That's Right... I'm Going to Complain

I have been loathe to complain about my pregnancy on this blog. Yes, I had a post about rhinitis of pregnancy and have alluded to my vomit fests and my tingling/numb thigh, but I really have tried not to go on about it.

I have been loathe to complain about my pregnancy thus far because (a) I am just so thrilled to be pg that I kind of haven't minded the physical stuff very much (and I liked having symptoms because they were reassuring), (b) I tend to downplay my physical ails to most of the world as a general rule so I've continued to do that during pregnancy, and (c) because my symptoms haven't been truly debilitating so I don't feel like I have a right to complain.

But I'm going to complain about the psychological ails because I am not as equipped to cope with them... namely, anxiety. I have always been prone to anxiety. Not enough to be diagnosed with a disorder. I've done scales with a therapist and everything and they never qualify me for a diagnosis. But despite that, I am a pretty anxious person.

What are you supposed to do with anxiety when you're pregnant? I can't go for a hard run, which is my favorite anti-anxiety strategy ordinarily. I've been exercising daily by walking, but walking just isn't the fix that running is for me. I can't have a glass of wine or overindulge on chocolate (sugar crosses the placenta). I am really not cut out for meditation, I don't think, but at this point, I'd probably try anything if someone has a good concrete, safe-for-pregnancy suggestion for me.

Safe-for-pregancy. That's a laugh because that's the cause of my big anxiety at the moment. Before conceiving, I tried to do everything right. (I realize that's a big part of my problem. I'll get to that later.) One of the things I did was make an appointment with my PCP and have her switch all my meds to safe-for-pregnancy Category B meds. For example, she switched up my inhaled corticosteroid asthma medicine from Adv*ir to Fl*vent, and told me that Fl*vent was "Cat B."

When my MWs told me that Fl*vent was Category C, I wasn't too alarmed because I remembered the conversation I had with my PCP. One of the MWs even said that her reference book was an older book, so maybe it had been changed to Cat B, but that I should check it out with my PCP.

Well, I did. I wasn't wrong that my PCP had told me it was Cat B. She had even written that in my chart. She was wrong about Fl*vent being Cat B. It is clearly Cat C, according to every single source she looked it up in. She must've read it wrong somehow. Apparently, animal studies have shown Fl*vent to cause slow embryo growth and birth defects (specifically, cleft palate) in mice, rats, and rabbits. There are no well-controlled studies on pg women to say either way if the same is true of human fetuses. Hence, the Cat C classification.

The appointment got frustrating after that. My PCP first tried to switch me to a whole new class of Cat B drug called mast cell stabilizers (Crom*lyn). I asked if those were related to Singul*ir, because I'm severely allergic to Singul*ir. (Yes, I'm allergic to an allergy medicine. What can I say?) Even though Crom*lyn is not related to Singul*ir, me noting my propensity for allergic reactions scared her off of switching me to a whole new class of drug that I've never tried before. She switched me instead to the Cat B/C inhaled corticosteroid Pulm*cort. My MWs and severa sources list Pulm*cort as Cat B. Pulm*cort is considered safe to use during pregnancy because there have been controlled studies involving pregnant women who used it and no teratogenic effects were found. However, my PCP said it wasn't Cat B, it was Cat B/C because some sources still considered it Cat C. So, the rub is... everyone agrees that Pulm*cort is less effective than Flov*nt in treating asthma, but there is not universal agreement that it's Cat B. Still, I'd rather take that than Flov*nt.

My PCP passed the buck and has referred me to a pulmonary specialist who has the wackiest hours ever and I haven't even been able to speak to someone about making an appointment yet. So, during pregnancy, I apparently must see 2 specialists that I never needed to see when I wasn't pregnant: an endocrinologist and a pulmonary specialist. It's making me feel like I'm too sick to be pregnant. If that's true, why didn't someone tell me that before I got pg? My R.E. and my PCP both knew I was TTC. No one told me I was too sick to do that.

So, my PCP prescribed the Pulm*cort Turbuhal*r for me, but I don't have any Pulm*cort yet. That's because apparently the company now only makes the Pulm*cort Flexhal*r, which comes in different doses than the older, no-longer-sold Turbuhal*r. So, my pharmacist can't give me any until my PCP calls back and tells him which dosage of the Flexhal*r to give me. So, basically, right now I have no safe meds for controlling my asthma in my house, except my Albuterol inhaler, which doesn't treat my inflammation.

In case you're wondering if I could just go off all the inhaled steroids, that's the other thing that all my medical professionals seem to agree that I shouldn't do. It's a risk-benefit thing. The potential complications of me having a severe asthma attack during pregnancy are much worse than the potential complications of taking a Cat C medication. An attack during pregnancy could mean Flipper goes without oxygen and that of course could result in death or developmental disabilities. A severe asthma attack isn't likely if I go off the inhaled steroid meds though. They're anti-inflammatory meds, so most likely I'd just have tightness in my chest, shortness of breath, and wheezing. Could I live like that for the next 5 months if I had to? Sure. Would that be better for Flipper? Probably not. Me choosing to live with uncontrolled asthma will increase my risks of premature birth and all kinds of other bad things. So, again, it's less risky to take a Cat C med than to not control my asthma for the rest of the pregnancy.

(Oh, and I already tried going off it anyway, against medical advice. I didn't tell Lo. I just stopped taking the Flov*nt to see if maybe I was one of the lucky 1/3 whose asthma improves during pregnancy. Three days after stopping the Flov*nt, Lo told me she could hear me wheezing and that my breathing didn't sound good. She asked me point blank if I'd stopped taking my Flov*nt and I fessed up that I had. So, basically, the answer is... if I stop taking an anti-inflammatory med, my asthma is not going to be controlled. If only it were that easy.)

The worst thing is... now I'm really anxious. If the Flov*nt was going to do any damage, it's probably already been done during the first tri, when I mistakenly thought it was "safe-for-pregnancy".

Not being the most rational person on Earth, I have already convinced myself that I have given Flipper a birth defect. (I haven't slowed his growth though, because he has measured ahead at every u/s.) Now, if Flipper has a cleft lip or a cleft palate, that really isn't the end of the world. I know that. And if that had happened and it was just one of those random occurrences or something, Lo and I would be upset, but we would love our little Flip and deal with it and ultimately, it would be fine. But that's different from knowing that Flipper might have a birth defect that I CAUSED. I mean, really, shouldn't I at least wait until the kid is born before f**king up his life?

And I know there's a good chance Flipper is fine despite the Flov*nt. Lo keeps reminding me that I'm not a mouse or a rabbit.

But that just doesn't soothe me. Maybe I'm keyed up from the hormones so the anxiety is worse than usual. Maybe I just have been trying too hard to be perfect during this pregnancy and can't deal with the fact that I am not. Maybe I am just furious that my body isn't healthier than it is.

So, sorry, but I'm going to complain about this. Maybe I'll feel better after complaining. Maybe not. But it's all I can think to do.

Photo Friday & Our Weekend

I will start with my entry to Photo Friday:


That's Nephew S's foot. We (me, Co, Nephew S and his parents, my mom and her husband, and assorted friends) spent the weekend here.

I have waxed cheesy, if not eloquent, about this festival on the blog before. Suffice to say that I felt at home, and at peace, for these two days, in a way I do not usually.

Photo documentation is, mostly, of babies. Last year the Canon was still new, and most of my pictures were attemped-artsy photos of the river, the weeping willows, perfomers taken with the optical zoom. This year? Between Nephew S. and Squeak, there was plenty to photograph.


An exception: here's Co enjoying a tasty treat from the food vendors. She wasn't able to finish it, though (I guess it looked better than it was?? I'll stop now...FYI, that's Ghir@rdelli chocolate. mmmmm).

This year I wasn't crazy about the musical line-up (which in some ways I prefer, because it's more relaxing to wander about, picking up literature from the activists, browsing the crafts, and plopping down the blanket to soak up some sun and music whenever the mood strikes, as opposed to tightly scheduled concert times). But, I present to you:






S. listening to Pete Seeger:


S. listening to Buffy Sainte-Marie:




Finally, here is S. in his Father's Day shirt. (It reads,"Real Boys Wear Pink," and the back says "And my daddy eats quiche.") My sister noted that the first day of the festival, when S. was wearing blue overalls with sailboats (see pix above), people asked whether he was a boy or a girl. On day 2, in the pink T-shirt, people (obviously didn't read it) and assumed he was a girl. And this is, at least in theory, a politically radical crowd! Good grief. Flipper definitely needs one of J. and S.'s onesies!

And then, thanks to wonderful friends....we came home to a stroller in our apartment! Aaaah!

More pictures on flickr. Many are public, some are private, email if you want access.

Prenatal #3

We saw the midwife today and we heard Flipper's heartbeat!! We were both a little anxious, 'cause we're superstitious that way, so it was a relief. (The midwife wasn't at all worried, of course.) She didn't measure it exactly but said it was in the 150s or 160s. It was a wonderful, steady, loud sound, and she found it immediately. Swim, Flipper, swim!

