Reassuring words

We made the 40 minute drive to the doctor this morning only to discover that my doctor was stuck in a surgery that went long. And so I was rescheduled for 1:45pm. Husband and I drove back to our hometown. Then we drove out again at 1:00pm. The drives were made much less anxious by Husband's recordings of several This American Life episodes.

I talked to Liz the nurse and apologized for bugging them on a busy day. She was nothing but compassionate and reminded me that I was never bugging them. I really needed to hear that.

Then the doctor came in and I told him all my concerns which he took seriously. I apologized to him too, and his reaction was the same as the nurse's. All compassion. I needed to hear that too. He did a complete pelvic exam, checking my cervix and uterus height. He enthusiastically assured me that everything looked perfect! Then we heard the heartbeat at 150bpm. More reassurance and we were sent home feeling so relieved and quite honestly I didn't feel so stupid. I felt validated. As you all said, going to my doctor was absolutely the right thing to do. And, I also felt again that I had made the right choice in my practitioner. Now, it's nap time.

Heartbeat High

I gotta say that I miss getting high. The high I refer to here is the one I enjoyed via good wine. I miss my wine very much. But as you all know, no wine is a very small price to pay for a healthy pregnancy. On Tuesday, I got my high in a whole new way, a better way even. We heard the heartbeat on Tuesday. It may be said that it has sent me into a somewhat hypomanic phase, but in the best possible fashion. Plus, on this kind of high, I can drive. But let's be honest, I really have no business being inside baby stores (or any stores for that matter). Any version of manic can cause excessive spending in me. And I don't have money to pay my bills much less buy clothes for a theoretical baby. So I occupy myself by surfing amazon and putting things on my registry, which is more of a wish list really because I haven't actually told anyone about it. For now, I will ride that heartbeat wave at 150 bpm. Whoohoo.

And then there were 33.

33 years that is.

I am kind of stunned that my birthday keeps coming around every fucking year. That should tell you how either very daft or morbid I am. But, I think you already knew both of those things already.

It hasn't exactly been a stellar birthday day, sadly. I woke at 6am to go to my second hearing for my second real live client. It actually went pretty well as disability hearings go. Of course, no ruling is given on the spot so it will be several weeks until I know how it really went. Then I was off to class until 6pm. From there, I went to the wine shop for work. I'm there right now working, okay maybe not working that hard (seriously just the act of sitting anywhere besides my home feels like work though). I get off (oooh, wouldn't that be a nice present) of work at 9:30pm. And, then I'll stay awake just long enough to have a Popsicle for dinner. Yum.

But, let's end on a good note. Tomorrow I will be at the 12 week mark. I am just going to try and appreciate what that is supposed to mean (to normal women) for as long as possible.

Horns of the Devil

Sorry for the typo on my last post regarding the bicornuate uterus and resulting confusion. I notice that the more frazzled I get, the less editing that I do. As such, I end up with some mighty misspellings and strange puncuation.

So yesterday, Husband and I made the 30 minute drive to my new OB's office. With the Fall colors, it was a lovely and restful drive with the hubbie. And by all accounts, my OB is truly fabulous. While he is a bit rough around the edges, he is thorough and easy to talk with. I clued him in to my concern about the funky uterus notes on my sonogram results and he seemed skeptical. However, the scan changed that significantly.

Upon the first viewing with the dildocam, all we saw was a surpisingly small and quite empty uterus. Somehow, I was calmed by the fact that my doctor showed significant concern. It's almost as if by him being concerned, I know I will have to fight less to get the attention that I need regarding my medical care. And so I breathe a little sigh of relief that I have a medical advocate. Anyway, he probed and shifted that dildocam around quite vigorously and found the problem. As the plain of view shifted, we saw an empty sphere, then two empty spheres, and finally the spheres merged to reveal a smudge in the center complete with a flicker for a beating heart and some motion as the little guy dodged the image. It was fairly exciting, I must say. And my doctor was visibly relieved and thrilled all at the same time.

So it's fairly clear at this point that I have a bicornuate uterus and there is a septum. What isn't clear is how big that septum is and if and when it will be a problem. For now, nothing can be done but wait and see what happens. From where the little guy is now, it looks as if he will grow into the right horn.

On the way home yesterday, I thought about how people call a bicornuate uterus "heart-shaped". As you may imagine, this image doesn't quite do it for me. I prefer the devil's horns image. My evil uterus and it's horns from hell.

What a difference a med makes

Thanks so much for all the well wishes, hugs, and good thoughts of reason. Much appreciated.

I have since had my meds picked up from the pharmacy and everything looks so much better now. Clearly, I still have a bit of denial going on regarding how much I need my meds and how really mentally ill I am.

To get ready for my new OB visit tomorrow, I picked up my medical records from my last OB. And against my better judgment, I started reading through them. While scanning through my ultrasound reports, two works struck me quite fiercely. BICORNUATE UTERUS! How in the world was I not informed of this seemingly important detail? I promptly called Husband and asked him to start doing some research on the abnormal anatomy and its affects on pregnancy.

What we've read on various medical and pregnancy sites has been a mix of neutral and bad news. Any thoughts from my well edguhmucated buddies out there? Words of wisdom and humor always welcome.

