Tag Archives: ivf

Parenting reflections on day 72

Posted in Reflections by

I’m exactly 72 days into parenting. 10 weeks and some change. At this particular moment I’m sitting at Whole Foods, large latte and muffin beside me, while a dear friend is with my little prince. I’m rested, showered and happy to be out. And —finally, reflecting on motherhood. Lesson number 1: reflection goes out the window when you’re a new mom. Who has the time to reflect? Life is a daily grind and a constant shuffle of strategic attempts to keep your baby fed, sleeping and dry. Success is momentary: I got the baby to sleep (bonus points if it’s in one of the actual sleeping designations versus in my arms); he seems full, he had a good poop, a good burp, good toots … the fanfare over bodily functions is no small thing! Success also comes in the form of a shower, getting out of the house, a lovely stroller ride where my little one doesn’t scream his head off and a successful stroll around the house or Target with Eliot in the ergo. I don’t even feel reflective enough to say, “it’s the little things” because it IS the little things—they are BIG things, and every triumph is in earnest these days.

That said, today I’m reflecting. I’m reflecting and eating a piece of cake masked as a muffin (german chocolate muffin, seriously Whole Foods?) because really I’m celebrating my most recent success, which is a sleep schedule. For 8 consecutive days I’ve put Baby E down at 8 PM and he’s slept, minus two brief feedings, until 8 AM. I know enough to know not to get too attached to the good or the bad during these changing baby days but still [for now] … if I’m dealing with a good sleeper, this is a game changer. (I can’t help the optimism; it’s in my DNA!) When Eliot (and I would think this goes for ALL babies) gets good naps and good sleep at night, the world is a better place. Cue the chirping birds.

A few words about Eliot: He’s such a delight. He’s giving away smiles in spades these days and mostly just looks at me and the world around him with these big, curious dirt-brown eyes … like he knows something the rest of us don’t. He loves taking baths with me—loves being submerged in the water; he’s pretty chill with most people and often calms down when we go outside—the great equalizer, much like his mama. I can get lost with him most days in the  cocoon of our home, listening to The Wiggles and reciting the nursery rhymes and rhythms I’m learning in baby yoga, provoking smiles and coos. Yesterday at BYOB (bring your own baby) Yoga another mom looked at us both and said, “He’s starting to look so much like you!” I just smiled, thinking of my little adopted embryo doppelgänger. What a little miracle, all of it.

It’s not all baby bliss. I get board. I get lonely. Occasionally I get blue. I’m impatient and cranky on days where the whining doesn’t seem to let up. But the mainstay of my mood has (thankfully) been one of optimism and gratitude. The love is real. And oh so sweet.

I’m heading back to work next week. Leaving my little cabbage with his “manny” (male nanny) starting Monday. His manny, who happens to live across the street, truly loves my little guy, which is the main comfort for a going-back-to-work mama. I’ll be working in three hour increments so in a way I’m dipping my toes into a world outside of baby. Still coming home to nurse. And before I know it he’ll be a quarter of a year old, then a year old, then in high school … make it stop!

If I have any true reflection from the past 72 days it is this: Parenting is a LOT of work. Babies are all need right out of the shoot, and unapologetically so. The crying jags are real; the witching hours (for us 5 PM-7 PM) are real, and the hormonal sways are real. But when I can totally surrender —generally what baby wants, baby gets —and maintain my sense of humor when plans are thwarted or baby makes a sport out of crying, the sweet moments are the sweetest of my life. And tomorrow is always a new day.

That’s all I got. (Literally. My time is up. Have to go relieve my friend and feed the baby!)

babyeliot-6

Bambino Time / Take Two

Posted in Pregnant by

Hello long lost blog. It’s been a while … a little over a year, to be exact. Well, in that little-over-a-year I got pregnant. So, that’s exciting! It’s a bit of a miracle story, how it all went down. Here’s the scoop:

After my last post I took a break for a few months and then saddled back up to the sperm donor sites last February. I went to Australia for a few weeks, came home and tried again. This time with shots and meds … the whole bit. Didn’t get prego but I did get discouraged and started to wonder if this was really my path.

At that point, May 2014, my doctor suggested an embryo adoption. This is where the potential mother adopts an embryo left over from another person’s IVF cycle. They are referred to as “snowflake babies,” which may be a bit cutesy for my personal sensibilities, but I digress. He recommended this as it’s a lot cheaper than IVF (around $12k versus $$40k) and I’d have a higher success rate, since I DID have post-40-year-old eggs. It was a lot to take in. After that appointment I jumped in a car with three girlfriends for a road trip to Asheville, NC, cried a bit, grieving the newest hand dealt—0 DNA versus 1/2 of my DNA, and then we started listening to 80’s music and cracking up and essentially, I put the whole baby drama aside.

I moved into a beautiful new house, played interior decorator for a few months, got on with my summer and courted a little around-the-world romance with a bloke I’d met in Australia.

And then.

I got the call. On Thursday, July 31st actually, two days before my 42nd birthday. That night I was hosting a party for 30+ people for visiting friends from Australia. My cousin from L.A. was coming in for the weekend. It was going to be a bustling birthday weekend!

