Happy Feet

I am still finding it hard to believe that I gave birth to the baby playing in the next room. I started this blog before I had her, and now she is real. I never could have dreamed up a more wonderful baby. I don't think she looks too much like me. She doesn't have my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my hair, or my facial shape. I feel like I have a good idea what her donor must look like. Her social security card and birth certificate haven't come yet, and occasionally I worry about not having identification for her.

I have bizarre thoughts, like someone will ask me to prove I birthed her. I imagine a stern man from the Department of Parental Security demanding evidence. "Look," I will say desperately while quickly pulling off my shoes and socks, "we have identical toes."

New Look

I have myself a new header, thanks to Calliope at creatingmotherhood.com. I "won" it from the Uterus Brigade. I've changed my subheading in homage to my Mom (not that she knows I have a blog) because she puts out a family newsletter called Mom's Musings.
Thanks Calliope!

Belated Thankgiving

Thank you to everyone who gave me advice and support on my Incompetence post. That was good stuff. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments or lurks. Your real perspectives (and the ones I just imagine) have helped me sort my thoughts.

Thanks especially to the bloggers, whose blogs give me so much freakin good information and inspiration. Before TTC, I didn't buy into the idea of "online community' and I have happily been proved wrong.

What's In a Name?

I use pseudonyms for this blog, which makes this story difficult to tell.

My name is Sarah Soda. My girlfriend is Lovely Partner. Our baby, Sunshine, has her last name. This was a decision we came to mutually. I gave our baby my DNA, she gave our baby her name. We don't have a double or hypenated last name. Our baby has two MIDDLE names, one of which is my last name. We are totally fine with this.

So, our baby is Sunshine Middle Soda Partner. (Which sounds like it is from the Sarah Palin Name Generator Game). To make it more confusing, Sunshine's real name is somewhat unusual and has a commonly used nickname, Sunny. Both my last name and my partner's name are also not pronounced as they are spelled. None of us have androgynous names. I love Sunshine's name, but I also recognize it's a name with issues.

After Sunshine was born, we received a lot of presents for her in the mail. An overwhelming, much-appreciated amount of packages. Since we live in an apartment with a broken doorbell on a busy street in an urban neighborhood, we did not receive many of the packages, but instead got a card from the post office asking us to pick them up at the Post office.

They have been addressed to: Sunshine Soda, Sunshine Partner, Sunny, Sunny c/o of Partner, Lovely and Sarah, Sunshine Soda Partner, Ms. Lovely Partner and Ms. Sarah Partner, Sunny Soda, Ms. Sunshine M.S. Partner etc. You get the idea.

So I go to the post office to pick up a bunch of packages. Anticipating a problem, I have Lovely sign the form that says I can pick up packages in her name, plus her Driver's License. I get to the post office right before it closes, and soon a long line is behind me. I hand over 4 cards all with different variations of the name, plus my I.D. and Lovely's I.D.

Postal Worker says "Well these packages appear to be for "Sunshine" and then there is one for "Ms. Lovely Partner, so what ones are you picking up"

Me: "Sunshine is a baby, she can't pick them up, so I am, and Lovely Partner signed here that I can pick her packages up"

Postal Worker "Well.....you only have a signature from Lovely Partner, when the packages are for Sunshine Partner."

Me: "Sunshine is an infant, so I am picking them up"

Postal Worker "Who is the Mom then?" (Crowd behind me gets impatient as Postal Worker scrutinizes all the I.D.s, all the cards, all the variations of Sunshine's name)

Me: "Both of Us" (Postal Worker doesn't hear me, still scrutinizing)

Postal Worker "What, who's the Mom?"

Me: "Her"

So yep, in a rush, with an impatient crowd behind me, I actually denied I was my daughter's mother. For what sociologist Goffman calls "ease of interaction." I wouldn't have done this if Sunshine was a grown child, and listening. (I don't think so anyway, although I would consider safety, her wishes, etc). But in this case, it was the quickest easiest way to get the packages. I know the same thing would happen for Lovely if Sunshine had my last name. I imagine this kind of thing will happen a lot. It still felt very weird.

Incompetence

I feel like I am not accurately portraying life with my infant. There is so much about being a Mom is great, and also much that makes me feel incompetent.

For example:

1) I'm not good at bathing her. She's so slippery and it freaks me out. I always call my partner in to help me. It seems like something I should be able to pull off on my own.

2) I often can't comfort her. She cries and is miserable. I thought that fed, dry babies stop crying when their Mom picks them up. Not the case with the Not-Always-Sunny-Sunshine.

3) Sometimes, I still feel bad about the epidural/epi. That maybe I missed out on some crucial bonding moment with her that I can't make up because I wasn't centered enough.

4) I'm not calm and collected when my baby screams in public. (See #2)

5) I feel sad for my partner that because of my age we put my dreams (having a baby) in front of her dreams (traveling, exciting career). With all our money in fertility and child care, she doesn't have freedom I did when I was younger. She loves Sunshine so much, but I know she has sacrificed more then I have.

6) I'm having trouble with my sling. I swear some of the hip mamas around are looking at me like "You suck with that messed up sling, you imposter!"

7) I worry that my mothering skills are being negatively evaluated often. (See #6). I know I should not care what people think so much.

8) I feel guilty when I get bored at home, or am wishing I could just check my email. I love her more then anything, but sometimes its taxing to take care of a baby.

9) I have trouble with getting onesies on still. Why must baby clothes be pulled over a baby's head? Every baby I have ever seen HATES this.

10) While nursing is going fine now, I still don't know when she has eaten enough, when she is hungry vs. wanting to suck, etc. I don't trust my intuition on this.

Its not that I need to be comforted about this, or be told I'm doing a good job or anything like that. I am mostly thinking about the identity shift that has happened. In some ways I am a different person, but in many ways, I feel the same. I am not someone who this stuff happens for naturally...like all those hip mamas with their calm infants in the slings!

Dancing Queen, Young and Sweet, Only Seven Weeks

Before we started trying to have a baby, I read tons of things about having kids and did a lot of mental planning. I thought about what the nursery would be like, how I would tell my parents, what we would name the baby. As each try failed, my enthusiasm for these projects shrunk. When a year had gone by and I still wasn't pregnant, I pretty much stopped thinking about my still hypothetical kid. It was painful to give it too much energy.

However, there was one project I kept working on: My Ultimate Baby CD.

I have to confess that I don't know very much about music. I don't even listen to the radio, ever. I don't even like the question "What kind of music do you like?" because I never know what to say. However, when I was TTC, I became obsessed with the idea of creating a mix CD for yet-to-be-conceived-Sunshine. I started compiling a list of songs before we even started trying the IUIs. The list was a page in the back of my planner, and it grew and grew. I tried to incorporate songs from different musical genres. I tried to think of songs that would be appropriate and life affirming for a child. I checked in with Lovely Partner, who asked me to add Led Zeppelin, Tori Amos, and oddly, "You Can Call Me Al." I know it might sound silly, but this list was one of the things that kept me feeling positive about trying to have a baby. It was abstract enough not to hurt, but concrete enough that I felt like I was going to have a baby someday. It was a pleasant distraction from thinking about cervical mucus.

