Isaac is 3

My husband is a cuddler.  I am not.  I actually kind of hate cuddling.  I don't like being touched and, perhaps, there's a sensory disorder there waiting to be diagnosed because touching for more than about the length of a short hug makes my skin crawl.  I do not spoon in bed.  I have trouble snuggling on the sofa watching a romantic movie.  Chris settles for my foot touching his leg as we sleep and the occasional head on his shoulder.  Avery's like me in this sense, if a bit less pathological about it, happily settling for a hug when she feels like it and a smooch if she gets a scrape.

Isaac needs held.  He has since he was born.  "Cry it out" was never an option, as he would rather have made himself sick crying than get tired to fall asleep.  Worse, after one go of that, I felt awful about it and never tried it again.  I found various baby slings and harnesses and he was attached to either Chris or I until he decided it was fun to walk.  But even then he checks in, by crawling on our laps, giving a hug and kiss, then merrily getting back on his way.

His need for physical affection is probably equal to my natural disdain for it.  And yet, since he's mine and I made him and he's perfect, I magically got over my discomfort.  He could sit with me for hours (and has) and sleep on my arm as it falls asleep when I need to be doing a million other things; some long-hidden gene activates and I am content.

Isaac means "he will laugh."  It's amazing to me how the name we picked months before he was born fits him so perfectly.  He's such a wonderful, happy little boy.  I'm happy just to see his smiling face, never mind what is going on in my life that he couldn't possibly understand.  He is silly without really trying, yet knows exactly how to make others laugh when he wants to be the center of attention.

Isaac is my baby.  Yes, he's actually my youngest, but even when he grows up, even if he becomes a big brother someday, even if I had 10 more kids and he actually wound up being one of my oldest children, he would still be my baby.

Happy birthday, little man.

Second Verse, Same as the First

Or, in this case, the fourth.

Another miscarriage.  This one discovered at 9 1/2 weeks.  The baby was only measuring 7 weeks and there wasn't a heartbeat.

First of all, I need to find a much better doctor in the Pittsburgh area.  I know mine are respected, but when a woman has had multiple miscarriages, you don't blow her off when there isn't a heartbeat at 6 weeks, telling her it's normal.  You follow up to make her feel better, because her fears are completely founded.  You especially follow up when, also at that ultrasound, a subchorionic hematoma was discovered, in order to make sure that it's reabsorbing, not simply telling the patient that "most disappear; I'm sure yours is already gone"  Yup, it was. Along with my baby.

I have a D&C scheduled on Monday, providing nothing happens over the weekend.  I must "request" that my doctor send the recovered tissue (sorry, I have to dissociate...) for pathology and genetics.  If my body does finally figure out what the hell it was supposed to do over a week ago in the next few days, the only way for me to get that testing is if I recover that tissue myself.  Not. Going. To. Happen.

I'm an emotional wreck, obviously.  My poor husband is upset, too, and doesn't know what to do or say.  He's been wonderful, telling our family and taking over much of the child-rearing duties while I wallow in my misery.

I still have pregnancy symptoms, which seems completely unfair.  I've heard that those may stay for up to a week after the D&C.

I thank God that we hadn't told the kids yet.  We were going to tell them today, after my first appointment.  I had to request the ultrasound (I still wouldn't have known, otherwise...).  I can't imagine telling the kids and then explaining what happened.

So now, like many people who have been trying to get pregnant without success, all I can do is try to figure out my "next step."  I know I should be dealing with this first, but if I don't look ahead, I'll truly fall apart.  I need to know that there is a reason for this.  And while I'm terrified of trying again and losing again, I'm also desperate to try again in order to make this loss (and the last one) "mean" something.  I wouldn't have Avery without my first m/c; I wouldn't have Isaac without my second.  So, I'm attempting to take it one day at a time.....one hour at a time....

It's so hard to do when I want my results cradled in my arms right now.

