What Dreams May Come

I don't really know what to say about this year. For the most part, I'm pretty sure it was disappointing. One year ago I was so excited and hopeful thinking, "By this time next year, I'll be pregnant for sure!" We all know how that turned out. But in these dark times, there were also rays of sunshine. I never thought I would get that amazing moment where you think to yourself, "Hmm, my period is kind of late. What's up with that?" I thought for sure I was sending Brian on a fool's errand when he bought that pee stick that shocked the hell out of us. We never knew anything about that baby, but s/he gave us a moment we always longed for and will forever cherish. And with our second pregnancy, well, I got a daughter. I may never hold her in my arms, but she will be forever held in my heart and memory.

Twenty-twelve also was a very rewarding year as Noah's mommy. He has developed such a silly and feisty personality that makes my heart grow every day. Who knows what 2013 will bring. Maybe I'll get and stay pregnant. Maybe I won't. No matter what, I hope that in the end I can see the rays of sunshine.




So, Happy New Year friends. I hope we get everything we dream for.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye

Five and a half years ago, my friend Maggie's sister Rachel moved to Denver. She found a roommate, Noelle, through a website. Noelle moved from St. Louis. The first time I met her we all went out on the town. She was dressed all chic and looked like someone straight off of the first season or two of America's Next Top Model. She was tall, stylish, and had a cute cropped haircut that only a select few can pull off. I never really expected to become close friends with her. She was more of an acquaintance for the first couple of years that I knew her. But then she got pregnant just before me. We had our boys 3 months and 11 days apart. On my due date, her adorable little Wilson sat on my lap and knocked on my belly, as if he was inviting his soon-to-be best friend to come out and play.

Silly Wilson

Noelle is the amazing friend who quit her job days before I had to go back to work and agreed to drive to our house every morning to watch Noah. I think she saved my life by doing that because I was terrified about leaving Noah at a stranger's house when he was so little. We didn't pay her nearly what she was worth, something I still feel guilty about. She has been one of my biggest supporters throughout our infertility struggles. Despite having no fertility issues of her own, she just seems to get it better than the rest of my fertile friends. We have bonded through countless play dates, birthday parties, and get-togethers with our boys. Noelle was the first to pout and complain when Brian and I talked about moving to Minnesota. "But what will Wilson do without his best friend?" she would lament.


One of many play dates at Monkey Bizness

On Thursday, Noelle turned the tables. She moved back to St. Louis to start a new job. We were supposed to get together last Saturday one last time, but poor Noah was still getting over his fever. On Wednesday the boys FaceTimed their goodbyes, and by goodbyes I mean Wilson ate crackers and laughed at Noah while he ran around pretending to drill things. Oh, it has been so much fun to watch these two baby boys grow up into silly toddlers with messy faces, who bang on xylophones and watch movies without any pants on.

To Noelle, Earl, Wilson, and baby Ethan, you will all be incredibly missed! Your friendship has meant so much to me. Thank you for everything!

Christmas in Pictures



Sampling some cookies on Christmas Eve



He loved the toffee!

Opening his first gifts

Noah got a toy car you can build. He fell in love with the screw driver. Watch for it in other pictures!

Reading "The Night Before Christmas"

Fixin' stuff with Uncle Brady

We tried to take a family photo. Apparently Noah thought my face needed fixing...

Sweet screw driver dreams. (Noah woke us up in the middle of the night claiming there was a lady bug in his bed. After I shook out all the blankets he told me he wanted to go "screw things." Hmm...)

"Santa" putting the train set together

Coming down the stairs Christmas morning

Checking for more loot in his stocking

Eating a candy cane, watching his train, and holding his claw grabber. This is little boy heaven.

We really did get a white Christmas! Sledding with Grandpa!

And with Grandma!

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Love,
Lisa, Brian, Noah, and our angels.



Merry Christmas!

I knew I wouldn't be able to actually follow through on my idea of jotting down something I am grateful for every day. Here is my attempt at catching up.
I am grateful that Noah recovered from his terrible illness just in time to be spoiled by his grandparents. We are kicking off a full week of Christmas since all grandparents reserved their own time slot this holiday. We are lucky to be in education so we can enjoy two weeks off each year to accomodate them all!
I am grateful for the white Christmas they are predicting for Denver. I can't remember the last time we had a snowfall on the actual holiday, and I am so excited! Call me sappy, but I like to think it's my Christmas gift from our two angels up above.
I am also grateful that we were able to get Noah's picture with Santa done in the "Nick" of time. (Sorry for the bad pun.) Turns out waiting til the last minute was a good idea because there was hardly any line.

Merry Christmas!!

Rolling With the Punches

Lately I feel like a big Debbie Downer. Complain, complain, complain. I don't particularly like feeling this way, but oh my goodness it feels like the universe is just raining shit on us. Here's the latest, in bullets, because I'm lazy and exhausted.

• On Tuesday I used the bathroom at work and discovered that I was bleeding again. This time it actually resembles a period with cramps and consistent flow. It's much heavier than normal, but at this point I've given up on anything "normal" happening down there for a while. I had to reschedule my sonohysterogram to January 2nd as a result, so I'll be kicking off the new year with my feet in stirrups. Seems appropriate.
• Also on Tuesday, Brian brought Gilbert (our shih-tzu/yorkie mix) to the vet for x-rays. He went out to pee on Sunday and came back in the house limping. Well, guess who tore his right knee and needs surgery? Combined with all of my medical bills as of late, our savings account should be empty in no time.
• Over the weekend Noah came down with a cough and fever. It has stuck around all week, peaking in awfulness yesterday it seems. Sleep around here has been scant. It's like having a newborn again. He wakes himself up coughing every 10-15 minutes (on a good night), then wakes up crying out for me 2-3 times per night. He looks like a comatose zombie most of the time, and refuses to eat or drink. Brian took him to the doctor Monday and everything pointed to a virus. Last night we brought him back to urgent care due to his deteriorating appetite and concerns over dehydration. They concluded he has the flu. I feel like a shit parent for forgetting to get his flu shot earlier this fall. Today I am spending my 11th full day off of work since the school year started so I can try to nurse this poor kid back to health. So far he's eaten a small bowl of dry fruit loops and drank some juice. Progress? God I hope so. I can't handle another night like last.
• On our way home from urgent care last night, Brian asked me if I had remembered to wish one of our friends a happy birthday. I said no. He then asked me if I had seen his FaceBook status yet. I asked if I wanted to. It was a pregnancy announcement for baby number two, three weeks before our should be due date.

