great holding her and doing his part. I can't believe he's going to be a father; I still picture him as my baby brother.

I didn't expect this at all, but while we were at the church watching the ceremony, all of a sudden a wave of sadness hit me. I generally do fine with babies now - I can hold them and play with them and I don't get sad - but watching the baptism, it hit me: I wonder what Joseph's baptism was like. I wasn't there. I was still in bed, doped up on morphine, and Andy was with me. All I knew was that my mother had held him. I teared up, and my cousin, next to me, noticed and gave me a tissue. And then I was OK, I thought. When the ceremony was over, everyone was milling around the church and Andy came over and asked if I was OK. And suddenly, I wasn't. He had to take me outside, and I cried more than I've cried in months. I just kept picturing the ceremony we had just watched, only with a dead baby. My dead baby.

Andy told me that they used a little seashell to pour the holy water over Joseph's head, and that he'd seen it in the bag of things. I know they couldn't wait to do the ceremony because they needed his body to do the tests, but sometimes I wonder, should we have been there? Would it have been too much for me? How did my mother stand it? How would I have stood it?

The rest of the afternoon turned out to be very nice, though. My cousins were there and there were babies and children absolutely everywhere. It was kind of nice to have a secret - only our parents and siblings/stepsiblings know about the Heating Pad. I think otherwise it would have been very hard to get through yesterday at all.

The morning sickness has kicked in with a vengeance today. I am actually relieved, though. Four more days until we get a look inside there. I hope everything's OK.

Preganoia will destroy ya

2005-11-19T15:30:00.000-05:00

I felt sick early this week. I don't seem to feel as sick now. Is it going away because my levels are going down? Is my heartburn getting better or worse? Does my left nipple hurt more than my right? Should I have asked for serial betas this time? Hmm, maybe the heartburn is less because I drank more water today. Am I tired because I didn't get enough sleep or because I'm pregnant? Am I less tired than I was yesterday?

God help me. Two more weeks until the first ultrasound.

the worst is over

2005-11-16T14:41:00.000-05:00

I just realized that life for us is going incredibly well all of a sudden. We haven't had this many good things happen to us all at once...well...EVER.

Me: Work is suddenly much more challenging and interesting; was offered a promotion (which I hope goes through...it's still in the works, and I don't know exactly what's going on); got pregnant and so far it's going OK; found a great doctor.

Mr. NK: He plays the bass guitar in addition to his day job. He's been studying very hard for a long time, but he hasn't played out in years. But this weekend he has three gigs as a session bassist with two different bands, one of them at The Middle East as part of the Emergenza Music Fest. He also found out last week that the patent his company applied for a few years ago for a process he helped develop went through. So now there's a patent out there that says "[Mr. NK] et al" on it. How cool is that?

It feels very hopeful. Maybe it's a sign that the year from hell is ending. Maybe it's a sign that little Heating Pad (who I will henceforth call HP because I just feel way too dorky referring to my embryo as Heating Pad) is going to be born and we'll actually get to take him/her home.

Hope

2005-11-15T15:50:00.000-05:00

I loved the new doctor - we'll call her Dr. R. I was so nervous this morning waiting to meet her, but Mr. NK and I were both very impressed. She had all my records ahead of time, so she asked us a few questions about our experience and what happened to Joseph. She said that based on my records, the only thing she might worry about is that something was wrong with my placenta - Dr. S. had ordered tests to be run on it, but apparently it was discarded in the time between Joseph's birth and death, so we will never know. Since Joseph was a normal birthweight, however, Dr. R. says that most likely the placenta was not the culprit, and she's leaning toward the same "freak accident" diagnosis I got from the neonatologist.

Based on all of that, she said she didn't recommend that we do much differently in this pregnancy. I will see her and be treated as a high-risk patient (in terms of having more monitoring, etc.) but mainly only for my peace of mind. She gave me the numbers for not only her and her nurse, but also the triage nurses, and told me to call any time I had a question, no matter how minor - no worries about bothering them or about having too many questions. I will have nonstress tests beginning in the third trimester and a scheduled c-section around the 39 week mark.

I was honest about the date of LMP, but told her that I am certain I ovulated late. She made a note of it, but added that she generally felt charting was unreliable. I said, "Would it help if I told you that that week was the only week it would have been physically possible?" (hey, it's been a stressful month at work for both of us.) She laughed at that and noted it on my chart, but she still wants me to have a dating ultrasound on December 2, which is fine with me. My first real prenatal appointment is December 20.

I left her office with a really good feeling about everything. I know that if this pregnancy lasts, it's not going to be easy, but I think having Dr. R. on my team is going to help immensely.

New doc tomorrow

2005-11-14T21:09:00.000-05:00

In the morning we have a consultation with the high-risk OB someone recommended. I made the appointment weeks ago, so it's just an added bonus to be able to tell her I'm actually pregnant. Mostly we just wanted to get a feel for whether we liked her and the practice - she's also got copies of all my records and Joseph's autopsy report, so we'll ask for her opinion on what happened and see how she would manage this pregnancy in light of that.

