Done.

We are done having babies. I can say that definitively. Four's our limit and Hattie will be my very last pregnancy. Jack always likes to remind us that this is what we said after Claire was born, but we changed our minds back then. This time, we've left no room for mind changing. I won't go into detail, but we've taken care of it.

On a totally unrelated note, if you see Kyle moving at his own pace for a little while, just leave him alone.

Last week, during the days leading up to . . . well . . . our done-ness, I was a little weepy.  I still blame the postpartum hormones (I think I'll be blaming postpartum hormones for years to come). It's emotional to think about my childbearing years coming to an end. I didn't really enjoy being pregnant all that much, but even I can come up with things that I loved about it. On the morning before Hattie was born, I sat still and felt her little arms stretch and her feet push back and forth against my side. I just closed my eyes and tried to memorize it, knowing that this would be the last time that I'd feel a little one squirming inside of me. I watched my belly move as she rolled her little bottom from one side to the other. What an absolute miracle it is to grow a person. I get all teary just talking about it.

For these reasons, I think it's okay for me to be sad. It doesn't mean I've changed my mind. It's kind of like high school graduation, you know? It was a good time of my life, and I was really emotional about leaving it behind, but I definitely don't want to go back and do it again.

Almost 10 years ago I was told that getting pregnant would be difficult and it was. It took us time and a lot of money to get pregnant that first time, so it's still hard for me to believe that I have four children. Four. If I'm being honest, it makes me feel a little bit guilty, too. But that's a post for another time.

So, here's the plan: I'm going to soak up the months of babyhood that Hattie has left, and I'm going to brave the toddler/preschool years that both Claire and Hattie have ahead of them. I'll enjoy those stages as much as I possibly can. I will be careful not to wish them away.  BUT. I will still look forward to the next stage and I won't cling to the last.

I love being able to have deeper conversations with Jack and Ben and I'm looking forward to being able to do that with the girls, too. I welcome the idea of having four kids who can entertain themselves for longer than 10 minutes, tie their own shoes, put themselves back to sleep at 3 AM and play games that all of us can enjoy. Perhaps we'll have a ceremonial burning of Candy Land and Hi Ho Cherry-O.

Sure, there will be new and different challenges as they all get older, and I'm certain to have plenty of "I wish I could just go back to when they were babies" moments, but I'll welcome the next stage with open arms.

1.6 pounds

I had my first prenatal appointment yesterday and all is well with baby and me. They did an ultrasound and I saw the little guy's stumpy arm waving at me. It took my breath away.

There's a baby in there. A real, live baby.

And he just got there all by himself. I mean, without the help of any doctors or nurses or really uncomfortable procedures. Amazing. The doctor again referred to this pregnancy as "spontaneous." For some reason, I giggle a little bit every time they say that. It makes me sound like I'm the Virgin Mary or something.

Anyway, they agreed with the RE clinic that I'm about in my 13th week. I've gained 1.6 pounds but it feels like I've gained 16 pounds. I'm going to try and not gain as much as I did with Jack, but I can almost guarantee that this will be the last update about my weight that I'll publish here.

Ugh.

So, I called the RE clinic today. We had an appointment with them in November to discuss hormone issues and the likelihood of me being able to conceive again. We hadn't started anything . . . meaning no injections, no meds, no doctors. So, needless to say, they were just as surprised as we were.

Seriously, how is this possible?

I had blood drawn and the nurse called this evening and said my hcg level was at 47.

Ugh.

I happen to know that at 4 1/2 weeks with Jack, my level was 211. I personally think I'm about 4 - 5. It's so crazy that we really have no way of telling. With Jack, everything was so meticulously planned out, that we knew almost down to the hour when he was conceived. For me, this is uncharted territory.

Anyway, my seemingly low hcg level made me really worried, but the nurse didn't seem bothered by it. She does want me to have it checked again on Wednesday. That's 48 LONG hours.

Double ugh.

What is "normal" anyway?

Now that Jack has been weaned for over a month, the symptoms of my PCOS have returned. The good news is that my insulin, thyroid and cholesterol levels all tested as "optimal" so I'm not facing any of the significant health risks. Just the annoying ones. And it seems that if we do decide to get pregnant again, I'll have to go through all of the same fertility treatments that I did with Jack. Which is fine because I was trying to decide what to do with the pile of cash I have sitting in my back yard. Glad I have that figured out.

I was hoping and praying that the pregnancy would have kind of . . . well, I don't know . . . maybe re-set my body so that it started behaving the way it's supposed to. Not so much. It's actually worse now than it was before I got pregnant.