Brian aptly pointed out that many of the crummy things that have happened in the last couple of months are things you sign up for when you have a kid and a pet. And he's right. Kids get sick. Spastic little dogs can get injured. Periods are normal. Friends get pregnant and have kids. The only exceptionally shitty parts of this year were our two lost chances at having a baby. However, it just feels like a lot to deal with when all of these hard things have happened in the last two months.

Since I am now on Winter Break thanks to Noah's flu, I am going to try to document one thing I am grateful for over every day til the end of the year. I have no idea if I can actually follow through, but it's worth a shot. To kick it off, obviously the number one thing I am grateful for is my son. Noah is the brightest spot in our lives, without a doubt. We are so lucky to have him! I know this now more than ever.

Negative

As of Friday, my HCG level was finally below 5 (but still not 0) which is considered negative. No more blood draws for now. Yay!

In other news, Noah came down with a bad cough Friday night and developed a fever last night. He topped out at 101.8 today but ibuprofen seems to be helping. My poor little guy. At least he got sick the week before our Christmas break, and not during. Although there's still a chance that I will get sick over the break. Considering my luck, it's probably a guarantee. I am so over 2012.

And a quick funny story to end with. Last night Noah woke up around 4:15am coughing and crying. I went to get him and brought him in bed with us. We tried sleeping for a little bit while sharing my pillow, and at one point he asked for me. "Mommy?" "Yes Noah?" I turned my face toward him. He whacked me with the back of his hand and told me, "Go to sleep!" What a stinker!

Where To Begin?

To put it in a nutshell, this week has sucked. Hard. I really wanted to keep my happy mood, but a girl can only take so much.

After the bleeding incident on Sunday, the rest of the day was fine. I figured it was over. Monday morning I drove to work and as I stepped my first foot out of the car, whoosh!, out came another huge gush of blood. I promptly pulled my leg back in the car and high-tailed it home. I called the after-hours hotline again and they scheduled me an appointment with the OB. While I waited for my appointment I scrubbed out yet another pair of pants and tried my best to get the blood off my car seat. What fun. I got to sit in the waiting room with all the happy pregnant ladies, again, then had a quick ultrasound. The OB said she couldn’t see any evidence of retained material from the pregnancy, and said my uterus looked as it should during a healthy woman’s menstrual period. Her conclusion was that since I never bled much following the miscarriage, I just had one heavy-duty period on my hands. Lucky me!

I went back to work and tried to get through the rest of the day. I had a few other incidents of passing big clots, but luckily no additional episodes of sudden heavy bleeding. By early evening I figured it was finally over. I had no interest in cooking so we went out to dinner. Soon after being seated, my stomach started to hurt. It felt a little like the crampy sensations you get when you have the flu. I was able to eat though, which I found encouraging. I started to feel slightly better, but as I scooted out of the booth to leave I felt a small gush. I looked at Brian with horror in my eyes and told him that things were about to get really bad. I tried a couple times to slowly stand up, but each time I felt more blood leak out. Eventually I came to the conclusion that there was nothing I could do. I was about to bleed all over Old Chicago. I stood up and felt a huge clot pass, along with heavy blood flow. Brian tied my jacket around my waist and walked behind me to minimize anything people might be able to see. When we got home, my jeans were soaked all the way down to my knees. There were three huge clots in my underwear. I was no longer convinced that this could be a period. I called back to the after-hours hotline and the nurse told me to go the ER. They did hardly anything and looked at me like I was wasting their time. In the end, they agreed that I was just experiencing a very heavy period and sent me home. Thanks for nothing. We went to the store on our way home so I could buy the “ultra” tampons and industrial size pads. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” was playing over the speakers. Something about that song and my situation made me want to break down in tears. A Merry Christmas? I’m walking around a grocery store at 10:00pm buying bad-ass feminine protection because I’m having the period from hell following a miscarriage. Not so much.

Tuesday the bleeding seemed to have ceased. One small break from the universe. I called my clinic to reschedule my weekly HCG check from Wednesday to Friday. When the OB checked my level Monday it was at 10, and I figured pushing things back to Friday would better guarantee that I would finally get below 5 and end this garbage. I also asked the nurse if she could please check on the chromosomal testing that was done so that I could have that information for my consult in the afternoon with our new (old) doctor. She said she would call me back. I had been mentally preparing myself for finding out the sex. What I didn’t really prepare for was all of the other information. The nurse finally called back and said the results were in. She asked if I wanted to know the sex and I said yes. She then asked if she should fax the info to our new clinic, or to me, or if she could just email it. I told her to email. Then she finally told me that the result was normal. No chromosomal problems. I didn’t hear her mention the sex at all, so I decided to wait for the email. I was already too upset, and I was standing in the hallway of my school with a teacher waiting to talk to me. As the day wound down, I downloaded the report off of my email so I could print it. That’s when I finally saw it. “46 XX. Normal female result.” It was like a punch to the gut. A chromosomally normal baby girl. All I could think was, “then why?”

As I drove to our new clinic to see our old doctor, my stomach started to hurt terribly again. I was worried that another bleeding episode was upon me and would prevent me from being able to go to the appointment. Luckily the pain was not accompanied by bleeding so I was able to suck it up and go. Dr. A was his usual amazing self. Even if he didn’t remember us, he pretended that he did. He asked if we had pictures of our son, so we gave him the long-overdue thank you card with pictures of him at 2 months old. Unlike our last doctor, he had obviously reviewed our files and knew all of the background from our previous cycles, and even knew exactly how many embryos we had left. We chatted about logistical details such as med protocols (no PIO with him, woohoo!) and dietary suggestions. Then I finally brought up our chromosomal results and asked him what he thought could have gone wrong. He looked at the report and thanked us for bringing it up. He quickly checked the time, realized we were his last appointment for the day, and then told us we could stay as long as we wanted to discuss his thoughts. This is why I love this man.

Dr. A gave us 7 different areas to consider. The first was genetics. Even though our baby was chromosomally normal, that doesn’t guarantee anything about genetics. Despite having the right chromosomes, the genes could be all messed up and there is no way of knowing that. Dr. A said that for a typical woman of my age, the odds of a genetically abnormal baby are about 15 percent. That’s just life and there is nothing we can do about it. That would mean that approximately 1 in 6 embryos will be abnormal. He actually believes it is even more likely that about 1 in 3 will be abnormal. I don’t exactly know why, but whatever. This discouraged the hell out of me because if it’s 1 out of 6, maybe we have just one funky blast left. But if it’s 1 in 3, there are three potential non-viable blasts left. I shouldn’t complain because we’re so beyond lucky to have 9 remaining. But with the odds of getting pregnant with FET at about 50% (Dr. A suspects my odds are higher) and the odds of having a genetically screwed up blast transferred is 33%, it feels so impossible. How do normal people beat all of these shitty odds so easily? It’s not fucking fair.