As of this morning I have morning sickness already. Isn't it too early for this? This was the real deal, too - not just gagginess but oh-God-must-eat-now-or-I'll-puke-iness. Last time it didn't hit until 6 weeks or so.

No bleeding (not that I've stopped checking/half expecting there to be). In fact, I feel fine - well, I feel pregnant. Much more so than I did last month with the chemical. This feels like it felt with Joseph, which is reassuring in a way because after all, my entire pregnancy with him was normal and easy, right up until the end.

I think this one's nom de womb is "Heating Pad." Kind of a long story - Mr. NK had minor surgery a month or so ago and was recovering at home in a fair amount of pain. The Percoset was only doing so much until we figured out that if he laid on the heating pad, the pain magically went away. His subsequent Percoset-hazy exclamation of "I'm going to name our next child Heating Pad" kind of stuck as an inside joke. So, Heating Pad it is.

We used to call Joseph "the Papoose."

I don't know if I'm happy or sad. Both, really.

I swear I am not just trying to redeem myself, but...

2005-11-10T14:00:00.000-05:00

...speaking of SIL, her 20-week ultrasound was today. I called my brother to see how it went (I heard later from my mom that he was surprised and touched that I called, but I honestly didn't even think about it - I didn't do it out of a sense of obligation or anything) and the babe has two of everything there's supposed to be two of, ten of everything there's supposed to be ten of, and so on. They didn't find out the sex.

I may sort of wish my SIL had not gotten pregnant when she did, but since she is, I am happy for them.

Gee, thanks.

2005-11-10T09:07:00.000-05:00

I came to work today to find lots of encouragement in my inbox (comments to this blog get sent there), as well as this little gem:

"It seems like you would be happy if SIL lost the baby? Would it make you feel better. I never understand this way of thinking. Best of luck."

Jesus H. Christ. Have I EVER said I wanted my SIL to lose her baby? This is my brother we're talking about. My niece or nephew. It hurt to hear about their pregnancy, but my brother is still one of my closest friends in the world.

Have you lost a baby yourself, "Anonymous"? If you have, I'd think you'd understand how hard it can be to find out about a loved one's pregnancy so soon after losing your own. I'm not proud of every thought that has crossed my mind since I found out. But I have NEVER, not once, wished for them to go through anything remotely like what I did. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

So you know what? Fuck you.

I have a much better feeling about this one.

2005-11-09T13:13:00.000-05:00

It's only been a few hours, but Mr. NK and I usually talk all day at work (thank you, Google Talk) and so far we haven't really talked about this morning. He knew that I wasn't hopeful because of yesterday's temp drop, but he has always been the one who says to wait until it's over before I call it over. So I told him that if my temp was up again in the morning, I'd take a test.

He was still sleeping when I got up and peed on a stick. But when he woke up and saw me coming back from the bathroom, he must have known right away.

"Is it back up?" he said.

"Yeah...and I took a test and I'm pregnant."

He hugged me and told me not to get too crazed over it just yet...to see what happened...which is good advice (he wasn't trying to rain on my parade, just cautioning me not to start the parade yet, which I'm not). And then he got up and took a shower and I took a shower and we went all the way into the city on the train together without saying another word about it.

Later on I messaged him that I still coudn't believe it. He said he'd known all along, and that the only thing that bothered him was the way I do the "I think I am...it looks good...no, wait, I can't be. It looks bad. No, wait, maybe I am...no, I can't be. Oh wait, I took a test, and I am." I did the exact same thing last month with the chemical. I even did it when I was pregnant with Joseph.

I bought a cheapo test on the way to work because the line was so faint on the one I took this morning. Nice fat dark line on this one. And no bleeding.

Please, let this be the one we take home.

This is almost embarrassing.

2005-11-09T07:06:00.000-05:00

My temp dropped some yesterday, so I assumed it would drop the rest of the way this morning (12 DPO) and I'd wake up with my period.

You can imagine my surprise as I stared at the thermometer this morning - 98.4. Nearly a degree higher than yesterday. I had some restless sleep, but not THAT restless.

So I caved and took a test.

It's positive. Faintly positive, but positive.

I guess someone's a bit behind on his paperwork.

2005-11-08T11:00:00.000-05:00

I got home last night to find a message from Dr. S. on my voicemail. He was calling to say he'd seen a confirmation of pregnancy in my file, and to congratulate me and to see how I was handling it.

I guess he didn't see the lab work from the other betas that showed it was just a chemical pregnancy. That was, what, six weeks ago?

I woke up to a pretty big temp drop this morning, too. No period yet and it's still above the coverline, but I had a raging case of PMS last night. Remember how I said I couldn't remember what it felt like? I think my body was trying to remind me.

2005-11-07T16:20:00.000-05:00

I'm hanging in there. My breasts still hurt, heartburn seems to be gone, but I have a generally achy feeling that could be anything.

