mystery uterus

How Do You Know When To Say Good-Bye?

I don't have much to say these days. Everything seems to be okay with the sprite (and that sound you hear is me knocking on wood so hard my knuckles bleed). My amnio is scheduled for next week, and I'm kind of nervous about that. Part of me, though, thinks that really everything will be fine. Another part is scared shitless.

I've been thinking a lot about why I don't have much else to say, and what the purpose of this blog is. I don't think I'm a natural blogger at heart. There are blogs out there where the author has true literary talent, and perhaps more importantly, seems to really enjoy and/or need to post frequently. These are the blogs that we all love and admire. But I'm not one of them. I think that my desire to post about my life has started to wane a bit. And, while my writing is decent, I'm no Julie, if you know what I mean.

When I started this blog, I was desperate, alone, scared, and in so deep I couldn't see straight. Infertility drove me to start a public blog -- something I might otherwise never have done. But thank jebus I did. Being able to write down the thoughts and feelings that were eating me alive, having contact with others going through the same experience (I wasn't alone!), it was amazing. And it saved me.

But if infertility hadn't been dropped in my lap, I really doubt that I would have started blogging. Just like, in an earlier era in my life, I would never have gone to therapy if I wasn't drowning in grad school anxiety and suffering from an eating disorder. Therapy did wonders for me, but I always knew that I couldn't -- or wouldn't -- stay in therapy forever. When I felt like many of my major issues had been discussed, and I was coping better and feeling pretty good, I left therapy. And that was, I believe, the right thing to do.

I think that blogging, at least for me, has functioned much like therapy. There are times in one's life when therapy or blogging is a lifeline, and to turn your back on something that might save your sanity would be foolhardy. Once I realized that I too could start my own blog, I jumped at the chance because I knew that I needed it. But when things begin to stabilize a bit, when you're not crying every day, or having a hard time getting out of bed, or facing challenges you think you just can't handle, then maybe it's time to bid a fond farewell to your therapist, er, blog -- knowing that someday you might be back, if things just get too tough.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but as the weeks go by, this feels more and more like a normal pregnancy to me. Even normal pregnancies come with their own share of fears, so I'm certainly not saying that I've managed to become worry-free. Far from it. But somehow, perhaps because I'm in the 2nd trimester, I'm slowly beginning to feel that my pregnancy is defined less by its infertile past and more by its future. I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, everything is going well and there will actually be a baby at the end of all this.

Would I have started a blog if I'd become pregnant in a reasonable amount of time, without a lot of medical intervention? Probably not. As my struggle with infertility becomes something I see in my rear-view mirror, I wonder if it makes sense for me to keep blogging. I can't really imagine going on forever. I don't think I'll be blogging about diapers and breastfeeding. I never really envisioned being the author of a mommy blog. Of course, that's because I couldn't really imagine becoming a mom. But that possibility becomes more real each day, which says to me that at some point, it might be time for me to close up shop.

Now just watch, I'll probably go into a neurotic tailspin next week, and hang on to my blog for dear life. So we'll see. But I am thinking about these issues. Because I do think at some point, you have to know when to say good-bye.

On Doctors and Coming Out

I had my second appointment with the OB yesterday, and all looks well. She used a doppler that looked exactly like the one I have at home to find the heartbeat. It's still there (yay!) and I think the bpm count was something like 156. Sounds like a good number to me.

Want to hear something weird? I miss my RE. Dr. Charmin. Remember her? She wasn't the warmest person in the whole world, but she did have a caring way about her. And she was always careful to give me a clear explanation of what she was doing, and why. I just kind of liked her. And between February and December we went through eight IUIs together, plus a lap. I mean, if that's not true love, what is?

Anyway, I just got used to her, to her way of doing things, her particular combination of kindness and professionalism. And I sorta miss her. Because I like my OB okay, but I only met her a month ago. And I don't really get her personality. She doesn't tell me much, and we don't click at all. Which is fine. As long as she delivers a healthy baby, I don't care that much. We don't have to be best friends. But she's no Dr. Charmin.

By the way, it seems that I have officially reached the end of the first trimester. It's time to go public. Wow.

She's Got The Beat. Yeah, She's Got The Beat (Updated!)