The second area he hit on was infection. With our fresh cycle back in 2009, Dr. A had me taking doxycycline, an antibiotic, pre- and post-transfer. We didn’t do this during our FET, and he explained that Dr. B doesn’t believe in it. However, when he was younger he worked on a ranch and helped impregnate cows. Those that were given antibiotics were shown to have better pregnancy rates. Dr. A recommended that I stay on a low dose of antibiotics through early pregnancy next time. Although I am not a cow, I am fully on board with this plan.

He then moved on to the area of prostaglandins. I don’t remember what he had to say about this, but the recommendation to help was to use low-dose aspirin during early pregnancy. We had this on board, so probably not our issue.

The next area was autoimmune issues or thrombophilia. His suggestion was to run some blood tests. If this is an area of concern, I will need to have low dose Heparin throughout my next pregnancy. More shots, but I’ll do whatever it takes.

On to number five. There could be an issue with my uterus. My hysteroscopy was done before my chemical pregnancy, then I had a possible “abnormal” ultrasound in July which canceled our first FET. It’s possible that things are not as they should be. So, next week I will have a sonohysterogram to check out how my lady bits are looking. It’s recommended after a miscarriage anyways.

The last two possible issues were hormonal problems and alloimmunity. We will be checking my thyroid and vitamin D levels, along with progesterone. The alloimmunity had something to do with the body not recognizing fetal tissue which leads to complications. I didn’t totally understand that either. Not sure how they test for that, but if it were an issue I would need high doses of progesterone.

So that’s that. I left feeling discouraged. It seems overwhelming and so impossible. I know it can happen because we have Noah, but it feels like our luck has run out. I’m sure once we get the ball rolling on all of these tests and start to form a plan for the next transfer things will start to feel a little easier. In terms of timing, Dr. A would like me to have one more period before we start a new cycle. He also wants to check the upcoming schedule and make sure that it’s not too busy. He doesn’t want us to rush through the process just to get it done. He would rather take our time and make sure he can give us the attention we deserve.

I also have a consult with Dr. B set up in January. The nurse said he wanted to offer a free appointment to discuss his thoughts on our miscarriage. I have very little interest in sticking with him, but I am curious what his thoughts are. If it’s free, hey why not?

As for the bleeding, it has basically stopped. I still have PTSD every time I stand up after sitting for a while, but so far so good. It’s hard to believe that was my period, but there’s no other good explanation. Hopefully the next one will be normal. Fingers crossed.

Well, that sucked.

Today we had a neighbor over to watch the Vikings vs. Bears game. We are avid Vikings fans, and he is a Bears fan. We were having a nice afternoon and his little boy and Noah were playing happily together. Noah asked me to get out some magic paper for his magic marker. I stood up from the couch and walked over to the shelf. As I reached for the paper, I felt this sensation of wetting my pants. At first it just felt like a trickle, but then it turned to a full on gush. It was such an awkward moment. I could tell it had completely saturated my entire crotch area and was beginning to run down my legs. I backed out of the room (literally) as subtly as possible and then bolted for the upstairs bathroom. 

***TMI ALERT***

It was like a scene out of a slasher film. I can't even begin to explain how much blood was pooled in my jeans. I ripped off my clothes, threw them in the tub, and sat on the toilet while blood continued to drain out of me. I caught a big clot and examined it, then waited as it turned back to a trickle and then mostly stopped. I called for Brian and he brought me my phone. He looked pretty concerned when he saw the scene in front of him, but stayed calm. I called our after hours care and they decided I probably had some retained tissue which worked its way out. I tend to agree since I never really bled heavily after the miscarriage itself, and the last ultrasound I ever had showed a small clot and very thick lining left inside. I'll follow up with the OB tomorrow, unless I start bleeding more and then it's off to the ER. Of course this was a traumatic experience, but I am so glad it happened at home. I can't even begin to imagine what I would have done had I been at work or out at a store or restaurant. 

Ok Universe. I am over this. Please stop now.

But hey, the Vikings won! I guess you can only ask for so much.

Life Is Good

There's something about going through something awful that can restore some of your faith in humanity. Since my miscarriage, I have been amazed at the outpouring of love and kindness people have shown me. Friends and family have reached out in so many ways. Some have just offered shoulders to cry on, others have offered to bring us meals or watch Noah so we can get a break. People have sent me songs and poems, and opened up about their own personal experiences with loss. I have felt very loved and supported, which is exactly what I needed.

I don’t know what exactly did it, but something switched on in me around Friday of last week. I went to work that day in a phenomenal mood. Despite having a rather difficult IEP meeting to attend at the end of the day, I felt really relaxed and happy. I tend to be a high anxiety type of person, but my edginess was absent. And so far, this new state of mind has now lasted an entire week. Part of it could be that the week-long headache I was plagued with finally subsided over the weekend. (I was becoming paranoid that it was literally killing me.) Part of it could be that my hormone levels are dropping off (beta=25 yesterday, yay!). And part of it could be that I really and truly love the Christmas season, especially with Noah around, which makes it nearly impossible to be depressed and mopey. But I think a lot of it has been all of the kindness I’ve been shown recently.

And with my new happier mood, I also have a renewed sense of optimism. I really believe that I will get another shot at carrying a baby to term. I am going to have to wait longer than I wanted to, and might have more unforeseen obstacles in my way, but I trust that it will happen. And when it does, it will only be that much sweeter. I’m also no longer afraid to find out what we lost. Whenever the chromosomal/genetic testing results come back (soon I hope, I’m getting impatient), I am fully ready to find out if we had a baby boy or girl. I think for me this will make the whole thing a little less abstract, and although that might bring up some harder feelings, I want to remember that I really was pregnant and I really was carrying a little life inside of me. It wasn’t just a dream or a little phase that I passed through. With a miscarriage you have nothing to show for what you had, so knowing more about our baby feels important to me. (Sorry if that doesn’t make sense. I can’t quite put it into words.)