The main treatment for PCOS is the birth control pill. My doctor put me back on that four weeks ago and I felt overwhelmingly nauseous, tired and emotional since then. Yeah, we'll just call it emotional. This, combined with all of the fun I had last Saturday, my ability to cope hit an all time low and anxiety hit an all time high. I wrote anecdotally about the situation, but honestly, I was struggling to function. So, I stopped taking the pill and I had an appointment on Thursday to find alternative treatment. And I think we have it all taken care of. At least I hope so, because I'm going to need to be as stable as possible when I receive the bill for all of my doctor's visits and tests over the last month.

So, the last few weeks have been pretty stressful. Everything seemed bigger and more catastrophic than it really was and I'm glad that this little episode is nearing its end. I'm also praying that I can regain a sense of normalcy and routine as we head into the summer. Oh, and that I'll win the lottery.

A breach of protocol

I know the protocol for Mother's Day blog posts is write about what an honor and a gift it is to be a mom. Leave it to me to break protocol. A good percentage of my posts are written on this subject, so why be redundant? I'm just gonna fill you in on how the day was . . .

My first mother's day as a mom was very low key . . . Just the way I like it. I've always thought we have it a little backwards. I think moms should be honored on their kids' birthdays . . . you know, for bringing a human being into the world. And kids should be honored on mother's day . . . you know, for bringing a mother into the world. But no one listens to me.

On Sunday, Kyle and Jack let me sleep a bit longer than usual, while they made a trip into town for McDonald's breakfast. I'm pretty sure the gas to get in there cost more than the actual food, so I appreciated it quite a bit. I love breakfast from McDonalds. They went shopping last week and got me a new pair of sunglasses (to replace the ones I lost a week or two ago . . . shocking, I know). They also got me a movie that I really wanted. Seriously, Kyle is great at remembering things that I need and/or ask for . . . sometimes I don't even remember asking for anything until I open the gift.

At church, Jack cried when I dropped him off at the nursery. He rarely does this, but it made me feel as loved and adored as all of the other mothers whose kids do that every week. Maybe he pulled out the tears just for mother's day. Wasn't that nice of him?

We went to dinner at Kyle's parents house and spent some time with his family. Afterward, we went home and just relaxed. Like I said . . . low-key.

By the way, if Jack had been born when I was hoping he'd be born, we would have celebrated his first birthday yesterday.

To a blogger who wrote about things she doesn't understand

Dear mother of three of your own biological children,

I am the mother of a son, who was conceived using Assisted Reproductive Technology (ART). Thankfully, for him and for me, the right and privilege to experience pregnancy and bear a child is not reserved solely for those who have no trouble conceiving. It is so easy to place pressure on infertile couples to adopt using the phrase "there are so many children who need homes." Also, it is ignorant to refer to couples who use ART as "selfish."

My question for you is this: What stopped you from adopting instead of having children of your own? Are you "off the hook" from this tremendous responsibility because your ovaries function properly? Every couple has their own reasons for choosing a method of becoming parents. Adoption is a fantastic option for parents who want children, and there are, in fact, a lot of children out there who need good parents. I have no issues with adoption and may consider it as an option for the future. However, I do have issues with those who treat adoption as a "fad" that can be written about so flippantly.

If we were to live out your argument fully, there would be no planned pregnancies. Couples would never try to get pregnant. Anyone who wanted a child of their own would adopt babies that came as a result of an unplanned pregnancy. My child wouldn't be here. Neither would any of yours.

The choice of how to bring a child into one's home should never be forced.

love,
sara

P.S. It's spelled "families." Not "familys."

If only I knew . . .

So, it was a year ago tomorrow that we discovered that our first IUI using gonal-f did not work and that we were, in fact, not pregnant . . . again. Now, I'm typing with one hand because I'm holding my baby in my other. It's a good feeling. As we've hit the one and two year anniversaries of our journey through infertility, I find myself constantly thinking, "If only I had known then how well it would turn ou I wouldn't have worried so much." Today I'm reminded that God is as faithful today as he has been over the last three years and I need to be thinking, "If I could only understand fully how God is working all of these things for good, I wouldn't be so worried."

