13w1d: Maybe turning a corner?

I'm beginning to think I might, might see the end of HG one of these days. Friday I only puked three times, Saturday twice, yesterday was awful, today so far just once! When I start having "more good days than bad days", I can start weaning off the medications. They're all PRN and I'm at the max dose for all of them. I'm looking forward to cutting out my night doses first, and hoping to cut back on the Colace shortly thereafter.

Part of me is mildly amused at my drug history. This may come as a surprise, but I'm one of those people who hated medications. I am far, far too tough for ibuprofen, I mock cold medications, I can't even remember the last time I took antibiotics for a non-IF reason, etc. So like--small child history includes meds for eye and ear infections, teenager is birth control pill, college is birth control pill plus I had a UTI, plus study abroad in Kenya so anti-malarials. Then Peace Corps, more birth control, more anti-malaria, ditched the anti-filarials, never caught so much as a stomach bug (wanna know why? Probably because I drank filthy, filthy pond water as a kid with great frequency). After that, just birth control pill, except once when I had the flu very, very badly and they gave me pain meds for the body aches and anti-nausea (probably zofran!) meds so I could rehydrate. And then, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, my pre-conception prenatal, which I kept taking for, well, ever.

And then along comes IF, and I become all polypharm. And toss in an SSRI when things got too rough. All of the sudden, I was filling prescriptions left and right. And pregnancy--woohoo! Thinking that, at 10 weeks, I'd be off baby aspirin and progesterone, and back to the good old days of just a prenatal. Yeah, not so much. I've added in 3 anti-nausea meds, Colace, Tums (I'm not sure if I'm having heart-burn, having never really experienced that, or if my esophagus is just being eating alive with vomit), and sometimes Pepto-Bismol. Good fucking times.

My OB appointment on Friday went like this: pee in a cup, dip in my own little stick (tested for protein, glucose, blood, and something else), hand if off to the nurse, get weighed, have blood pressure taken, wait, talk to doctor who says nothing much at all, doctor decides against Pap since I'm still sometimes spotting, get told pelvic rest can end once I've gone 2 weeks without spotting (YAY!!!), get told the weight loss is fine (ok), Doppler, sent on my way.

I actually called my doctor-sister to make sure I'm receiving adequate prenatal care. I mean, I know women have been birthing babies every since there were women (and other mammals have been doing it for longer), but...don't they want to, you know, do something to me? Take some blood? Yell at me for improper nutrition at the very least? Because surely there is a reason we're supposed to be going to the OB before about 30 weeks, right??

Apparently not. I did get some extra diet (and exercise) advice from my sister, but yeah. OB visits early on are "more of an opportunity for counselling" than, well, an actual doctor sort of thing.

Who knew?

12w5d: 1/3 of the way

According to some, I am in my 2nd trimester. Considering that it's twins, I am very likely in fact (especially since I'm 5 days in to the week) one-third of the way through my pregnancy.

And...this is why I'm having a hard time not hating myself: I'm not liking being pregnant. I am thrilled at the notion of babies entering my life. And I love every ultrasound I get, and secretly wish I could move into the MFM office for easier access. And when the Doppler picks up that galloping sound of Baby Heart and my husband and I hold hands, that I love. But the rest of it...not so much.

I know that I do genuinely have it worse (physically) than most pregnant women. Only 1-2% of us are lucky enough to land hyperemesis (and it's more common when you're carrying multiples, though singleton mommies get it as well). And frankly, feeling like shit each and every day gets old. Waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if you can pee before you puke (puking with a full bladder is not fun) really sucks. I am far, far too familiar with the color of my digestive enzymes. I've lost almost 20 pounds. And yes, I was overweight to begin with...but 20 pounds in about 2 months (when it really got bad)...that is absurd. I have an appointment with my regular OB this afternoon, and I'm afraid she's going to yell at me for it. I can't even look at the nutrition section of my baby book without feeling guilt. I'm pretty sure I'm getting my vitamins down (along with chocolate milk), through very careful timing and pure will. (I've mastered the art of delaying my vomiting for almost 5 minutes now.)

And the SCH is just a kick in the ass. A reminder that things might not end well. That more blood could follow. So don't get too comfy.

