Just a little Sabine update today: my baby girl is growing up! She has been playing pretend for several months now. Yesterday we pretended to put her stuffed animals to bed. We would lay them on the rug, put a soft pillow under their heads and then cover them up. I would say night night and she would pat their heads and back and then giggle hysterically. It was one of the first times we have “played pretend” together and it filled my heart with happiness.
Sabine is such a sweet, gentle soul. While other kids are running around wildly, she is sitting on the side putting hats on her animals and giving them hugs. She has started to tear off tiny pieces of toilet paper and hand them to her animals in an act that I’m pretty sure is her giving them “lovies,” just like I give her lovies. Sabine is different than a lot of other kids and I have to remind myself that this is ok. We are a week shy of 19 months and she still is not walking. She is totally capable of it, and we have even seen her do it once or twice, but she prefers to crawl everywhere, dragging an army of farm animals in her wake.
I have a call into Early Intervention and am waiting on them to call back with our appointment to have her assessed. In the meantime, I am enjoying my sweet little kid who loves her farm animals with a passion, brushes her rubber ducky’s teeth, puts washcloth hats on her stuffed cats and giggles with wild abandon while trying to feed our real cats crackers and Mum Mum’s.
Where have your kids excelled? Where have they been delayed?
I hate how random my posting is. Life is just so… different and it is very difficult to find 30 minutes to sit down and blog. This space is still important to me, though, so I’ll continue to drop in on occasion and write about what is on my mind.
Today I finally went to see an RE. The Professor and I are on the same page about more children:
- We are both very adamant about more IVF.
- We are both happy with our family of three.
- We are do not want to expand our family further until we have permanent jobs.
- We both don’t want to close the door just yet. We want to keep our options open.
For a long time I was really bothered by the thought of having a second child at the age of 37 or 38. I just don’t know how I’ll feel when I’m 37. Will I have the energy to raise another baby? Will I be in good enough health? Do I want to have kids in my house when I’m close to 60?
Last month I started in mindfulness-based therapy. I’ve had some real ah-ha moments since then, the biggest being that I have absolutely no control over all these hypotheticals. I drive myself insane with the “what ifs” of life. Sometimes you just have to trust and move on.
My new RE was fantastic. He spent nearly 40 minutes chatting about my history. He did an ultrasound and my ovaries looked lovely, and not at all like PCOS ovaries. Based on that and the fact that my blood results were always normal he is hesitant to put me into the PCOS category. That said, I’m still nursing 6-8 times a day so the way my ovaries look now might not be a good indicator.
He was hopeful that, if we choose, we might be able to get pregnant naturally and he is willing to help us find out what is causing me to never cycle. This is what I wanted to hear. Not that we could do more IVF. Not that we MUST REPRODUCE MORE RIGHT THIS INSTANT. I wanted to hear that we might still have a choice when we are ready.
Then we outlined a plan of attack. First is weaning. Nothing can really be assessed until I wean completely, and then I need to give my body three months for fertility to return. If I don’t have a cycle after that, then I’ll have one induced with progesterone and we will go from there, collecting blood work and seeing where things stand.
In the meantime, take care of myself and enjoy my sweet child.
I guess I sort of already knew all this. I knew the PCOS diagnosis did not always line up and I knew nothing can be done until Sabine weans, but hearing it from an expert who was kind, encouraging and put the ball back in my court really put my mind at ease. Right now we are happy and we have options in the future. No amount of worrying now will influence those options (although it might give me some more fine lines and wrinkles!)
So there you go. Another day, another musing on fertility and another reminder that even when one brings home a miracle baby the struggle is never really over. I guess what matters is that right now I’m ok. And that feels pretty damn good.
If you have a minute, I’d love if you sent some good juju to my friend and fellow traveler in infertility. Her first IVF cycle starts tomorrow. I have met her and her husband and they are amazing people who will be incredible parents!
This week we received a call from the Professor’s mother. It was the kind of tearful call that you never, ever want to receive. Out of respect for the family, I will be vague. There is some concern over his aging father’s health. Something is not right, be it depression caused from an aging/failing body, outbursts because of a life-time of chronic pain or worse.
We are heading to Arizona to see them on Tuesday, which means we can better assess the situation with his health and their home. My in-laws are quirky and eccentric people and I like that about them! I come from an odd lot, too, so it feels homey when we visit. My in-laws are also the most generous people I have ever met. Long-time readers know that we call them “The Investors” when talking about Sabine and our IVF cycles, as they paid every ridiculous cent of it.
They helped us get setup in New York and continue to help us make ends meet so their son can get the awesome experience that comes from a post-doc at a prestigious university. I love my in-laws, complicated as our relationship may sometimes be. I do not wish this kind of ailing on them, or anyone.
Christmas is usually my holiday. I wait all year for Christmas and don’t get much sleep the nights heading up to it out of excitement for the big day, even though I know Santa does not exist! Now that I have a kiddo to infect with my abundance of Christmas cheer it is even more exciting. Having to deal with a potentially sick parent over Christmas just does not feel very jolly.
But it is absolutely necessary.
And not optional.
Because the Professor is an only child. There is no one else.
And that, dear readers, opens up a can of very complicated, very ugly and very dark worms.
I thought for sure I ovulated a little over three weeks ago. I was senselessly randy and then came a disgusting wad of egg white cervical mucus. I was dead certain I had ovulated. The next few weeks passed with much day dreaming about how I would tell the Professor I was pregnant. I thought about how we could rearrange our tiny apartment to fit two. I was walking on air.
Nearly four weeks later and the pee stick is still stark white with no period is in sight. I silently cry in the bathroom regularly now, mourning what could have been and what was not. Mourning the fleeting peace I had felt with an only child just a month ago.
I do want another baby. I want Sabine to have a sibling bond with someone she shares genetics with (crappy as they may be). I want her to have someone to invade her space on car trips. To play board games with when it rains. To have a secret code to keep parents from knowing what they are up to. To have someone by her side if or when one of us starts to falter, especially when dementia runs strong on both sides.
But the professor and I are both solidly in the “no more treatment camp.” I can’t stomach the thought of more needles. Of more bad news. Of more ultrasounds. Of more anguish and negative tests. Of embryos that fail to thrive. Of… you know the list.
Ultimately, I’m sitting here like an idiot waiting for the fabled “surprise” pregnancy that so many IVFers find themselves with after their miracle baby. Every month that my cycle fails to return, though, promises otherwise.
I’m not sure the point of this post. I’m not looking for encouraging stories of so-in-so who got knocked up after 8 million IVFs. I guess I’m just publicly acknowledging that sometimes one and done does not feel like enough.