Don’t get me wrong though. I am still very sad about what happened. It still stings to see pregnant bellies and hear pregnancy announcements. (Shut up already about Will and Kate! I don’t care!) I still haven’t mustered up the nerve to see any of my pregnant friends. It’s not that I think they won’t be sensitive to me, but I worry about other people’s innocent remarks upsetting me. Those people who don’t know what I’ve just gone through won’t realize that when they ask my friend how the pregnancy is going, it’s going to be like a punch to the gut for me. But, I am definitely doing a great job of keeping that sadness and emptiness in the very back of my mind. I refuse to waste another single moment of Noah’s childhood wallowing in self-pity. He’s going to be grown in the blink of an eye, and I don’t want to miss any of it!

So, I’ve decided that life really is good, if not great, even though shitty things happen sometimes. I really hope this mindset sticks around!

Getting Through

It’s been about a month since we lost our baby, and three weeks since we found out. In that time I’ve done a lot of reflecting. To be perfectly honest, I was worried from the start. All of the things I’m about to share were thoughts I had since the day of transfer. I think I didn’t share them here for fear that if I typed them, they would come true. Now I know that’s just silly. What will be will be, regardless of whether or not I express my fears. On the day of transfer, the picture of our embryo looked kind of funny to me. I remember with Noah, I looked at the picture and just marveled. My gut instinct when I saw our thawed embryo was, hmm, that doesn’t look right. But really, what do I know? Clearly a thawed embryo will probably look different since they often still need to hydrate and expand after the picture is taken. But I did feel it, so I’m sharing that. Obviously our beta results didn’t wow me either. A 62 hour doubling time seemed pretty darn slow. With our first ultrasound, I felt pretty surprised that there really was a baby in there with a strong heartbeat. There was no denial in that. And the fact that he measured behind truly didn’t faze me much because I expected to be a few days off. What I didn’t share though was this. During that first ultrasound I freaked out a little because it was so hard to see the baby on the screen. With Noah, the sac was a big black oval and he was a clearly visible little white oval inside of it. The heartbeat was as plain as day. This time I could barely make the baby out apart from the rest of the image, let alone the flicker of the heartbeat. I even said to the sonographer, I don’t know how you make sense of any of this. Her reply was, it’s as clear as mud, and she laughed. Then she asked me to go pee because my bladder was full and it was affecting the image. Afterward she thought it looked so much clearer but I still wasn’t convinced. I felt bad because I barely noticed when we listened to the heartbeat. I was too preoccupied with the blurry image. But the sonographer and PA who saw me immediately after both stated that they saw no causes for concern whatsoever. So I tried to believe them. After that, I did feel kind of relaxed. But then just days before my second ultrasound, I really started to feel like something wasn’t right. I felt way too good. At the ultrasound itself, I initially felt really relieved. When the baby came onto the screen, the sac was much larger and the baby was much clearer. But it didn’t take long for me to see that the flicker that should be visible wasn’t. I laid there thinking, any minute now she’s going to say “there’s the heartbeat.” Except I knew she wasn’t going to say that. Instead, I heard, “Oh Lisa, I’m so sorry. I don’t see a heartbeat.” I took a deep breath and let it out. I knew it. And I am never doubting my instincts again.

It certainly has not been easy, but every day since I actually miscarried things have gotten slightly easier. I still have my hard days. Yesterday was one of them. I had to go in for my weekly blood draw to check my HCG level. These appointments are a little torturous. It’s just an unpleasant weekly reminder of what happened. The good news is that my level is dropping nicely, from 693 last week to 115 this week. They expect about 1-2 more weeks before I zero out. After my blood draw I went to a department meeting with all of the school psychologists and social workers in my school district. It never fails that there are several pregnant bellies in the room. Each time I see a happy pregnant woman, I have this quick sensation of my heart falling into my stomach. If you’ve ever been through a totally unexpected break up or gotten really bad news without any warning, it’s kind of like that sinking feeling, but in miniature form. I don’t like feeling this way. Unfortunately I have 3 friends who are currently pregnant and another who is either trying or already pregnant but hasn’t announced anything yet. I really don’t like feeling this way around them. So far I haven’t had to see any of them, but I know I can’t avoid it forever. It makes me feel like a bad person for not being able to enjoy their pregnancy with them. I know it’s a normal feeling, and that deep down of course I really am happy for them. It’s just hard to see people who have gotten so easily what I am still working so hard for. On my way back from the meeting I got the call about my HCG levels and I asked when I can expect to find out the genetic results. Then I got to school. The school that I’ve missed so many days at. Everything bad happened on Fridays, which is one of the two days that I’m scheduled there. Some people still didn’t know what had happened but were pretty darn suspicious. So yesterday was a day of explaining and listening to “I’m so sorry” over and over. Yeah, it was a hard day.

But like I said, things are getting easier overall. I am looking forward to seeing our previous RE in a couple of weeks. I actually took some pleasure in filling out all the forms for his clinic because hey, first step in moving forward! I can’t wait to show him pictures of Noah and finally be able to tell him in person how grateful we are for everything he did for us. I’ve been making major efforts to stop being lethargic and quiet all night, and instead playing with my little snuggle bug. Noah has been extremely playful and silly lately. His imagination in his play makes me smile and laugh all of the time. We are constantly pretending to be animals together, from dinosaurs hunting prey, to chinchillas being rescued off a tree branch (thank you Diego), to whales swimming across the floor. He likes to pretend he is a baby animal and I am the mommy. He gives me these big, cuddly hugs and buries his face into my chest while squealing, “Mommy!” He really is the best medicine. Overall, I’m just looking forward to being able to move on. I can’t wait to be done with the blood draws and get the final report on what if any chromosomal/genetic issues were found. Then I feel like I’ll really be able to move past the grief and get closer to a sense of healing. That will be nice.

Reframing

It feels like I've lost a lot with this miscarriage. I've lost my baby. I've lost any chance of feeling safe in any future pregnancies. I've lost all hope of having kids not much more than three years apart. I've lost the chance to be pregnant and due around the same time as many of my friends. I've lost confidence in the fact that we will have more kids. I've lost any desire to have more than two children because this process is too difficult to go through over and over. (And just when Brian was starting to talk about three...)

But, regardless of everything I've lost, I have so much already. If Noah really does end up being our one and only, at least we knocked it out of the park with him.

He's already more than I could have ever hoped for.

Holiday Cheer?

I love this time of the year. Decorating the house and watching all the holiday classics on TV and DVD always makes me feel all warm and happy inside. The last couple years it's been especially fun with buying gifts for the little guy and seeing the holidays through his eyes. But not this year.