I always wanted to be pregnant. I mean, always. I loved being Mary in our Christmas pageants because she was pregnant for most of it. My grandparents recently gave us an old videotape (turned DVD) of a bunch of their grandchildren playing--we're putting on a fashion show and I'm modeling maternity (calling it "the Charlotte look", after my then-pregnant (incredibly awesome) aunt, and, by the way, if we have a girl, Charlotte is her middle name). I'm about 8 in this, with a hugely stuffed belly. The primary reason we did IVF over adoption was because I wanted to experience pregnancy.

And here I am...and it's nothing like I thought. It has become a means to an end. I still hope, very hard, that things change. That my HG goes away and I can enjoy this. That when I feel movement, I will become a joyful gestater. That (I'm crazy, I admit) both of them turn head-down and I get a vaginal birth and it's wonderful.

And meanwhile, I've only got two-thirds left. And while I am hoping, with every fiber of my being, that I get those full two-thirds, part of me is already wishing them away, wanting to fastforward just to babies.

I feel so guilty. I'm a shitty person. I worked so hard for this--I really, really did. The money, the cancelled cycles, the cycles themselves, none of that was easy. And I got what I wanted! And all I can think is, "Ok, I'll never do it myself, but I can kinda see why some women bitch about this on Facebook."

I try very hard to focus on the positive. And for this reason, my husband and I did indeed "come out". We put up an announcement on Facebook, saying that, after much effort, heartache, and loss, I have entered the 2nd trimester. I've gotten over 50 comments and multiple emails. Most people knew we were trying. Some knew about Isaiah. Some, like an old friend of my mother's, knew nothing at all, but immediately knew what I was saying. She moved when I was about 12, but had been very close to all of us, an almost-aunt, before. She tried IVF, almost 15 years ago, to no avail. Tried everything. Is living childfree. Wishes me the best. And some, of course, are absolute idiots, and somehow missed the "effort" and the "twins"--2 neon signs flashing "fertility treatments"--and made oh-so-clever comments about the wild and crazy sex we must have had.

We might go shopping. Window-browsing. Carseats are on the menu. I've got a Honda Civic, so finding 2 that can fit in the backseat is our goal. I'm going to buy some maternity clothes, from a real live store. I will enjoy this--goddamnit!--because it is going by so fast. This might be my only chance at a 2nd trimester, after all.

12w3d: NT recap

First, I still have two! We saw their heartbeats right away and I started crying. The tech was like, "Umm..." and I went on and on about my loss, infertility, all the bleeding and cramping (and Sarah, an SCH is a subchorionic hemorrhage--mine was originally diagnosed as an intrauterine sinus bleed, and then either Bitsy's chorion migrated and laid down a placenta over it, or else the angle from the dildocam was just never good. They're very common and usually don't threaten the baby at all, but they're scary because you have bleeding/spotting a lot, and nothing strikes fear into the heart like blood on toilet paper and/or undies).

Anyway, throughout all this, both babies were jumping all over the place. No idea why the tech didn't take measurements then! It was so much fun to watch them, moving their little arms and legs, kinda flailing around in there. I wish my husband could have been there. They look like little babies now! They even have (vague) facial features. I kept saying, "They're so gorgeous!" and "Look at the tiny hands" and stuff. The tech was probably very unimpressed, because I imagine one twelve-weeker looks much like another, but...so beautiful to me!

Then as soon as we got serious, Bitsy fell right to sleep and would not budge! Clearly, Bitsy takes after Daddy, as I am a light sleeper and JimDear has slept through actual earthquakes (and my multiple trips to the bathroom each night). The tech couldn't get the measurements she needed, despite having me cough a lot and poking Bitsy with the probe, so she had me drink a bunch of orange juice and go walk the halls for 5 minutes. Then she still couldn't get them, so she called the doctor in. I took the opportunity, while lying on the table, to do a bunch of my belly dance stuff--hip drops, belly rolls, hip circles and snaps, etc. That seemed to do the trick, (much less soothing than a stroll around the hospital!), because the doctor placed the probe on and they were jumping around again.

