Maybe?; or, Hoping for the Sun

On days like today, when for some crazy reason I start to think I'll really be holding a living, squirming baby in my arms come October, I listen to this song and cry. A lot:



(Couldn't embed the original version, but I think Colbie is a good substitute).

10 weeks; or, Smudgie Dances

Because I couldn't do a regular fast this year on Ash Wednesday, I decided to do an internet/media fast and wasn't able to post anything prior to yesterday's OB appointment. It was a quick one, mostly for bloodwork in advance of the NT scan in two weeks, but we did get to meet another of the practice's OBs and we got a quick u/s in. I actually slept the night before the appointment and was so proud of myself. It was an evening appointment, though, and my nerves ratcheted up again by the time we got to the office.

Thankfully, everything continues to look great at 10 weeks. Smudgie had clearly visible arm and leg buds that he was shaking around in a little jitterbug. It was so cute. The doctor we met was really nice and comforting. It was crazy thinking, "This person could potentially be delivering a baby for me in about 7 months!"

The bloodwork was okay, but uncomfortable. I had about 7 vials of blood drawn: the genetic screening for the NT scan, the regular prenatal bloodwork, and the screening for Ashkenazi Jewish genetic diseases. Nope, I'm not Jewish and there's very little risk that I'll show up positive as a carrier for anything. But Lawyer Guy (who is Jewish) stalled and stalled and stalled with getting the testing done over all those months at the RE's, so the OB we met with last time just wrote a scrip for me to have it. Thanks, LG! I really haven't gotten tired of having my arms poked over the last 6 months, no not at all! I've got to head to another lab today for some additional testing, but fortunately was able to find a lab location walking distance from my house. I think I'll offer them the other arm.

Everything else continues fine. Last week I was shocked when the nurse read out my weight after I stepped on the scale-- I'm up about 4-6 pounds in the last two months. But since I didn't gain any from last Thursday to this, I treated myself to a double-cheeseburger at Shake Shack last night. Yummy, yummy, yummy!

We're trying to tell our siblings the news this weekend, but it's hard to coordinate schedules, so we'll see what happens. Right now, I'm just enjoying the high that comes after a good scan. I know that I'll start to slowly lose it about a week from now in the days leading up to the NT scan.

Please, please, please stay healthy and strong Smudgie. We love you and promise to teach you some awesome dance moves if you make it out here healthy after a good 9 months on the inside.

Smudgie Sloper Graduates!; or, Another Hurdle

He did it! Little Smudgie's heart rate was 140 bpm and Dr. W. said his growth was right on target. So we're...gulp...moving on to an OB once we get some referrals from Dr. W's staff.

I know that I worry a lot. I don't think that's going to stop, even though crossing this hump (solid heart beat at 7 weeks) is major for me. I think I've trained myself too well to expect the worst over the past two years to forget all those lessons right away. And, of course, it is still very early and anything could happen. I am not ready to let my guard down yet.

But Lawyer Guy posed a question in the exam room this morning after the ultrasound was over. "When can we let ourselves stop worrying?" he asked, and Dr. W. answered, "Right now."

Now that would be getting ahead of myself. What's a pregnancy without constant, crippling anxiety, after all (a pleasant experience, you say? Pshaw!). But I did let myself discuss the parent-telling with Lawyer Guy (after the first OB appointment, if we can get one scheduled for the next two weeks). And I did let myself google some images of nurseries in the color palette I've been dreaming of (and I even tried not to hate myself while doing so). And I didn't avert my eyes from the Pott.ery Barn Kids we passed on our walk from the clinic to the subway.

One step at a time. And grateful for all the support I have along the way.

Optimism/Pessimism; or, That Un-Real Feeling

Over the past few days, I've let myself start to feel optimistic about this pregnancy. In the moment, I really enjoy that. I enjoy imagining telling our families and friends or attending my shower or decorating the nursery. While I'm day-dreaming, I feel happy and secure. If I hold this hope at arm's length and observe it objectively, though, I scare myself again. If I read accounts of women with excellent betas and on-target heartbeats who still lost their precious babies, I get depressed.

Ultimately, none of this feels real--not the happy dreaming times and not the scared and worried times. I've entertained those fantasies or ones just like them for so long now, so many, many years, without any real sense of when they'd come true. I still feel like I'm emotionally in that mode, that "Wouldn't it be nice if..." kind of mode rather than an "It's going to be awesome when..." frame of mind. I still refuse to calculate a due date or to think of bringing a baby home this fall.