Don't get me wrong . . . I think God is faithful in every situation but I don't think that retrospect always brings total understanding to every situation. When someone dies, you grieve. When someone hurts you, you feel pain. I don't think you ever look back 10 years later and think, "If I knew then what I know today, I wouldn't have spent so much time hurting and healing." I'm merely speaking of not worrying so much because God will take care of me . . . even if it's in a way different than I would expect. There are other situations in which good comes in spite of the circumstances rather than through them. I hope I'm not too confusing.


There are some pictures posted below, but click here to see more.

Here are some links to past blogs:

6 weeks
One month
3 weeks
Summer 07
Newborn

Jack at 10 weeks old:

Thoughts on cleaning the refrigerator . . .

I cleaned out the refrigerator tonight. This project was inspired by an incident on Monday that involved JJ trying to make a quesadilla and pulling out way moldy cheese . . . mildly embarrassing. Now that everything that is too old to eat has been cleaned out, we have a jar of the best pickles ever, a few random condiments, some good cheese, and stuff for campfire pizzas (which will probably go bad before we get a chance to eat it . . . I have not been to a single campfire this summer - tragic).

The most interesting thing I found in the back of the fridge was a few boxes of the gonal-f injections that we used to help us get pregnant. They expire next week. I was having trouble throwing them out because it is more than $1200 worth of medicine that will just end up wasted. I won't throw them out a day before they expire. I don't know why. That's just a lot of money I wish I could get back. I just remember feeling so hopeless.

It's weird that we were going through all of the infertility stuff last year because it seems like forever ago. It feels good that I have my baby in my arms as I type this. It makes the fact that I'll be throwing out $1200 worth of meds next week seem worth it.

I realized last night that as I've been thinking about our financial situation, I'm not worried about having enough for today. I'm worried about never having enough money to retire (ever). While I still have nagging fears about that, I think I need to worry about today and trust that God will take care of 30 years from now. I guess that's easy to say now, but I have a feeling that in the morning I'll still be stressed. God help me.

2nd Mortgage

When we were trying to get pregnant, I read a book called "The Conception Chronicles." It was very uninformative but wildly entertaining! I found a quote I had written down from it today and I wanted to put it on here before I deleted it from my computer forever:

"Today I noticed a couple who were there for a prenatal checkup. The woman was heavily pregnant, sheathed in bicycle shorts that probably fit like a glove — a latex surgical glove — several months ago. Now they were stretched so tightly that the tensile strength of the Lycra was severely compromised; you could practically hear the twists of space-age polymer pinging under the strain as she settled into her chair.

She was also wearing a T-shirt that fit snugly across her abdomen. It was emblazoned with a flaky-looking iron-on that read, "FUTURE BIKER."

I think I will make myself a maternity T-shirt that reads, "SECOND MORTGAGE." With glitter. And perhaps, if I'm feeling kicky, fringe."

Setting goals . . .

I can't remember a time in my life where I've been as lazy as I have over the last few days. I'm so tired that I've fallen asleep sitting in front of my computer . . . mid-IM! Still no nausea (knock on wood) . . . just a lot of sleepiness. My goal for this week is to get a good amount done on my thesis (the first draft is due in mid-November)and to get the summer camp video done. I'm supposed to present my thesis in Indiana two weeks before I'm due . . . I'm hoping they'll make an exception and let me do it earlier. Fingers crossed!

A lot more people found out about my "condition" over the weekend with the camp garage sale . . . it's been a lot of fun! I'm amazed at how excited people that I barely know get for us. I think there are some people more excited than we are. I'm still having trouble getting super excited . . . I think I still want to keep my guard up in case something goes wrong. My mom's and Kyle's mom's excitement makes up for what I lack!

Kyle's ready to cut me off from the internet because of all of the "worst-case scenarios" I keep finding. I was reminded today by Joyce Monoghan of all of the people we have praying for us and that was really comforting. I guess I just need to learn to trust more . . . if for no other reason than that it's all that I CAN do.

Kyle's parents dropped off a "congratulations" gift on Monday. It had a couple of maternity tops, spaghettios (which I've been craving) and a pack of newborn onesies. WHen I look at how tiny they are, it's amazing to me. But when I think of delivering something that fits into one of them, it seems huge. I'm not going to think about that part yet.

My clothing is fitting really tight . . . unfortunately, I think it has little to do with being pregnant and a lot to do with weight gain from injecting outrageous amounts of hormones into my system all summer. I probably could go up a clothing size, but I don't want to buy a whole new set of clothes that won't fit again in a month or two. But, it's not quite time for maternity clothes yet. I'm wearing sweatpants A LOT.