I am having such a hard time. There are moments when things are fun and happy. Like this morning. We strung lights on this huge pine tree/shrub thingy in our yard. Noah watched us and played in the yard as we worked. Then we headed in to check that the lights for our house were still working. When Brian plugged them in, Noah got all excited. "I found blue, and purple, and red! Oooh, I love these lights!" To read that doesn't do it justice because you needed to hear the sweet little 2-year-old voice saying it. So damn cute. And when we put up the tree, he started talking about wanting a ladder to climb "the beanstalk" (sometimes pronounced "beanstop"). He must have read this book at daycare. It made me laugh to hear him say it over and over. 

In his right hand, he is holding his "little bags." They hold the replacement bulbs for our mini lights outside. I can't touch them. "No, they not your little bags!"

But in the background, there is always this shadow of sadness lurking. Everything feels muted. I absolutely loved being pregnant over the holidays. It made everything feel even happier and cozier. This year I was looking forward to eating for two at Thanksgiving. I had lofty plans to make a cute pregnancy announcement Christmas card to send out. (I say lofty because I've never actually followed through on getting a card made to send out.) None of these things will be happening now.

On a related note, after my crappy third OB appointment Monday, I spilled the news on Facebook. I really wasn't looking for sympathy. I was just pissed and sick of having to bottle it up. People are constantly asking me "How are you doing?" so I thought I'd just let it all out so they would know. I am sad, and angry, and pretty damn bitter. The next day I got an email from one of my cousins. She told me that she and her husband just did IVF for the first time. About 2.5 weeks ago, they found out they lost their baby at 9 weeks. This breaks my heart, and I hate that she is going through this, too. But if there is any silver lining here, at least we can be a support to each other. Hopefully in the coming months we'll both have happier news to share together.

Enough Already

Today I got to spend another 10 minutes of my life sitting in the OB's waiting room with all of the pregnant ladies just so a doctor could confirm that yes, I did miscarry and no, I do not need a D&C tomorrow. Three visits in two weeks is enough to make me feel a little stabby. I so wanted to be a happy momma sitting in the waiting room with a cute little bump and I worked damn hard for it, so please stop rubbing it in my face. I also can't stand the sympathetic faces from the nurses and doctors as they tell you how sorry they are for the hundredth time. I know there's nothing else really to say, but I can't take it anymore. It makes me teary and sniffly and I'm sick of crying. Acknowledge that this totally sucks and let's move on. Just once I would love it if my doctor said something like, "Well this is fucking horseshit, isn't it?" Because that's really how I'm feeling.

The anger is not fun to deal with. I hate the bitterness that I feel right now, and the apathy I feel towards so many aspects of my life. I forgot how raw the pain of infertility was. The canceled FET in July brought it back a little, but now it's full-blown. Sometimes life is so fucking unfair.

It's Over

(If you don't want to read about a miscarriage, I suggest you quickly leave this blog. It's not very graphic, but still. Maybe TMI for some.)

The human body is amazing. On Tuesday night, hours after posting about my lack of miscarriage symptoms, I started spotting. I was so relieved. That continued through last night, at which point things started to get more crampy and uncomfortable. This morning I went in for my follow up appointment. We did another ultrasound and the baby was measuring 7w2d, which is smaller than last week when it measured 8w0d. The doctor gave me all the directions for my D&C on Tuesday, and I asked if I can cancel if I end up miscarrying over the weekend. She asked me to still go on Tuesday and they will do an ultrasound before the procedure to make a final decision. I left the appointment feeling a little dejected. I decided to go to work because the cramps weren't terrible and oh my gosh I've missed SO MANY DAYS. A few miles from the school I could feel rhythmic cramps beginning. They were working in a top-down fashion, and spaced out a few minutes apart from each other. Not exactly like menstrual cramps, and only slightly more uncomfortable. On a pain scale of 1-10, it was maybe a 5. I stopped at a grocery store to grab advil and that's when I felt the first little gush. I quickly grabbed what I needed and checked out. I got in my car and drove over to the school. When I got out of the car there was a much larger gush which felt like something significant passed out of me. At this point I knew I was leaving immediately because either I just miscarried, or I was bleeding too much to stay at work. I ran inside and used the bathroom quickly, and my suspicions were confirmed. I got home, called the PA at my clinic, and asked her about the genetic testing. I brought the tissue to them and we should get the results next week. I don't plan to find out the sex. For whatever reason I'm fairly certain that will only bring more pain. But I would like to know if there was a genetic issue. It won't likely change anything we do since we have every intention of doing another FET with one of our snowbabies, plus we know we can make a chromosomally normal kid. But it just seems like good information to have. 

At some point I am supposed to hear from my nurse so we can schedule blood draws to monitor my HCG level until it hits zero. I also made a consult appointment with our old RE for December 11, and we will go from there. I really look forward to seeing him. His rate for an FET is a full $1000 less than our current clinic, so for us "out of pocket" people (ok, really it's out of my in-laws' pocket) that is a huge improvement already.

I know for some women, miscarrying naturally sounds so much more emotionally and physically difficult than a D&C. For me, I found being able to miscarry naturally extremely cathartic. It's like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. And I know that for me, it felt like a better way to honor the life of what had been, and what will always be in my heart. I'm so glad this is over.

Losing Hope

It's been three days since I stopped my meds. Not a single dull cramp. Not even the tiniest amount of spotting. I emailed the PA who initially spoke with me after my shit ultrasound and asked when I should cave and get the cytotec. Suddenly she is singing a different tune about that and recommends against it. She would like me to get another ultrasound on Friday to evaluate where things are, and then schedule a D&C for early next week if nothing happens. My OB also called to check on me and echoed this plan. As if things haven't been awful enough, now my own body won't even cooperate to give me a break. I really don't want the D&C. I hope I get this one tiny wish.

Today was my first day back at work. A lot of people knew about the pregnancy because it's hard to hide an FET from people when you're constantly messing up the scheduling of IEP meetings due to all of your appointments and days off. I tried to just keep to myself all day, but a few people asked how I was feeling and another person caught me crying in my office. So yeah, that all sucked. Tomorrow is another first day back in a way because I'm going to a different school. More people to hide from or cry to. It's all so fucking fun! I wish I could just curl up into the fetal position and sleep until winter break. I am so, so deeply depressed. I just can't believe that we have to go through everything again. All the shots, and appointments, and days off, and blood draws, and stress, and worry, and waiting waiting waiting. It's too much to think about. I just want to scream and scream and then smash something.