I keep both ultrasound printouts and both positive pee-sticks in a carefully arranged pile on our tall dresser in the bedroom. I sometimes touch them as I walk past. I often stand there and stare at them while I'm drying my hair or putting on makeup. And it's so hard to connect the image on those printouts with something going on inside my body. Probably because I still don't really feel all that different. More tired, my boobs hurt more and are bigger, I'm peeing a lot. But I've had no nausea in over a week and feel physically close to normal.

In the drawer of the nightstand next to my bed is an older ultrasound and two older pee-sticks. I haven't opened that drawer since we got this BFP. I don't want to put Smudgie's evidence away with those of my lost pregnancies. I think I'm going to keep everything, every new ultrasound we get or test I take, out there where I can see them and just hope and pray that I don't have to eventually put them away.

But overall, things are okay. I've been practicing relaxation on demand, and it's working better and better with each attempt. And I've passed a few m&m milestones over the last week. We've made it passed the point when we started spotting last time (6 weeks-6 weeks 3 days) and we saw and heard a normal heartbeat, which we never got to before. The big milestones are still to come-- the day the m&m stopped growing (7 weeks) and the day we learned it had died (7 weeks 4 days)--but I'm hoping more and more each day that we'll pass those, too.

I know I'll be scared again on Friday for our 7 weeks 1 day ultrasound. That's a given. But I'm doing my best not to grieve a potentially devastating day before I absolutely have to.

Tell Me Your Symptoms; or, Who Knows?

Six weeks today. I've passed into clinical pregnancy territory. Next appointment with Dr. W. is tomorrow.

When I think about tomorrow and the fact that we'll KNOW (in capital letters) if there's nothing going on in there, I feel rather terrified. I am distracting myself as much as possible. I taught a pretty good class this morning on close reading and poetics. I've been reading Daniel Deronda for my orals list. I love the sound of running water, so my therapist and I worked out a relaxation visualization involving fountains, and I also downloaded the sounds of a waterfall to my iPod. Now, when I feel my thoughts starting to spiral out of control, I just tell myself "waterfall" and call to mind the sounds and the visualization. It seems to be working. I'm still waking up early with anxiety, but I'm no longer at risk of a panic attack.

I'm avoiding all those "Your Pregnancy Week by Week" websites I was obsessed with when pregnant with the m&m. I used to check them seven times a day, reading ahead to where I would be at the end of the week, reading back to where I'd already passed. I've looked at them once or twice since getting the BFP two weeks ago, but all I can think as I read some description of baby at 6 weeks or whatever is: "You don't know what's happening! That might not be happening at all! In fact, my baby probably stopped developing a long time ago!" It's been surprisingly easy to ignore them ever since.

I can't shake the feeling that I should have more symptoms now than I do. My boobs are the same as they've been the last two weeks: bigger than normal, but not pregnancy huge, a little tender in spots, but not excruciatingly painful. My pukies have pretty much gone away. I have a little nausea here and there, but the past three days have been puke-free. My cramping comes and goes. When it's here, I'm anxious. When it's gone, I'm anxious. I don't have any constipation (rather the reverse, actually). The only really consistent "symptoms" are hunger and the fact that I'm too exhausted to stay up past 9:30 each night.

I'd like to have more to bank on. I certainly felt more pregnant last time, even though it didn't work out. But I try to remind myself that my betas kept rising even when I felt no different at all. There's a chance this could work out. I don't know how much of chance, but I do at least admit there is one.

I'm going to eat another bowl of sausage ziti and then lie down on the couch and listen to the waterfall CD. I don't want to hope or fear anything for tomorrow; I just want to be here now in this day.

Mantras; or, Sunday Morning

- Healthy pregnancies begin this way, too (from Adele).

- There's nothing I can do to affect this outcome.

- Less than two weeks until we know for sure.

- The odds are in our favor.

- One of these days, something will work for us, and it might be today.

- I'm strong enough to handle whatever comes.

- One day at a time. Every normal day is a good day.

- Pregnant until proven otherwise.

Please stay strong, little smudge. You've done such a good job so far. Please keep growing strong and healthy for us.

Another Hurdle; or, One

Things are still looking okay. We spotted one gestational sac in the ute, measuring appropriately and right where it belongs. I had convinced myself that I would have and that I wanted twins, but I'll be quite thrilled to be lucky enough to bring home a healthy singleton, no question. No disappointment here, at all. Nothing but relief.

Dr. W said that everything looks good so far, but that it's still early and we just have to wait. Lawyer Guy insisted that I ask her about my boob size/pain concerns and cramping fears, and she responded that I should pay no attention to any of that because "it means nothing." The most important thing is to rest and relax and try to distract myself. There's nothing we can do right now (as I well know) but wait, so I might as well make the waiting as tolerable as possible.