We'll be scheduling the anatomy scan, when we will find out the sex if we can, in 5 to 6 weeks. Wow!

EDITED BY CO TO ADD: Our Nuchal Results were about 1 in 6200 for Downs and 1 in >10,000 for Trisomy 13 and 18. Sounds good to us.

I told my MW about a weird symptom, which I've had for several weeks. Tingling and numbness in my left thigh. She said no one really knows what causes the tingling/numbness symptom in some pregnant women, but it happens. Another patient of hers has it also. It's hypothesized that it's caused by the expanding uterus pressing down on nerves or blood vessels. But no one knows. And there's nothing to be done about it. Mostly, my experience is that it's worse at night when I lay down and it's just a weirdly annoying sensation. There was one night it was so intense I couldn't sleep. But it was only that bad once. My MW said her only suggestion, if it gets really bothersome, is to try acupuncture.

So, that's that.

My Week So Far

It has been a tough week. At one time, I fantasized that once we got our BFP, there would be no more tough weeks. We would just float through each day on silver-edged clouds, smiling beatifically at each other.

Um, nope.

I finally finished my report cards over the weekend, with Co's amazing editing assistance. I only have to write 28 (this year), so I genuflect to folks like Bri, and the Spanish and P.E. teachers at my school, who have to write reports for a schoolful of brat - er, children (274 in our case). But my 28 are lengthy narratives and they come right out of my gut.

That was a good thing. But I started the week tired, and I still have to deal with ordering stuff for next year, and putting together a binder that shows what I did with the children all year and how it meets the state standards. And pack up my room.

Then there is some ugly friendship crap going on that has been taking a lot right out of my gut (and adding to the sleep deficit).

But here are the good things:
1. 6 days until school is over (even if I do have to finish all the above crap in the meantime)
2. 15 weeks today!
3. Midwife appointment tomorrow. Hopefully we'll hear the heartbeat. I'm a little nervous, as always.
4. Co dealt with her stress over the friendship thing by making her yummy Speci@l K cookies. Um, the cereal people, the cereal.
5. I heard from a friend who has been out of the country, and I have been out of touch with, for about 7 years. And I will probably see her again in a few weeks!

Now B@rt S1mpson is rapping on the tube, and Co is making her yummy sauce. I guess things are not so bad...

Pride and Photo Friday

Today was Pride in our borough. Big City Pride is in a few weeks, but I haven't been in years now. It has become corporate (most disturbing because so many of the corporate floats are alcohol-related) and, to me at least, unmanageably big. So I especially love Borough Pride. This was its seventh year. It takes place outside our front door, conveniently enough. There's a stage in the park, and a small area called "Kidspace" where families put down blankets and listen to the music. (I got teary-eyed thinking that next year, God willing, we'll be there with Flipper.) There's a street fair all day, with tons of cheesy street fair stuff, but also plenty of political tables and other queer-related information. People of all sorts come to the fair, in many ways it's just a party for the borough, and I love seeing Orthodox Jews, straight couples with their kids, people speaking all manner of languages, all perfectly happy to be out partying with the queers.

Maggie at the Pride street fair always reminds me of Templeton at the county fair. She scoured the ground for treats and got lots of attention. We unexpectedly bought Flipper his/her first onesie (that we paid for). We haven't been tempted to buy anything baby-related at all, and we already have a bag of hand-me-downs in the living room and more coming...but this item was a necessity. It's navy blue with the name of our borough in green, spelled out using the symbols you see in the link.

The actual parade is at night, which is a fun switch-up. Lots of kids running around with glow sticks and rainbow paraphenalia. We marched with our congregration. The whole neighborhood comes out to watch, sitting on stoops and balconies and fire escapes, hanging out windows, lined up on the street corners and sitting in outdoor cafes. There are no barricades, so as Jennifer was remembering about her own city's Pride in the past, you can still run up and say hi to friends along the way, and jump in and out of the parade (I remember when Big City Pride used to be that way, but it's been a while).

This morning at services, our rabbi announced Co's pregnancy and publicly wished us "B'shaa tova." (That literally means "May it come at a good hour" and, according to my Israeli cousin, is a wish for the baby to be born at an auspicious time. In modern Jewish superstition it means, don't say Mazel Tov 'til the baby cries.) So Flipper was welcomed by our Jewish community.

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For Photo Friday, we decided to show you the back of our front door, because it's more interesting than the front. This is the door harp my mom and her husband gave us for our wedding.



The door harp is a tradition in my family. My mom read, and passed on to me, a book called Davita's Harp. (I wholeheartedly recommend it.) The door harp is a potent image in the book, so when we saw a crafts vendor selling them at our annual folk festival, Mom and I were excited to buy one. I was ten. (Just to clarify, I did not actually read the book for several more years, it's not a book for a ten-year-old.) That harp hung on the door of childhood homestead #2 until my mom sold it after my parent's divorce, ten years ago. My peripatetic (not to say unstable) mother has lived in six homes since then, and the door harp was mostly up, though I realize as I write this that I haven't seen it in her new place. I hope she still has it. Anyway, Co and I gave my sister and her husband a door harp when they got married, and then Mom gave one to us. Mom calls it a secular mezuzah.

Photo Friday: Weekend of Warm Fuzzies

We headed north this weekend, where we had several warm fuzzy adventures that made us both smile inside and out.

Western Mass Blog Bash was this weekend, and since it was held in the area where both my mother and sister live, Co and I saw no reason to resist another bloggy party. We stayed with my mom and got to see my sis and hang out with our now 7.5 month nephew, S.

I fall more in love with S. every time I see him. Because he reminds me of my sister as an infant, because he is a family baby, because he is his own delicious self. So he is the first warm fuzzy. There are many, many more pictures of on flickr but I'll hold myself to one on the blog. This is S. sitting in my sister's and my old wooden high chair, playing with our old toys (the apple and the blocks). There are many pictures of both my sister and myself at roughly his age, sitting in that high chair, with that same apple toy, that look virtually identical. My mom even had a yellow pad on the chair back in the '70s.



The main event of the weekend was the big blog get-together. We saw those we'd met before (E. and A., J. and S.) and met some wonderful new folks (new being a relative term given our blogging familiarity): Jude and Jen, CD and SP, and K. I can't say enough about what a good time I had, and how full-up I felt after spending time with these women. I can't wait to get together again. I do feel as though, to quote our IVP sister Cali, I made Friends this weekend. It's a good feeling. (This warm fuzzy goes without a photo here on the blog; pix are friends-only on flickr. Email me if you want to be added.)

Other warm fuzzies from the weekend include our very first baby gift from my mom (a board book of the Very Hungry Caterpillar with a matching stuffed toy, from the Eric C@rle Museum); and our very first baby hand-me-downs from my sister. Co got some great maternity clothes (handed down from our California cousin, who has impeccable taste!) and my sister gave us a bag of S's tiny-baby clothes, blankets, etc. We also saw my high school English teacher, now a family friend, who regaled us with tales of her own births in the 1960s. We've come a long way, ladies...

Finally, it is truly inconceivable (pun intended) that we'd post about warm fuzzies and leave out our warmest fuzzy of all. Here is Maggie, the first baby, snoozing on her Grandmom's couch. Co snapped a pic because of the odd position.

The Telling

The Fonaholics asked "Who are you telling first?" Well, we've already told...the entire blogosphere, a handful of close friends, and my immediate family.

Now comes telling everyone else. I've really been looking forward to it, and I have to say, I'm enjoying it thoroughly.

The first person I told yesterday was my principal, NewBoss. I had just found out (via IM) that the nuchal results were in. And she's been very generous with me this year, letting me leave early for IUIs and ultrasounds without even asking why. She was very excited, hugged me and said "Mazel tov!" and told me some school gossip. (I teach in a K-8 school and I pretty much stay in my 7-8 middle school bubble, so I am often out of the school social gossip loop. Actual school-related gossip is another story.) Apparently 5 of the female teachers are currently trying to get pregnant or starting soon, and a 6th is trying to adopt, so they've been talking half-seriously about the competition for the five spaces in our school's on-site daycare. I imagine they didn't think of me, both because I don't really hang out with them -- because of the middle school thing, and because, honestly, they're the kind of women who carry cute expensive purses and straighten their hair, and I'm, uh, not -- and because I probably appear as reproductively challenged as my menopausal colleagues with grown children. Well, as it turns out, I lapped them ALL, and will easily snag one of the coveted spots in The Village (as in, "it takes a village"; how cute is that). One small step for a lesbian...