My sister started helping me with the project and soon we had an excel spreadsheet to sort the songs into categories ("Songs for and Inspired by the Gay Community," "Just Plain Fun Songs,"Soothing Sounds" etc.)

On the day Lovely Partner adopted little Sunshine, my sister presented us with the CDs, which must have taken her a really really long time to burn. It is a total of 8 cds, and over 100 songs.
(It also must have cost her a lot of money to buy the songs, and she confessed she did not already own any of the songs "For and Inspired by the Gay Community." )

Most days, I play these songs and dance with my baby. Every now and then a song will make me cry. Lovely Partner thinks its hilarious that I have included Christopher Plummer singing "Edelweiss." We have also clarified with each other that the way we dance at home with a baby (swaying like dorks) is not how we would dance at a club. It is hard to say, but Sunshine seems partial to "Do You Love Me?" by the Contours. So, I'm finding that I am listening to music a lot more these days.

My night with Stella

Stella isn't the name of my daughter, its the name of a beer I just drank. My Lovely Partner has been encouraging me to get out of the house where I have been tethered to my Sunshine for 6 weeks today. Lovely tells me that I really need a break. In six weeks, I've spent roughly a total of 4 hours out of my house. Weird. I used to be such an active girl.

So I head out a local restaurant and have the above mentioned beer. Though I've always been a lightweight, this beer makes me feel ridiculously loopy. Maybe its from nursing, or not drinking beer for 9 months. I sit by myself at a booth and read the newspaper, inhaling election news, restaurant reviews, and gay gossip. I sort of....forget everything. Then, it feels oddly outrageous to be sitting there while Lovely is at home with the baby. I feel like a bad Mom. Still, I ordered dessert. I feel somewhat like my old self, reading the paper in a restaurant. For a few minutes, I am tranferred back to my old life. But yet, I don't really miss my old self, all carefree and ......leisurely. But I do I miss Lovely Partner! She should be here with me. We always said that we would go for sushi once we had the baby. However, this date is probably some time off as we nurse and care for an infant in a town far away from most of our loved ones and natural babysitters. I miss talking to her. Then I feel bad for not thinking my daughter should be here with me. Somehow, Lovely fits in with my image of a great night at the restaurant, but the baby doesn't. I wonder what they are doing right now, in this hour away from me. I've been craving some time to myself, but yet I'm sort of bored at the restaurant.

I think my identity has shifted because my old one isn't fitting somehow. I feel like an imposter, drinking beer and reading papers by myself in public. I stroll over to a public computer lab and logon to f.acebook, where I know Lovely has posted pictures of our daughter. I look throught them. I thought about the other night when Lovely and I went through the pictures from the day of the birth. We were both amazed to see that Sunshine looked like herself at birth. She seemed like a stranger 6 weeks ago, and now she is so familiar. Before we looked back at these pictures, we both assumed she must have looked different at birth for us to feel that way. But in the birth pictures, she is so familiar. So heartbreakingly sweet.

In the computer lab, I write this post. And that is how I spent the two hours away from my daughter today.

But I Wanted to Write about How We Cried when Obama Won

One sunny day in 1997, I was taking a walk with my friend. She told me that she heard Ellen Degeneres was going to come out of the closet, and that she was going to make the main character on her show a lesbian. I was 24, and had been out for 3 years already. I pretty much knew Ellen was a lesbian (duh!) but I was surprised by the latest rumors about her TV show. I told my friend that I doubted that would happen. In fact, I told her that I didn't think a show about a lesbian starring an out lesbian would happen "in my lifetime." Of course, I was incredibly incredibly wrong. My laughable myopic statement was uttered just over a decade ago, but it seems like a lifetime. Out t.v and movie characters and public figures are commonplace. States legalized gay marriage. And, yes, our President-Elect explicitly included gay folk in his historic acceptance speech.

And yet.

So many of us had our celebration on Tuesday take a sadder tone when we learned the news of Prop 8. Lovely and I watched the returns, the speeches, the incredibly moving images of people dancing in Chicago, Kenya, Spellman College, Ebenezer Baptist church. We cheered, cried, and drank champagne. When Obama talked about what changes his daughters might see in America if they lived to be 106, I thought of my own daughter. She was nestled in Lovely's lap, wearing an Obama onesie, oblivious to the fact that her country had been changed forever. She slept through my happiest moment as an American. Then Lovely left the room and I checked the Prop 8 news. Not good. Terrible. I decided not to tell Lovely, who worked her ass off fighting an anti-gay amendment in our Home State in 2004, only to be crushed. I wanted her to continue to savor this night of hope and feeling included in something wonderful. She walked up to me and I tried to close the computer browser. But she looked at me and said "I just looked up the same thing in the other room."

I tried to focus on Obama and what it meant. I still celebrated all day Wednesday and felt jubilant, especially when seeing pictures of the First Family. I struggled with the idea that I might be missing the bigger picture of the election since it was "my' group that was screwed. But you can't totally shake it when a majority of people vote to take away your rights, the rights of people you love, and the rights of a community you call your own. I hurt for my friends in California. I thought of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon and what the people in California were saying about their beautiful inspiring marriage. It is hard to feel excited about inclusion when you are excluded. It is difficult to feel hope when yours dashed in state after state. It is nearly impossible to feel giddy about progress when you see a major step back.

So many people have remarked that Obama's win was something they would never see in their lifetime. How moving it is to hear the stories of people who toiled in the civil rights movement talk about what this election means to them. They talked about how impossible and far off this moment once seemed. They mentioned scars, pain, and losses.

As I despair about Prop 8 and what it means to my family, I'm going to try to keep these heroes in mind. To keep my eyes on the prize. To remember my conversation about Ellen and how change can come sooner than we think. To think about what beautiful and amazing changes my daughter will see if she lives to be 106. To hope it doesn't take that long. To work for it, even when victory seems impossible and far off.

Deep in my heart, I do believe, we will overcome. Someday.

Salad in My Bra, Crying over Spilt Milk and Other Nursing Disasters

Believe me when I tell you that if I was more tech savvy or had more time I would've somehow made the theme from Jaws play when you read this post.

My lil Sunshine is 5 weeks old and doing very well. We've been doing a lot of learning, she and I.
Nursing has been the hardest thing for us to master. I am baffled as to why something that seems perfectly designed by nature has been so tricky for the two of us.

The rough patch started on day one, when the nurse threatened to take my baby to NICU if I didn't feed her formula or if some blood sugar number didn't go from 48 to "above 50." So already I was scared something was wrong with me, my milk, the baby. I quickly realized that I couldn't do many of the nursing positions people recommended because for several days I could not sit up or re-position my body due to the tailbone injury I sustained in labor. (I am looking forward to telling sunshine one day how I busted my ass birthing her) I kept nursing and it hurt. Every nursing guide in the world will tell you that if breastfeeding hurts, you are doing it wrong. Too which I wanted to yell "No freakin kidding!" I could not get it right. My nipples were raw and my heart hurt too from seeing my little baby at my breasts, wailing in frustration.