There's also nothing I can do about my cough, though Lawyer Guy asked if it was okay for me to take some old prescription cough syrup with codeine he has lying around. (Dr. W and I looked at him like he had two heads. Um, narcotics are not really on the list of approved medications during pregnancy, sweetie). I might get a humidifier for our bedroom today, because the dry air hurts my throat with every breath.

Our next appointment is in a week. These upcoming two appointments (and these upcoming two weeks) are going to be especially hard, because starting around 6 weeks is where things began to go pear-shaped last time. But I can't go on torturing myself like this. It's not good for me or for Lawyer Guy or for the baby. I've got to do my best to relax and follow my good friend Egg's lead:

Zen zen zen zen zen.

New Year's Non-solutions; or, The New Year of Hope and Achievement

I won't be around to post on New Year's Eve-- since I'm leaving TODAY for the Bahamas (yipeee!)--so I thought I should take this time to update my Non-solutions from last year with new Intended Achievements and Intended Explorations. As a reminder-- these are not things I "resolve" to do or to change about myself, but a mental grocery list of sorts for what I would like to accomplish or enjoy in 2011. Only things that I can actually achieve with some effort are included in this list (i.e., no NYC Marathon for me!).

2011's Intended Achievements:
- Resolve final incomplete grade
- Pass Oral Exam
- Begin (and ideally submit) Dissertation Prospectus
- Create Systematized Budget on mint.com
- Complete Whole Living 28-day Detox
- Create a Weekly Meal Plan (and stick to it)

2011's Intended Explorations:
- Cook one Entirely Vegetarian Meal per week.
- Run a 5k
- Visit Europe and Napa w/ Lawyer Guy
- Join either the Park Slope Food Co-op or a CSA
- Rediscover Love of Knitting

Last winter, I dubbed 2010 the Year of Hope and Achievement and at the time the hope was that I would achieve a baby. That didn't happen (obviously), but I still feel good about the hope that still lives in my heart and the growth and happiness I was able to achieve in often difficult situations.

So why not roll it over to next year? 2011, you are hereby named the New Year of Hope and Achievement. You may not give me everything I hope for, but I certainly won't go down without a fight

Christmas Packages; or, What's in the Fridge?

Do you know what this is?

That's 2,400 iu of Gonal-F that's currently sitting in my fridge just asking one of my sisters or parents or in-laws to visit and get all confused and concerned about it. And I am freaking excited!

I mentioned a few weeks ago the upcoming conversation that Lawyer Guy and I will need to have with Dr. Wonderful about whether to go for an injects+IUI cycle or straight to IVF. I think I also mentioned that a lovely friend of mine from my loss/IF message board is now pregnant and was looking to unload some unused Gonal-f. In the beautiful manner of todays' interconnected world, these eight 300-iu Gonal-f pens made their way from one end of New York State to the other. I can't thank her enough for sending them. Our insurance doesn't cover injectible meds, so a stash this big would have cost us quite a lot.

You know, as sad as this may sound, I think this package of meds and needles may be my favorite Christmas present this year. As long as Dr. W. agrees, we can now afford to go ahead with one (and possibly more than one) injects+IUI in the spring at no cost. We've got some real options other than IVF, and options are what makes IF most bearable.

I'd be tempted to ascribe my jolly mood to the meds in the fridge, but truthfully, I've been feeling optimistic and happy and hopeful for several days now. This is unusual: I'm in a two-week wait. I'm set to get my period on New Year's Eve. This will be our 11th failed month of TTC since last year's miscarriage. And I've been a massive Grinch up until now, as has probably been clear from this blog.

But I ovulated! And we had sex! And even if that doesn't (and there's a 97% chance it won't, according to our docs) make a baby, it still means we're starting a new treatment cycle in less than two weeks. And that really might make a baby! And once we're done with the Clomid route in February, we've got the wherewithal to try something new! And we'll save all we can in the intervening month to lessen the financial blow of IVF, if it comes to that! This is really going to work for us!

I've finally caught a bit of the Christmas spirit. Thanks to a ziploc bag of needle pens I pray I'll never have to inject into my stomach fat.

Reminders; or, Fun with Pictures

From Busted Kate:

Too Much; or, Not Enough

Things have been quiet in Purgatory these last few days, but not because I don't have anything to say or anything going on. There's been too much of both: too much to think about, too much to plan, too much to do, too much to feel, and not enough time to do it all in.

Some of it has been dull: grading 40 papers and teaching classes and running three Junior League meetings in the span of a week.

But some of it has even been good.