We got our measurements--Itsy's space was 1.15 and Bitsy's was 1.04. Which was such good news! Itsy is very low and measuring behind--this time a week--and has an anterior placenta, which may be part of why (s)he is always measuring behind. It's hard to see down there! The peri said he wasn't at all concerned and I shouldn't be either. Knowing the placenta is anterior eased my mind a bit, as I've had trouble finding both HBs on the doppler lately.

I decided against CVS based on the NT results, and against amnio unless something comes up to make us very concerned. He said that T13 and T18 are both usually very easy to spot on a Level 2 ultrasound, and those are our main concerns. So we scheduled that for 18w1d. (Which is only 6 weeks away!!! Holy crap!) And I told my husband he HAS to take the day off, plain and simple. And yes, we totally want to know the sexes. Gotta name these naughties!

They did do my blood, but cautioned me that the results wouldn't be very accurate. Why then do it at all, I dunno. I guess if they were still super high or super low, it would indicate something? I seriously bled all over the place with the finger-stick. They had to get a 2nd card because my blood was alllll over it, and I still had plenty left to make the 5 dots on the new one. I've been off the aspirin for 4 weeks now, so I don't know what that was about. It was kind of reassuring regarding my SCH though, because if a tiny pin prick caused all that, well, then whatever's going on in my uterus is probably not all that grave.

All told, the appointment took a bit over an hour, and it was really fun. Not that I recommend having uncooperative babies, but it did mean I got to spend a lot of time looking at them!

12w2d: Earthquake-y fears

First, hope all you East Coasters are doing well.

Second, my house is about a block from a fairly large fault line. We haven't had a large earthquake in a very long time, but "it's coming". One of my irrational fears, when starting IVF, was that when I was getting my egg retrieval, "it" would happen right then. And I'd lose my eggs! The needle would slice through my ovary or something.

So I'm rather relieved that none of my blog friends had their East Coast ER today.

And lastly, tomorrow is my NT scan. Worried sick, of course. Not so much about the outcome (though that too is concerning), but about whether the babies are ok. I could only find one heartbeat last night, and have been having a fair amount of bleeding and cramping.

Want my pregnancy advice? Don't have an SCH. Those things suck balls and freak you out.

11w5d: How do I not go there?

I am absolutely terrified of losing one or both of my babies.

Which is fair. I mean, who isn't?

But it's an almost all-consuming fear. I keep getting images in my head of me on the table and the doctor saying, "We're so sorry..." And I try very hard to cut them off. I don't like engaging in these horrid daydream nightmares. But I don't know how to turn them off.

I bought a Doppler. I'm not sure if I've blogged about this before, so forgive me if I'm repeating myself. It's one of those cheap ones. Before buying it, my husband made me promise I wouldn't freak out if we couldn't find the heartbeats. "Oh, I promise." I've been hearing a heartbeat consistently since about 9 weeks. I can't tell if we're hearing 2 or not, because...sometimes I pick up 3. I know there are echos and such, and so, rather than assuming I've found them both, I assume I've only found one. In fact, my standing hypothesis is that at least one baby is dead. I use my Doppler to try to disprove this.

That's not healthy. Walking around so unsure of Itsy and Bitsy is not fun.

When I was seeing a therapist (for IF), she'd tell me, when I would start saying, "And it didn't work this time so it might not work next time and adopting in Utah when you're not Mormon is so hard and my husband's age and not knowing his family history makes us bad candidates for international but maybe donor embryos would just die in my toxic uterus..." not to go there. Just don't go there. Don't borrow trouble.

I would love to return trouble. I'd love to hand it out like Halloween candy, just get it the fuck out of my brain.

I try to replace my visions with me giving birth (ends badly) or seeing both of them moving on the ultrasound (ends badly) or pushing a double stroller (can't quite do it). I do my Anji pregnancy meditations. I try to think positive.

But...it doesn't work very well. How, please tell me, can I stop my brain from going there?

11w3d: Umm, OW!

Shit got real in the Frat House, y'all. One of them bad feti (and I suspect Itsy, due to proximity to cervix) smuggled a switch blade in and has been using it to STAB ME IN THE VAGINA. Or thereabouts.

