no. 647 – Sugar Buzz Kill

Just wrapped up my 28w appointment. Fun facts?

Failed my glucose screening by one measly point. That’s right. I’ve earned a three-hour visit to the hospital because I scored 131. I knew I shouldn’t have had that bowl of cereal before chugging (and burping) my way through that nasty so-called drink.

Murdock’s kidney size is just a scosch out of wonk. My OB explained that they see this in about 5-10% of prenates and almost all concerns are alleviated by the time of the birth. Nonetheless, it has earned me yet another scan later.

Speaking of size, Murdock is measuring approximately three days ahead of gestational age. Apparently, that is OK.

My iron levels are still low so my attempt to bring it up by not filling out the iron supplements script from a month ago and getting iron supplemented chewables didn’t work. Suckage.

Lastly, I have to admit that at our 20w ultrasound I would have hedged my bets that Murdock was a girl. I now have to say I’m betting a boy. I had a girl’s name picked out. Now I have to seriously consider a boy’s. Coming up with one that strikes us both as "perfect" as XBoy’s is going to be difficult. Maybe something that reflects Murdock’s rural roots, like Hoss (I graduated with a Hoss), Virgil, or Bubba (which actually is more of a "southern" name). Feel free to make your own stereotypical suggestions.

I’m going to lay down now. I’m coming off a nasty glucose high.

no. 646 – Wishing You Peace

We come in awe-inspiring numbers, sisters in arms, for the cycles, repeated treatments, changes in treatments and sadly for the some of the infant loss, miscarriages and failed cycles.

We come in less numbers, hesitantly, for the positive pregnancy test, rising betas and heartbeats.

We come in even less numbers, sporadically, with feelings of obligation, to commiserate over the fears, doubts and questions that surround a burgeoning pregnancy.

We come but some, whether in anger or resentment or self-preservation, leave.

And yes, I do take it to heart, and if I didn’t say something, it would hurt that much longer.

no. 645 – Not One of My Better Moments

I’ve been angry and resentful lately. About everything. About nothing. It’s hard to explain. And as usual, I probably won’t do a good job of it here, therefore you won’t get it and I’ll be even more resentful.

See? I’m just a ball of sunshine over here.

Mr. DD’s father has been ill and hospitalized for 12 days now. Every night, Mr. DD spends the entire evening with him, and for some inexplicable reason (aside from selfishness), I resent it. Maybe some of it has to do with how little time he spent with me once XBoy was born. Even with minor complications and an extended hospital stay, he still went to work all day and come by in the evenings. I know there’s nothing more he could do. It’s not like his being there would make XBoy’s glucose levels go up and the bilirubin levels come down. He didn’t even take any time off from work once we came home. I haven’t bothered asking if he will this time. But, I needed his presence.

His dad probably needs his presence right now, but I do, too.

It’s not just his father’s hospitalization that has somehow made me feel like a unmarried mother. Prior to this family emergency, from the time he got home from work until 11:00 at night, he would go out to his shop to work on his projects. Again, I try to understand that once the baby comes he will have little to no time to do "his" thing, but right now, I am physically incapable of doing so many of the things I wanted to get done this spring as well, including rearranging furniture for the bedrooms, and a last ditch effort to start a yard out front before the spring winds fill the house with dust.

I’m tired. I ache all over. I cry, alone. I want to feel adored. I want to be pampered. I want to go to bed at night and feel his arms around me and to wake up and find him looking at me with love…

Instead, I go to bed alone. He follows hours later. In the morning I awake alone as he’s usually already up or I’ve moved to the other bedroom to escape the snoring.

I am angry and resentful that I cannot make the most out of not just an enviable position – pregnancy after infertility, but a last pregnancy; the one I swore I would enjoy and revel in.

no. 644 – Pimping the Etsy

Right before the Holiday season, I acquired my very own etsy account so I can do some Christmas shopping. I completely underachieved and only purchased one item, this blockprint on red paper for my bicycling-crazed sister. While my Mom was a little freaked out by it, my sister LOVED it. She’s weird (and cool) that way.

Recently I started shopping for a checkbook cover. Yes, I still write checks. The sun goes behind the clouds, flowers die, and the poppers and lockers all freeze in unison when I whip out my checkbook. I don’t care and most merchandisers around here don’t mind, either, figuring it’s better than me offering a dozen eggs, a slaughtered calf or pickled pigs feet in exchange for their services. This is rural Nebraska, after all.

But because I refuse to be of the norm, my checkbooks are of the top-stub type. Carbon checks are a royal pain in the ass because by the time you get to the 49th check, the carbons below have been all but obliterated. However, the problem I have with top-stub checks is finding a checkbook cover for them since they are too big for the cute ones found in department stores. The last cover I bought was from ebay: a horribly dull, black, “leather” cover that has become so abused that the “leather” is fraying around the edges and the black has cracked to brown. Yucky.

I checked ebay once again, sadly resigned to have to buy yet another dull cover, when I thought about looking on etsy. I found some perfectly gorgeous covers…for the standard checkbook. Taking a chance, I contacted Lori, shop owner of Thirty One 13 Designs about my dilemma.

She replied immediately and was positive she could create something up for me. Once I sent the dimensions and fabric preference, she whipped one up, just for little ol’ me.

Il_fullxfull And here it is. Isn’t it adorable?! So even though I’m holding up the line of 50 people at Target, they can all be swooning over my checkbook cover.

no. 643 – Donor Decision

I’ve been asked on separate occasions, whether by bloggers who are just finding out that they, too, have donor egg recommended to them; or by those just curious about donor egg, how we came to our decision to move forward.

While I have moments of second-guessing and even grief about donor egg, they are brief and nothing like the mental anguish I had when a cycle failed or when I miscarried. The chance of having another child, regardless of the means, was like a shiny object in the grass glittering with possibilities and promises.

When I read about other bloggers who struggle with donor egg, or even those who are frank enough to say donor assisted technology is absolutely NOT for them, each time I feel the doubt and worry wash over me anew. What if I made a rash decision? Did I give this enough thought or did I move forward out of desperation?

I say “I” because I’ve never talked about these wavering moments with Mr. DD. When the option was placed on the table and he gave his tentative blessing, I ran with it knowing how difficult it had been up to that time for him to take the leap of faith into the first IVF and then failing that, donor sperm. It took months for him to accept that a second child wasn’t going to come to us like the first.

While I know it will be important for Murdock to know about his/her conception, as well as for XBoy to understand, being able to have it all figured out now just doesn’t seem as relevant as it did at the beginning. There are just so many other things that I believe are more important than raising a child who understands the finer points of assisted reproductive technology.

I also strongly believe, whether you agree or not, that the egg that became Murdock came from the genetic donor, not the biological donor. I can’t say we would have chosen a known donor over anonymous if that had been an option. It’s an act of defeatism to try to imagine it. How many times do we already beat ourselves up with the “what ifs?” (what if we had tried to have children sooner; what if we hadn’t waited 3 years after the first one; what if that pregnancy wouldn’t have ended…)?

There’s no way that I’ll ever be able to push out of my mind that Murdock is the result of a stranger’s act, whether it was purely altruistic or if she was in desperate financial need. It only matters that she did and I’m sure I will silently thank her, and even curse her, a million times over during the time I have with Murdock on this earth.

Our donor may give Murdock some physical characteristics that are visibly different than both Mr. DD and me, but it will be Mr. DD, XBoy and I that will give him/her what’s immediately essential: love, strength, importance, and family. And those intangible items are what helped me decide that the one factual idea of donor egg was really the simplest hurdle to overcome.