On Sunday, Lawyer Guy and I cooked a Fakesgiving feast for most of my family (my parents, two of my sisters, and one sister's fiance). We used our All-Clad turkey roaster for the first time and made our very first turkey, a 12-pounder that turned out perfectly, succulent and juicy and golden brown. Go us! We also made two kinds of stuffing (sausage & sage and caramelized onions & herb), pureed sweet potatoes with molasses butter, roasted brussel sprouts, green beans in a mustard-bacon sauce, arugula salad with roasted butternut squash and cranberries, kale chips and fennel parmesean dip as appetizers, and a caramel cake for dessert. And we made every bit of it from scratch (except a pumpkin pie, which we bought, and the gravy, which my mom made). We had bourbon/apple cider cocktails and champagne and it was a great time, even if it took us four hours to do all the dishes (we did them together while I simmered a turkey-carcass stock in our giant 12-quart stock pot).

This was all made more difficult, though, by the fact that I had--and still have--a really nasty headcold: sore throat, hacking cough, sinus pressure, stuffy nose. We were supposed to go up to West Point with my family on Saturday for the Army-Air Force game, but my cold was at its worst so I stayed home to rest up and ideally recuperate. I am doing better now, but am still pretty uncomfortable. I'd love to take a sick day from teaching, but I've had to use them all for fertility related appointments.

Which, speaking of, I had another one of on Monday morning (CD 10). I'd been feeling really disconnected from this cycle--I feel like I'm still getting over the disappointment of the chemical pregnancy and haven't been enthusiastic or engaged in this current cycle at all. I also wasn't feeling the same intense ovarian reactions that I did last time (despite starting the Clomid three days earlier) so I wasn't terribly optimistic about how things would be going.

Turns out, I know my body pretty well: I had one (count 'em, one) follie at 14 mm on my left ovary. Nothing else over 10 on either side.

Ho hum.

I know one is better than none. And I'm glad that my lining was at 6.9, which seems okay for CD 10. But I couldn't get a good pregnancy out of last cycle, and I had two follies then. I don't have much hope for one. Plus--I fully admit this is irrational--both times I've gotten pregnant it's been from my right ovary. I have this feeling that the left is not capable of stepping up to the task (then again, both those pregnancies didn't last, so maybe the left side would have a better track record in that regard). I go back tomorrow morning for more monitoring, to see how things have progressed. Dr. Wonderful suspected the IUI would go forward this weekend, but she said if there hasn't been any progress at my next appointment, they'll give me another dose of Clomid and the egg will drop the weekend afterward. I'm feeling some sensations in both ovaries, so I suspect that some growth will have occurred, though I obviously can't predict how much.

After the ultrasound, Dr. W. sat and talked with me for about ten minutes about last cycle and how I'm feeling about everything. She is so amazing. She told me she definitely views last cycle's outcome as a positive. She said she knows that the psychological torture of waiting is the hardest part in all of this and encouraged me to embrace my hobbies and do whatever I can to help distract me during this time. She also said "There is light at the end of the tunnel. You are going to be pregnant." I really love working with her and I'm so glad we followed our instincts and chose her.

I've been a little freaked out, though, I have to confess, and it's entirely my own fault. I asked Dr. W. what comes next if this cycle doesn't work. While she said that she wants to go one cycle at a time and not get ahead of ourselves, she still gave me an indication of what she's thinking will follow: one more Clomid+IUI and then...IVF!

Ah! Those letters! They strike fear into my heart.

Now, Dr. W. said she would advocate for IVF as the next step because she fears the risk of triplets is too great for my case if we do IUI + injectibles. But she also said we'd have to talk about everything before making decisions about what to do. And I know how kind and lovely she is--if we tell her we're just not ready for IVF I think she'd let us make an attempt with injectibles/IUI just to see how it goes. And she's right, triplets are not an ideal outcome. My anxiety would be off the charts if I were pregnant with three babies, plus I'd likely have to be on bed rest for a very long time, which has complications of its own. And then, you know, three babies.

But the risk of triplets is only three percent (which doesn't sound like much to me). And everything in an IVF cycle (meds+procedure) would be out-of-pocket for us. We're financially capable of doing IVF at this stage, but not financially prepared: the lovely In-Case-of-Baby cushion we've rebuilt over the two years since buying our apartment would be reduced by jumping into an IVF. We'd need to talk about this a lot and save more money and possibly chat with our parents before embarking on such a step.

I'm also not even close to psychologically prepared. I still, if you can believe it, don't actually think of us as infertile! There are still many times when I think to myself that all this happened because I worried too much and put too much pressure on Lawyer Guy at the beginning and couldn't take things easy and (yup, here it comes) just relax.