My doctorsister claims this is called "round ligament pain" and is completely normal, but I think she underestimates my peeps.

I didn't really care one way or the other (shocking, I know) about male circumcision but now, oh NOW, if one or both or these naughties is male, they so totally have it coming. You stab me in the privates, that sort of thing comes back around, you know?

My older sister

I've blogged about her before. She's the one I had an awful fight with right before starting my 2nd fresh IVF cycle. I love her. She's...special. If she were a child now, she would probably be labeled as mild Asperger's, or perhaps PPD-NOS. Even as a child, when making friends just happens on the playground, it never happened with her. She would play with me and my friends. She is socially impaired. I don't know how else to put it. Tone-deaf, might be the best analogy. She cannot read situations. She says really horrible, hurtful things. And then she feels bad about them afterwards. She doesn't have very many friends (really, no friends at all, aside from some college friends), and this makes her sad. She does have an awesome husband. She's actually, most of the time, very fun to be around. She's smart. She means well.

We did not get along when it came to my infertility. To put it mildly. She said so many hurtful things, even before we moved on to IVF. She once told me it was funny that I wasn't pregnant, since I wanted it so baldy and had planned it so well. She once said, when we were watching an end-of-the-world survival drama, the very day I told her our first IVF had failed, that she didn't need to be able to cook or clean, because her contribution to society would "just be to have children". I mean, the list goes on. She's my sister, she loves me and I love her, but...damn, did I hate her sometimes.

When I told her about my failed FET, and she said, "I know, I'm not pregnant either, and it sucks"...and then told me how that was her first month trying, and...yeah. I lost it. But it also gave me the kick in the ass to call my clinic, to not take time off. So, in a way, part of why I'm currently 11w2d pregnant is because of her.

And she's not at all pregnant. And is starting to worry about infertility herself. (She's 34, this is their 4th cycle.) She came over today. We talked about it. I gave her the 20 or so left-over OPKs that I had (I had to buy them for my FETs, to make sure I didn't surge, and of course I went the internet-cheapie route). I told her to start taking her temperature. I debated telling her about FertilityFriend, but decided not to, because it would be very easy to find me on the message boards, and I value my online anonymity over there.

Anyway, it's strange. An evil part of me is glad she is kind of struggling. I know she never meant to hurt me, but part of me really wants her to begin to understand just how much harm her words did. And...until I have these babies in my arms, I don't feel safe. I mean, if I lose them and she's pregnant...just awful, awful, I will quit the whole damn family. But, on the other hand, the good hand, I do love her, and infertility really sucks. I hope she's not infertile. I hope they don't need help. But...I hope they "get it", a little bit. You know?

11w0d: Feti

No more embryos--my babies are now feti. Or perhaps that happens tomorrow--I've found conflicting information! But then again, since there's conflicting information on when the first trimester ends, I'm not overly surprised.

I have so many posts half-written in my head. But the problem is, like...they're forever long and really boring.

Take, for example, the hot-topic (that has now cooled off, since I took so long) of banning children from some private restaurants, movie theaters, etc. In order for me to fully say what I wanted to say, I was talking about ET (the first movie I saw in theaters, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT do not do that to your child!!) and then really odd Mormon movies that we'd watch at home, and how we didn't have television, just a VCR, and how I used to waitress, and how...

Ok, so. Let's write about the "you must want a boy and a girl" thing. And hell, of course I want to parent both sexes. But I'm also not a firm believer in gender roles (hippy, dirty, dirty hippy) so whatever. But my husband is/was very traditional which caused a bunch of fights when we first moved in and I still do not particularly enjoy certain aspects of his father's behavior. And American football is totally fucking idiotic, and it's not because I'm a girl, it's because they just stand around all the damn time. Basketball and soccer are a lot like dance, and I was an awesome dancer (seriously) but my boobs were too big (also seriously) for me to ever make it a career, but I discovered belly dancing in college and did I mention that my husband once said, "don't take this the wrong way, but if we have all girls, I'll probably be a bit bored"? Which of course, since he only wants the twins, makes me want 2 girls because then he'll be bored and let us try again! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.)

See? Even now you're bored!!