“We have an embryo ready for you. Do you want it?”

“Uh…”

They sent me limited info, including: picture of the egg donor and her biological child. She is petite, hispanic, sweet smile and her child is beautiful (looks to be around six in the picture). They sent info on the sperm donor—profile from California Cryobank: Irish, dark hair and eyes, 5.11”, lawyer, plays guitar, good teeth, no picture. Not a couple. Both donors. Both want to be kept anonymous.

Of course I had so many questions. Mainly, who put this DNA together if it’s not a couple?! Apparently another woman did. Was she single, gay, married; why did she hand pick this egg and sperm donor? I don’t know her story. What I DO know is that she didn’t achieve pregnancy, and instead of trying again she decided to put her leftover embryo’s up for adoption.

Cut to: Me. At work, getting a voicemail from a nurse, whilst in-between clients, asking if I wanted this embryo.

I eventually said yes. We set an appt for two weeks later. And then I said wait. Too much, too soon. I wasn’t emotionally prepared for an IVF cycle—four months of daily inter-muscular hip shots, 3 vaginal inserts a day, 8 pills a day. And so much money … I held off until November, still a bit ambivalent but glad to know that there was an embryo out there, mine for the taking, if I wanted it.  Literally days prior to the revised appt (now in Oct) I decided to say YES to this unconventional option in front of me.

And I did it. A month of birth control, hormones, stomach and then hip shots, blood draws … all in preparation for the big ET –embryo transfer day.  My friend K went with me to the hospital.  I signed lots of papers, was given a Xanax, taken to a room with lots of nurses and my doc came in and implanted two embryo’s in my uterus. My nearest and dearest brought food and company during the four days of bed rest following the transfer. I took shots and suffered sore, bruised and lumpy hips. In the middle of the night on week two, when I got up to use the rest room I took a test, on a whim. I fell back asleep before I saw the results. The next morning whilst brushing my teeth I looked down (I’d forgotten I’d taken it) and lo and behold, two lines.

Still sleepy, I called my friend K. “I think I might be pregnant.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s two lines. OMG!”

And that was the grand moment of discovery.

I went to Arizona the next day for Thanksgiving break and told my family. I was happy but the fatigue was so unrelenting it was hard to feel much of anything, besides sleepy and zoned out. My family started to excite over the first “designer baby” in the family. I played happy too.

Meanwhile, I was having a little bit of buyers (or rather, psuedo-baby-making) remorse. I was so sore from the shots, tired beyond belief, moody and bloated from all the pills and the guy from Sydney lost interest after the pregnancy news … two weeks in and I already wanted my “old life” back! Be careful what you ask for.

My saving grace was history. I have a history of loving children, and of wanting them. On my faith journey I would pray that all that love and affection would kick back in. And finally, it did. When I started bleeding.

Six weeks in I bled. I tried not to worry. After three days of spotting it turned bright red, which is the opposite of okay when you’re pregnant. I left work in an emotional frenzy one afternoon for an emergency ultrasound, to see if the pregnancy was still viable. J, my loyal colleague, held my hand in the sonogram room as we waited TWO HOURS for my doctor to come in. The ultrasound showed an embryo sac. I cried tears of relief.

Two days later I bled profusely, worse than a menstrual cycle. Blood clots. Cramps. I was so scared, panicked really. I knew I was having a miscarriage but it was so confusing as my hormone numbers were so good two days earlier, the embryo sac was there, with my developing baby. My only hope was that it was a vanishing twin. I was miscarrying the second embryo. When we did the ultrasound—K holding my hand, both of us crying, the embryo sac showed up. So did a healthy little heartbeat! 147 bpm. What a strange sensation to be grieving and then rejoicing with the same set of tears.

It was a “vanishing twin” and although I was relieved with the sight of one healthy embryo, I grieved my second baby. All so surreal, really. Two babies for six weeks.

And then there was one. And there’s still one. With ear buds, developing vocal chords, a huge noggin and a strong heartbeat.

I’m now on week 13.  Baby is the size of a peach. Just a few more shots ALLELUIA, pills and vaginal inserts. Placenta is taking over and no need to artificially take care of the baby anymore. I’ve finally made it into the normal-pregnant-woman’s club versus the high-risk IVF pregnant one.  Next week I get the release from the infertility doctor and will start seeing my midwife from here on out.  Have gained lots of breast weight so far, but that’s about it … so more “porn star” than “pregnancy glow” at this stage as I’m still waiting for a little baby bump.  Dreaming up nursery themes, researching parenting philosophies and lamaze classes and feeling like a pregnant cliche, as I ate two jars of pickles JUST this past week!

Mama bear is thrilled in her core, that this little mystery miracle baby is living and growing and manifesting inside her; inside me. God willing, I’m having a baby when I turn 43.  Due date is August 6, 2015. My birthday is August 2, 1972. “I’ll be a grandma having a baby,” I joke with my friends.  Always a truth in jest …

Life is so strange. And I’m so very grateful.  Oh, and he’s a BOY! Here he is, week 13, showing off his junk.  Ultrasound was from this morning! I’m over the moon.