Then I saw my cousin D. on IM -- she moved to New York City a few years ago when she graduated from college and we've had the chance to get to know her better, and she has been privy to much of our journey. She responded thusly:

Lo (5:18:49 PM): I have something to tell yoU!
Cousin D. (5:19:11 PM): oh really!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!
Lo (5:19:13 PM): yes!!!!
Cousin D. (5:19:14 PM): WHAT?!
Cousin D. (5:19:16 PM): I'M EXCITED!
Lo (5:19:19 PM): Co is pregnant
Lo (5:19:24 PM): she is due December 5
Cousin D. (5:19:41 PM): OMIGOSH I WAS HOPING U'D SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say that was a feel-good reaction. Finally, we dropped by my friend's dad's house on our way out for celebratory Mexican food, and told him. (I fed his cats over the weekend so I was returning the key. I lived with him for two summers in college, my first adult time here in the Big Apple, and I've known him since I was four, so he is like family.)

Co and I sent email to our various friends and family last night, and the responses have moved me. These are really the times I have to force myself to remember when I'm feeling down....my family and community may be far-flung but their love is forceful. We've gotten two offers of free babysitting, an offer for a doggie therapist for Maggie, a request from my great-aunt to let her know what color the booties should be. We heard from our rabbi, the rabbi who married us, my beloved colleagues from three cities and three decades worth of radio shows, and relatives from three countries. Right now Co is on the phone telling a cousin of mine all about Nerdy Science Guy.

It's good. It's just really, really, really good.

The Ticker

OK, Co figured out how to put up the ticker, because she's brilliant like that. I am sure Flipper, being half Co and half Nerdy Science Guy, is in there rewiring her uterus.

Because we count the second trimester as beginning tomorrow, we have decided it is okay to put up the ticker. (FF agrees that the second tri starts tomorrow at week 13; The Pregnancy Bible gives us another week. No, thanks.)

We love this ticker because a) we love the ocean and b) Flipper started out as Yellow Fish. And the one fish available in ticker-land...is yellow. Bashert, I tell you.

Discovering Google Analytics

So Cali's post (and S too) encouraged me to sign up for this service. And Co and I used our long weekend to take a look at who stumbles upon us. A partial list:

Corgi sperm (none here, sorry)
Animal sniffing other animal's butt (there is a lot of that in our house, but our blog?)
Pics of lesbians with crew cuts (sorry,folks, nothing to see here)
How is amniotic fluid made (by the amniotic stork!)
Nuchal thingy (checking out baby thingy)
What does a Pokeno card look like (well, that we have!)
short stumpy thumb (I'm getting a complex)
Embryo-o's (oh my God it IS a cereal?)
late-blooming lesbian (welcome!)
giving dachshunds ibuprofen (don't)
intact hymen and 35 weeks pregnant (the moshiach is coming!)
Is IUI okay if man on antibiotics (we didn't ask Dr. Quick. I hope it is)
Chicory is going to give birth to a baby (yes, she is!!!)


This is great fun indeed...

So Far, So Good

Embryo-O's nuchal went well. The neck measured 1.4 cm and according to the doctor who did the scan, anything below 3cm is normal. The final results, which also take into account levels in Co's blood, will be in Friday or Tuesday.

The doctor who did the scan, Dr. Shy Guy, was an Asian man, which made us feel right at home since Dr. Quick is Chinese (as is most of the staff of the clinic). He prepped Co for her first tummy scan (as opposed to a wanding) and Embryo-O showed up right away, swimming around and heart beating strongly. He put the sound up when I asked about the heartbeat so we actually heard it for the first time! Exciting. He said it was beating 150-160 times per minute. Embryo-O lifted its arms above its head, stretched out its little legs, and even "walked" in Co's uterus.

And then proceeded to earn the Flipper moniker...it would not get into a position where Dr. Shy Guy could measure the neck. He jabbed Co in the abdomen. He asked her to cough. Co and I pleaded with Embryo-O to move. He left for a few minutes and checked again. No dice.

Finally, Dr. Shy Guy asked a woman, Random Tech, to come in. He said he was going to revert to the wand, but not to worry, because Random Tech would do it. We did not bother to explain Co's familiarity with Asian men and the dildo-cam. Flipper wouldn't cooperate for Random Tech, either. Finally Dr. Shy Guy took the wand in hand, though he told Random Tech to stay in the room. (Co said he was very conscious of keeping the sheet over her, hence his nickname.) He was a little rough with it, but finally, finally, got a view of Flip that allowed him to do the necessary measurements. When he checked in on the tummy again, Flipper was in an even better position and he said the measurements were very good.

Our Embryo-O is already as stubborn as Mommy (Co) and big sister Maggie. Good heavens.

Photo Friday (on Sunday): Water

So, vee, I made it before Fruesday!

A note first: there has been a lot of sadness and joy in the blogosphere of late. Our hearts break for our blog friends every time an unwanted period arrives; when a last IVF doesn't take; or a baby (in any stage of development) dies. We're hesitant to post specific links to those sad stories because, while we really enjoyed the attention we got from then-strangers when we got our BFP, we're less sure how we'd feel about the same attention for a more tragic turn. That's a personal choice, though. Anyway, please know our thoughts are with you in both joy and grief.

This is one of our favorite pictures of Maggie, and I know we've put it on the blog before. She loves the beach and has come with us on beach vacations to Fire Island, Topsail Island (North Carolina), and Cape May. I'm pretty sure this picture is from Topsail Island.

Maggie loves to dig in the sand, walk along the shoreline, and eat sand crabs (no photo of this; it is disgusting, if unavoidable). Her forays into the water are brief and few, but she enjoys chasing bubbles and wading. I saw her swim once, just once, in a lake in the Berkshires. In this shot she's running, rather than swimming.




This next photo was taken at a yearly festival we'll be attending again in just a few weeks! I (Lo) have been at this festival every year since 1984; this tradition has outlasted two hometowns and my parents' marriage. It's also a time to connect with family and friends. This year nephew S. will meet "nephew" Squeak! Co has been there with me every year since 2002, and we were married with a view of this same river.

7 Things About Lo

Oneofhismoms tagged me to do the "7 Things" meme, so here we go.

1. I spent my study abroad semester in Montreal. I am a Canadophile, and have thought seriously about immigrating (current U.S. politics have fueled this desire, but did not originate it). Montreal was closer to my parents' house than the U.S. college I graduated from. However, I really appreciated my time in Canada. It offered me a perspective from outside of the U.S., which is invaluable, and I did get a chance to use my French. Montreal is one of only two cities I've ever felt truly at home in (the other being the one I do live in).

2. In addition to Maggie, I have two pet hamsters. They live in my classroom, and because I let the children name them, they are Jellybean and Ray Ray. Jelly looked like a little licorice jellybean when he was a baby; I really don't know where they got Ray Ray. She nearly missed being named S*njaya, though.

3. I am shy about showing my toes. For years I searched out closed-toe, yet airy sandals. Frustratingly, these are mostly made for men (and men's shoes don't fit me well, believe me, I've tried!). Two summers ago I took a deep breath, and got some open-toed sandals and a pedicure. I feel less self-conscious when my toes are brightly painted (purple or blue or green, something outrageous).

4. I am a Boy Scout. This is because in high school I was an "Explorer Scout," a co-ed group that nonetheless is under the rubric of the Boy Scouts of America. My dad was delighted when I got my first piece of mail from the Boy Scouts...two daughters, but he finally got his Boy Scout.

5. I hate olives. I can detect their taste in most any dish, though in deference to my Italian wife I have gotten used to food that's been cooked in olive oil (always avoided it on my own). Adorably, olives are the one food I have ever seen Maggie actually spit out. That's my girl.

6. I watch much, much more T.V. now than I ever did as a kid. I watch all three Law & Orders, Scrubs, Degrassi, The Sopranos, The Simpsons, Jeopardy!...My child-self would be horrified. But adults need more downtime. And, I would argue self-servingly, T.V. has gotten better (except Jeopardy!; it rocks now, as it always has).

7. I have never been a patient in a hospital. (Excluding several E.R. visits, but I was never admitted.) When I was a kid we used to trick each other by pointing out that everyone was a patient in a hospital once, as a baby. But I was born at home. So was my sister, and our only cousin. Nephew S. was born in a hospital, though, and Embryo-O will be as well. Weird how the pendulum swings.

As I understand it, I am to tag seven people to go with the seven things. It's a challenge to find seven folks who haven't done it yet so apologies if this is a repeat for any of you...Jay and Vee, Mel, CD & SP, and Jude...you're it!

Photo Fruesday: It's Not Easy Being...

Green.

I just had to make that reference.

Before the photo, I must bring you the 7th grade quote of the day: "13 [as in turning the age] changes your life so much."

We live across the street from a beautiful park, which is in full splendourous greenery, but I've posted pictures of it before. So I bring you a photo my dad emailed me today, from the small town in Germany that bears our last name!



A few years ago the mayor of O-town sent out a call for people with the last name from all over the world to come visit for a "reunion" festival. (There was subtext about connecting with Jewish O's, since they were the most likely to have left the country, and indeed, my dad has become friendly with another Jewish O who lives in South Africa.) My dad was curious, so he and his wife went, and fell in love with O-town. They've gone back every year since and even talk about buying an apartment. I have yet to go myself but I am dying to. (Not least because I could hang with Sarah, BB, and Nicholas!)