I'm not sure if my scatter-mindedness is an effort to not think of loss, to not fear my upcoming nuchal scan, or maybe an electrolyte imbalance.

Which, by the way, how safe is MSG during pregnancy? Because, when I was in the Peace Corps, one of my favorite quick-protein fixes during the rainy season was fake egg-drop soup. Essentially, stir an egg into a boiling pot of MSG-flavored water. I had that yesterday (and why yes, it's still hot outside, piss off), and it was really fucking good and I didn't puke it up! So veggie broth has been added to our list (and please don't tell me how you make your own, I know it can be done, I am far too lazy to even attempt that right now), but low sodium style just isn't very good. I do have low blood pressure, but then again, now that I've got 2 feti inside of me, who knows what's going on there.

Yeah. Step away from the keyboard and no one gets hurt.

10w4d: My new favorite food group

...is frozen HFCS. Slurpees and popsicles (and sometimes chocolate milk) are about all I can keep down these days. I take my vitamins with them and consider myself good.

I am so excited for the magical 14-week mark, when I will, without a doubt, instantly transform from an ok-I-admit-it-I-once-leaked-pee-when-puking, dog-tired, pelvic-rest-enforced blob into an adorable, glowing, pregnant sex-kitten with tons of energy!

There's no way people are lying about the 2nd trimester, right? RIGHT?

10w0d: No belly pics. EVER.

I am starting to get the tiniest bit of a belly.

You will never see it.

I am not doing belly pics. No way in hell. In the spirit of full disclosure, ever since I knew Itsy and Bitsy had made a temporary home out of my uterus (which, by the way, they totally pee all over...), I've enjoyed looking at the belly pics on other pregnant-after-IF-and-or-loss blogs. I know how hard you all worked for those bellies. I've googled "twin belly pics" and scared myself silly, because holy shit some of those monsters are huge. My understanding of gravity means I simply do not grasp how the uterus does not just fall right out of the abdominal cavity and onto the floor. (Note to self: strengthen ab muscles.)

But I still have a visceral reaction to the random bellies I see in my real life (like all those women at the doctors' offices!), and still hide anyone whose Facebook profile is a belly pic.

My HG aside, I think if I posed, giving you a side view, looking over my shoulder, with one arm above and one arm below (or one below and one holding the camera, or one below pulling my shirt/dress as tight as possible), back hyperextended, big fat smug grin on my face...just assuming that position would make me vomit.

What, I wonder, does your average fertile do with belly pics, aside from slapping them all over the internet? I can't imagine a child wanting to look through a whole series. A photo or two of "and that's you inside of me", sure. A week by week progression of mom in her underwear? Yeah no. I use this reasoning to say: I do not want them. My husband does not want them. I highly doubt our future children will want them. I will not take them.

My pregnancy will not go undocumented. I have this blog, I will have their baby books (my RE gave us one when we were pregnant with Isaiah, and then another when they saw this pregnancy on the u/s), I have a zillion ultrasounds and will have more. And, between my birthday (October), Thanksgiving (November), Christmas (December), and the labor or C-section, (before these events, not during), pictures of me in my pregnant state will exist. They just won't be belly pics.

I am not entirely sure if this is something IF has stolen from me. I know the reaction to pregnant women is from IF, but I've never really been a "take 2098032808 pictures of me!!!" sort of person. I don't take many pictures of anything (though I do intend to change this once Itsy and Bitsy arrive). So it's entirely possible it's something I just wouldn't have done. But with IF in the backseat, it's just one big hell no for me.

9w6d: My Current State

It's really fucking hard to properly time the consumption of food, water, Zofran, prenatal vitamins, and Colace. As such, I have thrown up my Colace for 3 days in a row now. I am paying the price.

So like, where do you draw the line? If you throw something up right away, obviously take a 2nd dose. But if it's been 10 minutes? 20? 30? When are you 'safe'? I'm contemplating putting a call in to the nurse's line solely to ask this question. But maybe it should wait for my next appointment.

Tomorrow is supposed to be my last day on progesterone. However, thanks to the wonderful Joyous Birdie, I have enough to last 2 more weeks. I think I might keep going. I mean, it's not like anything else is going up my vagina these days.