Speaking of injecting hormones . . . I just realized that it's been A MONTH since I've had my blood drawn and all of my injection bruises on my arm and belly are gone! It's been a while since I could say that.

Ok, I'm starting to ramble, so I'm done.

Two years of trying . . .

I've wanted to start this blog for so, so long. I've seen other women do it and have read their blogs with both tears and laughter and wished that I could articulate the feelings and events associated with our struggle over the past two years (almost to the date). So I'll start here.

It seems that along every step of the way, we always found out about the pregnancies of our friends during the most trying times. When we first found out that we were going to have difficulty conceiving we had about three or four friends tell us that they were trying. And we knew they would be pregnant before us. When our doctor told us there was nothing more she could do for us, we found out that there were about 11 couples we know were pregnant. No exaggeration. When we had to clean out our savings to pay our bills to the U of M reproductive endocrinologist, when we had to pay thousands for our first round of injectables, when our first round of injectables FAILED . . . At all of these times, things seemed to happen to discourage us even more.

I knew I'd find out this weekend whether or not my second round of injectables worked our not. At the beginning of last week, there were FOUR babies born to friends. FOUR. As I was choosing gifts and packaging them to send out, I realized that this was probably the "thing" that would happen to make failing this round of injectables even harder. I began to prepare myself emotionally. Kyle and I took a camping trip to get my mind off of things while we waited, but I was convinced because of the babies our friends were having right now that results would not be positive. We had already decided not to try another month (against our doctor's advice) and take a year to try and rebuild a little bit of our savings and recover emotionally and physcially.

When we got back from the camping trip, it was still more than a week before a pregnancy test technically would be accurate, but I took one anyway. And even though I knew there was no possibility that it could be positive, seeing the negative result was devestating. Then, instead of waiting until September 20, like I was supposed to, I decided to take one on Friday, the 15th (why do I do that to myself). I took the test, saw nothing within the first 30 seconds and just left it on the counter. We had company coming and Kyle and I were getting things ready.

That night, Kyle had to take tickets at an Addison football game and JJ came over and we went to eat dinner with Debbie in the office. WHen we got back, Kyle, JJ and I were chatting in the living room. I needed to use the bathroom, and when I walked in, I glanced at the test still sitting on the shelf. And there it was. It was faint, but there was a line in the "pregnant" box. I did one of those double takes that you see people do in the movies where they close their eyes, rub them, shake their head and look again. I called for Kyle in a way that made him think that something was wrong. In retrospect, he told me that he thought I was going to tell him that I started my period. But instead I was saying in a quiet voice so that JJ wouldn't hear, "It worked. It worked. It worked." as if I were the inventor of a time machine and we had been transported to November 15, 1955. Indeed, I was pregnant (at least chemically).

Of course, I took another test this morning and the line was there AGAIN, but darker this time! I'm going to go out today and buy one of those digital tests that says "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant." I really feel like I need to take as many positive ones as I have negative (which is a lot) in order to balance them out. :) But we can't afford that, so I'll hold off.

We're obviously going to be choosy about who we tell and really careful about when. There's still only a 6% chance that I'll make it through the first trimester (typing that just caused me to gulp and get teary). So, anyone we'd tell we'd want to lie to anyone who asked . . . so we just need to be careful. It's going to be hard not to tell anyone . . . especially the people who knew we were going through this stuff.

So, I guess my next step is to call the RE office to see what I do next . . . I'll be under their care for a little while then go to my OB/GYN . . . who has moved to Chicago since she referred me to U of M so I guess that I'll be looking for a new doctor. I'll kind of miss my trips to the U of M RE clinic. I've been there 3 - 4 times a week since May and the staff never ceases to amaze me. From the receptionists to the nurses, from the LNPs to the doctors . . . everyone has been kind, helpful, encouraging and has made all of my not-so-comfortable appointements enjoyable.

There have been some amusing parts of this whole process. There is the doctor who would do voice-overs for my ovaries and tell me what they were saying back and forth to each other . . . that was entertaining. And U of M is a teaching hospital . . . which means teams of medical students in many of my not-so-modest appointments. One of my favorites was when my pharmacist told me that my set of injectibles was $60 . . . to which my response was "plus $1200?" He informed that that I had reached my insurance deductbile and it was covered now. I told him that he was my new favorite pharmacist and if that counter hadn't been there, he would've gotten a hug.

There are so many stories . . . funny and sad. I wish I had been blogging the whole time because God has revealed himself to me throughout this process in new ways. But I'll start blogging now . . . whether this pregnancy is viable or we have to start over.