You see, it's been so long since I had a real period that I don't even remember what it feels like! I only started paying attention to how I felt during the luteal phase when we were trying for Joseph, and we got pregnant on the first try. Then my first post-partum luteal phase was so short that I don't think I had time for PMS. Then I had the chemical, and so here I am.

My temp is still up, though. Had a tiny tiny tiny bit of brown spotting this morning, and nothing since.

I did cave and get some tests from Walmart. They're under the bathroom sink and I have not used them.

I'm thinking I have to stop temping this cycle. I can't seem to sleep long enough. I started out this cycle figuring I would temp at 6 am. The first few days, I woke up between 5:30 and 5:45, so I started setting my alarm for that time to make the temp time consistent. Which led to my waking up every day between 5:15 and 5:30, so I changed the temp time to 5:25. Then I had a long stretch, which included the last few days before ovulation and the first half of the 2ww, where I was waking up every day at 4:40, so I made THAT my temp time. And of course, now I'm waking up every morning at 3 am. The temps are going to be totally thrown off.

Next cycle, if there is one, I'm not bothering with the fucking thermometer. I'm using the monitor. (link for lorem, who asked). It's got to be better than mindfucking the darkness of OPK lines and waking up repeatedly at 3 am, right?

2005-11-04T13:20:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I'm going to make it to 16 DPO. This morning, my temp jumped up nearly half a degree to the highest temp I've ever gotten. Plus, as of last night I have heartburn whenever I eat - and I never get heartburn, except before I found out I was pregnant with Joseph and the chemical (it lasted my whole pregnancy with Joseph).

A little while ago, as though a switch had been flipped or something, my nipples started to hurt.

My body had better not be fucking with me. I didn't want to get my hopes up. But it's really, really hard.

Testing

2005-11-02T16:39:00.000-05:00

Because lorem ipsum asked...I am trying to hold out much longer to test this cycle. I tested at 11 DPO last month, although I would not have done that if I hadn't been getting the conflicting signs (bleeding, but high temps and sore breasts).

This month, my appointment with the new high-risk doctor is on November 15, which is 18 DPO. At first I thought I would wait until that morning to test, so that I could go in and let her know if it came up positive. Then I thought about it, and I don't know if I want to test on a weekday. I know myself well enough to know that I won't be able to do a thing that whole day if that test comes up positive.

So now I'm thinking that if my period hasn't come, I will test that Sunday before, which is 16 DPO. Longer than I've ever waited before - and I know for a fact that I don't have a 16-day LP, so that should be late enough to be reliable.

I have no tests in the house, so I may actually be able to stick to this.

Random things

2005-11-02T14:03:00.000-05:00

So here I am waiting to see if I'm pregnant or not. I usually don't have a feeling about these things one way or the other; I try not to, anyway, so that I don't get my hopes up. I had a temp drop today that could be bad, could be nothing. It's way too early for my period to start, so I hope it's nothing.

My chart shows that I had ovulated on Friday, and we timed things well. Early on Saturday morning, just after Andy got up, he said he'd had a strong premonition - not really a dream, more of a waking dream. He said that it was almost like he'd heard a voice in his ear, telling him that we would have a son and that his name would be Elliot (which was a name we had seriously considered when I was pregnant with Joseph).

My in-laws were here this weekend, and that Saturday night as we were all sitting around the kitchen table, Andy went to get a glass of wine and offered me one. Then he remembered and said, "Oh, never mind," and grinned. When my mother-in-law raised her eyebrow at me, I said, "No, I'm not pregnant, I'm just waiting to find out if I am." Without missing a beat, she smiled and said, "I think you are. In fact, I was going to ask you earlier today if you were, because I had a feeling about it."

My MIL never says things like this. She's a very quiet woman and if she doesn't feel that she can say anything important, she doesn't say anything at all (sometimes I wish my own mother was more like this).

I probably sound like a loon, because I don't believe in things like this (although I had a weird series of feelings/hunches that came true this summer, too). It was just surprising in light of Andy's hunch. Maybe looniness just runs in his family. As I said, I myself am not particularly hopeful for this cycle, so I won't be crushed if my period comes.

I had an interesting discussion with my mother last night. I was asking about my SIL's pregnancy, and my mother said, "I feel bad about this, but I can't seem to work up that much excitement for them." I asked her if it was because my experience has shown that, until you have a live baby in your arms, there's not a whole lot to be excited about (depressing, but true). She said that it wasn't that so much, but more the fact that she kept thinking about how sucky their timing was. "I just can't keep myself from feeling that it was kind of selfish of them," she said.

When I first found out about SIL's pregnancy and realized when she was due, my first thought was that they had practically run right out from my hospital room and gotten knocked up. When I expressed that sentiment to my mother at the time, she said that she'd had the impression that they'd been trying for a little while, and had just happened to conceive soon after my loss. However, I found out recently that that wasn't the case - my brother told me that they got pregnant on their first try. Which means that their first try WAS only a few weeks after Joseph's death.