Senior Moments

I am truly amazed at the things I completely forgot about my pregnancies with Ave and Isaac that have reared their ugly heads this time around.  Maybe it's just a evolutionary-based coping mechanism that keeps us reproducing, but how in the WORLD did I block these things out?

1. Nausea  I was really lucky with Avery and only got a little queasy here and there.  I only think I truly threw up maybe twice with her?  It was much worse with Isaac.  But can it really be so much more horrible this time that I'm this unprepared?  I'll only be 8 weeks on Monday and other than some mild nausea before this week, things have been pretty clear.  But starting last weekend and getting progressively worse,  all I do is fight my disgust with all things food and anything with ANY odor.  For instance, onions in any form, normally a food I have in everything I cook, make me leave the room.  Eggs?  No way.  Cereal?  Instant trip to the bathroom.  Coffee?  Lucky if I make it through half a cup (thereby creating a caffeine ban that I never bothered with before; my doc said as long as I stick to two cups per day, we're good....I can barely smell it now).  Besides some crackers and ginger ale, I never really needed anything to help me through the "morning" sickness.  This time, I'm desperately searching the internet for solutions and chowing down on candied ginger and lemon drops.  The pregnancy message boards, which I have found myself perusing like a first-time-mom, also gave me the good news that it doesn't usually hit its worst point until 10 weeks.

The breakfast of (queasy) champions

2. Cravings And yet, there are those weird cravings that pop up early on that seem to fly in the face of what should make my nausea go away.  Basically, anything spicy, sour, and salty really get my salivary glands going.  Yesterday, Chris made jalapeno cornbread and gave me a slice of jalapeno from our canning stash.  I've been able to think of nothing but those jalapenos since.  Salty condiments, like A1 or Heinz Ketchup (specifically the balsamic one, lately) or Frank's Red Hot?  Yes please...on everything.  And pickles.  But this time, only the Mt. Olive Baby Kosher Dills will do.  It's a taste and texture thing, much to the chagrin of my husband, who looks longingly at the homemade jars still sitting on the shelf.  Oddly enough, while the nausea mimics (and exceeds) what I went through with Isaac, the cravings are exactly what I wanted with Avery.  Since we're not finding out the gender this time, I thought I'd at least be able to count on some old wives' tales to point me to the answer.  No dice.

3. Headaches and Illness  Oh, the headaches.  As soon as I got the first one, like a PTSD flashback, I began remembering the migraine-like pains of my previous pregnancies.  Crap.  And what are my solutions to these headaches typically?  Excedrin Migraine and ibuprofen.  Both off-limits.  THEN I caught Isaac's cold.  I usually have a better immunity than this, so I looked it up and apparently women's immunity goes down the crapper when pregnant.  Once again, I'm left to deal with it without any of my go-to remedies (hot totties, anyone?).

4. Exhaustion AND Sleeplessness  WTF?  How is this one fair?  I remembered the exhaustion, actually. It was one of my first clues with both kids.  But not being able to sleep or get comfortable at night?  Completely forgot about that.  I already have 4 pillows (and a husband, in a double bed...boy does THAT need to change; I mean getting a bigger bed, not kicking the husband out), including a body pillow, trying to prop me up in semi-comfortable positions, as my already-crappy hips loosen up even more and my corpus luteum cyst causes weird, inescapable aches.  Then the headache kicks in.  Ugh.  This only gets worse.  I keep forcing the kids to take naps, even though neither really needs them anymore, so I can attempt to catch up on an hour or so of z's.

5. Bloating We are attempting to wait until 14 weeks before telling family and friends that we're expecting.  But between water retention, bloat, and loosening ligaments, that's going to be damn near impossible.  I haven't gained any weight, but my pants are tight and my stomach looks awful.  Just crossing my fingers and counting on the big shirts and inattentive relatives to get me through 6 more weeks...

All that said, I really don't want to complain.  I'm so thrilled to have made it this far and am willing to let all of it get much worse if it means a healthy baby.  But wouldn't it be so much more fun for everyone if I wasn't so sick and tired all the time?

Important Events

Things have been jumpin' on the old homestead!