One breast got engorged and it really hurt. Sunshine couldn't latch on that side at all. The lactation consultant told me to put cabbage on it if that happened so I did. So I walked around for a couple of days with cabbage on my breast. My sister asked if I left like biblical Eve, but I told her I felt like goblaki. (My mother is Polish and prefers we use this term instead of "stuffed cabbage). I also had the fun of having other people push on my breast so that we could leak milk into a bottle. Luckily my body modesty was destroyed giving birth to Sunshine. If we pushed for an hour or so, we could get an ounce of milk to feed to her. When Lovely Partner accidentally kicked over some of the expressed breast milk, I cried. All that effort, dribbling on the floor. We tried to use the mechanical breast pump, but it came with its own set of problems and haunted me with a strange rhythmic noise that I swear sounded like "John McCain Sarah Palin John McCain Sarah Palin."

The worst part was the look on Sunshine's face as she was placed on me to be nursed. Her face would be beet red. Her mouth would be open as if screaming. Her little head would sort of bang against me and I imagined her thinking "Stop this now!" or "I hate you!" When we couldn't get any milk and I was scared I was starving her, we tried a bit of formula--in a bottle. That didn't help. (I later read that women thinking they are starving their babies is a main reason they quit breastfeeding). Sunshine still had trouble latching and then I did my Internet research and saw how a bottle can cause "nipple confusion." I felt like a complete idiot for not researching breastfeeding before, you know, having a baby. In extremely bad planning, I was collecting articles on making creative meals for toddlers instead. Finally I found some articles on curing nipple confusion. I bought special ice packs for breasts with holes where the nipples are. I realized my teeth were hurting from gritting them when she latched on. While she napped I dreaded the next time she would need to eat.

But, everyone kept telling me that it usually gets easier to nurse, so I kept trying. It did get easier, little by little. I put away the cabbage and started using my special boob ice packs less and less. My sunshine is a smart cookie and she started figuring out some things about nursing. I must've learned something too, though I don't remember how or when. The coolest part (besides knowing that I am successfully feeding my baby) is when we do get it right. Sometimes, she even grabs my finger with her little hand and grips it tight when she is nursing. Even though I know I am projecting, I like to tell myself this is her way of encouraging me and saying "Come on Mom, we can do this!"

I think that I like to reflect on the whole experience of learning to breastfeed because it helps me remember that there is a learning curve to a lot of this mothering stuff. Even if it doesn't come natural to me, I can still try to improve.

Birth Story (Long)

Even though I was thinking about her birth every second of every day, Sunshine's arrival still managed to surprise me. On Friday the 27th (one day past due date), I cleaned up my office at work. I told everyone "maybe I will see you Monday." And that night, I started to feel.....weird. I told Lovely "I feel like I am...hatching something."

On September 28th, I woke up at 530 and went to the bathroom, as I did for the whole pregnancy. I laid back down and within minutes I felt my water break. This was completely unambigious. It was a flood. I gently woke Lovely and said "my water broke" She said "Are you sure?'' and I laughed. I stood up and water just kept flowing. It seemed hillarious, somehow. We had been reassuring people for months "Normally labor doesn't start with a dramatic water breaking like in the movies" I felt fine. We called my family (who live 5 hours away) and Happy Doula, who told us to rest and eat. We wanted to labor at home as long as possible, and I thought it was great timing to go into labor on Saturday morning. We started organizing our things and I read political blogs, calmly. Once Lovely took the dog to day care and to pick up baked goods for the nurses, I started to feel contractions. It was most similar to stomachaches. I wrote down the times of contractions and thought "this isn't too bad." I assumed I would have a really long labor since it was my first birth and my Mom had a 50 hour labor.

These are the times I recorded for contractions, which don't even make sense:6:33, 650? (erased), 7;06, 7;38 (minor), 7:46, 7:50, 8;03, 8:14, 838, 8:36" Everything started to blur together and I didn't know when they were starting and ending.

Lovely had returned and I told her to call Happy Doula, since contractions were increasing and I was feeling in pain. I started to do all the things they said women often do in labor, like pound tables, pace around the room, open and shut cupboards. Happy Doula arrived and watched me carefully. I couldn't tell where contractions were starting and ending. I started to feel like I would vomit. I asked the doula "How was your dance competition?" and when she started to tell me I said something overly formal like "I beg your pardon, please excuse me" and I went into the bathroom. Doula gave me a towel soaked in peppermint oil which I clutched for dear life. I have no idea why this helped me so much, but peppermint is now the smell of birth for me. We drove to the hospital, and I wasn't crying but it was close. It felt like the drive took forever.

Lovely parked the car and Happy Doula and I took the long walk to Ob triage. The nurse looked at me and I said "Hello, I am in labor" They got me on a bed immediately but my body was spazzing out. I was clutching the peppermint towel like it was my lifeline. They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said yes. (I was open-minded about epidurals in birth plan, and everything was happening so fast, I barely thought about it) Lovely arrived and the doctor said I was at 6cm. I threw up. (I can't describe labor pain, except to say it takes over your entire body, as if an energy force was squeezing you down to get the last bit of toothpaste out of you) They wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery and I remember thinking that the breeze of moving fast felt so nice. But then I was crying, or yelling. The pain kept intensifying. At one point I looked at Lovely and said "Please help me" and she almost cried. Immediately after the epidural, the doctor said I was "complete, 10 cm" and everyone in the room got ready, as if a baby would fall out any second. I couldn't believe my contractions had started only a few hours ago and already I was at 10cm!

I thought at this point the baby would come right away, even before noon! Everything was happening so fast. And so I pushed my hardest, thinking that each push would be the one that worked. My sister came in the room and I laughed. It seemed so surreal that she would walk in while I was pushing a baby out. I was feeling so much better after the epidural though-- I felt like myself again. Then my Mom arrived and I called her in. This meant the doula had to leave since we reached our max of support people. Having my Mom there wasn't in the plan, but when she walked in I smiled and said "Hi Mumma" and I was glad she was there. It suddenly seemed appropriate for me. My team of nurses and doctors kept encouraging me to push. My Mom said I almost broke her hand when I was pushing. Lovely said that it was amazing. One of the nurses kept yelling "goooooooo mommmmmmy!" Everyone kept saying, "You are doing great!" which I found funny, because I didn't feel like I was doing anything---my body had taken over me completely. Lovely told me that she could see the baby's head, and that our baby had brown hair. My biggest fear in labor what was that I would be scared for my baby, but I actually wasn't. They kept giving me the numbers of her heartbeat, and I just felt like she was doing okay, and that things were going they way they were supposed to.