There are still some blogs I can't comment on. Like the aforementioned Joyous Birdie, and Chikenpig, and Journey to Baby G. And lots more. It makes me sad to be unable to comment. You would think Blogger would fix this problem, but I guess my fragile emotional state is not important.

I took my last final (of the summer) yesterday. The prof made me put my Saltines under the desk! She knows I'm pregnant. The guy sitting next to me (who is a friend of sorts) was like, "Dude, she's gonna pay for that. Puke on your scantron. Do it!" I almost did.

We had a cookout with my oldest friend last night. Her baby was born about a month before we began TTC. I was there. She's been with us throughout all this, even though she can't really relate to a lot of things. She told me when I first began doing IVF that she was throwing me a baby shower. Now that I am, by her call, "as close to out-of-the-woods as you can be" (I disagree, but whatever), she reminded me of that. I don't want a baby shower full stop. So we compromised on a lunch. It will probably get out of hand. (Her baby's 1st birthday party required more planning--and probably money--than my entire wedding. I helped her make 219380830198023801832 cupcakes with yellow frosting and ducks on top. My word.) She was full of advice for me on twins, because her husband's best friend (who lives in California) had twins last year. Her advice was mainly "Surrender now. You will never leave your house again." We've been friends for so long that we're practically sisters (and she is an only child, so I think that might be even more true for her). We're pretty different people, but I love her. I love that our husbands get along, too. (She married her first boyfriend. She's only kissed 2 boys in her life. Luckily, he's really awesome, and they did wait till they graduated college, and have been together since, I want to say, age 14?)

Tomorrow morning, my grandparents are having a brunch for my mom's birthday. I don't know who all is attending. I'm nervous, because I'm still fighting with my step-brother (did I post about this?) and just would prefer not to see him, his accidentally-pregnant wife, and their first oopsie baby.

My cat has recently begun to prefer curling into my belly, as opposed to curling into my legs. (I'm a side-sleeper, fetal style.) I like to pretend she can hear the heartbeats. She does have these huge bat ears, after all.

9w4d: First gift

Itsy and Bitsy got their first gift today. Sarah, that sneaky girl at http://sarah-babytalk.blogspot.com/, sent my babies a board book of "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". I don't know how on earth she found that (especially since in my neck of the woods, it's the eensey weensie spider, except not anymore). I don't know how to thank her.

It could be hormones or it could just be flat-out the only possible response: I sat down and the kitchen table and just sobbed.

And I am so incredibly grateful, from the bottom of my heart, that my babies will have something tangible from the ALI community. The support we offer each other is priceless. I think our husbands all agree. But I wonder how many of our children will even know, ever.

Mine will. Mine (please oh please let them both be born, healthy) will have something they can touch with their dirty little fingers, something to put in their mouths, to chew on while teething, to toss at each other's heads when older. I'll be able to point to it and say, "This came from a very special lady. She and all her friends are a big part of the reason I ever had enough love and strength to keep trying to bring you home to me and your daddy, when things got really hard." They will ignore me until they are older, and then they will understand.

Sarah, I don't even know what to say.

Obviously, it is time to pay this one forward.

Isaiah

I love the name Isaiah. While dating, I was crushed to discover that my (future) husband's nephew is named Isaiah, because that meant we couldn't use it.

Well, I changed my mind.

I'm sick of calling my miscarriage "my miscarriage", or "when I was pregnant with my missed miscarriage", or "well, last time..." All of those are about our loss. Which was heartbreaking. But what we lost, the baby that should have been, we have no words for that. (My dead embryo does not work.)

I thought I was pregnant with a boy. I may have been wrong, who knows. But we have ultrasound pictures (from the first ultrasound, the good ultrasound) of him. He existed, if only inside my body and inside both his parents' hearts.

My husband's parents never need to know that they had two grand-sons named Isaiah. We will keep it private. But when we talk about him, and when we think about him, he now has a name.

I loved my Isaiah very much. I was so sad to let him go. I want to remember the joy he brought us in his very early life, and not just the pain of losing him.

I'm glad that we finally named our first baby.