First, and most importantly, Shamrock Shakes are back at McDonald's!  Minty-vanilla goodness in January?  Seems a tad early, but this little addict will not be complaining about that.

Heavenly and disgusting, all in one....similar to a McRib in that way.

Hubby got a new job and is making the switch.  The pay is better, the insurance cost is worse.  The hours are better, the benefits are weak.  The job security has improved, but the company is MUCH smaller than where he is now, so I'm not sure if it's really any different.  He'll work from home 95% of the time, so he won't have two hours of commuting each day and he'll be able to help with the kids' school pickups/dropoffs, which give me a little bit more flexibility.  I'm trying to be a supportive wife, and I'm happy that he's happy, but I'm worried and don't do well with change and I'm more than a little bitter that he can find another job while he has one already and I can't even find a suitable part-time position.  He'll also be making occasional trips to LA.  We'll be testing those old mommy skills without Daddy as a buffer, now won't we?

Also, we had another two funerals that I should have attended.  During my TWW.  I'm just way too superstitious over this (I know, it's dumb...can't help it).  That takes us up to 5 funerals in 3 months and a total of 3 miscarriages after attending funerals pregnant.  The plan was to pretend I was sick so I didn't have to go, then we ALL actually got sick.  Karma's a bitch.

I signed Avery up for Kindergarten and am freaking the freak out.  Not at all ready for my baby girl to be starting "real" school.  Dude, I remember Kindergarten.  But I know she's ready and excited.  Her pre-K teacher really takes K-readiness seriously and told us at her conference that Ave's one of the few kids she's actually recommending as ready to make the move.  I just wish she didn't have her father's outgoing personality (total sarcasm; did you catch it?).  The kid doesn't talk until she is 100% comfortable with the people around her.  She just absorbs information.  And that, apparently, is what Daddy did, too.  You know, the guy that easily could have been the kid with the public, newsworthy freak-out at school and left after his Junior year because  he hated everyone and everything there?  So cross your fingers for an awesome teacher that pulls this little girl out of her shell.  Because, honest-to-god, if I don't actually tell her she MUST talk to people, she won't.  Sigh.

Hmm, what else?  The weather has been fantastic.  I love warm post-Christmas winters, except for all the mud.  High of 54 on the last day of January?  I'll take it!

Oh, yeah.  There's this, too!

You didn't think I'd put this first, did you?  So far, everything looks good.  The first positive was on 11 DPO (I couldn't wait any longer) and each subsequent test got darker.  I refused to call my doctor's office until I was late, so that was a long, rough weekend.  My blood test was unbelievably easy (I'm finding that phlebotomist and keeping her), and my HCG number was 443 at 14 DPO, which is slightly higher than average, but still within normal ranges.  I'll go back tomorrow to make sure my doubling time is appropriate. So all is as it should be for the time being.  I refuse to complain about nausea and aches and pains because I know those are better than the alternative I've been dealing with.

I'm certainly being kept on my toes this month!  If only I could get a nap in somewhere.

Warning: Downer Post

Further warning: there's a lot of trying-to-conceive stuff below.  If you aren't interested, check in next post.

Between the 4 funerals, miscarriage, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, I've been a bit distracted.  Add in attempting to make a baby, and my little outlet here has suffered.  Really, does that make any sense?  When I MOST need to vent and work things out, I stop blogging?  Seems dumb.

So my doctors pretty much did what I said they would, which is to say they did nothing and wished me luck this month.  Assholes.  (Not really, I love my OB -- she's awesome -- but I really need someone to give a damn at some point.)  I had my annual checkup the day I ovulated and really wouldn't have known that I was otherwise because my stupid Clearblue Easy Fertility Monitor (CBFM) decided this would be a fantastic month to just MISS the Luteinizing Hormone (LH) surge.  Awesomesauce.

Oh, she also did say something about it being "strange" that I seemed to have a chemical pregnancy before each of my full-term pregnancies, and now another one, but that since they weren't consecutive she really couldn't refer me for any testing yet.  Yup, I know.  Go lose another one and give us a call, right?  Anyway...