Alas, after two hours of hearing how "close" the baby was and being invited to feel her head, I started to get tired. I noticed the doctor's conferring with one another quietly. One doctor mentioned an epistiotomy and Lovely and I were like "Not crazy about that idea." I kept pushing. Doctors kept conferring. Lovely went over and listened to the doctor's explanation of why the epi was a good idea. The doctor said to me "This is not about the baby's health, the baby is fine, it is you that I am concerned with" (This is the opposite of what I expected doctors to say) Apparently, the doctor felt that given my,um, size and the baby's size and position, the perenium/rectum was going to tear completely soon. I don't know if this is BS, or something they always say. They did seem genuinely concerned. They didn't seem to be trying to scare me about the baby, which I appreciated. And finally, I said "Okay, take her out" So that was my 8 hour labor, which ended at 1:46 p.m.

Within a minute, the cuts were made, and a baby was on my chest. I wish I could see all of this better with my mind's eye, but I think I was in shock. Lovely said that the baby looked peaceful coming out. The doctors took her (not following birth plan, aaargh!) and started doing the tests on her under the warmer. I yelled out questions "What does she look like?" "What is the agpar?" "Tell me about my baby!" "Does she look like me?" The nurse yelled out "10 lbs, 9 oz" and everyone in the room gasped! I could see Lovely crying happily over the baby. I became irritated with the doctor stitching me up and asked for the baby. Everything felt surreal and distant I'm sad that I was practically disassociated during this time period, I started casually talking to Happy Doula about her kids. I thought about how medicalized the birth was, and I was ambivalent and somewhat embarrassed about how it all played out. I did feel badly that I didn't have the extreme high and rush of maternal feelings that some women talk about after labor. There was some highs, but these moments waiting for her were a low.

Finally, after about 25 long minutes they brought Sunshine to me. I said "Oh my baby, I missed you so much." Everybody probably thought I meant the I missed her the 25 minutes she was being poked and prodded. I meant that I missed her all the years I spent waiting for her. And I swear to fucking god she looked right at me like she knew me and was surprised to see me there.

Let the Sunshine In

I'm happy to report that our healthy 10 lbs 9 oz, 22 inches long (?!?!?) baby girl was born on Saturday September 27th. She is beautiful (I'm biased) and doing wonderfully. (I myself will need a ....recovery period, although no C-Section.) Birth story soon as I am able!

Thanks everyone for your well wishes!

If you like name and picture info, email me at Sodapop1939ATYa.ho.ho.com.

She is our Sunshine!

Let's get this Show on the road

So now I fall into the category of "people who start dilating but take a while to go into labor." I'm still pregnant. My due date is on Thursday. I had high hopes of watching Friday's Presidential Debates with her on my blue couch at home. Not sure that is gonna happen!

I had some bloody show on Friday, which made labor seem so imminent. We even coincidently rented "Best in Show" that night which seemed like it could be a funny part of the labor story: Best in Bloody Show. But now its Tuesday night and I am not having even Braxton Hicks contractions.

It is a bizarre feeling to not know what day your life will change. Will it be tomorrow? Will it be in two weeks? Before or after we finish this loaf of bread? In September or October? Each night I go to sleep wondering if I will go into labor that night.

Lovely Partner took me for a walk for spicy food tonight. She wants to get this show on the road too!

Drop On By

Normally my blog has a lot of angst and worry, but today I felt...happy. I guess this is kind of a warning to readers who might not be in the mood.

I'm nuts for musicals and today the song going through my head (and out my throat if no ones around) is "Something's Coming," which Tony sings at the begining of West Side Story. Most appropriate is the lines "There is something due any day now" and "Come on, deliver, to meeeee." Granted, WSS doesn't have the happiest of endings but that song is full of anticipation and optimism and it makes me cheerful to hear it.

What had me singing this song today was my doctor's appointment (38 weeks) when I found out the baby has dropped and I am dilated. Only 1.5cm, but still. A girl has got to start somewhere. A baby, getting ready to be born.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu7sRdRrm_w

The Conversation That Wasn't

The other day, my cousin told me that she told her 6 year old that my partner and I were married. Technically, we are not married and haven't had any ceremonies, but I understand she was trying to validate our relationship by calling it that. Her 6 year old was aghast and said "But then the baby will have two Moms?!" To which she replied, "Isn't that great?!" My cousin was trying to have a teachable moment with her kid, which I appreciated. (Not that I love hearing the "people, including children, will think you are a freak" stories as a general rule).

Later, I relayed the story to my Mom, sister, and sister-in law. I told it in a humorous lighthearted way. I wasn't that upset by a 6 year old's confusion on the issue.

To my shock, my Mom said "Why would she tell such a young kid that?" I felt like I was kicked in the stomach. My Mom had some rough years when I came out but in general is practically at PFLAG Mom status at this point. She also has expressed nothing but excitement and support about upcoming kid.

All I could muster as a response was "Why wouldn't she tell him, MY baby is going to know." Then I dropped it. We were at a family party after all, and my family is not the type to argue in public. There was an uncomfortable silence and my SIL cocked an eyebrow like she was shocked my Mom woud say that. (Sweetly, she spend the whole next day saying validating comments about me and partner's relationship)

But, then I went to my sister's house and cried and cried. I couldn't believe my Mom was suggesting my relationship with my partner should be hidden. The fact that it was implied it should be hidden from a small child made it even worse. Talk about feeling freakish.
My sister tried to comfort me and told me how mad she was at what my Mom said. And I kept crying.

I thought about the baby and how I didn't want her to deal with the idea that she should be ashamed of her family. I got a sense of how upsetting subtle comments could be to me, and her. Of course, I knew the baby would experience homophobia in her life, but I didn't think about how it could come from loving well-meaning family members as well.

My Mom called that night and asked my sister how things were going. I am pretty sure that she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Since then, she also has made some extra LGBT family friendly gestures like giving us a rainbow themed children's book. My Mom and I haven't talked about the conversation that wasn't yet, which I know doesn't say much about my adult communication skills. I'm still planning too.

I am honestly surprised by how upset I was. But the thing that struck me the most was how oddly maternal I felt about the baby. It is the closest I have come to experiencing the protective Mother Lion"Don't you DARE hurt my child" sensibility I have heard about. I know it sounds bizarre, but pregnancy has been so surreal/unreal that I am strangely comforted to know that I might, someday, think and feel like I would want a parent to think and feel.

Stranger then Strange

I promised that I would fess up if I joined the people who say "Pregnancy goes by so fast." Nope, still not one of those people. I don't find that to be true any more then the "You forget the pain of TTC." Haven't yet, nope. Though it does get easier.

I also don't relate to people who feel they know their baby in the womb. A friend of mine told me she felt her son's personality at 4 weeks after conception! What? I feel like I don't know anything about the baby, other then a sense of her movement patterns. When I went for my 34 week appointment, the doctor told me the baby was measuring a slightly bigger then normal, height wise. I kept repeating this information to myself. I felt like it was the one fact I knew about her. ("Yep, our daughter, she is tall for her age, she is")

Normally we don't let complete strangers become the most important people in our lives. It is stranger then strange.

I'm really looking forward to meeting her and finding out what she is all about.

Soundtrack of Our Lives

Here is a link to a crazy video from my imaginary "Inspirational Music for TTC" Collection.
A rock anthemy song full of defiance, queerness, and OPTIMISM:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uY6zkwqyneY

PS No, I have no idea whats up with the shoes, either.