I just have to cross my fingers and hope that one of these Clomid cycles will be the trick for us. I'll just have to pray that poor Lawyer Guy can hang on to his ever-fraying confidence and sanity and endure just a little bit longer. During a phone chat with him on Monday, I reassured him that "We are going to be such great parents because of going through this, and we are going to be so unbelievably happy because of how sad we are now."

And he replied, "Yeah, we've been telling ourselves that for almost two years."

So my consolations are a little thread-bare and my hope is definitely dented and my heart is very bruised. But my doctor says there's a light at the end of the tunnel and some days I almost think I can see it.

Happy; or, Hopeful (UPDATED)

Thanks to Floss Baby for giving me the Happy/Hopeful award. I'm supposed to fill you in on things that make me, you know, happy and hopeful. And fortunately right now they are the same thing: my Lawyer Guy!

He had his SA yesterday, and while we don't know the results yet, I'm so proud of him for sacking up (literally) and getting through it. It's only the first of potentially many romantic encounters between him and the sterile collection cup and not even one that give us a chance at a pregnancy. But he has been really dreading it and yet managed to do fine. I'm proud of him and grateful that he did something so humiliating for the sake of our life together.

And because that makes me happy, I will share something else that always makes me happy, even on my darkest days. This is the song that LG and I chose as our first dance at our wedding. We both love music (I sing, he played guitar for me the night we met) and picking the "perfect" first dance song was really important to us. We talked about it over and over and seemed to be getting nowhere--I wanted Cole Porter or Gershwin, he wanted something written since the dawn of the atomic age. But then! We remembered how much we both love Van Morrison! We remembered how much we love dancing around our apartment together to this song!



Some people in our families thought this song was too fast-paced and not sweet and romantic enough, but it is exactly how we both felt on our wedding day: just filled with joyfulness and excitement and love. Now every time I hear it, I'm sent right back to our wedding day and I think about how much I love smiling and dancing with Lawyer Guy and I know that everything is going to be okay, no matter what further challenges lie ahead.

As for what makes me hopeful? I'll be honest, I have to dig pretty deep to hit hope these days. It's buried far down beneath a lot of other unpleasant emotions. But it is there and I can reach it, even if I have to manufacture it out of thin air.

Case in point, the following:


This is our new car, which we picked up from the dealer's yesterday! The lease on our Volvo was up this month, and while we loved driving it over the past three years, we decided we want something bigger and a bit cheaper (given than we have possible future fertility treatments to start planning for).

Last night as we drove home, I turned and looked behind me and I pictured two infant carseats side-by-side. I scared myself a little--I can remember too vividly signing the lease on our first car three years ago and wondering to myself if the back seat would accommodate the children I was sure would come before we moved on to a new set of wheels.

But I decided not to think that way. We stood at the dealership ready to take the keys and I said to Lawyer Guy, "Now we can have a baby since the car has enough room." He laughed at the thought that the baby was just waiting for us to get the right car, but I'm going to take my optimism where I can get it.

I loved our old car, but I could never picture a baby in it. And in this car, I can.

Which means we're going to get pregnant soon, right?

Updated: I forgot the most important part of these little awards, nominating other bloggers! I would like to send happiness and hope to some ladies who have been stuck here with me for a while and getting bluer and bluer as I do:

Gidget of Mission: Gidgelet
B at My So-Called (TTC) Life
Katie of From IF to When
Allison at Allison's Wonderland
~C~ at The Port of Indecision

And some very special hope and happiness to the newly pregnant Sienna at It's Baby Time

Half-Full Rose-Colored Glasses; or, Cycle Day One

Yesterday, I sent Lawyer Guy an e-mail giving him the heads up that I'd started spotting and would be getting my period soon. I told him I loved him and tried to keep an upbeat and encouraging tone; he told me he loved me and that we'd get through this. I had an event last night that prevented me from getting home until late (by which time AF had taken up residence), and when I walked through the door, Lawyer Guy confessed that he'd been sitting alone feeling sadder and sadder that this cycle didn't work out.

As I've written before, it hurts to see Lawyer Guy taking our troubles so much to heart. But as I hugged him and tried to put on an optimistic attitude, I was also glad that he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. Six months ago, he wouldn't have. Six months ago, he was worried that I was an emotional hurricane waiting to happen and needed to be handled oh-so gently lest I break out in another storm. I'm glad that he feels that his fears and sadness deserve equal weight with mine, and I'm glad to be able to give him some of the support he's given me the last eight months.