When he told me this, I was pregnant myself, so it didn't bother me as much as it might have. Now I've lost that pregnancy and the more I think about it, the more I find myself reverting to the hurt I felt when I first found out. They're 26 years old - they'd been married less than 9 months when they got pregnant. I don't expect the whole world to plan their lives around my loss, but would it have killed them to wait a few months?

My mother told me that she has all the same thoughts. Not only that, but she says whenever she shares my brother and SIL's news with anyone, their first reaction is not excitement, but, "Oh....wow, that's bad timing, huh? How does NervousKitty feel about that?"

The small, mean part of me has a moment of guilty pleasure thinking about that. If they had to run right out and get knocked up, at least they don't get to have everyone gushing over them.

Proof that I invent things to worry about

2005-10-28T10:27:00.000-04:00

This is a comment Mr. NK often makes about me. I used to deny it, but you know what, I think he's right.

I mentioned that I'm ovulating about now. Got a positive OPK today. We are, uh, trying not to leave things to chance on the timing. If I don't get pregnant this month, it won't be because we timed it wrong.

Anyway, it occurred to me that I'll be ovulating about Day 24-25, almost two weeks later than the 'average' Day 14. The chemical pregnancy threw things off by about a week to ten days. Anyway - if I DID get pregnant, would this be a problem? My "LMP" is October 6, but if, say, I had an ultrasound at 6 weeks "LMP," it would show almost nothing, because I'll really only be two weeks past conception, not 4. How do doctors handle this? I don't want to be told that a pregnancy is not viable if it really is. Plus, since my next baby will be delivered by C-section a week or two early, it would be bad for my dates to be off by two weeks.

Of course I would tell the doctor I was charting and using OPKs, but I've heard many anecdotes about doctors blowing off the idea of charting. (Dr. S sure did.) I'm wondering if, were I to get pregnant this month, or any month that I ovulate significantly later than the norm, would it be a better idea to be vague about my last period, and throw out a date that would line up better with the conception date?

Like I said...inventing things to worry about. I ought to concentrate on actually getting pregnant first.

Not dead...

2005-10-26T15:31:00.000-04:00

I'm just poking my head back into Blogland for a second to say that I am still alive. I'm just totally swamped. Tomorrow is my boss' last day, and she's been inundating me with stuff.

This new job requires a LOT of organization, a lot of remembering dates, a lot of keeping on top of projects. I don't know how I'm going to do it. When I start to panic, though, I remember that I felt exactly like this about the job I'm in now, the one I'm moving up from, when I first started 2.5 years ago. It took a few months before I knew what was going on, but once I did, it was easy.

No word yet on when this promotion (and hopefully pay raise - there had better be one if they're expecting me to keep track of all this stuff) will be official. The "big boss" comes back from traveling tomorrow so I will hopefully hear soon.

In other news, I am finally about to ovulate for the first time since the chemical pregancy, so in the absense of anyone telling us we can't, we're going for it. Wish me luck.

I also have an appointment with a maternal-fetal medicine specialist at Massachusetts General on Nov. 15. If I get pregnant this cycle, I'll be finding out about it right about then, so that's good timing. I spoke with a friend of mine who went to this doctor's practice - although this doctor wasn't her regular OB, my friend met with her a few times after they discovered a soft marker for Down's on her ultrasound, and told me that she was absolutely wonderful - patient, willing to explain things, and willing to hand-hold nervous pregnant women. Exactly what I'm looking for. (Oh, and my friend's baby turned out to be just fine.)

That's all for now - will try to update soon.

An assignment I hope I don't flunk

2005-10-19T10:45:00.000-04:00

My therapist gave me a homework assignment last night - for Mr. NK and I to take a vacation together. Don't you wish all homework was like this?

It's actually not going to be as easy as it sounds. We haven't been on a real vacation together since our honeymoon three years ago. We have talked about it many, many times. The problem is that Mr. NK hates to plan - hates it. And I don't mind planning, but I'm horrible at it. I get freaked out about the money and start looking at cheaper things to the point where any actual fun is so watered down that it doesn't seem worth it. We have money put away, but we get so nervous about spending it. We need to lighten up.

I'm thinking about Hawaii, because we've both always wanted to go. We're not lie-on-the-beach people, so we need a place where we can do that but also do other stuff, and Mr. NK is fascinated by volcanoes. But I don't know.

If I'm going to pass this assignment, I think I need a travel agent!

I love this. Yes, I know I'm weird.

2005-10-17T15:47:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite web sites finally updated:

Cat Town

So bizarre, and yet so funny.

Holy crap, I just got promoted.

2005-10-14T14:37:00.000-04:00

Well that certainly throws a new wrinkle into the job situation.