Whimsical Haiku About My New Love Affair

Ecstasy on tongue
Craving Satisfied, I smile
Oh sweet sweet ice cream

Here Comes the Pride

Updates on Weddings in Small Towns:

Thanks to those who asked. I ended up having a good time at the high school reunion-type wedding. Most everyone said congratulations and asked the normal questions. ("When are you due?" "What food are you craving?") My parents were seated at our table and I think that kept the odd questions/comments away. A couple of straight women made remarks about how it would be easier to take care of an infant with another woman around instead of a husband. Other than that, it was almost shockingly normal. It made me think I should chill a little bit.

This weekend is another wedding, this time my little brother's. He's almost 8 years younger then me, and the first baby I ever felt kick in someone's womb. His wedding thankfully comes without all the "how will it be to be queer here?" drama that made me anxious about the other wedding. This one should just be a good time with the family.

My extended family has been treating our pregnancy like it is any of my other cousins. We have been given many cute pink baby outfits.* There was nothing at our family baby shower (other then the two of us girls up there) that would have set it a part from any other shower**. Lovely Partner and I have always felt a little out of the mainstream (even beyond the lesbian thing), but now we are wondering if our families don't see us that way at all. It is not a complaint, really. We are beyond lucky, and grateful. It is just odd to suddenly feel as if we were doing something very traditional. That isn't us. Is it?

I am actually really happy and proud that the baby will be raised with values influenced by (among other things) the Lgbt community. I say "hell yeah!" to a culture that encourage self-expression, celebration, gender fluidity, and resilience in the face of heterosexism. As author Abigail Garner (the adult child of a gay man) points out: children of LGBT folk are part of the gay community, not "allies" of it. I suspect it will be an ongoing balancing act for us and kid--juggling the need to be seen as a family like everyone else but at the same time not quite like everyone else.
___

*I know that some gay parents, like Dan Savage, have noted that people give them extremely gendered presents for their children. The thinking is that perhaps the gift-givers are worried that the LGBT parents won't do a good enough job teaching gender. I really don't think that is what was going on so much as people feeling compelled to buy heavily gendered items for infants-- for all kinds of parents. And that many people love girly baby clothes. I like them too, but after seeing all the outfits I admit to wanting to buy the baby some cargo pants and a black tank top!

**Amended to note that my sister made a CD Mix for all the guests with subtle gay family art on the cover! Thanks Sis!

Magic Eight Ball

Things I don't Know.....


Will I feel odd if the baby looks like a stranger? (Do hetero people or those using known donors think about this as much?)

Will I mother like my Mom?

How will this change my relationship with my partner?

Will I want to be pregnant again with the same intensity I did this time? Could I even bear that?

Will the kid often be mad at us for being queer/not having a dad?

Will I be happier then I was before I desperately wanted a baby?

Homesick

I'm from a small town and soon I will be going back for my dear friend-since-second-grade's wedding. Small town is four square miles, conservative, and proud of it. I've had a hate-hate relationship with the place my whole life. Well, once I left for college I didn't give it too much energy so "hate" is probably too strong a word. Disdain maybe? When I was a teenager I once told my parents that raising a child in such an environment was harmful. They are not conservative people and I think I really hurt their feelings.

I skipped my high school reunions and this wedding is the closest thing to it. Being pregnant adds a different dimension. On a superficial level, I discovered shopping was more difficult. I knew I would need a new dress but forgot I would need new shoes and a bra since both are too small. According to the maternity store, my new bra size is one that is also a nickname for a party drug. Seriously? And maternity store doesn't do refunds or exchanges! Seriously?

People I used to be friends with in high school will be at the wedding. You know, the kind of friend that you don't remember why you were such good friends with them. I saw some at the wedding shower and it was totally awkward. I didn't tell one of my high school friends I was pregnant because I just...felt weird about it. I can't explain why I felt wary of telling her, she knows I am queer and everything. I just felt her negative judgement towards our future child on a gut level. Before I told her. Which doesn't make sense. It's been bothering me. I am a pretty out person in general but something about the pregnancy brought out a new dimension of uneasiness. The thought of someone judging me negatively for being queer doesn't get to me too much, but the thought of someone thinking I am unfit to mother my baby really upset me.

I also shared the baby news with another friend from the past who I will always care about. She is open-minded and good hearted but never left small town. She reacted as if I told her I eat babies for lunch. She caught herself and said "Congratulations" but not after saying "How did this happen? I have a million questions, are you SERIOUS?" Lovely said she felt like we were a freak show.

A third "friend" from Small Town who I haven't heard from in a while emailed a long chatty letter and asked what was new. I responded that I was pregnant and never heard back. Her silence could have nothing to do with my answer, but who knows?

I know this kind of stuff is going to happen to our family all the time. That I need a thicker skin.
Here in Big City, we are in such a bubble of LGBT friendliness that I forget. I see LGBT folks everywhere I go in my gayborhood. There is a park less then five minutes from my house that is considered the "lesbian mom" park. I know other LGBT parents and many who are trying. I don't experience homophobia on a concrete level in daily life and I don't feel freakish here either. Lovely is gonna adopt our baby in a month after the birth. It is totally legal. I feel blessed.

So here is the thing: I'm homesick. I still don't feel like Big City is my home even though I've lived here for four years and in many ways, I love it here. Whenever we return to Big City from a visit "home" I see the gorgeous skyline emerge and I feel a sinking sadness. Lovely asked me what I thought the sinking feeling was in reaction to and I said "The city does not care that we are back."

I wonder what will happen when the baby comes. Right now I am thinking I will want to flee "home." I will want my baby to have the benefit of extended family nearby that I did-- a blessing that I believe saved me from the despair I felt as a young person. I want my baby to be close to her grandparents and her aunts and uncles.

Yet, I think of how damaging I thought growing up in Small Town was, and I don't really want my daughter growing up outside the Queer Bubble. There really is no equivalent of the Queer Bubble back home. I want her to see families like hers when she walks with us to get ice cream. I want her to go to Pride and celebrate with a million people each June. I don't think Queer Bubbles are the only good place for LGBT folks to raise their kids. I know this is about my own insecurities and character issues. I want my daughter to know me as someone who is comfortable in her own skin and not someone who would ever be nervous about reactions to a baby bump at a shower.

I want her to feel at home.

A Year Ago

A year ago this week I miscarried.

The bleeding started on Tuesday and we went to the ER (diagnosis: "threatened miscarriage/abortion"). Wednesday I had large amounts of blood and we went to the ER again. (Diagnosis: Miscarriage). On Thursday the Ob/Gyn confirmed it was "complete." I spent the next few days taking all the percocet the doctor prescribed. Even though there wasn't too much physical pain.

The weekend following the miscarriage, I alternated between watching DVDs in a narcotic haze and walking around my neighborhood, trying my best to be distracted by the annual neighborhood celebration. My sister, Lovely's Mom, and out of town friends had already planned visits for this weekend and so they were there. (Thankfully they weren't all staying with us). It was a beautiful sunny weekend. Hot the way I like it to be. I was bleeding a lot.