(It's not clear if that side of my family actually came from O-town, despite the name, because as far as anyone knows our European roots are in Lithuania. But we may have emigrated there from Germany.)

I Am!

I've been tagged recently for two memes (so has Co). Here's my stab at the first, a list of "I Am" statements (or a poem if you will):

I am curious.
I am zaftig.*
I am stubborn.
I am what I am.
I am a teacher.
I am a wife, a daughter, and soon, a mother.
I am a dreamer.
I am an animal.

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I wrote this off the top of my head, on purpose. So, there it is.

I'm supposed to tag seven people. Up to now, I haven't done any tagging, because I thought the people who didn't get tagged would feel bad. (Yes, I am that insecure myself.) However, I think it might be fun, so I will use my blogroll to do some democratic tagging. So...I tag E. and A., Maeby, and Marci.


*Yiddish has a word for "fat" that has positive connotations. That's my language, people.

Oh. My. God.

You children of the '80s might remember the fine, Canadian show "You C*n't Do that on T.V.," aired here in the States on Nickelodeon. I was an enormous fan. And I had an enormous crush on Chr*st*ne. She was my first celebrity crush (I was ten years old). My mom used to get on my case because Nickelodeon showed the same episode twice a day...and I watched both. I knew I couldn't explain to her that it was because I needed to look at Chr*st*ne, but I wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

I still have many episodes of the show in my VHS archives, and I'm known among my friends for that early fandom. A friend emailed me recently that he found a website with a podcast by, gasp, Chr*st*ne. I checked it out, and presented with an email address, I couldn't help but write to her. That was a few months ago and I had forgotten all about it.

And then today I received this email:
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Dear Lo,

Thank you so much for your thoughtful email! It is shameful that it has
taken me this long to respond. I have started a blog, and I hope you
will bring your perspective and your smarts over to it, and
participate. It's at heymoose.christinemcglade.com.

Take care, and thanks again,

Christine
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My ten-year-old heart is beating madly. Positively amazing.

Amnesia

Dr. F-Head called just a few minutes ago. I left a message with her secretary asking for a call about my results (the real reason for my call was to get information about forwarding Co's results to the midwives. They're charging us. Is this normal?? I will definitely pay to get away from this woman, but is it?).

Dr. F-Head: Everything's normal. I told you I would call you if there was a problem.
Me: It is??
Dr. F-Head: Yes. Your FSH is 5.7, anything below 10 is fine for pregnancy.
Me: What about my estradiol?
Her: Oh, that's fine. Below 32.
Me: It is??
Her: Yes. That's all the tests, right?
Me: Uh-huh.


WTF?????

She apparently has no recollection that she called me a week ago to say that "pregnancy may not be an option for you."

But apparently she was wrong, too. I am grateful. But horrified that this woman possesses a medical license. And has seen my cootch.

Bits & Pieces

A bit more detail on our final RE ultrasound: Embryo-O actually looked human; I could make out a head, and buds of arms and legs. The earlier ultrasounds didn't look like anything, except that I was glad to see the flickering heart.

Dr. Quick always sticks the wand in vigorously and then before I have the chance to whine, "Is everything okay?," he is saying, "There is your baby." He congratulated both of us. I think he must like that part of his job.

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Our awesome friends have gotten us a stroller! They saw a Cr*ig's List ad, for the same model they have, and asked if we wanted it. It's also the one that I had, independently, bookmarked on the Babies R Expensive website because I liked its features. At first I thought, oh well, that's cool, but it's too early. Then I compared the prices and Co and I looked at each other and said, what the heck.

And in other serendipitous babystuff news, we can most likely use my sister's (well, my nephew's) infant car seat because he'll have outgrown it by the time Embryo-O needs a seat outside of Co. And it's one of two models that are compatible with the stroller.

Now, of course, I'm really scared something will go wrong.

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My mom called to ask me about blogging. She is interested in setting up a blog for her husband's anti-corporate non-profit. But she also asked repeatedly if I had any blogs, saying "I guess it would be private if you did." Yep.

So far she has nicknamed Embryo-O both Shmendrick and Flipper. My name in utero was Yankel (I think they were kidding, but I'm still glad I was a girl).

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Co and I met a local blogger this weekend. It's ironic that sometimes it takes the Internet to connect us to likeminded people a mere bus ride away. It was amazing, for me, to enter into the conversation as an expectant parent. She congratulated me and immediately related to me as a fellow parent (and lent me a great book to obsess over!). I am really going to be a mom. And that's how people see me.

Photo Friday: Changing the World

These are some of my students from my very first sixth grade class. The school is actually in an increasingly upscale neighborhood, but the kids came from the nearby housing projects, or took the bus from farther away. Ultimately I couldn't stand the school itself; the administration was abusive to the kids and the faculty alike, it was just an unbearable mess. But I loved the kids. They weren't easy, certainly, but they were malleable and they tried and some were truly thirsty for learning.

Teaching is my way of changing the world. It saddens me that the neediest kids in my city end up in the most egregiously run schools, places where I, as a young new teacher, couldn't survive any more than the kids could. I couldn't be of any help to them when I myself was so isolated, something my graduate school professors warned me about before I went marching into the ghetto, but I was stubborn and had to learn it for myself.

Now I teach in a school that is committed to progressive education as well as diversity; some of my students are as needy as the ones in this picture, but by no means all of them. It's admittedly easier to address kids' needs when only a few of them are falling apart, rather than every single one. And of course working with people who have the same goals makes the entire difference.



And, lest you thought we could pass up an opportunity for photos of the dachshund.... I don't think we've told Maggie's story on the blog. She is a rescue dog (as is her cousin Mowe, my sister's dog, shown here as a puppy). I found out through dachshund rescue that there were some dachshunds at the pound. I headed over there, and they would only show me one at a time, so I asked to see the female. (I think there were two, and the other was her brother, but I really don't know.) They brought little Maggie out to me...she was Big Maggie, though, she weighed the most she ever has, and looked like a football. She curled up in my lab, and whined. It was so sweet, and so sad. Of course I said I wanted her! So I came back the next day, after she'd had her girl parts taken out, and took her home on the 6 train while she slept off the anesthesia.

Saving the world, one dachshund at a time.

Full Circle

Yesterday was a long day for us. First we went to the Bat Mitzvah of a young woman I tutored. I was very proud of her, and very emotionally overcome at the power of passing on old traditions. I got teary when the rabbi and cantor said/sang the priestly blessing. The thought of Embryo-O joining in all this definitely chokes me up.

Then we jumped in the car to attend a baby naming several hours away. This is a long-awaited adoptive son of dear friends, and it was lovely to see him and help welcome him into their community.

Also notable is that at this event, we finally met The Wife of our PKD from back in February 2006. We really liked him, but then back in March 2006 he said that while he was interested in donating, his wife said she could never be comfortable with it. We were annoyed with her not because she had an issue -- that's understandable -- but because she let him talk about donation, let him meet us and like us and talk about wanting to really do it, and only then did she nix the plan. We would rather not have been strung along.

We'd been dreading having to meet her someday, since she is the friend of friends, but really it was under the best of circumstances. We were all happy about Baby Z., and as Co put it, since we have this pregnancy-secret we're carrying around (she more literally than I), we could think "I don't want your guy's sperm anyway, lady!" In fact, Co chatted with her for quite some time. Co is definitely a better person than I am. I was perfectly friendly, but I will never like her, and inwardly I had some snarky thoughts about her ostentatiously shouting comments and commands to her children in a different language.

We saw PKD again too, of course, and seeing him made me realize/remember that we went from hoping for him, a biologist with his own children, to our frozen donor, a biologist with his own child. Heh. (We do like the nerdy.)

I still feel a sadness about PKD, just because he represents a whole alternate reality I had created in my head, and now it can never exist; even though Co, and I, and PKD were all game to give it a try. But I couldn't be happier about Embryo-O, so the story doesn't end sadly. "Futures not achieved are only branches of the past: dead branches." (Italo Calvino)

Photo Friday: Products!

First a quick announcement that Dr. Mellow has undergone a name change. She will heretofore be known as Dr. F-Head. This is partially because, well, she is a f-head. Also because when I told my friend about her (I was recommending her at the time) she actually thought her name was the F-word. (I truly don't care if I'm giving away her identity.) I also feel bad that I didn't take the stories about her seriously until something happened to me. Oh, well, I am a proponent of experiential learning...

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These are my hair products. I have dry, curly hair, and I need every single one of these items to get my hair to behave (and still, some days, it doesn't). The sheer excess of this is highlighted in our home by Co's 2-in-1 shampoo.