I work for the admissions office of a large university - I write and edit promotional/recruitment materials like viewbooks and brochures, and also some letters and emails to prospective students. The publications team is a small part of the larger admissions office, and it's split between writers who do what I do (there are two of us) and people who work on the slightly more technical/marketing side of things (such as figuring out who to send e-mails to, getting names from PSAT mailing lists, etc.) We have one boss, whom I really like, but she's leaving in two weeks to move cross country with her family.

Today my boss' boss, the director of admissions, pulled me into a meeting. It turns out that my boss has always felt that her job is really two jobs - half publications-related and half technical/marketing, and she's always felt that she can't devote enough time to either one. So the director wants to split it into two jobs, both at the level/pay grade my boss is currently at. And she wants ME to be in charge of publications. WOW.

This would be a big step, both in terms of pay and responsibility. Right now, I do about 95% writing and editing and 5% project management. In the new position, I'd still be writing (something my boss didn't really get to do); plus I'd be editing the work of the other writer, who will now report to me; plus I'd be the liaison with the Office of Creative Services, which designs our pieces; plus I'd be in charge of the budget. Most importantly, I'd be in charge of the overall publications strategy for the Admissions Office.

I'm kind of freaked out. I've never had anyone report to me before, and now I'll be managing two people. I haven't done a lot of strategy work, and I have a phobia of numbers so I've never done the budget. But at the same time, this seems like it could be the fresh start and the new challenge I need. (And the money doesn't hurt either.)

I need to go process this.

Happy Anniversary to us

2005-10-12T09:41:00.000-04:00

Today is our third wedding anniversary. It's gone so fast, but then when I think back, we've done so much - bought a house, had a baby, survived a loss. I hope this next year brings us better things than the last one.

On a lighter note, the weather is terrible - cold, rainy, and windy - exactly like it was three years ago today. And exactly like it was two years ago today. And exactly like it was one year ago today. Last year my best friend turned to me and asked, "Is it going to rain EVERY October 12 from now on?"

I wanted to get married in October because it's my favorite month. I love the red and yellow leaves, the crisp weather...basically all the stuff we didn't get on our wedding day! But it's funny, when I woke up that day and it was still raining (not really a surprise, since it had already been pouring for two days by then), I didn't care. The storm even damaged the church's organ, a fact I learned as I was standing in the vestibule waiting to walk down the aisle, and I still didn't care. (The organist had a giant Peavy keyboard with an organ patch as a backup. Honestly, I was so happy that they could have just not told me what was going on, and I probably wouldn't have noticed.)

All day people kept coming up to me and saying, "Oh, I'm sorry...." meaning the weather, I guess. I kept looking at them blankly and saying, "Sorry for what?" I honestly didn't know.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. NK!

I'm breaking up with my doctor

2005-10-11T11:29:00.000-04:00

The bleeding appears to be over. It wasn't any worse than a period...not even a particularly bad period. I don't think things got far enough for there to be any, well, tissue or anything.

I decided that I'm not going to go back to Dr. S. At first when we lost Joseph, I was insistent that if/when we had another baby, that I had to go back to him, and that I had to give birth in the same hospital. But over the months, that feeling has faded a lot. I don't think Dr. S. did anything wrong, and I don't think anyone else at the hospital did either. I just don't feel a need to go back.

I never actually chose Dr. S. When I was pregnant, I saw all the doctors in the practice on a rotating basis because I didn't know who would be on call when I went into labor. Of all the doctors I saw, I think Dr. S. was actually my least favorite. He's very brusque and I never felt like I could ask him questions - and as a first-time pregnant woman, I had lots of them. So I was a little bit disappointed when I was in the labor room and he walked in. He's been good to us over the last few months, but I still can't ask him questions. He just shrugs and brushes them off. If I get pregnant for real again, I'm going to need quite a bit of hand-holding, and he's not the person to give it to me.

A few days after I got this last positive test, I made an appointment at a large teaching hospital downtown for a consultation with a high-risk OB. Based on my history they were going to see me right away. I canceled the appointment when it became apparent this was a chemical pregnancy, but my name's in their database now, so I'll make another appointment when the time comes. The practice was recommended to me by a friend, and I think I'll feel safer knowing that I'm in one of the best hospitals in the country - although I pray that I won't need their ECMO machines or NICU.

I'm also thinking that maybe, since this pregnancy/miscarriage was such a non-event, that we might try right away. I'll have to see how I feel about that. I don't want to do anything stupid, but I've done a lot of research on this, and there's no consensus - plenty of doctors seem to tell patients to treat a chemical pregnancy like a late period. If I hadn't been trying, I probably would have just chalked up the long cycle and spotting to postpartum weirdness.

I applied for two jobs this weekend. My job situation is starting to feel intolerable, and my therapist thought it would be good for me - even if it ends up not being feasible to take a new job, she thinks that just applying might make me feel less stuck. So we'll see what happens with that.