On Sunday afternoon, Lovely and I were walking alone together through the festival. Maybe the percocet wore off or maybe I was just waiting to be away from the visitors, but I had a meltdown on the street near the crowds and the vendors. I pointed out to Lovely all the people standing in the street saying "Look, that person wasn't a miscarriage" "That person wasn't either" "All these people are alive" and I started crying.

It was one of those striking moments when you feel completely out of sync with the world. All around me the sun was shining, kids were running with balloons, topless gay guys were drinking beer, everyone seemed to be laughing. Under ordinary circumstances, I would've loved this day.
Nobody really seemed to notice how upset I was, or how out of place I must have been. Lovely took me home.

That night I decided to step outside again and there was a concert going on closing the festival for the day. I met a friend there who knew what happened. She asked me "Are you feeling better today?"

"No" I said, laughing slightly. It seemed absurd to me that anyone might think I was feeling better.

That was a year ago.

This weekend, Lovely and I walked through the festival. The sun was shining, the topless gay guys were drinking beer, everyone seemed to be laughing. Lovely and I asked a random couple about whether they liked the stroller they were using. And I am 6 months pregnant.

Sometimes, a lot can change in a year.

First Train Seat

Its official--I look pregnant enough that I was offered a seat on the subway. In my experience, it IS true that people treat you different. Many strangers look at my belly and smile at me. My co-workers seem very interested in what I eat. Thank goodness its not in a judgemental way, just making sure I know there is free food available so that I can get first dips. It is somewhat hillarious that co-workers who I never talked to before seem concerned that I get enough ice cream when there is cake and ice cream for a birthday.

I also find that I am pretty uncomfortable a lot of the time, even though I am not to third trimester yet. My feet, ankles and legs get really swollen which limits the time each day I can stand and walk. Already?! I am embarrassed at how vain I feel about this development.

I've enjoyed the pregnancy so much more the past week. When she kicks, it feels real. I have odd maternal thoughts, like "She is so cute when she kicks" I know that doesnt even make sense. And the stuff that I kept wanting to put off like going to childbirth class, visiting the hospital and meeting the lawyer for the second parent adoption can't be put off much longer.

I realized that despite all the thought I put into the pregnancy, the parenting, even the baby's room-I didn't spend any time thinking about the birth. Lovely Partner is obsessed with reading about births and learning everything she can. I've been mildly avoidant. The other day I was taking one of my frequent spontaneous naps and I heard a baby crying. I was so confused. I looked over to the other side of the couch--It was Lovely, watching births on youtube.

I better learn some stuff!

Will I ever relax?

Yesterday was another trip to the ER. This time it wasn't me freaking out, but an actual scare. I was fine when I went to work, but all the sudden I felt very intense pain and pressure near the womb. It felt like something (somone) was pushing out. It was so intense, I could barely get out of my chair. It didn't go away quickly, and it didn't feel like round ligament pain. It felt scary. It was so painful I thought it was labor. After about a half hour, it subsided, but then it came back as bad as before. So Icalled Lovely Partner and told my boss I was leaving. I took the familiar road back to the hospital. This time I got to go to OB/Gyn Triage, instead of regular ER, which was a relief. I didn't have to wait at all and the nurses, midwives, and doctors were helpful, warm, and reassuring. They explained every single thing to me and answered all my questions. The first thing they did was check the baby's heartbeat, which was fine. They put me on a thing to monitor contractions and found some "irritability" that was not high enough to be pregnancy contractions but high enough to indicate a problem. Thankfully, the midwife, um, discovered that my cervix was fine and not dialating at all. Turns out, I have an infection and have to take antibiotics. The doctor said not taking the meds could really increase my chance of pre-term labor due to the infection. This is not thrilling news. I was planning on being med-free this pregnancy. Obviously, I'm concerned about the effects of meds and infections on the baby's health. The pain (it really hurts to walk) is not something I planned on either. However, at the same time, it was great news because I was not in pre-term labor. I also have to stay home and do nothing for five days. (small small complaint: over a holiday weekend when my sibs are visiting!)

There is so much good news in this event: Baby okay, I'm okay, hospital staff where we deliver was fantastic, etc. As I reclined in the hospital bed with monitors on me and learned that it was not pre-term labor, I was so relieved. Happy even. But when I got home, I crashed. Another scary day. Another day thinking my baby was in jeopardy, looking for signs of life. Straining to hear the heartbeat on the doppler as I held my breath.
More awful images of calls I would have to make telling people I lost another baby.

I felt the kicking for the first time this week and it was thrilling. The best feeling in the world. I thought it would help me relax to feel it. (It does, for minutes). But here I am, scared and anxious again. Wondering how the hell I am going to be able to mother a baby with this much fear inside me. Alarmed about the unexpected the rest of the pregnancy will bring. Worrying about what will happen if I google the name of the medicine and the infection.

What thoughts will go through my head with nothing to do for five days of abbreviated bed rest?

I know a lot of people have scarier circumstances then this: actual pre-term labor, actual bed rest, questionable ultrasounds. The doctors even said that my infection was the best outcome for my symptoms.

I wanted more then anything to be pregnant, and I'm so grateful--but I haven't been enjoying it too much.

It makes me terrified that I will not be able to enjoy my baby either.

Learning from My Mom

On Mother's Day, I told my Mom she was a great model for being a mother.

Here is some things I learned from her that I would like to incorporate into mothering:

1) An emphasis on creativity and fun. My mom would make up stories to amuse or comfort us, and encourage us to write our own stories as well. She left me silly notes in my lunch bag when I was a kid. She would make up ryhmes to go with our Christmas and birthday presents. Once, for valentines day she hid hearts all over our house and we had to follow clues to go from one heart to the next. On the last heart, it was one of those cheap candy hearts that said "I will" on top of a pizza coupon. That meant we were having pizza for dinner that night--our favorite! She made a lot of routine things a game for us.

2) Encouraging a love of reading. My mom read to all of us kids from the time we were born. Me and sibs are still avid readers. I think it helped us all academically. When I was young, books were my refuge from the world I found scary. More importantly, books showed me worlds and ideas that I would never have come across in my suburban upbringing. When we got the scholastic book order, my Mom had a policy that I could pick out one book from the order form and she would pick out one for me. I loved picking out my book! But the ones she picked usually ended up being better.

3) Developing a social conscience. My mom is a Christian in the social-justice-help-the-poor- mode. When I was little we always learned about the importance of caring for others and being politically active. My Mom's heros were Gandhi and the leaders of the civil rights movement. We always had "Peace" calenders with important social activists on each page. She is a political person motivated by principles and ideals. As I got older, she applied her social activism principles to her understanding of LBGT issues. It took a little while to get there, but she pulled through.

4) Nurturing Curiosity. I admit that I didn't get that my Mom was teaching us stuff with all the outings and activities we did. I thought she planned trips to the museum, fruit picking, trying new recipes and memory games with us because she thought it was a total blast. Now I see that she was trying to teach us about our world. I feel lucky that my mom was an elementary school teacher.