I found it! I found it! I finally found the baby's heartbeat, little sucker. I hadn't tried in a week. It was just too discouraging to look for it and find nothing. Especially after the whole spotting incident.

But I tried again today, and there it was! AH, the relief! I laid on my bed and cried a few thankful tears, while listening to that quick thumping melody. So for anyone out there who's doing the whole home doppler thing, and is possibly also having trouble locating the hearbeat, please note that I couldn't hear a thing until 13 weeks.

I don't have a doppler with electronic readouts of beats per minute, so I tried to count. From what I could tell, the rate was right around 120 bpm. Of course, because I am a neurotic freak, I immediately started worrying that the rate was too low. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be happy for once? I know that anything between 120 and 180 is normal, but still. I wish it were more like 130 or 150 bpm.

So there you have it. Exquisite joy and nagging anxiety, all in the space of about two minutes. But that's pretty much par for the course with this pregnancy. I suppose I should just get used to it. Mostly, though, I'm relieved and very very happy. Think I'll go do a little jig now.

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UPDATE:

Well, apparently pregnancy has so mushed my brain that I am no longer even capable of counting. My husband wasn't around when I found the heartbeat the first time, so last night we found it again so he could hear it. (He was, by the way, simultaneously thrilled and stunned senseless. Afterwards he kept walking around the house muttering, "there's so much to do. there's so much to do.")

Anyway, by his calculations, the doppler registered 168 bpm. He used my method of counting for 15 seconds, and then multiplying by four. 168 is a much better number for this stage in the pregnancy, from what my google medical library tells me. When I didn't believe him, he counted again just to be sure. Gee, who knew I had lost even my ability to count to double digits? But I'm liking that number, oh yes I am.

Resting

Thank you so so much for the thoughtful, sweet, considerate comments. It helps a ton knowing you're out there thinking of me. I didn't want my silence to make anyone think things had taken a turn for the worse. So here's the good news: I've had no more spotting since yesterday morning (knock on wood).

I decided to take the day of from work today and rest. My doctor didn't ask me to do this, but I've read so many times that other women have been sent to bedrest after an episode of spotting. And I thought, why not? It's probably overreacting, I'm probably exceedingly paranoid, but I don't care. I'd rather be overly cautious then go running off to another hectic day at work and find things getting bloodier. Just don't feel like taking the risk.

So I've spent the entire day crashed out on the couch watching bad TV and guzzling water. And that's where I'm about to return, after I post this little update.

210 hours until my next ultrasound. tick tock.

Pink (Updated)

Trace of pink on my toilet paper this morning. My heart fell when I saw it. I'm a couple of days past 12 weeks, and I don't know what -- or how bad -- faint spotting might be at this point.

Trying to stay calm, but am scared. Doctor's office doesn't open for an hour, and I'm supposed to be at a meeting then. Maybe I'll call in sick.

Please, please, let this be nothing.

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UPDATE:
Finally spoke with the nurse this morning, who told me just to keep an eye on the spotting. I'm not supposed to do anything more strenuous than I would normally during my daily routine, and I'm to call her if it turns red or if I have cramping.

And that's it! What does a girl have to do to get seen by these people? No heartbeat at home? Don't worry about it. Pink spotting? Keep an eye on it. And we'll see you at your next regular appointment, which isn't for a week and a half.

She also told me to drink lots of water, which I do anyway, but now I'll drink more. I have no idea how this relates to spotting, but I do what I'm told. *glug glug glug*

Sigh. Thank you for your kind comments. I am trying not to stress out, but it's hard.

On Fear

Does anyone else find themselves composing posts in their heads at work, eating breakfast, in the middle of the night, in the car? I've been thinking about this one for the last few days, and have finally gotten around to getting it up. Partly because work takes every spare ounce of my energy, partly because I keep thinking if I don't post about my fear then maybe it will go away.

But it's not going away.

I am a mess these days, and a huge pain in the ass to be around. I'm quick to anger, irritable, cranky, peevish, and generally in a bad mood most of the time. I'm sure that some of this can be attributed to the fact that, physically, I still feel pretty lousy. I'm bone tired and still fighting some nausea, so that's not helping, I guess.