I had a long talk with Mr. NK this weekend about feeling like I'm in limbo. I didn't realize it, but he feels the same way. He told me that he feels like his whole adult life has just been preparation for being a father, and when I was pregnant, he felt like he'd finally tied up all the loose ends of his old life, to be ready to put it away and start a new one. Now, he's left without that new life that he prepared for, but he's not interested in his old life, either, because he'd thought it was at an end. "I'm not interested in myself anymore," he said. I knew what he meant - I don't like to use the word 'selfish' because it sounds pejorative, but I think we're both done with living for ourselves, if that makes sense. He really summed up the way I'd been feeling, when I was unable to put it into words.

Pictures of You

2005-10-07T08:54:00.000-04:00

Shamelessly jumping on the bandwagon:

I was born in:

I now live in:

My online name:

My grandmother's name:

Favorite food:

Favorite drink:

Favorite song:

Favorite smell:

I'll prove to the crowd that I'll come out stronger/ (Though I think I might lie here a little longer...)

2005-10-06T09:37:00.000-04:00

God, I'm so melodramatic. I'm sorry. I do feel better today. Starting to see that therapist was a good thing - I went and blubbered in her office for an hour, and she gave me permission to do whatever I want even if that means lying in bed crying all weekend, and even though I don't think it will, it's nice to have permission, as it were.

I am also bleeding today, and that's strangely relieving as well. I'm glad for the whole thing to just be over with. The next time I get pregnant, I want it to start out with no blood or drama or anxiety (OK, I ask for too much, there, but two out of three ain't bad).

I don't know what I really will do this weekend. Andy has a three-day master class with his bass teacher, which I insist on calling "band camp" to his great chagrin, so I'll be on my own. My mom offered to come up, but I don't think I really want her to. I love her, but I don't think that's what I need this weekend. Maybe I'll just curl up with some good books, and get some takeout sushi and wine. And I'm hoping to get tickets to see these guys on Monday. Their latest album has been in heavy rotation at our house since July (and my favorite song from it gave me the title to this entry).

Thanks for everyone's kind words. Things look a little brighter today.

Going down

2005-10-05T16:04:00.000-04:00

Beta #4: 29. I'm relieved, because I had a horrific rush of nausea this morning and it made me worry that the levels had crept back up, which would indicate a possibility of ectopic pregnancy.

I have to go back next week to see if it's at 0 and when it is I'll see my doctor. The nurse said that Dr. S. usually recommends waiting three normal cycles after a miscarriage, but this early? I don't think he'll tell me that when I see him. He knew we were starting to try this soon after Joseph, so I can't imagine he would make me wait the same amount of time after a 5-week miscarriage as after a full-term baby.

Right? I can't wait that long. That would mean January or February before we could even start to try.

Maybe I could wait that long if I felt like I had something to look forward to. But I don't. It just means 3-4 more months in the same boring job (well, actually it would mean more than a year in the same boring job, since I wouldn't leave after I got pregnant), 3-4 more months of listening to my mother chirp, "At least you know you can get pregnant quickly! This too shall pass! Good things are coming!," 3-4 more months of Mr. NK not wanting to go on vacation, 3-4 more months of watching my SIL's belly grow.

Shit. I think I almost feel worse now than I did in May. How can that be? Last time I lost an actual baby, a baby that had spent 9 months as part of me, that I'd felt moving, that I'd waited and dreamed and planned for.

This time, all I've lost is hope.

Stuck

2005-10-04T14:59:00.000-04:00

So now I guess I'm just waiting. I don't even know what to expect. Will I bleed more? If so, when? I have another beta tomorrow to see if the levels are going down, but right now I feel the same as I did yesterday. No bleeding, no nothing.

I feel so stuck. It occurred to me today that ever since we lost Joseph, everything in my life has hinged on trying again. Even stupid decisions like "Should I buy a new winter coat?" Last year I needed one, but I didn't buy one because I was big and pregnant, so I just wore my parka (which I usually just wear for hiking/outdoor activities). Now I was hesitant to buy one for this year, because I thought I might be big again this winter. Although that decision's been made for me - even if I conceive the next time we try again, that won't be until at least November or December sometime, so I wouldn't be showing anytime this winter. But you see what I mean.

I'm also really bored with my job. I make good money, and actually just got a raise, but I've been here 2.5 years and I could do it with my eyes closed. It doesn't excite me anymore, and there's really nowhere to move up within this office. But I keep thinking, should I look for a new job now when I'm going to be actively TTC again soon? Mr. NK thinks I should stay put, since this office knows what I've been through and would be tolerant of having to be at a lot of appointments, etc. But again, I feel so stuck. If I stayed here for that reason, I could go through something like this again and again and realize that I had no reason to stay. But if I left and then somehow everything worked out, I'd be putting my new employers in a bad spot. How many employers would understand their brand-new employee running off to multiple doctor's appointments, then wanting maternity leave after not being there very long, etc?

I hate not knowing what's going to happen. If I did, I feel like I could plan things better.