Noah has been very sweet. He's two and a half though, so of course sometimes he is a total pain in the ass and I have almost zero patience for listening to someone else cry and whine right now. But overall, he seems to realize Mommy is in a bad place. He was very snuggly over the weekend. Yesterday was the first day I really let everything out because Brian got the puking sickness over the weekend that Noah and I had, and half the time when I tried to talk to him he cut me off because he was trying to concentrate on not puking. So when Brian got home yesterday I wrapped my arms around him and cried and cried. Noah yelled at Brian for hugging me, so Brian explained that Mommy needed hugs. Noah stopped yelling and asked if he could hug me, too. So I picked him up and as he hugged me I sniffled, which prompted him to ask me, "Mommy, is you nose running? You need a tissue?" Oh my God, what would I do without him?

My Decision

Last night I ripped off my estrogen patches. It was actually a pretty emotional moment, like admitting that yes, this is over. I've decided I'm going to try the natural route. I know it's going to be physically and emotionally painful, and will take much longer than a D&C to run it's course. Yesterday I talked to the only friend I know who's been through a D&C. She said it was a horrible experience, and she ended up being one of the unlucky 20% who ended up with uterine scarring. She needed several additional D&Cs to clear that out, which significantly delayed her ability to conceive again (but she did, and she has a beautiful 18 month old daughter to show for it). Despite what she went through she still said she wasn't sure she would've done anything differently. But for me, it's something like this that I just don't want to deal with. I trust in my body's ability to let nature run its course. And it makes me sad to think about this baby getting scraped out of me. That just sounds awful. So I'm going to give it a few days, and if nothing happens by Friday I will go in for the cytotec to see if we can speed things up. I just have a feeling I won't need to though. 

Can I just say that having to make this decision totally fucking sucks? Ugh.

Brian and I have also talked a bit about next steps for us. For now I would like to wait until after the holidays to start any new plans, and that's probably our only option anyway. I've let go of the idea of "good timing" for due dates in relation to the school calendar. Clearly it's completely out of our control anyway. I'm also fairly certain that we will be leaving our clinic. Our original RE left the practice just before Noah was born. I thought he simply retired, but then a year later discovered that he opened his own practice about 10 miles away. I thought about switching for our FET cycle and even emailed the clinic, but I never heard back so we just stuck with what we knew. However, I think it's important that you have complete faith in your team and our experience this time around left us with a bad taste in our mouth (not because of the loss, I promise, I know that's not their fault). When the PA explained all of my options on Friday I asked her if we could take our embryos elsewhere. She was confident we could. So once I've been given the all clear in regards to the miscarriage, I will contact our old RE and get on his radar. It makes me a little happy to think about seeing him again. He's very dear to our family.

Thank you all so much for your kind comments over the last couple of days. I'm so glad I found this community. Your support is invaluable. Wish me luck this week. I'm going to need it.

Goodbye, Junebug.

Today was one of those days where you wake up and hope that the events of the previous day were just a bad dream. The crushing headache and swollen eyes, both the result from too many tears shed, quickly snapped me back to reality though.

We have lost our Junebug. There was no heartbeat on the ultrasound. Baby measured a full week behind.

I have a D&C scheduled through my OB on Tuesday. I am still weighing the options. I've never had surgery before, and I don't like that there is a risk of perforating or scarring the uterus. We don't need any more challenges. But I really hate the idea of going through a full miscarriage. At least I have some time to figure it out. Anyone with experience in this area of loss, please feel free to offer any thoughts you have on which option you chose.

Thanks, Universe...

Last night I was feeling kind of blah. Brian went to make dinner for me, but I decided to go help after a few minutes. I commented to him that I had written a blog post about feeling fewer symptoms, but suddenly was feeling kind of nauseous and tired. Go figure. We made grilled cheese and tomato soup with Brian's favorite mandarin orange salad. Towards the end of getting everything prepared, I had to lie down. I felt so gross. I couldn't decide if I was overly hungry or really getting sick. I got up and took one bite of my grilled cheese which immediately confirmed that yes, I was really sick. I lied back down on the couch and listened to Noah fuss through his dinner. I knew I truly wasn't feeling well because I was getting really agitated by it, so I had to go upstairs and hide in bed. I was lying on my right side, and could tell if I moved at all I would be running to the bathroom to either puke or crap myself. I knew I would have to get up eventually since I can't sleep in my contacts, so I decided to just get it over with. To all the ladies with chronic morning sickness, I have a new respect for how shitty it must be. Puking in early pregnancy is really, truly terrible. And worrisome. Thankfully this is just a GI bug and I have an ultrasound tomorrow morning to ease my mind. In the meantime, I am parked on the couch, feeling much better, but missing my 7th full day of work since September. I am on a roll! And to think I thought I was spared from Noah's tummy bug. Dang!

On a side note, Noah was very sweet last night. He was upset that I wasn't downstairs with them, so Brian brought him into our room. He asked to hold my hand and then asked if I was all better. Brian told him mommy might throw up, so Noah asked if I had thrown up. I told him no, not yet. So he turned to Brian and said, "Mommy not throw up yet." You could tell he felt bad for me. Then Brian had to put him to bed by himself, and Noah pretty much insists that I have to read books every night. He wouldn't let Brian read anything. Brian would suggest a book and Noah would whine, "No, that's Mommy's book!" So he went to bed without books (despite Brian's continued offering), and very unhappy. Poor guy. He needs to get over this mommy-does-everything phase!

A Little Unnerved

Just a little update. I have to admit I’m feeling kind of nervous. There’s no good, valid reason for this, but I think it’s only natural to feel occasional doubts. The thing is, I don’t feel pregnant. I don’t look pregnant. There is nothing really reminding me that I am. My appetite is up a bit, but I kind of feel like it’s lessened from what it was a week ago. I’m still fatigued, but some days I don’t notice it at all. My nightly food baby doesn’t seem as impressive lately. Most of the time I feel great. Too good. Too good to be pregnant. With Noah I never felt very bad, but I know I didn’t feel this good either. At least then I had occasional gagging and dry heaving in the morning, with bouts of nausea interspersed throughout my day when I got too hungry. Considering I will be 9 weeks tomorrow, I am now 100% sure that I will not be having these symptoms.

Either this baby is no more (I really hope not), or I am definitely having another boy!

What A Week

Warning: This post is mostly about vomit. 