While I put on as positive a face as possible--for his benefit and my own--I'm feeling pretty worried under the surface. Maybe "we did it once" doesn't actually count for shit in the reproductive stakes. Maybe "it's bound to happen sometime" is a big fat lie. But we've only got two or so more months until we start testing with an RE in the fall, so I'd like to be as positive and happy during these two months as possible.

And in the service of that goal, I decided to think of reasons to be grateful right now. Not just reasons to be grateful for my life generally, which I am and which I have listed before, but specifically reasons to be grateful for the difficulties that we've faced in trying to have a child. I'm grateful for this challenging time because:

- I believe I will be a better mother for it. I believe I will appreciate and maybe even enjoy my children more than I would have if they had come easy.

- I will never wonder "what I missed" by having children. I will never feel cheated of youth, of time with my husband, of my career. I know what is most important in my life and in my heart, and it's not amazing career opportunities or nights out on the town or a stunning physique (which I've already lost). It's being a mother and having a family with Lawyer Guy.

- I will never use birth control again. Score!

- Lawyer Guy and I have both decided that we will welcome as many children into our lives as we are lucky enough to conceive. For a long time, I wanted a large family while he wanted no more than two children. But after the last eighteen months, we both agree that we will be grateful and thrilled with any "oopsie" pregnancies that come along, something I can guarantee would not have been the case with him if we hadn't lost the m&m or struggled to conceive afterward. And given my age and our recent track record, I think we can all safely assume LG and I are not going to turn into the Duggards of the 21st century.

- I've stopped caring so much about the petty, superficial aspects of parenthood. I used to want the best stroller and crib set and bedding and preschools and diaper bag that money could buy. That all seems so pointless now.

- Lawyer Guy and I have grown as husband and wife and as friends. We've worked through some incredibly upsetting situations that might have derailed other couples and have found ways to build a stronger relationship through them. We have become even closer and more intimate as partners. We've learned to grieve with each other and laugh with each other through our grief. And we've also learned how to handle when our feelings don't match up, when one of us is sadder or angrier or more worried or more frustrated than the other. After almost ten years together, I didn't think it was possible for our relationship to grow like this so quickly, but it has and I am so grateful for that.

I don't know what comes next: if we'll get to testing, to treatments, to a pregnancy (and healthy baby) in months or years. But I'm going to try to keep growing closer to my husband and making our marriage the center of everything we do (even our fertility treatments). Today, I feel confident that ten years from now, this will feel less like wasted time and more like the sturdy foundation for beautiful family.

Perfection; or, Reworking the Fantasy

When we started trying to get pregnant almost 18 months ago, I of course hoped we'd succeed immediately, but I also recognized that getting pregnant that March wouldn't be "perfect." Giving birth in the middle of the academic year--in the middle of my first year teaching, and before I officially finished coursework--would be less than ideal. Plus, December would have been absolute dead last on my list of desired birthday months for my future child-- the same month in which the baby's father, cousin and aunt all have birthdays. But I wanted a baby (and I wanted one right then) more than I wanted things to be perfect, so I still hoped.

Seven months later, when I did get pregnant, it felt like I was being compensated for the frustrations of waiting with a "perfectly" timed pregnancy. We planned to tell our families at Thanksgiving. Perfect! We planned to announce to our friends and on Facebook on Lawyer Guy's birthday. Perfect! I was set to give birth in June-- during my summer break; a month without any other family birthdays; wonderful early summer. Oh so very very perfect!

I don't dream about perfect anymore. I don't care what month the baby is due in or how much time I have to take off. I don't imagine announcing the pregnancy to anyone other than Lawyer Guy. I don't picture strolling with my newborn under a winter sky or a summer sun. When I envision the end of this particular voyage, I picture a hospital room and a baby on my chest, warm and alive. That's all. That's perfect.

I recently read the New York Magazine article on parental dissatisfaction--the same story that took Adele by surprise when it appeared in her mailbox last week. As others have mentioned, it was less disturbing than I feared it would be, though it didn't address many of the questions I have on this subject: Do those who suffered loss or infertility feel happier as parents? Do those long-thwarted desires raise expectations of parenthood that foster disappointment? I don't know if anyone has studied the issue from that angle so I don't know if my instinct--that sadness and loss and longing create grateful and enthusiastic parents--can be supported.

The article did make me think, however, about the expectations we bring to parenting--or any great change in life, really. A few sentences of Senior's in particular stood out:

"This is another brutal reality about children: They expose the gulf between our fantasies about family and its spikier realities."

"This is especially true in middle- and upper-income families, which are far more apt than their working-class counterparts to see their children as projects to be perfected."