I've heard people say that they felt better when they stopped basing everything on whether/when they would be able to have another baby, but I don't know if I can do that. I won't be completely happy until I have a baby in my arms - it's not one of those things I can take or leave. But I don't know if that's a healthy way to feel.

I started going to a therapist last week, and I really like her, so I guess this is something to bring up with her.

Spooky

2005-10-03T16:50:00.000-04:00

I don't know if I ever wrote about this here, but a few nights before I went into labor with Joseph, I had a nightmare. I dreamed that we had had our baby and that he had died shortly after birth.

A few months later, we were on our way to a family function and out of nowhere, I turned to Mr. NK and said, "C. [my SIL] is pregnant and they're afraid to tell us." No one had said or done anything to give me that impression, I just knew. It turned out later that she had had a positive pregnancy test only a week before that day. They didn't tell us about her pregnancy until about six weeks after that.

And finally, for several months, even before I got my first period after the birth, I've been convinced that the first time we managed to conceive again, I would miscarry. I even remember thinking that I wished my period would hurry up and come so we could get that first miscarriage over with and keep trying.

This is starting to scare me.

Not good.

2005-10-03T16:12:00.000-04:00

I'd had a sense of foreboding about this all day. I went in for a third beta this morning. I just called for the results.

62.

So much for that. I'm glad it didn't get any further along.

At least that ClearBlue Fertility Monitor I bought from eBay a few days before I found out I was pregnant won't go to waste.

I don't know what to title this post.

2005-10-03T12:22:00.000-04:00

I've been so sad since I heard the terrible news that Lauralu and Justin had lost their Tadpole. Life isn't fair, is it? I know the universe doesn't work this way, but it's inconceivable to me that anyone should have to go through this after enduring the loss of a full-term child.

If Mr. NK could read this blog, he would tell me that there's no such thing as fair or unfair in life - there's just life. I know that's true, but it's a hard reality to grasp.

I'm sorry, Laura and Justin. You and the Tadpole are in my thoughts.

Tag, you're it

2005-09-30T10:47:00.000-04:00

Lauralu just tagged me. Here's what that means:

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.

Here is mine: "They don't even live there, so I have no idea why it flashed into my head, except for general bitterness." I was talking about how hearing the news about my brother and SIL's pregnancy had sort of changed my mind about wanting to move back to Long Island. I wouldn't say I'm bitter any more, but I still am feeling like I want to stay in Boston for now.

OK, who can I tag who hasn't been tagged already? How about Sarah, Mrs. X, Holly, and...shit, I think everyone else I know has already been tagged.

2005-09-29T15:12:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the birthday wishes! It's actually tomorrow. I'll be 29.

It hasn't been a bad birthday, so far, all things considered. I'll sure be glad to see the last of this year, though. Last year on my birthday, we'd just found out two weeks before that I was pregnant with Joseph, and Mr. NK brought me a tiny yellow sleeper from Old Navy as part of my present.

Almost all the clothes people gave me for Joseph are still in my closet because I don't know exactly what to do with them. Because he never wore them, they're not hard for me to look it. If we had another boy, I wouldn't feel weird using them. But that little yellow sleeper - that was different. It lives in Joseph's memory box now.

It's also occurred to me that if this pregnancy sticks, my due date will be only about a week after my due date with Joseph. And since I'll probably have a c-section a week or two ahead of the due date, this baby's birthday might be very close to the day Joseph was born.

That doesn't actually freak me out as much as I thought it might. (I would definitely not schedule it for May 26 - Joseph's birthday - though.) But I wonder if it would/will freak other people out.

I must be imagining this

2005-09-29T09:32:00.000-04:00

Last night Mr. NK gave me a "surprise" birthday party at Maggiano's. (I say "surprise" because he had to spill the beans. Originally he and two of our friends had planned a party at the Limelight, a local rent-a-private-karaoke-room place. I've wanted to do that since I saw Lost in Translation. But after we found out I was pregnant, he decided that without alcohol, karaoke would be a bad idea. Good man. The venue got changed at the last minute.)

Anyway, my first thought upon waking this morning was "ugh...I shouldn't have had so much to drink." Then I remembered I was pregnant and I hadn't had anything to drink. Helloooo, morning sickness!

Isn't it too early for this? Even though I'm 4w6d, I'm only 17 DPO! But sure enough, the same hair-trigger-gag-reflex thing I had going on in my first pregnancy appears to be back. Last year I never actually threw up; I just kept gagging from out of nowhere, for no reason. Same thing this morning.

I guess that's a good sign, though, right?

It's going to be a long nine months.

2005-09-27T09:21:00.000-04:00

(I hope.)

So I must really be pregnant - the awful, painful gas I remember from last time has set in. Not the kind that makes one unpleasant to be around, but the kind that gets trapped in your abdomen and causes painful cramp-like feelings.