It all started Sunday night. Brian was just getting home from the grocery store. Noah had complained that his tummy hurt, and then asked for cheese. Like an idiot, I assumed he was hungry and gave him a cheese stick. As Brian was putting groceries away, Noah started crying. I went to hold him and then I got a vomit shower. I was literally covered from shoulder to thigh. Chunky, cheesy, really pukey smelling vomit. Then the poor guy just cried and cried while we stripped his clothes off, cleaned him, and cleaned the floor. We have mostly hard wood, but we were lucky enough that he hit the area rug. Throughout the rest of the night he did ok. He went to bed without any problems. But around 10:30 or so, he woke up and was whining. I turned on the video monitor and he was holding his hands out in front of his face with fingers spread wide apart. It seemed strange, so I went to check on him and sure enough, he was covered in puke. We cleaned him off, stripped the sheets, remade his bed and laid him back down. I emailed work to let them know I was staying home Monday. Twenty minutes later he started crying again, and yes, more puke. Changed him again and back to bed he went. That was the end of night one. 
On Monday morning he woke up while I showered. When I got out I could hear him happily chatting to himself in his crib. I opened the door and he announced, "Mommy, I hear the Great Pumpkin!" So adorable. He had a really good day and I felt a little guilty for keeping him home and missing work. On Tuesday he went back to daycare and had another good day, though a little more needy than usual. He didn't eat much for dinner but that's usually the case these days. He slept through the night, until my alarm went off around 4:45am. I hit snooze and tried to get in a few more minutes of sleep. Then I heard Noah start crying. Things are starting to blur together at this point, but I'm pretty sure I went to check on him and he was throwing up again. Brian woke up and helped clean everything up, again, and he called in for a sub. Noah went back to sleep and requested milk when he woke up. Brian gave him a small glass, which brought on more vomiting throughout the day. He last threw up around 5pm that night, so Trick-or-Treating was out. It was a little sad while we ate dinner and he listened to the kids at our door. He kept asking, "Mommy, where's Noah's Halloween?" and "I want candy, pleeease!" He had some toast and pedialyte for dinner which he kept down. He went to bed fine. That was the end of day/night two.
Thursday he went back to daycare. He had a good day, but again was a little more cuddly/clingy. He ate bland, bland food and kept everything down. When I picked him up in the afternoon he gave me a big hug and repeated "My mommy!" over and over again. Heart=melted. He refused dinner again, aside from a baby food pouch and some grape juice. He went to bed without a fuss and fell asleep quickly. Just before 11pm, I woke up to the sounds of him whimpering in his room. I turned on the monitor and watched him for a few minutes. He had his head down on his pillow and his legs tucked under with his butt in the air. I figured it was nothing. After a few more minutes I decided to check on him. I rubbed his back and asked what was wrong. He sat up, spat out his pacifier, and puked all over himself twice. The second surge was kind of scary because it came fast and there was a lot. He seemed to choke on some of it, and kept trying to catch his breath. You could see the panic in his eyes as he stood up and quickly stomped his feet up and down in his crib. I just kept rubbing his back and telling him it would be ok until he finally got everything up. Brian helped me clean up the sheets for the 4th time this week, and then Noah asked to go back to bed. That was the end of night three.
Which brings us to today. I took off work again so I could bring Noah to the doctor. This pattern of bad days followed by good days was not feeling typical. All appointments at our clinic were booked for the day so we had to do walk-in care. I was worried about the wait, but I think all the crying and fussing Noah did in the waiting room helped us to be seen within 5 minutes. The doctor listened to the story of our week and agreed that it didn't seem to fit with the usual GI bug. We started with a strep test which was negative. Then she ordered an abdominal x-ray to check for any possible obstructions and a slew of blood tests to check kidney, liver, and pancreatic function, as well as for any infectious diseases. The x-ray went great. Noah was a champ even though I had to leave the room momentarily (no pregnant ladies allowed!) while they took the picture. The blood draw also went without a hitch. Noah has seen me take so many shots, so I just told him it was his turn to finally get one. He just said, "Oh!" in a cheery little voice and then watched his blood pour into the vials with clear interest. They gave him a sticker for being so good. When we got back to the room, the doctor explained that his x-ray was clear, though it appears as though he is pretty backed up in the poop department. The CBC panel was also clear. The doctor ran through all of the possibilities of what it still could be, with the most likely culprit being some sort of weird GI bug, but the lack of diarrhea kind of threw her on that one. She told me to call immediately if he starts vomiting in the early morning only, as this could indicate some kind of brain inflammation or infection. However, she felt that's highly unlikely since he has no other symptoms. We went home and got the call that all the rest of his blood tests look good, aside from his liver enzymes being a little elevated, but she said that's common when someone has a GI infection. So, hopefully this will pass soon and we can go back to our normal lives! I missed approximately 4 half-days of work all last school year. Since the beginning of this school year, I've already missed 6.5 days, 3.5 of which have been for my sick kiddo. No fun!! 

8 Weeks!

I’ve decided it’s time to start the weekly surveys. These are more for my benefit than anyone else’s, so if you couldn’t care less I don’t blame you. :)

How Far Along: 8w0d

How Big Is Baby: The size of a raspberry or a kidney bean.

Sex: For now I’m guessing boy, based solely on how good I am feeling. Just like when I was pregnant with Noah. In fact, I think I feel even better this time around.

Symptoms: Sore, growing chest. Fatigue at night and often after eating lunch. Slowly tightening pants. My nightly “food baby” which makes me look about 15 weeks pregnant. More frequent trips to the bathroom. Sometimes waking up to pee in the middle of the night. Super intense hunger. I can’t go more than a couple of hours without snacking on something or my stomach is growling big time. Occasional constipation, but it hasn’t been bad at all. Still no nausea, and I’m fairly certain I won’t be dealing with it. Noah threw up all over me Sunday night, and if that couldn’t get me to puke, nothing will. (Yes, I know I have it easy for the first trimester, and yes I am thankful!)

Food Cravings/Aversions: Nothing that sticks out. I guess maybe I’m more interested in carbs than usual, but probably not. I do like mashed potatoes lately.

Belly Button: In.

Sleep: Doing fine there. On the weekends I wake up to pee around the time I usually get up for work, but during the weekdays I don’t wake up overnight.

Stretch Marks: Not even close.

Weight: 115 (I was 110 at the doctor's office last week, but I think it's just a difference in scales. I certainly haven't gained 5 pounds in a week!)

Maternity Clothes: Not yet, but I am unbuttoning my pants a lot while sitting so they don’t dig in. Everything still fits, just getting a little more snug. I am close to retiring most of my bras, but the maternity/nursing bras that I wore last time are still too big.

Movement: Nope.

What I Miss: Not taking daily medications and shots. It’s getting old!