5) Celebrating family. My Mom is a family first kind of person so we grew up with tons of family activities and saw our extended family on a weekly basis, if not more. I think feeling a part of this large network is what preserved my sanity in the rougher years. When we were really little, we had "Family Night" when each of us kids had a part to play--one of us picked the activity, the other picked the snack, and the other picked the prayer, etc. Even though I am not religious in the same way, I love the idea of families being a strong connected unit that enjoys their time together. We don't have Family Night anymore, but we still have a lot of fun when we are together.

6) Cultivating empathy. My Mom always said things like "How you would you feel in that person's position?" She talked about how words could really hurt people. I remember one time when I was young she saw me teasing a neighbor kid and she said it made her so sad for the little boy. Her first reaction was not even anger at me for being a jerk, but empathy for how bad the other kid felt. That really stuck with me.

One of the things that I learned I was doing wrong in my adult life was idealizing people and situations. I've tried to get more realistic about life and have a more mature outlook. I want this for myself, but also to be a better mother. So I'm writing this list knowing that there was positive and negative elements of my upbringing.
Even considering all that, I have to say, I feel really lucky to have the Mom I do.

Daughter

All was well at 20 week ultrasound. Once again,we were incredibly lucky with the medical staff. A blessing to be here in this city where people rarely seem to notice that we are two moms.

I asked the tech if she was 99% sure about the gender and she laughed and said "99.9% sure"

It is looking like soon we will be two Moms with a daughter.

My 19 Week Freakout

According to the doctor, I am fine and the baby is fine. But that didn't stop me from having my 19 week freak out yesterday. I felt some unsual pain that was different then the other pains I experienced. (truthfully, the pain wasn't too bad). I was worried because I lost 2 pounds and still haven't felt the baby move. So I decided to go to the ER for a few hours. I was beside myself with anxiety. Unlike my last visit to this ER, this visit went well. My 20 week ultrasound is next week but I got a sneak preview. The baby was moving, limbs flailing about. The doctor seemed pleased. They did some tests and couldn't find anything wrong. I felt sort of dumb for going in.

On the other hand, I was so relieved to have validation that the baby was alive. I don't know if its typical of pregnancy, typical of pregnancy after loss, or my own issues with anxiety, but I have been really terrified the past few weeks. I can't feel the baby move, I can't see it...I can't believe it. I'm not excited about ultrasounds, I'm terrified of the bad news they might bring. (It concerns me a bit that I am such an anxious Mom already)
I've got to figure out a way to cope better.

Thankfully, I did feel a lot better when I saw the baby moving, the heart beating.

Never Know What to Say

I am reading all my TTC blogs religiously. I think about everyone of my "regulars" every day. But I never know what to say here. I didn't really enjoy reading the blogs of people who were pregnant when I was TTC. So I don't know how to write one, or what I want it to be.

It seems like there has been a lot of bad news in the lesbian ttc blogland this week. If I have ever commented on your blog before, know that you are in my equivalent of prayers today.

March Gladness with a touch of Sadness

My lovely partner took a new job today. It pays significantly more then her current job, with much better benefits. The downside is that she won't have accrued very much time off for when the Beeb (tm LP's Dad) is born. We weighed the pros and cons and it just seemed like the best thing to do in the long run. She will have time off when she adopts, if she waits until next April (when she will have been at the job a year)

I'm so grateful we are living in a state with second parent adoptions. However, it is so frusterating because my home state, where 80% of the people I love the most live, does not. I think I have missed about 10 family events this March. They send me phone pictures and tell me all the food they are eating. It makes me so sad to be here when I know how much I am missing. I know it will be even harder to be away from them when the baby gets here.

Sometimes people like to say homophobia is soooo over. Because queer folks aren't all poor, or because Ellen is really popular. It is amazing how salient homophobic laws feel to me now.

However, I have so much to be grateful for: LP's new job, the fact that we will be able to get a second parent adoption, that I am in the second trimester.

That Spring Will Be Here Soon.

Something I don't think is true

I've heard people say that if you struggle to get pregnant and then you do get pregnant, you "forget" about the stress and the trials you have gone through trying to conceive. I personally think this is a bunch of bull.

A Kickboxer?

On Tuesday was the 11 week ultrasound/screening. We saw a kicking punching moving heartbeating little one. I don't have the results of the blood test yet, but the ultrasound was pronounced "normal" Which is such a different, happier word to me then it used to be.

We got a picture of the arm waving around with the caption "Hi Moms!!!"

I'm 12 weeks today.

I didn't think this would ever happen to me.

On Tuesday I have my 11 week ultrasound. I don't know what to expect. I feel only mildly sick and sorta tired...not the crazysickness you see a lot of pregnant women write about. My abdomen is tight--what a weird feeling. But I haven't really gained weight.

It is still all very hard to believe.

Cause to Laugh

It seems like a lot of people say that the nine months fly by when you are pregnant. At almost 10 weeks, I am finding this to not be the case. Its going so slooooooow. If at nine months I write that the time flew by, I will be sure to title that post "I was wrong"

I'm getting used to feeling pregnant but it doesn't seem connected to having a baby yet. I'm not sure if I can think of the baby with a name, as much as I wanted to try Huckleberry. Maybe after the 11 week ultrasound?

I've been tired and queasy but it hasn't been too awful. My Mom came to visit for the weekend and we told her the news, thinking we wouldn't be able to hide it all weekend. We went out to dinner to celebrate and as we left the restaurant I threw up. On the street. In front of a restaurant. In public. So gross. So, anyway, good thing we told her!

To break the news, Lovely Partner made a card with the bible verse from Genesis where Sarah finds out she is pregnant. (Genesis 21:6) Biblical Sarah says "God has given me cause to laugh" LP and I are non- religious Unitarians, but my Mom is Catholic so we thought she would appreciate it.

It was a very good night, even with the public throwing up.

Huckleberry's Heartbeat

I saw it today. It was a shock. I didn't think they would be able to do that. We weren't even supposed to get an ultrasound but Dr. PositiveandCool said we could. I think because we talked to Nurse ASL (she signed to me, awesome!) about the miscarriage.

While being wanded, I looked away from the screen and watched Lovely Partners face. She nodded affirmatively but I thought "What the heck does she know about reading an ultrasound?" Then I heard Dr. PositiveandCool say "Yep, there is the heartbeat." And I looked, and I saw it. A living thing with a heartbeat, inside of me. It measured 6W5D and I'm exactly 7W. I felt scared for a second when I saw that but Dr. PositiveandCool said that it was totally fine. And the heartbeat kept flickering.

All I could think all afternoon was "Its alive!" Because even though this has felt different then when I miscarried, I still didn't have a positive association with ultrasounds when I went in today.

I am also so grateful to Dr. PandC and Nurse ASL for being incredibly wonderful and supportive of LP and our relationship. They went out of their way to let us know and it felt great.