Yet I know that my emotions can't be blamed just on these physical things, even though it is hard to keep perspective when you're so tired you want to cry. No, at the heart of my moods is fear, pure and simple. I am anxious and scared. This fear is, of course, much different -- and much more welcome -- than the fear I experienced during the hell of trying to conceive. No doubt about that. But during those months, I felt sure that if I could just manage to get a positive beta, and survive the first week or two, then the clouds would lift and I could finally be happy again.

The clouds did lift, as the misery of my infertility seemed finally to abate, but it's not all rainbows and unicorns now that I'm on the other side. Now I have a beloved, tiny creature inside of me, and I am terrified that something will happen to it. I think that not finding the heartbeat at home has really exaggerated these fears for me. Even though I know, thanks to your helpful comments and my doctor's, that it might just be too early. But rationality is not the issue here. Of course, the chances are good that everything is just fine, and that this journey will end with a healthy baby. But logic and statistics got nothin' on the raw emotions of a woman who wonders every day if the bad news she got so used to while trying to conceive will come back to haunt her once again.

So I live with this quiet but profound fear, wishing I could look through a window in my belly to see if the fetus is still okay. (Didn't Tertia or Julia once suggest this as an invention?) And this deep-seated fear fills me with a strange kind of rage. I know that must sound really weird, and oddly aggressive. I guess I'm just not handling the uncertainty well at all. I don't sound very well-adjusted do I?

There was a big discussion a few days ago, over at Jen's and Sherry's, about what should happen to an infertile's blog if she gets pregnant. It started because Jen was upset about the overly happy comments from a couple of pregnant bloggers, and I recognized the awful pain that prompted her post. Yet when I was struggling, when I was in the midst of my own infertility hell, some times it was the complaints of pregnant infertiles that I found difficult to understand, more than the positive posts. (Not all the time, just every now and then.) And now here I am, pregnant and therefore damn lucky, but complaining and full of fear. If the past me was reading posts by the current me, I might have been annoyed. I really didn't expect to feel like this. And I certainly didn't expect these dark feelings to compete so vigorously with my happiness. But it feels like the fear is winning, at least this week, and I don't really know what to do about it.

Today there's another good post at Jen's, about whether there should be a kind of code of behavior for pregnant infertiles' blogs. One question is whether the title should be changed, so that the blog is clearly no longer about infertility, which would protect innocent infertiles from stumbling on -- and being hurt by -- pregnant postings. I completely understand the reasoning behind this, but I've kept my title so far. I haven't even changed anything in my "About" section. For me, I couldn't even think of making these changes until I've made it through the first trimester. I'm so scared something could go wrong, so that seems to me to be the earliest time I could even consider morphing publicly into a different kind of blogger. I have planned on making some changes, though, at the appropriate time, because I really don't want to introduce any more pain into the lives of those who already are suffering. And hopefully by then, I'll be riding one of those unicorns instead of this damn bull of fear.

Who Me, Worry?

Thank you so much for your suggestions and information about the home doppler. I tried all of them but have still not been able to find a heartbeat. I got very excited on Saturday when I thought I'd found it, but after counting beats per minute, realized it was just my own sluggish ol' thumping heart. Bummer.

I stopped trying after a few days, figuring that I could respond to the doppler silence in one of two ways. I could melt down, panic, and convince myself that something is terribly terribly wrong. I tried that for a while, but it was too exhausting. Or I could be mature and calm about it, realizing that some times the heartbeat is just really hard to pick up until later in the pregnancy. So I've tucked the doppler away for a while, and will try again this weekend, when I hit 12 weeks.

As it happens, I had to call my doc's office today to schedule an appointment, so I figured I might as well tell them about the doppler and ask whether it might be a good idea for me to come in so they could check. The nurse told me that even they can't find a heartbeat some times until after 12 weeks, so there's nothing to worry about. So no, she said, you don't need to come in. Well, I tried.

Nothing to worry about. Easier said than believed, but that's my mantra for the week: nothing to worry about nothing to worry about nothing to worry about. I am the queen of zen, the doge of calm, filled with non-anxious thoughts of love and peace. Yeah, right. But that's my story and I'm sticking to it.