I'm certainly as guilty of having unrealistic dreams and fantasies of myself as a mother, of Lawyer Guy as a father, and of my place in our family once we have children. And I'm sure I'm no more immune to the quest for perfect progeny than any other over-educated modern mama. But the hard work that Senior and her sources suggest new parents must perform--the work of remaking expectations to fit realities, of hammering out newer, less brilliant visions of what it tenable or right in family life--I feel like that has been my task these past 16 months.

I'm not going to get "perfect." I don't even want it anymore. I just want a child. If I can remember that and remember these months--or years, however long it takes--of struggling to let go of my fantasies, then I know my future family, however imperfect, will be perfectly suited for me.

Show Tunes in the Shower; or, Tell the People, Mr. Buble

You guys would not recognize me right now. I am in the high-flying manic phase of whatever DSM-IV psychosis I've been experiencing for the last four months.

I was singing "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'" at the top of my lungs during my drive to teach this morning. Shit-eating grin every time I looked out the window. Wiggling in my seat during office hours. And then Michael Buble's "Haven't Met You Yet" came on the radio on the drive home, and I realized that song is all about surviving miscarriage and IF and getting your forever baby and whatever Michael, it totally is okay? And you might not have realized this, but nearly 30-year-old wannabe-baby-mamas driving Volvos on the BQE are totally the intended audience for this song. And for the singing and car-dancing inspired thereby.

And I'm sure part of the reason for my case of the jollies is blue skies and sunshine and mourning doves building their nests on my window sills (until Lawyer Guy notices them and whips out the broom). But the other part is this:

Peak! On CD 19! Ovaries, I love you! Body, you're forgiven! Husband, you don't realize it yet, but your bones will be jumped tonight! Baby, I can't wait to meet you in December!

In the back of my mind, I'm adding just a little to the mental file of "Why It Would Be Less Than Ideal to Get Pregnant This Month" (otherwise known as, "How To Comfort A Menstruating Woman")

But screw all that, for now. I'm going to let Mr Buble sing us out.

Lent; or, The Two Week Wait

Today is the start of Lent, and in an hour or so I will go to church to get my ashes. Today is a day of fasting, which I always try to keep, even though I know my energy will be flagging by my 4:15 class tonight. Beginning today I won't eat meat until Easter--and this year I'm going to give up alcohol, as well.

Every year I think to myself I should, and every year I find some reason why I can't (a wedding or big party in the middle of Lent; or last year the thought that I would be pregnant soon, so I needed to enjoy drinking while I could). This year I have no excuses. I've got no parties to worry about, and I'm pretty sure I won't mind having missed a few weeks of potential drinking if I get pregnant shortly after Easter.

I'm also going to try to do something about my attitude. I think I've healed emotionally and psychologically tremendously in the past three months, but I still have too many self-pitying days, too many days of fatalistic negativity, and far too much jealousy of my friends' babies and my sister-in-law's pregnancy. There isn't a need to "make amends" because I don't think these people realize the anger and frustration I feel so often. But I need to make amends to myself, to reassure myself that I'm not a bitter person, that I can feel happiness for others while sadness for myself.

So-- I'm going to do one nice thing for a pregnant person or new mother each week as part of my Lenten sacrifice. This might be an e-mail or phone call when I'm really not feeling up to it (as sad as my miscarriage makes me, I know they are preoccupied and stressed by motherhood). It might be a donation of clothing or time or money to an organization that benefits indigent pregnant women and mothers in the city. I'll do something to try to give love out instead of envy.

***
Lent is 40 days (plus Sundays) of waiting and preparation, and I have started a waiting period of my own. As I'm pretty sure this is my first time ovulating since October, I'm in my first real two-week wait since the miscarriage. I've had two days of a temp rise and am waiting for crosshairs on Fertility Friend before I post my chart. After all my moaning and fit pitching, we had decently timed sex in the end. And now there's a full blown Mind Fetus residing in my uterus, a boy or girl with a November birthday, a name, and a very happy life all planned out by his or her mother.

I hate that I'm feeling so excited and positive about this cycle, because I know I'll only feel it the worse when my period inevitably shows.

But wouldn't it be lovely to live an easy life like that?

Ten True Things; or, Promises

On the eve of my D&C, I make to myself these promises:

1. I will be pregnant again one day.

2. I will have a healthy, beautiful child one day.

3. I give myself permission to cry, to moan, to huddle in a ball, to avoid their babies and their swollen pregnant bellies without punishing or hating myself for being weak and selfish.

4. I will remind myself that their babies didn't take mine away, that their happiness doesn't cause my unhappiness, and that being there for others even when times are tough is the mark of character.

