Mamazen

Oh Hai!

No, I'm not dead. I'm still here, still have plenty of things to say, I'm just... pregnant.

At first I couldn't write here because it wasn't public and it was too hard to find things to write about when every waking minute my brain was thinking "OMFG FINALLY I'M PREGNANT WITH A VIABLE BABY!" and then when I went public my desire to write just went... bleh.  But, it's 3 months since I last posted so I figured I owed you (my loyal 4 readers) some words about how I got here.

Well as most of you know, it hasn't been easy, painless or remotely cheap. Long story short, three fresh embryo transfers, three frozen, thousands of needles in my ass and belly, two miscarriages, and countless tears... and I'm back, finally, hopeful we will complete our family and that Ruby will have the joy of being a big sister. 

In more detail... Ruby was our first lucky IVF after seven IUIs and we had six frozen embryos in which to make her a sibling. Cue 2009, the year that shall not be named, wherein we did our first frozen transfer, got pregnant, had a miscarriage. Did a second transfer, got bubkiss and then manned up and did a full fresh cycle in the hopes that my 34 year old body could do it, why not my 38 year old body? Um. No. do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not do anything but cry your eyes out and be thankful for the tax return next year because you spent $20K out of pocket in medical expenses. 

We threw in the towel. Gave up. Let it all go. I gave away all baby things, all the cloth diapers, maternity clothes, everything. I just wanted out of my house. I was not in a good place. 2010 came and went, with little talk of trying again, till right around my birthday when I decided maybe we'd give it another shot.  We drew our line in the sand and I hopped back into the stirrups with my cautious but happy ass in the air. 2011 we got back to business in earnest, had some long tearful discussions with our Doc and made decisions that included crossing many of our previously drawn line in the proverbial sand and spending a LOT of money. 

For my 40th birthday I was finally pregnant. Pregnant, but knowing that it probably wasn't viable. Let's just say, that my decision to be done trying at 40 was shot. Especially since we were lucky enough to have embryos in the freezer after this magical cycle. As devastating as that loss was, I knew we had another chance. The week before our Decmber 1 frozen embryo transfer, I counted and had 1015 paper cranes hanging over my bed. One Thousand Fifteen. 

And then, as luck, science, magic and faith collided, it worked. I was elated and terrified at every turn. When my beta levels didn't rise as perfectly as they should and Dr. M wanted me to come back for not two or three but FOUR return checks, my heart was nervous and anxious and fearful. Finally one glorious winter day, nestled between Christmas and New Years, we had an ultrasound that showed a perfectly beating heart within a perfectly growing embryo. Folks, we have a winner.

We inched forward, day by day, week by week, and right before we should be released from our infertility specialists care into the loving hands of our low intervention, low risk midwife... there was blood. Not enough to send me into a complete panic, but enough to get my attention. It was too soon to hear a heartbeat on the doppler with our midwife, so when there was blood again the next day, we called Dr. M's office and they rushed us in for a quick peek. Ryan wasn't able to be there, but I had two awesome friends by my side and we were all elated to see that perfect little person still wiggling away. I had a small and resolving subchorionic hematoma that thankfully hasn't given me any more grief, but it hasn't left me with a sense of calm or ease either. 

At 16 weeks my chances of losing this pregnancy are 1%. Those are pretty good odds, and I'll take them anyday over where we've been, since my chances of actually getting pregnant in the first place were around that, I'm thinking we have pretty magical luck working on our side this time. But when a friend offered me a doppler to use at home, it only took me an hour to say yes, and the next day I picked it up, and every night, we're happy to hear that horse galloping sound that reminds me that, Yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus. 

So here we are. Thankful, cautiously optimistic, and surprisingly planning for the future. 

 

The new girl

There she stands, hesitant to open the door, but not wanting to turn back to the elevator. I've just gotten off the elevator myself, heading in for a routine blood draw, and she's blocking my way into the office. She looks nervous, scared, like she feels a little silly.  We make eye contact, something you rarely do in the office of grief and shame and I shrug and reach for the door. She laughs a little and goes on in. 

The front desk attendant knows me well, checks me in and summons the phlebotomist. I overhear the woman from the doorway apologize for coming back in, but she wanted to discuss some questions about her calendar. As I walk away, she sits down with my favorite nurse and they discuss her upcoming cycle. Clearly her first. 

My blood draw is quick and easy. The phlebotomist and I laugh and talk about silly things like refrigerator magnets and pie. She's my favorite, by far. 

As I check out, I notice the girl from the doorway sitting alone on the consult couch, fretting her hands, checking her phone. My favorite nurse comes out and hands her a bag, tells her to just take it one day at a time. Easily said from someone who isn't staring down the barrel of a 2 page calendar filled with needles in the stomach. 

We both end up waiting for the elevator at the same time again. She keeps her eyes on the floor as I ask her what floor, and press the buttons. When the doors open, and she takes a step out, I say, softly: 

Good luck.

She turns back to me, tears in her eyes and says:

Thank you, I'm kind of scared.

I smile and nod as the elevator closes and I head down to my own car. I feel a little choked up myself, remembering my first time, the anxiety, the fears, the wonder of: what will happen. I'm grateful  I'm not the new girl, grateful I'm not in that precarious place of: will I ever know what it's like to be a mother. And yet, here I am, still here after all these years, trying to complete my family, wondering what will happen, feeling anxious, scared and precarious. I know what it's like to be a mother, and it's so good I want to do it again. But I'm so very glad I'm not the new girl. 

I hope she's not for long either.