You can see where I'm going with this. I keep panicking that I'm having cramps and then realizing what is actually going on. Last night I had some kind of gas bubble on the left side, and even though it was up high under my ribs, I kept thinking, "Oh no - pain on one side is an ectopic pregnancy symptom!" Then I'd burp or something and the pain would go away.

I'm laughing at myself now, but really, how am I going to get through this? I've heard people who've had miscarriages say that they let themselves relax more once they get past the point where their first pregnancy ended. But since Joseph died at 39.5 weeks, after a normal labor and delivery no less, that time isn't going to come for me until the very end.

Breathe

2005-09-26T16:22:00.000-04:00

Second beta: 188 on 14 DPO!! So it more than doubled in about 68 hours. The nurse said it looks good. She said I can have an ultrasound just to confirm that it's in the uterus once the beta reaches 3,000, so I have to go back a week from today to check the levels.

So can I breathe now?

Quant #1: 69.

2005-09-26T12:42:00.000-04:00

Apparently that is an excellent number for 11 DPO. I had the second draw just now and the nurse told me I could call back around 3:30 or 4 for the result.

I am feeling much better just having that done, even not knowing the second number yet.

I have some random thoughts about the interactivity of blogs vs. regular journals, but not enough time now. But I do want to say thank you so much to everyone reading this for the good wishes.

Going crazy

2005-09-26T09:14:00.000-04:00

I'm hanging in there. No red blood since a very small amount on Saturday. Since then, nothing but brown spotting that was in steadily decreasing amounts - none at all when I woke up this morning.

Then I got to work and there was more brown than I'd had in a few days. But it's still not on the pad, it's only when I use the bathroom that I see it. (I'm sorry, TMI.) I have no pain.

I took the third First Response in the box this morning at 14 DPO (yes, I am a freak, why do you ask?) and it's darker still than the last one. So each one has gotten darker than the one before it. Doesn't that mean that the HCG is going up? So maybe not a miscarriage, but that doesn't rule out an ectopic.

The nurse who took my blood on Friday said to call by 9:30 AM if I hadn't heard anything yet. The results of the first draw won't tell me anything, but I'll go back sometime today for the second one.

I don't really believe in God, but I'm coming as close as I ever get to praying that this either sticks or is just a very early loss. Please don't let it be ectopic.

I woke up at 2

Paging Dr. Google

2005-09-24T17:06:00.000-04:00

I can't stop worrying that I'm having an ectopic pregnancy. I didn't bleed all night, a little bit of red this morning, a tiny bit more in early afternoon, but other than that just some faint brown spotting. This is less bleeding than I've had so far. No pain. But I can't stop reading about all the bad things this could be.

I took another First Response this morning and the line was much darker. I won't know the quant results until Monday, and they'll do another that day. Even then it won't be 100% clear until I can have an ultrasound and that might not be for at least another week.

I'd rather not have been pregnant at all this month than go through this. At this point I'd almost be relieved if it turns out it's "just" a miscarriage.

update

2005-09-23T10:15:00.000-04:00

I called the nurse at my OB's office because otherwise I would have just worried for the next few days. She didn't seem all that fazed by the blood. I'm going in at 4 today for a quantitative hCG test, and they'll repeat it on Monday to see if it's going up enough.

Holy shit.

I'm not getting my hopes up. I don't know what to think. I had hoped we'd get pregnant again relatively soon, but. Wow.

At least if this one doesn't stick I know that we are apparently overachievers fertility-wise.

Feel free to tell me I'm delusional

2005-09-23T07:01:00.000-04:00

I am really confused.

On Wednesday morning my temp dropped way down and I started bleeding. So, my period, right? It wasn't that heavy, but it was red blood. Then yesterday, on what I thought was CD 2, my temp went sky high - from 96.81 to 98.34. I took it about 75 minutes later than usual, though, and I'd had a few glasses of wine, so I figured it was a fluke.

Then yesterday I noticed that the bleeding had gotten much lighter, instead of heavy like it usually does, and that my nipples had started to hurt, which isnt usually a period symptom for me, but which did happen before I tested positive with Joseph. I still didn't think that much of it, until this morning - my temp was still up. I took it at the usual time and had no wine last night and it was lower than yesterday (97.71), but still higher than my highest temp before the bleeding started, and well above the coverline.

So just out of curiosity, I took one of the cheapy pregnancy tests I got with my OPKs. And there's a line...I think? It's really faint. I've never used these tests before so I don't know if they give evaporation lines, but whatever this is came up within the time limit.

It's only been 11 days since I ovulated. Oh, and the bleeding is still lighter today - there's still occasional red when I wipe, but nothing on the pad all night.

This has got to be some kind of chemical pregnancy, right? If that was even a line at all? With Joseph I used a First Response test, so I know what a real line looks like on one of those. Should I try one when I get to work? Should I wait a few days and see what happens? Should I call the doctor?

Whatever's going on, I don't have a good feeling about it. Red blood = bad.

Edit: It's 9 AM. I just took a First Response. The second line came up immediately. No mistake.

But this has to be chemical, right?