I got most of these products from my hairdresser, who is my absolute savior. Four of our six-person mah-jongg group now see her (including Co). She came to our wedding (she did our hair,of course!). If you have curly hair (or even if you don't) and live anywhere near me, you need her phone number, and I will provide. In terms of the products, the B*uncy Creme in particular (blue pump on the far left) is corporate America's gift to curly-haired women. My hairdresser can barely keep it in stock. It really does define the curl and tame the frizz. The G*rnier N*ctris (small green tub) of course comes from See Vee Ess (another great love of mine, more below). Ordinarily I must purchase only salon products, to my great frustration, but another curly buddy recommended this stuff and it really helps to dab a little on just to seal the curls.


Here, you see Co's seltzer stash. It's ironic that Co is the seltzer drinker in the family because I come from a long line of imbibers. My great-grandparents had a seltzer delivery man who brought them those wonderful old seltzer bottles on a weekly basis; I myself grew up in a sea of plastic bottles (if I took them back to the store I was allowed to keep the nickels). But Co loves her seltzer, and thank goodness it's a vice she can keep even now that she's pregnant. There's a great Allan Sherman song called "Seltzer Boy" that we sing around the house ("Water I hate it....'cause it aint' carbonated....").



See Vee Ess....ah, See Vee Ess. My favorite chain store. The only chain store, in fact, I can abide. I am non-corporate in my beliefs, but I cannot help my love for this one place of business. Maybe because it was the first chain store I had much familiarity with; I discovered it in the town we moved to when I was ten. I found it pretty cool that you could go into a See Vee Ess just about anywhere, and feel like you were right at your home See Vee Ess. Of course, I find this same concept much less charming in the case of, say, Mickey D's. I've been to one in Montreal and one in Poland and I think it's depressing that they could both be Middle America. But somehow See Vee Ess is special to me. This photo is of the store in Brookline, Massachusetts (Coolidge Corner, if that means anything to you) that started it all.

Updates

Embryo-O is growing rapidly, now a ginormous 1.27 cm (.46 cm last Friday). Dr. Quick was pleased and next Friday's ultrasound may be the last with the RE!

Fortunately, I have already scheduled our first prenatal appointment with Little Fruit Midwives (you know us too well, Cali; you were right, of cousre, about our enthusiasm levels). There is little point in my veil of secrecy so I'll go ahead and post the link here: they're called Clementine Midwifery and we're very excited to be using them.

In potentially more disturbing news, I have succumbed to consumerism and started to look at a few baby products online...so far I'm only serious about wheeled bassinets and changing tables (I found The Changing Table, I think; it's all about space efficiency). That's the only furniture we need at first, and a good thing in our tiny apartment. I did look at strollers and car seats, but I still find them both mystifying. I was mightily disappointed with the diaper bags. I don't care how tacky it makes me, I want a diaper bag with P**h on it or that otherwise screams "Hi, I'm a diaper bag!" (though in a gender neutral fashion). And apparently the pendulum has swung so far in the stylish direction that tacky folks like me are in trouble. Glad I know to start the search early.

**********************************

I have some other news, about my own bloodwork. When Co was freaking out and convinced she was completely infertile, she begged me to assure her that I would be willing to go instead and have two kids. I said I would, and towards this end, I have started charting, and gotten blood taken to check some basic fertility stuff. I had a cd3 blood draw two days ago. Dr. Mellow called today with some of the results. I have the estradiol levels of a menopausal woman (I think she said 32). She still needs to find out my FSH results but if they are similar then pregnancy is not an option for me.

I take back everything nice I said about her. What a rotten, crappy thing to say to someone on the first warm weather Friday of spring. "I don't have all the information so I might be saying this for no reason but you are all dried up like your mom and you can't get pregnant."

I wasn't expecting anything this drastic, since I have menstruated monthly, ceaselessly, since I was ten and a half years old. My mother and sister were both easily fertile. But I'm broken.

Good thing I am getting to all this non-bio mom stuff early.

(I know I have nothing to complain about. I have a baby on the way, a wife who could most likely bear us a second child, insurance that covers most of it, a local government that will let me adopt my children. But I can't help but feel that the wind has been sucked right the hell out of my sails.)

I will do Photo Friday later this weekend. I'm just not feeling it right now.

Confessions of the Other Mother

In upbeat news: I got my pregnancy organizer in the mail. Oh, what fun! It has lists, and boxes to check off. And more lists, and more boxes to check off. I love it. I had no idea such a product existed until we did our pregnancy book searches. Get ready for this, Maeby.

Today is the 2nd ultrasound with Dr. Quick (and the 3rd counting the one we had with Dr. Mellow). Fingers crossed for positive results.

***********************************

I definitely need to get the book by that title (of this post).

I've been mulling this post over in my head for a few days, and was urged on to the computer by Charlotte's thoughts.

Through the whole TTC process, and even once we finally got Co knocked up, it never crossed my mind to worry about being the non-bio mom. Though I want to be pregnant, I also want very much to have a child that is a part of Co. I have no concerns about loving the baby, or feeling connected to it. I mean....look at how connected we both are to the dachshund (who, by the way, is adopted). On a more serious note, I've always known I could be comfortable with (human) adoption, we just have a preference for this way and so far it's worked (knock wood).

For purposes of clarification, when I use the words "Mom" and "Dad" throughout this post, I mean them in the most stereotypical/archetypical way. And probably I mean them as they have been informed by my own experience of a "Mom" and a "Dad." Obviously these roles have fluidity in our real lives.

I've had unexpected flashes, as we move slowly, superstitiously through the pregnancy, of fear and anxiety. As Charlotte indicated, it's really only as we interact with people outside of our relationship, and outside of our world. Co and all of our lesbian/honorary lesbian friends (both in and out of the blogosphere) treat me as I see myself: co-mom.

But, I am realizing, not everyone does. Co and I found out about "our" pregnancy first, so for a brief moment Co was the only preggie in the mah-jongg group (though by no means the only one trying). As such, we got to set the unspoken rules, and I was able to be the mom I see myself to be. But now that CF is pregnant, that's changed. She and Co are pregnant. The rest of us are not. There doesn't seem to be any middle ground. (Fortunately this has no effect on my passionate feelings for mah-jongg.)

I had a minor meltdown at the OB the other day. I was leafing through one of those "How Your Baby Grows" pamphlets and showing Co pix of the little tadpoles. She snapped at me to stop (apparently they were grossing her out and she was nauseated; I thought the tadpoles were cute). I admit that I was being gross when I tried to tell her what amniotic fluid is made of* but I didn't realize she was feeling sick. She whispered that she was trying not to puke, so I offered her the Preggie Pop in my pocket and kept my factoids to myself. Shortly after this interaction, she moved to sit next to CF and the two of them started whispering and giggling obviously, but inaudibly (to me). CF's husband was doing a crossword puzzle. I finally went out to do some errands (no problem due to the whole late-because-delivering-a-baby thing) so I would be blubbering on Big Avenue rather than in the tiny office. (There was more to this decision on Co's part that can't be blogged, but the point is, I was hurt.)

That same day CF said her hubby and I should start a club. And again, the sting: I am the one who did the research, made the phone calls and appointments from sperm bank to midwives, mulled over all the decisions, read and Googled so much I at times know more than Co about conception and pregnancy. Certainly I don't share that with hubby. Yet at the end of the day, that's his biological baby. I don't share that with him, either. So that made me want to cry, too.

Co reminds me that in terms of my own behavior, she (Co) did motion to me to come sit with her when she moved to sit with CF. But by then I was Hurt, and therefore Sulking, so I did not. And by the time I needed to get out of the office to do my errands, CF and her hubby were off having lunch, so I left Co alone in the waiting room. I can definitely be a brat.

My sister enthusiastically IM-ed Co after we got the first ultrasound to congratulate her, even though I was on IM as well. Co said something like "yeah, congratulations to both of us" and my sister said "You're the one who's pregnant!" Yeah. Thanks for the reminder, Easily Fertile Sib.

I do believe that I occupy an unfamiliar space, at least to heterosexuals. I am not a dad, I'm a second mom. Perhaps the closest existing (heterosexual) category is stepmother, which is fraught with its own issues. When one couple we know had a baby, a mutual friend of ours said (of the non-bio parent) "She's a dad!" At first I thought that was a weird thing to say but then I realized it's kind of true, in this friend's case. She's not the biological parent and her role is more like my own dad's was (I mean this in a good way, my dad's role in my life having been complicated to say the least), in that there's no question who the "mom" is. I've seen this in other queer relationships, and there's nothing wrong with it. There are lesbian "moms" who don't want to be called Mom, or any facsimilie thereof. That's an easier dynamic to understand from the outside.

But I am no lesbian dad. If anything, my stoic, athletic, sports-watching Co will be the "dad." I am all mom, all the time, from the time I adopted my C*bb*ge Patch Kid (which I did legally, I sent away for the certificate and everything) through my adoption of the infant-sized Maggie Mae. I won't mind not being the "boobie mama" (thanks to Charlotte for the term) this time around but I am going to have to make clear, I guess, that today, at 7 weeks 1 day, I am the mama, and I always will be.