What I’m Looking Forward To: Ultrasound #2 next Friday. Graduating from our clinic and weaning from my meds.

Best Moment This Week: Seeing and hearing the heartbeat last Friday!

Milestones: Heartbeat!

2.5

Last Sunday my little boy turned two and a half. Some people might find it silly to pay attention to the half-year mark, but for me it means that he is now closer to three than two. How is that possible? My little baby is not so much of a baby anymore. And boy, does he let us know!

Every morning during the work week, poor Brian wakes Noah up. And almost every morning, he’s greeted by “No Daddy! I want Mommy! Go away!” As he dresses him he cries, “No, Mommy do it!” Meanwhile I’m downstairs straightening my hair and feeling bad for both of them. This is not limited to just the mornings either. Noah is pretty adamant that I have to do most things for him. It’s exhausting, especially now that I’m so tired every evening. However, there are also about a million things that he insists he must do “by myself, Mommy!” Take for example walking across a parking lot. “No, don’t want to hold your hand!” Or getting into his car seat. “I do it by self, Mommy!” It’s kind of funny how much negative tone a little guy can put into the word “Mommy.” You’d think the word meant “evil witch.” There are also increasing tantrums over tiny little things, and just general disagreeableness. I keep trying to get a picture of the “eat shit and die” look that he gives us about a thousand times a day, but so far no luck.

So yes, the more Noah progresses through the age of 2, the more I understand why some people call it “terrible.” But then there are all the funny, silly, amazing things he does that make it mostly enjoyable. The other night I was ripping off my estradiol patches. Noah watched me and asked, “Mommy, you got stickers?” I told him they were more like bandaids. “Mommy, you have owwy? You all better?” While I was on bed rest I told Noah that I had an owwy tummy so that he would stay off of me. He still frequently asks if I have owwy tummy or if I’m all better. His sensitive side is coming out, too. There were a few times in the last week or two when he started crying when scolded over something, or even when I just shot him a disapproving look when he was being unsafe. He certainly doesn’t like it when he thinks I’m upset with him, but cuddles cure everything.

And now for some totally random things I don’t want to forget.

The other morning we were eating breakfast and the sun was shining in Noah’s face. He yelled out, “Hey sun, don’t bright me!” It cracked me up.

Noah’s favorite shows are Bubble Guppies, Curious George, Dora (gag), and the How To Train Your Dragon movie. He likes talking about the “moon bear” from one of the Bubble Guppies episodes, and when he looks at the moon he asks about the moon bear and his flashlight.

He really enjoys playing with dinosaurs and trains. He also still pretends to be a dinosaur often. If he’s not a dinosaur, then he’s probably pretending to be a monster, crocodile, or some other random animal. Noah is starting to sing to himself more and more. He can finally sing his alphabet with a few minor substitutions, especially at the end. Brian and I are usually not allowed to join in. He yells at us for singing and dancing to the radio, too. We must be worse than we thought… Although he does like his bedtime songs.

Although I know he’s still young, I’m becoming fairly convinced that Noah is colorblind. He identified orange first, then got pink, purple, green, black, and blue. Just recently he has identified brown accurately, too. He knows these colors consistently with virtually no mistakes. With red, he ALWAYS calls it green. This is the most common colorblindness. With yellow, he ALWAYS calls it blue. This is the second most common, and if someone has blue-yellow, they almost always have red-green. Brian’s dad has some degree of colorblindness, so despite people telling me “he’s just two!” I’m pretty sure I’m right. I have NEVER heard Noah identify anything as red or yellow. Ever. Obviously this is not a big deal, but at some point I’d like to get confirmation so that when he goes to preschool we’ll know for sure. I would hate for him to have teachers think he’s not catching on. It also makes me wonder what the world looks like to him.

Noah is my little runt. He is currently wearing size 5 diapers with no interest in potty training in sight. His shirts are primarily 2T though he swims in some brands. Pants are still 24 months. He has short legs and a skinny waist, so anything larger falls right off. To be honest, some 24 month stuff falls down too, but 18 month stuff is too short. Eating is hit and miss. Things he will pretty consistently eat include mac and cheese, peanut butter sandwiches, baby food pouches, cheese sticks, Cheerios, bagels with cream cheese, steamed broccoli and carrots, mandarin oranges, sliced grapes, and bananas. Obviously this is not all I feed him, but when he won’t eat whatever I did make, these are often our fallbacks.

I kind of love this guy.

Seeing Is Believing

Having to wait so long from a second, slow rising beta until a 7 week ultrasound was kind of agony. I really wavered from day to day on how I felt about the odds of anything actually growing in there. Then this week I started to believe. Maybe part of it is just that after so many weeks of nothing to tell me otherwise, I had to start thinking that things just might be okay in there. Another factor is my increasing appetite. Holy crap. About an hour after eating, my stomach is growling and I AM HUNGRY. And then there's the physical evidence. My chest hasn't looked so marvelous since the early days of nursing. (4-5 months of exclusive pumping destroys your bosom ladies, no joke!) And then there's this.

What my stomach looks like after I get out of bed each morning...

...and what it looks like before bed (with a full bladder).
I apologize for the patch glue on my stomach. I am sick of rubbing that stuff off.

When I was pregnant with Noah, right around the 7 week mark I started sprouting my nightly "food baby" as I called it. And yes, I would say it's definitely back. So these few little things started to give me some confidence. But of course doubt still lingered. At some point with Noah I was gagging on phlegm and dry heaving in the mornings. I never puked and never had all day nausea, but I would feel pretty gross (or as Noah puts it, "Grossy!") if I was too hungry. These things have not really shown up, and I'm feeling like they're not going to anytime soon. I should just count my blessings that I've had it easy both times, but lacking major symptoms is not totally reassuring for someone who wants to feel pregnant!

Well, today was my ultrasound, and any and all doubts must now be cast aside.

For here is Baby #2! My little pumpkin seed!

He's got a strong heartbeat of 141bpm, and he measured a few days behind at 6w5d. This doesn't even make me blink. With my betas starting out so slow, I kind of figured we'd see something around 6w4d. The gestational sac is much smaller than Noah's, but no one was remotely concerned. The sonographer also pointed out a very small black spot which could be a small clot or hematoma, but again no one was worried. (My only worry was, "Oh my God, that's not another baby, right?!") I haven't had any spotting, so most likely whatever it is will dissolve on its own.

So there you have it. I am really, truly pregnant, and I am 7w1d as of today. My due date is June 13, 2013. Oh man, it feels so good to finally say that!