It has felt real to be pregnant, because physically I feel odd. But it hasn't felt real that a baby is the result. So I'm trying to let that sink in. So we are going to start calling him/her Huckleberry. Since my appointment this afternoon, I am working on feeling okay and not bashful about giving it a nickname.

And I must say, I was really proud of Huck today!

Vomit (and there was much rejoicing)

Well, I'm feeling sick. I threw up, which is gross but not nearly as gross as the excessive saliva I am experiencing. Its been an on and off again kind of sick, which I am hoping is normal and okay. I actually threw up two days ago and haven't since, although yesterday was the sickest I have felt. I was at my desk, baffled that pregnant women go to work every day. And then today was better, but not great. I'm trying not to worry since I feel...something. Last time, I felt pregnant for about two days and normal thereafter. So this feeling worse is much better for me. The first doctor appointment is Thursday (7 weeks). I have no idea what a seven week appointment would be like.

I hope its good news!

Like I Had Popcorn and Coffee on an empty stomach

This is how I have felt the last few days. Is that an early pregnancy symptom? I will have to google.

Everything that is going on seems very disconnected from an actual baby. When I was in the two week wait I would try to visualize the baby and think about it. Now, I find myself doing that less. Is it because I am scared?
Last time, the baby only made it to 5.5 Weeks. In two days, I will be at 6 weeks. I have to feel a little more optimistic because I am not feeling too good.

I think it would be reassuring to feel worse tomorrow, as well.

On the Double

After a stressful stare-at-the-clock couple of days, I finally have my betas:

19 DPO: 620
21 DPO: 1402
Doubling Time 1.71

Progesterone was 20 on 19 DPO and "Very strong, above 20" at 21 DPO. I was so focused on the beta I forgot to ask the nurse on the actual progesterone number.

These numbers seem okay. I read a lot of blogs with real rock star awesome numbers, and these numbers seem more......sedate or something. But it is in the betabase.info range. I am relieved.

Just for comparison, the time I miscarried it was 20 at 13 DPO. So if it had doubled that time, I would've been at 160 on 19 DPO. So 620 seems a lot better in comparison.

The staff at the fertility center said the numbers were good. They tried to sell me some more medical services--routine blood test and u/s. But for now, we are going to enjoy it and wait for the insuranced-covered u/s, which will be at 7 weeks.

It is nice not to have any appointments for a while!

All about Me Me

I'm pretty new to blogging, so I just got my first meme from Vee over at http://veeandjay.wordpress.com/. She thoughtfully tagged me so I would have a distraction from worrying about my hcg scores. So here goes:



The Rules:1) Link to the person that tagged you. 2) Post the rules on your blog. 3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. 4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs. 5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. 6) Let the fun begin!


1. Since I was a small child, I always wanted to have a son named Huckleberry. It was not inspired by the Strawberry Shortcake dude. This name has been ruled out by Lovely Partner (I understand her reservation)
She said I could use it as a blog name for the baby, however. I may do that!


2. I'm very picky about pens. Ink only, please. And ballpoint doesn't count. It has to be real, dark, bleedy ink. Black, although blue will suffice in a pinch. When I say picky, I mean I will leave my job to go to the store to buy new pens or I feel like I can't get work done. I take pens when I go to the bank so I don't have to use their ballpoint on a chain. Don't even get me started on pencils.


3. I have taken hot baths pretty much every night since I was a kid. Except sometimes in the depth of summer, when TTC, and now that I am pregnant. More than missing alcohol or sushi or soft cheese I will miss my hot baths!


4. I'm crazy about musicals. Especially the modern ones like Hedwig and the Angry Inch. When I watch a musical, I have a goofy smile on my face, they make me so happy. You'd be shocked to know how often I sing tunes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode.


5. I'm lazy about change. Coin change that is, pennies, nickles, dimes, and quarters. I drive everyone who has ever lived with me insane by letting coins fall to the floor and stay there. And, um, my car floor might have fifty dollars worth of coins on the floor.


6. I love advice columns. I remember reading Ann Landers when I was in second grade. Now, my taste has matured to Carolyn Hax and Dan Savage. I have a special place in my heart for Miss Manners too.


So now I tag:


http://aspiringbaker.blogspot.com/ , who writes one of of my favorite blogs, always insightful and thoughtful.

http://hereticalhedonism.wordpress.com/ , who is also newly pregnant.

Renee at http://2mommiesttcforababy.blogspot.com/, who was the first to congratulate me on the pregnacy online.

Two Lines: And the Freaking Out Commences

I'm pregnant. That sums up the major news. I am so grateful and yet so scared. I didn't think the miscarriage had haunted me so much. I felt sick for a few days, but now I feel pretty normal, other then sore breasts. It freaks me out. I'm scared of getting attached to this baby and then losing it. Is it normal to feel sick and very pregnant for a few days and then feel better?
We didn't get a beta test because we didn't want to be anxious about the numbers. That decision was easier when I was feeling pregnant. Now we are thinking we will do that this week.

On the other hand we had a wonderful day of cancelling appointments with doctors and talking about decorating the baby room. My favorite part was telling my sister (a major baseball nerd) that the baby would here for the World Series.

I hope I don't sound ungrateful when express my anxiety. I think that miscarriage did more to me and Lovely Partner emotionally then I ever understood.

I'm pregnant and I can't believe I am writing that.

Happy Scared Anxiously Gratefully yours, Sarah

Nothing on a Stick

Today is 13 DPO. Its the longest in 9 tries I have ever gone without doing a POAS test. The first few tries, I was gung ho to find I was pregnant as soon as possible. Dissapointing. The first positive (try #4) I got was 11DPO when I was sure I wasn't pregnant and I wanted to drink some beer. When I saw the second line, I was in shock--and didnt have any beer. In a major mindfuck, the test the following morning was negative. It didn't seem like a good sign, and maybe it wasn't because I had low betas and miscarried early. Each of the five tries since the miscarriage, I was very surprised I wasn't pregnant. My surprise sounds crazy in retrospect, but I am now a firm believer in psychosomatic pregnancy symptoms.


In two days, I will know if I am pregnant or if I am moving on to shots, ultrasounds, doctors in lab coats, high dose fertility medicine, and spending a couple thousand more dollars. My life will be very different either way. I will either feel like I won the lotto or that I am a hopeless case.

I'm not going to test before the missed period.

I'm feverently hoping that what I am feeling is not psychosomatic.

A quick stab

Lovely partner and I had our "shot training" this week. I saw the needle and it was scary and depressing. Normally, I am not scared of shots or needles. And when I read the TTC blogs about the injectibles and trigger shots, it never alarmed me much. But to see Lovely Partner holding the big ole shot, shoving it into a rubber piece of....fake ass that the nurse provided, upset me in a weird way. Obviously, shots suck. But shots not covered by insurance, taken for fertility after thousands of dollars have already been spend suck a new way. The nurse told Lovely Partner"Do a quick stab!"

I'm still in the TWW from try #9. It would be awesome if it turned out that the shot training was something mildly funny that we did one day, but we never had to use because goshdarnit, I was already pregnant but didn't know it.

This I am not expecting.

"Not expecting" haha. Didn't intend that one.