More food for thought on this subject can be found here.


*Amniotic fluid is mostly made up of fetal pee. Well, you read the note!

Midwife Day

Our first consult today was with the Little Fruit Midwives (the practice is named for a little fruit). There are two of them; we met with Midwife Apple (so named both because her first name starts with an A, and because she does have red rosy cheeks, and is pregnant, so also round like an apple).

We both really, really liked her. She spent plenty of time with us and answered all of our questions. Their Caesarean rate is even lower than Dr. Mellow's at 13% (16% if you count breeches). She said they only perform episiotomies if the baby is in distress. They deliver at University Hospital nearby (the other option is Protestant Hospital*, where Dr. Mellow practices); she said they use U.H. because they can practice as they choose, which means no routine interventions during labor (no IV's, only intermittent fetal monitoring, eating and drinking during labor, changing positions, and two rooms with tubs). If we are sure to choose a specific pediatric practice and if the pediatricians cooperate (they don't always), we can be discharged after 12 hours (but have the right to stay longer if we wish).

They're very easy to get in touch with; one of the voice mail options rings directly to their cell phones, and we can also email for less urgent issues. That's a real comfort.

The Little Fruit Midwives have fewer, but longer pre-natal visits, which appeals to Co. Charmingly, they have a list of names of babies they've delivered on the wall, and even more charmingly, one baby is named after their practice.

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Today's second visit was to Neighborhood Midwives. The neighborhood in their name is ours, but the only consult appointment available this week was in Large Jewish Neighborhood. That wasn't the most comfortable experience, but ordinarily we'd go to their office a few blocks away. Actually, the location of their neighborhood office is about 100 feet from the location of Little Fruit's office.

We met with Midwife R; there are two others in the practice. She was lovely. Their Caesarean rate (from last year) is the lowest yet at 10%, and she said that was high for the practice, they're usually closer to 7%. They deliver at Protestant Hospital and said they've been happy with it and are able to make their own rules for labor (which is to say no rules: you can get up and down, eat and drink, etc.). We can also likely leave the hospital after 24 hours, there's a pediatrician who almost always releases babies at that point. (The information from both midwives about getting released from the hospital totally contradicts Dr. Mellow; clearly we weren't getting the whole story.)

There's always a midwife on call and if you have an urgent issue the answering service will page her, and she will call back immediately.

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Here's our verdict: We liked both midwife practices a great deal. Especially after the helpful comments to our last post (thanks so much, folks), we are definitely going with one of the midwife options. But which one??

What it seems to come down to is Mama Midwife (Neighborhood Midwives) or Older Sister Midwife (Little Fruit Midwives). Little Fruit felt more personally familiar: a waiting room with a sign that says "help yourself to tea" and papered with fliers for local nursing/mommming/hypnobirthing/prenatal yoga groups. They don't have a receptionist and Co helped Midwife Apple reboot her computer. Neighborhood Midwives have been in practice over 20 years, are clearly more organized with multiple receptionists and a waiting room with fliers for cord blood and backwards R store product catalogues.

We will come to our own decision, but if you, oh Internets, have any pearls of wisdom to throw our way, we'd love to hear them.

*Co says that it is best to entrust one's health care to the Catholics or the Jews, but in this neighborhood Protestant Hospital is what we got.

OB Appointment

First of all, big bloggy congratulations to Charlotte and S.! Baby #2 is on the way!

And another congratulations to Gaye and Clare on the birth of their son!

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We spent most of our day at the OB/Gyn office. Co had an 11:30 Gyn appointment which was made months ago, so we figured we'd keep it and do a combo Gyn appointment/OB consultation while we could. Our appointment was much later because the doctor was out...delivering 2 babies. By the time we got home it was after 4 (and she's only 5 minutes away from our house). We didn't mind so much, though if it had just been a Gyn appointment it would have been annoying.

When we arrived, who was sitting in the waiting room but CF, Co's due date buddy! She sees this doctor as well on our recommendation. So that made the wait more bearable as well.

To be honest, I was not expecting to like the OB. To clarify: I like her, she is my Gyn, but I've been very excited about our midwife appointments and somewhat dismissive of the OB option. After this meeting I feel like she is a great option, which may make the decision more difficult (I know, we should all have such difficulties).

The doctor did an ultrasound, which we weren't expecting, so we got another peek at Embryo-O's beating/flickering heart. She pronounced it a "good strong heartbeat." Another highlight from the appointment was when she did Co's Pap smear, the brush came out with gunk on it and she said, "Are you using progesterone suppositories or is this yeast?" Eeeeeeuw. Co was fascinated that the progesterone was still up there. (And you worry about your downstairs, Cali!)

Dr. Mellow (so named for the attitude described in this paragraph) was very open to my questions and gave what I thought were the best possible answers. She said that "pregnancy is simple" and that while she always wants to know about symptoms, she will "shrug my shoulders" at most of them because "that's pregnancy, it's only 9 months."

This philosophy puts me at ease not least because my own parents have always been very non-interventionist in our care, from pre-natal on. My sister and I were both born at home. The doctor who delivered us was also our pediatrician. My mom tells a story about calling him in hysterics about some rash I had as an infant (I'm the oldest, the first baby). He said solemnly, "Oh yes. I know that rash. That's the 'vervase rash'." My mom began questioning him about this "vervase rash" for a few minutes until she realized (and he knew she knew this) that "vervase" is Yiddish for "who knows."

Dr. Mellow's Caesarean rate is 17% which, she said, is less than the national average (no, I don't know what the national average is). She practices at a hospital that's walking distance from our home. Mother and baby will have to stay at that hospital for 48 hours after a vaginal birth, 72 after a C-section. She said the baby staying with us depends on what the baby needs. My staying over depends on whether we get a private room, which is first come first serve.

She gave us a referral to schedule the "ultrascreen," a.k.a. nuchal fold screening at M*donna Perninatal next door. I like the name. :-) And though we're still both mightily superstitious, it's intoxicating to be thinking ahead like this. The receptionist who booked the appointment was excited that we were a couple and gave me some props that I was needing for being such a great othermom (I was the one who rattled off last menstrual period, due date, dates of appts, etc).

Also, and this is silly, but I like it that she has an Israeli/Jewish name and her partner in the practice has a clearly Arab last name. Our own little Middle East peace practice. My mother will be delighted.

Tomorrow, two consult appointments at local midwife practices.

Question About Questions

Tomorrow we visit an OB (who we see for gyn stuff), the first of three visits this week to potential care providers for Co and Embryo-O. Any questions we should be sure to ask? (I thought the pregnancy books would have something to say on this topic, as all the wedding books had lists of questions for potential venues...alas, the two we bought did not.)

Thanks!

Photo Friday: What We're Watching

We don't have HBO,but Co got into the Sopranos when A & E started showing reruns. Then I got her the first season for Valentine's Day and started watching with her...and the rest is history. I never thought the show would interest me, but the psychological and familial drama is fascinating. And watching it with a bona fide Italian: priceless. I'm sad that its ending, but relieved that we're only partway through season 2.

We don't have a DVR, though I'm growing increasingly tempted. However, if we did, here's what would be on it (my choices, but I watch all of these shows with Co):

*Jeopardy! I have long loved Jeopardy!; it's the only game show I like. I love playing along and on good days I think I could be a contestant. I play classroom Jeopardy to review units. I don't watch daily but if I'm watching T.V. when it's on I always check it out and love reruns on GSN as well.

*Law & Order. We love all of them. I wept when Jerry Orb*ch died. And if you have cable, well, it's just always on. Criminal Intent can be kind of annoying but since we've seen virtually all of the episodes of the other two, we caved. Trial by Jury deserved to be cancelled, though, I must admit. But we liked Convictions, another short-lived spin-offs about young DAs. Its on in reruns (all, like, 7 of them) on Sleuth TV.

*Medium. That is quality television.

*Scrubs. Scrubs just cracks me up. Thanks to Comedy Central reruns I've seen almost all of them now. I really like, too, that it's popular with my students, and I can actually let them relay Scrubs jokes in my classroom. Not so with South Park... (Kid: "And then Mr. Slave --" Lo: "That's enough!!" Kid: "But you dont' know what he did with the hamster!" Lo: "Oh, yes, I do, and that's enough!!")

*Degrassi: The Next Generation. How could any child of the 80s pass on this one...Spike's little girl, all grown up. Canadian TV, particularly kids' TV, is often much higher quality than ours, and this show is no exception. I've used it in the classroom to talk about various issues (most recently why you should NOT put up seductive photos on MySp*ce along with your home address and claim to be 17 when you are TWELVE). I've always been annoyed by the American advertising for the show ("Degrassi. It goes there"), sensationalizing issues that the show itself deals with sensitively and thoughtfully (Internet stalking, a school shooting, rape, etc.). Lately I do feel the show has become more sensationalist and sexy than I'd like, and certainly significantly more so than the old days when it was aired on PBS. Oh, well, our decadent society. Sigh.