So we managed to do a great job doing what we're supposed to do at the times we were supposed to and my Basal Body Temperature (BBT) chart looks fantastic and, since I've never NOT gotten pregnant when trying (and even when not trying...), everything should be great, right?

Well, no.

With Isaac, I tested positive at 9 days past ovulation (DPO).  The chemical pregnancy (CP) before him was around 10 DPO and this last one was at 11 DPO.  All are early positives.  So I started testing at 9 DPO this time, every day through today (12 DPO) and they're all negative.  80% of positives are found by this point (more when using the early tests as I am) and, well, I guess I'm not.

I'm kind of floored.  I've been having symptoms (nausea, breast tenderness, and exhaustion).  Really?  Nothing?  I'd seriously prefer another CP because then I could have my doctor order some testing.

I've been pretty down on myself to begin with, with not being able to find a job or do much of anything, but I could always get pregnant.  Apparently that isn't the case anymore, either.  I'm feeling like a complete failure and I'm not sure I want to try anymore.  Maybe everyone's right, that I should just be happy with the two babies I have.  But I'm feeling seriously discouraged and empty and just don't want to even think about having to do all of this again.

Sigh.

The good news is that the 3 bottles of wine I got for Christmas will be put to excellent use over the weekend.  And my husband doesn't drink wine.

Awesome Avery

OK, deep breath....back to normal.  Kinda.

I needed a happy post and a kitchen spill this morning gave me the perfect topic: my gorgeous little girl, Avery (I'll 'splain).

Quick birth story...  I actually went into labor with Avery while visiting my newborn niece, Riley, and her mom in the hospital.  Well, I lost my mucous plug and the contractions were noticeable.  (Did I gross you out?  Good.  It's a MOM blog, for goodness sake; of COURSE I'm going to talk about that stuff!)  But the contractions were far apart and irregular, so we went home, went to bed and assumed it was another (after 3 already) false alarm.  The next day, I couldn't pee and the contractions were still there, if still irregular.  Called the doc, they said I was dilating and to head to the hospital.  Went to the hospital, they hooked me up to stuff I didn't want hooked up to.  Epidural ran out, second one was screwed up, third (yes third) only kinda sorta worked.  After 26 hours, I was only 7.5 cm dilated (from the 4 when I checked in) and they pushed for a c-section.  Funny thing is, she apparently dropped while I was waiting for the OR.  She was so low, the doctor cut her nose during the incision.  So her first cry was while she was still inside me.  Weird, but kind of awesome, too.

Which is Avery in a nutshell.  She's a strange, fascinating child.  After my PPD and her colic, she was a pretty easy baby, and remains a pretty easy-to-please kid.  Just some of the reasons that I find her so awesome:

1.  She's an amazing big sister.  Most parents worry about changing that first-child dynamic when bringing another baby into the world.  She took to it like a fish to water.  Her personality was always a little more mature, but she's patient and helpful and still the irritating big sister she's supposed to be.  Most importantly, she adores Isaac.  I find her having the same exasperated-humored reactions to him that I do and I know that, despite the fact that he's a bothersome little brother, she loves him as much as Chris and I do.

2. She loves to help out.  The cat spilled water today and, while I was content to just let it dry 'cause I had stuff to do, she said, "I'll take care of it, Mama!" and grabbed the mop.  She does this all the time.  For a while, Isaac would only let her wipe his face and she was the only one who could get him to lie down for a diaper change without a fuss.  When dinner is being made, she's right there helping (usually Daddy) out.  When there's yardwork to be done, she wants to know what she can do (shovel, rake, sweep...).  Coolest to me is her willingness to clean up the stuff that I find gross, like cat hairballs, without batting an eyelash. ;-)

3. She's so loving.  She gives fantastic hugs.  When anybody is sad (and Mommy had a few moments last week), she's quick to climb up on their lap and comfort them (or, if it's Isaac, snuggle up beside him).  With two funerals in the family the week before my m/c, she knew her "job" was to simply hang out and give hugs.  (As I'm typing this, she's playing with her Tag Reader.  She stopped and said, "Mama, I love you.....sometimes all day!")  