5. I give myself permission to laugh, to smile, to have happy times and moments without feeling guilty and callous or like I'm forgetting.

6. I will show my husband every day how much I love him and how indispensable his comfort and support are to me.

7. I will never complain about being pregnant. I will never bitch about vomiting, or getting fat, or people touching my belly.

8. I will never assume I know another woman's story. I will never assume my pregnancy or my child are of interest to the world.

9. I will never respond to another woman's struggles--be they infertility or miscarriage or loss--with silence.

10. I will practice patience every day. I can't control this. I can't force God's time. But I can love my life as much as possible at each moment.

Dog Tired; or, My Nursery Dreams

I'm supposed to be working my tail off on an overdue paper, but my exhaustion is kicking in and sending me to sleep every time I try to get some work done. So I'm taking a study break to show off some of the ideas I have for the nursery.

The Lawyer and I decided to wait until the birth to learn the baby's sex-- I want a gender neutral nursery and accessories anyway, and it just seems like such a fun surprise. Plus, it should cut down on familial pressure to find out the names ahead of time. So, that being said, here is the nursery plan for a boy or a girl.

I've wanted cafe au lait or cappuccino-colored nursery walls for a long time. I think that's a color that will coordinate well with pink accents or navy accents. Our second bedroom is rather dark, so we want something light for the walls. And I want the room to have a relaxing, restful feel.

I also love green, particularly sage green. So imagine my delight when I discovered this bedding pattern at Restorati.on Hardw.are Baby&Child!

I love the color contrast of light brown and green

RH also has a matching rug and wall paint (called Toast) in the exact color palette as the bedding. So put together, the whole look would be something like this:

We'll paint the walls that toast color, use the toast and silver sage dot rug, and the polka dot bedding in that colorway. Then, we'll bring in more green with the curtains, most likely in this colorway:

Finally, for the crib I'm considering the Argington bam bassinet/crib system (which also has a toddler bed conversion). It has a matching wardrobe and dresser that we would also probably get (and I'd use a changing pad set-up on top of the dresser instead of a full changing table). It has a trundle underneath for extra storage, is made of sustainable wood, and costs a lot less than other fancy, modern-looking cribs.

I'd also want a traditional glider in dark wood with cream cushions. I don't know what kind of wall art we'll use-- my husband and I chatted about a puppy theme. That would bring our first "baby," our fluffy pup Bella, into the room and would work for a child of either gender. Then if we had a girl we could add subtle pink accents--pillows for the glider, a lampshade, perhaps a toy chest--after the birth (or a do similar things in navy for a boy). And there's so much great nursery art available on etsy and other online retailers. In a quick afternoon search I found all of these:



Aren't they adorable?

One Week; or, Joy and Fear

I found out about this pregnancy one week ago today. These seven days have progressed so slowly, but so happily. I think about this baby all the time, and dream about him or her. I've mentally decorated and redecorated the nursery about twenty times. I'm drinking as much water as I can hold and trying to take pleasure in every back ache, cramp, exhausted night, and disgusting cystic zit that just won't go away.

I'm also thankful every day I see no spotting or feel a symptom. And I'm nervous every time I read another "Please remove me from June/May/April Mamas" post on The Bump's 1st Tri board. A friend of friends on facebook posted a picture of her digital pregnancy test about two weeks ago. Over the weekend, she had to make an announcement that the pregnancy was no more.

My husband is taking our doctor's advice very much to heart and trying to keep a little distance from the baby until he feels more secure about the progress. This doesn't mean he's keeping distance from me AT ALL--just that he's trying to avoid too much future-talk until after our appointment tomorrow.

I'm so excited to have another peek at the baby and to see what's going on in there and learn how we're coming along and what to do next. And I'm scared that we'll get bad news, that we'll lose this dream just when it seems the closest.

It's early. I'm just over five weeks. That's so early.

But I know that the odds are things will be fine.

So I'm trying to take it one day at a time. Every day I'm pregnant is a good day.

Do or Die Time; or, Letting Hope Live

I'm 15dpo and I don't see or smell any blood. Unless my period starts some time today (which it could and probably will), I'm going to test tomorrow morning when I wake up.

I'm really scared to test. It doesn't make sense, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I've started to think this might be...it (I can't even write the words).

And I like feeling this hopeful feeling. I could hardly sleep last night, and I woke up at 6:30 am. I kept tossing and turning in bed, imagining how I would tell my family and my friends if what I hope comes true.

The thought of looking at another negative test makes me feel sick.

I want to hold on to my hope a little longer.