And with this long list of T.V. shows, I'm really one to complain about our decadent society! As a kid I rarely watched television. Strange habit to pick up as an adult.

I leave you with one of the most gorgeous women on television (Co assures me she doesn't feel threatened).

Flicker

...because we saw the heartbeat flicker on the ultrasound screen.

So far, so good. Dr. Quick actually made a joke when he came in -- he said, "Today we get to see how many!" which he would only have said as a joke if he was sure there was one, since he takes multiples quite seriously.

Embryo-O, the one and only, measures at 1/4 inch, and appeared on the screen as a tiny dot with a distinct pulsing flicker. Dr. Quick pointed and said, "That's your baby's heartbeat." He definitely shows a different side at this stage. (I guess the only other phrase I've really heard him utter much is "Sperm is going in now.") He also pointed out that Co has some cysts on her ovaries left over from the cycle and told her to "be careful," which he clarified to mean not exercising too hard or "making sudden turns." Hmmm.

He did print us a picture of the little dot. In fact, he printed a second, handed it to me, and said "Here's one for you," apparently in response to my gasps of "That's the baby? It's alive?"

He said he'll continue to monitor Co for 2 to 3 more weeks to make sure everything is going well. She (we!) have another ultrasound next Friday. He said we'll see big differences.

Afterwards, as we planned, we stopped by Barn of Evil to take the plunge and buy pregnancy books. We picked up The Pregnancy Bible and Your Pregnancy Questions and Answers. We will buy more books but we wanted to have some in hand immediately. (So if you have recommendations of titles we shouldn't live without and haven't already told us, comment here!)

I definitely plan to order a pregnancy organizer I saw on-line because, well, I love to organize. Co's response to this announcement was, "You're going to organize my pregnancy?"

My response was, "Yes."

Finally, during Internet searches and today's real life search for pregnancy books, we have discovered that pregnancy books for men have the most insulting, asinine titles. "My Boys Can Swim!" and "The Caveman's Guide to Pregnancy" are two highlights. I have not chosen to partner with a man, but I do respect their intelligence more than those authors. Really.

We Are Crazy

We are anxious people by nature, so maybe this is no surprise, but:

I am so superstitious that I have not felt comfortable buying pregnancy books yet (though thanks for your many recommendations). We've decided to go to a bookstore after Friday's ultrasound if it goes well.

The domino effect of this superstition is that when Co stops feeling nauseous, or has mild cramping, or sneezes and fears she has dislodged Embryo-O, we are left with Dr. Google and our dear, dear Internet buddies. Those of you who have received my frantic emails....thanks. Gettin' books on Friday, we hope.

Co has changed shampoo brands. Her clothes are uncomfortably tight but we're too superstitious to get the hand-me-down maternity clothes we have coming to us from my sister (plus my sis has warm weather clothes, not too useful in the Northeast's current version of spring).

We are both happy, too, of course, and immensely grateful. But we both feel awfully convinced that something could, even will, go horribly wrong at every turn. I'm not sure why that is in my case...perhaps that this is such a pinnacle for me. There is no other goal, no other wish I have nourished as long or as consistently as my desire to be a mom. There is nothing I have ever wanted this much. Do I deserve it? I am afraid to think so.

Some Questions

When is the first ultrasound when you get to see the baby/blob? (I mean, for those of us under an RE's careful, not to say obsessive, care.)

When do you get to hear the heartbeat?

When does the RE usually discharge you?

Midwife vs. OB? Discuss. (Given that Co definitely wants a hospital birth...but midwives can do that nowadays so we would definitely consider it, we just don't know the difference.)

And a corollary, what questions should we ask when we meet with midwives or OBs? I know this information will be in the books and I will be diving in headfirst, but if anyone has any specific questions they'd recommend I'm all ears.

What pregnancy books do you all recommend? (So far we only have the end of our lesbian conception books which say helpful things like "The pregnancy may be difficult if your partner doesn't want the baby, too.")

Advice and assive, please. I'm way too clueless to know the difference anyway. ;-)

Photo Friday: Before & After

I have gushed before, I believe, about my nephew's striking resemblance to my sister as a baby. It touches me so much because seeing him brought up visceral memories I didn't know I had. I was 3 when she was born and I have plenty of memories, but holding S., kissing his bald head, and seeing his little face scrunch up in tears touches something deep inside.

So here is Before: my sister the day after her birth in November 1977. My mom propped her up against the lion to show how tiny she was at 5 lbs. We're sitting in my bed. (We were both born at home.)




And here is After: nephew S. at about one week old, in October 2006.

Co's Details

Charlotte wants details. Not sure how many I have actually.

No, I have not cried, well, except for all day Monday after I got the negative HPT after being suspicious that I might actually be pg for about a week, but that's a whole other story. Just to let you all know, on Monday, not only did I get a negative test at 14DPO, but I also felt mildly crampy and was convinced my period was on its way and the only reason it hadn't yet come was the hoo-ha bullets. I was so freaking wrong.

I am happy, in shock and a little scared, although Friday's beta makes me feel a little better. But it is comforting to know that there is nothing I can really do at this point, except take care of myself. Whatever will be will be. And for once, the odds are in my favor that it won't be unfortunate news, so my inner statistician can try to beat back my fears. I was looking forward to "odds in my favor" if we did IVF, since my R.E. told me the odds of me getting pg via IVF were 60% given my age. The idea of having the odds actually in your favor is such a nice thought.

I don't mean to sound melodramatic. I have absolutely no rational reason to be so worried. All looks well. But I was raised by my Italian grandmother who was very superstitious and had many miscarriages. She always scoffed when others had baby showers. It was counting chickens before they hatch, she would say. (No offense at all to any of you who choose to have them. It's just how my people are.) Jews are quite superstitious as well about this, according to Lo. They don't have baby showers either traditionally nor do they reveal the name of a child before its birth. So, I think both of our tendencies to hold back a little are deeply ingrained.

I have been struck by a few things that have happened recently. I woke up Wednesday morning and knew I was pregnant. I didn't wake up knowing that on Tuesday morning. The first time I wake up the morning after a major life event is very big for me--maybe it is for a lot of people. I remember the first mornings I woke up after someone I loved had died. There is a split second realization where I know, as I awake, that it really happened. It wasn't a dream. Of course, waking up that morning, it was a good feeling that it wasn't a dream.

Speaking of which, tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death and my brother's wedding anniversary. When my brother told me he and his longtime fiancee had set a date and he told me what the date was, I paused and said, "Um..." He said, "I know. I know. I just want a good memory on that day." Further evidence that my brother desperately needs therapy. Not to mention, who wants their wedding anniversary to be on April F*ol's Day? (And yes, my father commit suicide on April F*ol's Day.)

Don't get me wrong. I am all for trying to exorcise the ghosts of the past. I once ran a race on the anniversary of my father's death called the Backwards Mile. It involved running an entire mile backwards, which is no easy feat. Not only does it work different muscles in your legs, but it also is quite a challenge not colliding with other runners. But it was fun. And I made it to the finish line without getting dizzy and falling over, which did happen to quite a few runners. The t-shirt I got for running that race says ELIM on it instead of MILE. But I digress...

I will share this detail about my trip for my Tuesday beta, after I'd gotten a positive HPT. My R.E.'s office staff, when it's not busy, often asks if you cheated when you go in for a pregnancy test or they ask how you feel. On Tuesday, I signed the sheet and no one spoke with me until I went back for my blood draw. Then the nurse went to check on what exactly I needed to have done today. She thought I needed an u/s, too. So, the Sunny Receptionist came back and asked, "Are you here for an ultrasound?"
Co: "No, I don't have my period. I just need a beta test."
Sunny Receptionist (who is pregnant--I didn't know until recently but she's started showing big time): "Okay, just a beta test."
It's funny. I am sure they were just busy, but I also felt like they kind of acted as if it was assumed that I was just in there to fulfill some sort of baseline beta requirement (as I always have been before), not because I might actually be pg. Maybe they're just so used to me not being pg that it didn't occur to them it could be otherwise (I doubt they think about me that much though). Maybe it's because I wasn't jumping up and down excitedly or telling them I'd cheated or I felt different. I was playing it pretty coy, although I told the nurse that it was the first time I thought I might be getting good news after the test. So, anyway, I thought it was funny that I kind of walked in, waited, had my bloodwork done and left, all the while keeping a little secret all to myself.

I was a little somber for my Friday beta too, largely because I was really anxious to get a good number. That was in stark contrast to another woman, also there for a second beta who was gushing in the waiting room about being pregnant. She also had to explain when she went to the ladies' room, "Oh, you know, I'm just peeing all the time now." She really irritated me.