4.  She's got an awesome brain.  She asks great questions.  For example, she's already asked where babies come from (she has a general idea; I haven't gotten into specifics).  She observes things in nature and wants to know more about them, like where the sun goes at night (a different part of the world) and why clouds sometimes have rain and sometimes don't..  But she remembers this stuff.  They say kids' minds are like sponges, but she memorizes lines for plays in an hour (her teacher has remarked on this) and remembers something I told her a year ago at appropriate moments now.  She truly amazes me with her thought processes.

5.  She's the little girl I never knew I wanted needed.  I was pretty freaked out when I was unexpectedly pregnant.  Then, I was hoping for a boy because that's what I knew (I have 2 brothers and 6 male cousins). When we found out we were having a girl, I told my husband as we were leaving the u/s that he was going to have to teach me what the hell to do with her (he had a few nieces at that point, one of which he had helped raise for a few years).  I was a tomboy, late to the fashion/makeup game, and ambivalent about mommyhood at all.  Not a great mix.  But she's amazing.  She thinks so much like me sometimes, even her tantrums amuse me and I relate to why she's upset.  It's one of those "kindred spirit" situations; I get her and she, somehow in her childlike way, gets me better than my husband does sometimes.  I really am a better person for having her.

As I listen to her making up songs (which she does all the time) and entertain her brother and tell stories and create games -- things she does all day, every day -- all I can do is sit back and smile.  We have very serious conversations about what snack she's taking in for school ("I need to remember my crackers...  No, wait.  What am I taking?  Oh, that's right.  Now...what's on them?") and silly conversations about serious topics ("Mommy, why do you love us?  Even when Isaac's stinky?")  She tells me what she needs ("Mommy, I need a kiss on my scratch.") and I do my best to provide those things.  And she's one of my favorite people...ever.

Bad Chemistry

I was going to write about my Black Friday adventures and gripe about anti-BF people and how they think it's okay to be obnoxious to those of us who hit the stores the day after Thanksgiving, but life intervenes and I need to air out another issue.

As of today, I've had my 3rd miscarriage.  That's a personal rate of 60% and, honestly, with odds like that I should be hitting the local casino.

My first was before Avery, when my husband and I had first moved in together.  I was on antibiotics and we were far too early on in the relationship to have a baby, so I suppose it was a blessing in disguise, but it was horrible.  I was actually amazed at how hard I took it given that I didn't want to be pregnant.

The next time was when we were trying to conceive our 2nd.  That took me a while to recover from, mainly because I wanted so badly to be pregnant.

Today, I got to call my doctor's office and report my 3rd "chemical pregnancy," which they really don't take very seriously.  There are women out there with "real" fertility and pregnancy complications and, especially since my losses weren't consecutive, it pretty much gets pushed aside with a "try again next month" attitude.  It really doesn't make it hurt any less.  I don't think I've stopped crying since I realized what was going on.

Naturally, however illogical, I'm blaming myself.  Did I drink too much caffeine?  Did I eat something I shouldn't have?  Once again, my crazy superstition about going to funerals while pregnant has been realized (all 3 losses were after attending a funeral...my great aunt died the day I ovulated; I know, it's dumb, but these things have a way of growing in a mind looking for ANY answer).  Worst, is there simply something wrong with me; am I destined to repeat this every time we try to conceive?  Hell, my husband's taken to joking about "getting through" another miscarriage before really getting pregnant again.  I know it's a coping mechanism, but it makes me feel inept.

So, as I wait for the doctor's office to call back, presumably to tell me there's nothing to do but bleed and try again, I'm watching my two beautiful babies play with each other.  I know I'm lucky and that I should be grateful for what I have.  I know amazing women who have been through losses so much greater than mine, strong women who survived what I don't know if I could survive.  But I simply feel empty and lonely and scared.