We went out for a celebratory dinner last night. We were an hour late to meet our friends because I was trying to meet a deadline (I feel really guilty about our tardiness but I had to meet that deadline) and the doctor's appointment for the second beta cut into my work time. We had fun though once we actually got there.

See? I'm lame. I have no great details. But I am very happy, if still mired in my worrier princess ways. :-)

Lo's Thoughts

Today just as I was coming up from the subway station, the five-year-old boy who lives in our building passed by on his way home from school with his mom. He wanted to hold my hand as we walked to the building, and he wanted to use the key to open the front door. As we walked, he asked, "Where's your wife?" I said that she was inside. His mother said, "Now I don't know why he said that. M., they could be roommates! I'm sorry if he's saying something that's wrong." I told her he was right.

He knows. He won't be surprised if/when we have a baby.

I am having trouble believing this is real. It just feels like another optimistic moment, like when Co responded well to the injectibles, when our IUI was well-timed...I keep saying, "Yeah, it looks good!" and the few people we've told keep saying "It doesn't just look good! She's really pregnant!"

I will feel much more settled after Friday's beta, I think.

According to FF she is 4 weeks pregnant. That is bizarre. (Also, according to FF, she is a "graduate." Good Lord.)

We haven't told many people. (Only the whole blogosphere! Ha ha ha.) Seriously...those who have followed us on our journey will always receive every hiccup of news. But other than a few close friends, no one else will know for a while. We haven't chosen an exact time of disclosure yet.

So this disjointed, numb post is an accurate reflection of where I'm at. I'm happy, of course I'm happy! But it's a guarded happy.

Photo Friday: Maggie Models

So here it is. Really, what else did anyone expect us to do? Below, Maggie models one each of her mommies' boulder-holders. (The white one is Co's, the blue one is mine. I have to admit I trotted out my prettiest bra for the event...most of mine are far more pedestrian, not to say grayish and stretched out.)




In other news....

Parents: We just got home from a weekend with my mom, taking care of her after her surgery (which, thank God, resulted in a clean bill of health for her). She's not easy to take care of, but we left her with groceries in the fridge and a clean kitchen. We saw my Dad on the way out of town and she didn't find out! My own personal parent trap averted, at least this time.

We also saw nephew S, now 5 months and truly the cutest baby in the world. I was nervous that I would not fall in love with him, but the connection is powerful and he happens to be a winningly beautiful, precocious, and perfect baby.

Co is writing a post with our TTC news (which is really all about our conjectures, hopes, and fantasies, rather than actual science, but hey, if there's no blood yet, that's license to dream). Today is 13 dpo.

I leave you to contemplate the cuteness. Careful -- you may need sunglasses.

Lucky Penny

There is a penny sitting on my dresser. I found it in the street on my way to the IUI on Monday (3/12). My mom used to recite the rhyme I'm sure many of you have heard: "Find a penny, pick it up, and all the day you'll have good luck." It was a bright, shiny one too, like in this picture; and it was heads up. My mom never specified that the penny had to be heads up, but I picked that additional superstition up along my way.

That night I found it in my pocket and went to put it in our loose change jar, as I normally would....but I ended up leaving it on my dresser instead.

I saved the vials from our at-home try, too. I didn't save them, so much as I just intentionally didn't throw them out after setting them on the edge of a bookshelf during the, uh, procedure. My friend W. teased me and said I was planning on putting them in the baby book. Which, as she well knows, is not entirely a joke. I'm a sentimental fool, such that it's a darn good thing we have a storage unit in our co-op.

Of course, I threw away the vials when the blood came. Am I going to feel as grim about that shiny penny when we get the BFN? Should I toss it in the jar now so it doesn't mock me later?

I probably won't.

Whiling Away the TWW: Funky Sock Exchange!

A friend of mine has drawn me into this delightful chain. It's an old-fashioned snail mail chain letter, though also easily done over email. It works like this:

1) You receive the email from me, and send one pair of cool/funky/comfy/whatever socks to one person.
2) You forward the message (through email or snail mail) to at least 6 more people.
3) You receive up to 36 pairs of cool socks!!

I'm sooooo in.

Anyone want to join me? Leave a comment and/or email me (familyo at earthlink dot net).

Get those feet stylin'! Do I detect a future Photo Friday topic....?

IUI #4 (Insem #6): Yellow Fish

Not one but two yellow fish said hi to Co at the clinic this morning. Later as we walked to the subway we saw two adorable dachshunds (to which we said hi, of course). Portents, we wonder???

After the IUI, I, with my insatiable thirst for knowledge, asked Dr. Quick my pressing but two probably silly questions (is is true that you can't get pregnant if the IUI hurts? Is it okay that her cervix is low today?, to which, of course, the answers were no and yes respectively). I think he found me entertaining. Co, ever the prude, found me embarassing. Knowledge is power, I maintain.

Once again, Nerdy Science Guy came through with a count of 40 million and a motility of 92%. I am in awe.

Co is having more pain than she's ever had before, which is no surprise, since we're estimating she popped about 4-5 follicles this time around. So we're cuddled in bed resting, and shortly we will commence our mini-film festival of The Night Listener and For Your Consideration.

So, now we join our blogfriends in the two week wait...as well as our dear friends in their thirty day wait. We're both feeling hopeful, and we wish all of you lots of hope and luck as well.

Photo Friday: Mug Shot

The summer before I went to college, I worked at a bank. This mug (below) was one of the ones in the staff kitchen/break room. I LOVED it. I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen. My colleagues were amused, I guess, and gave it to me as a going away present at the end of the summer.

Now it's chipped on the edge (which you can see in this picture) so we use it as a pencil cup, since it's not safe to drink from. But I will never give it up!!



And of course, there's this mug, from our honeymoon in St. Croix.

Nurse Lo, Lesbians at the Gyn, and Advice, Please

Now that we've been giving Co injectibles lo these many nights (okay since Thursday), we've become experts. Last night, however, was our first time with Ganirelix (the oh-no-don't-you-ovulate drug), thus, two shots. After the second injection Co felt a bit faint and had to sit down on the bathroom floor. (Please note that this did not happen tonight, and Co tends to get faint when giving blood or even getting blood taken for testing, so all is well).

However, I panicked and offered repeatedly to take her to the E.R. I woke several times and poked poor Co to make sure she was still breathing. No worrier, I...

------------------------------------------

As Co mentioned, I like our potential new Ob/Gyn. I hope we need her more for the Ob and less for the Gyn. I have always found paps and examinations very painful, and have more than once needed ultrasounds because the doctor couldn't get a clear sense of my ovaries from the exam. This doctor told me that my hymen was intact (I never really thought about that; I mean, not to reveal too much, but there's no reason it wouldn't be, though I thought if you rode a bike a lot as a kid....). She also said that she wouldn't be able to do an IUI or an HSG on me because my hymen was intact, though she did say that you can get pregnant with a hymen.

Maybe the REs are more skilled at, uh, bypassing the hymen? Or will that be a problem?? I am mighty confused.

--------------------------------------------

Finally, some family advice. Here's the situation:

My mom is having surgery next week to have her ovaries removed. She had breast cancer 8 years ago (and has been cancer free for, I believe six; yeah!!). The doctor found a cyst on her ovary that they want to remove and biopsy (though she says many doctors have said they do not believe it is cancer) and will be taking out the ovaries while they're in there. Because she is post-menopausal (and the ovaries aren't doing much) and has had breast cancer, it's a good preventative measure, since ovarian cancer is linked to breast cancer. (Being my protective mom, she did not tell my sister and I any of this until she had made the decision and could assure us that there is little to worry about.)

But it's scary, and of course I want to help out, so Co and I are going up to be with her after the surgery, while her husband is away. The surgery is laparoscopic (sp?) so I'm not sure how long the recovery will take but I'm sure she can use the support.

My sister lives ten minutes away from my mom so she will come by and share nephew S. with us.

This is all fine. The complication is that there's a good possibility my dad (who lives three hours away from mom & sis and six hours away from us) will be in town the very same weekend. This is very, very bad, because:
a. I am not going to leave my recovering mother's side to go have brunch with my dad and his New Family. That is really, really, really wrong.
b. My dad cannot come to my mom's house (though were I to share the situation with her, which I will not, she might well offer that option in her typical martyr's fashion). That is really, really, really explosive.
c. I cannot lie low and have my sister lie for me (tempting though it is) because that is unfair to her. She and her husband run a community theater which will be producing a play that weekend (that's why my dad might be in town), plus she has baby S. to care for pretty much alone while her husband is consumed with the play, plus she will want to see me. Adding Dad to that and juggling the timing so he doesn't know I'm around....too much.
d. What might, Gentle Reader, seem to you the most obvious solution has come last because it is so ludicrous to any Daughter of My Dad: no, he would not understand. If only.
My whole nuclear family in one place is, well, nuclear. The train wreck that was our college graduations is making me cringe in mere anticipation


Any thoughts?? God, I hope he chooses another weekend.