Just crazy

Sometimes I marvel at the appropriateness of the name of my blog. Although today, I leave out the "enough" and say, "Just crazy". My emotions have been all over the board and it's a true miracle that my husband doesn't just quietly pack up and leave while I'm sleeping.

Early last week, I arrived at a decision to go with "Fifty Fingers" OB/GYN and gave them a call to schedule an appointment. When they said they would "be willing" to see me as early as November 28th, I started to rethink my decision. So I hung up and called the doctor that is 35 minutes away. I have an appointment for November 1, and the only reason they couldn't get me in earlier is because he was out of town the week I called. So next Thursday, I am hoping for a positive experience and a gratuitous scan. Honestly, the 35 minute drive will give me some time to spend with Husband; time that is becoming increasingly rare with my overloaded schedule.

In the crazy department, I never miss an opportunity to worry. If I don't have any cramps or back pain then I worry that the little guy has ceased to grow and I have become a walking human coffin. Lovely. If I do have cramps or a low backache, no matter how mild, I worry that I am about to deliver a baby the size of a pistachio. So no matter what, I am screwed in the head. Plus, I had my weekly breakdown last Sunday and concluded that I would fail every single thing I am trying to do if I didn't relieve myself of some of the stress. So, my professor graciously granted me an incomplete so that I could write my brief for a motion for summary judgment over the holiday break. Thank God for male professors who are terrified of crazy pregnant women.

Flicker

We saw the little flicker of a heart beat this morning and we breathed a huge sigh of relief. Husband seemed really pleased and excited. I was excited by still cautious.

My first concern is that we saw a heart beat with the last one and that didn't turn out so well in the end. My second concern is that the little guy only measured at 6w3d (4 days off). On the one hand, the resolution of their machine really sucks and the little guy could have been in the wrong plain of view to get an accurate crown-rump measurement. On the other hand, I seem to remember the first pregnancy to be measuring a few days off as well. The doctor didn't seem concerned at all and saw a beautiful thick placenta building up and a well formed yolk sac. In fact, I have never seen my doctor so optimistic.

In addition, I have been released from my doctor's care and have been encouraged to find an OB to care for me for the remainder of my gestation, however long that lasts (my doctors stopped delivering babies as of last July). So here's where I need some assvice from you all. It looks like we have two primary choices:

1. The first option is to go with the baby mill here in town. For now, we'll refer to them as O.G.A. The good thing is that they see a lot of births, they are in town, they consist of midwives and obstetricians, and all my local buddies have been very happy with them. The bad thing is that they are very large and sometimes referred to as 50-fingers because you see someone different every time you go in and have no idea who you will draw when it comes time to give birth. ( I should also mention that I have had bad experiences on the GYN side of their practice.)

2. The second option is to go with a practice that is 35 minutes away. My current doctor has nothing but good things to say about this doctor and midwife team. And other local women I have spoken to say the same. In the positive, I like the idea of getting to know the doctor and midwife that I will be having in the event of a full term and resulting birth. In the negative, I will have to drive 35 minutes each way for all the visits as well as the birth.

Thoughts?

So far, so good?

I got the scan this morning. First, I am happy to report that the doctor found absolutely no signs of blood anywhere. Second, the little fuzzy thing on the screen is measuring exactly right at 6 weeks and 1 day. Sadly, there was simply not enough resolution to get a heartbeat. Doctor felt very confident that everything looked good and I have to say it looked like something was moving around in there. So I guess for now, nothing bad has happened yet. I am scheduled for another scan next Wednesday at which point a heart beat should be much easier to detect. So I am going to hunker down on the couch for now and breathe deeply. I guess I can put away the c0ca1ne and ecst@sy for another day.

By the way, all of your well wishes helped immensely. I am grateful for each and every one of you, all of the time.

Here we go again?

I only have the energy for a very brief update. I am emotionally drained. After a few hours at the wine store stocking the shelves with our latest delivery, I made my hourly trip to the bathroom. The obsessive toilet paper watching suddenly revealed something not so benign. Bright red blood, about a dime in diameter.

I called the doctor and I am scheduled for a scan tomorrow morning at 8:30am. I have mild cramping, but not the painful lower backache I had with the first miscarriage. I am terrified, angry and just plain sad. Just so very sad.

If there is a heartbeat tomorrow, I still won't feel must better given that the last time all of this occurred we saw a heartbeat then too (only to lose the little guy one week later). I am thinking it may be time for a specialist. I will let you all know tomorrow what the scan showed, if anything.

Let it ride.

First, I just have to say that you are all so fabulous and I really don't know how I would handle my anxiety without you all rooting for me. I called the doctor last night and got the betaHCG (human chorionic gonadotropin for the non-IF'ers out there) number.

1886!

Needless to say, I am pretty excited. I am also exhausted and nauseous. Whoohoo!

The good number prompted me to go ahead and put up a ticker, although it was against my superstitious judgment. It's a really rough approximation since I clearly didn't ovulate when I thought that I did.

So, for the time being, I am going to try to sit tight and just let it ride.

No such thing as immaculate

So, if you look at the post I wrote just before this one, you will see that I didn't have a lot of faith in immaculate conception. Yesterday, I thought I spoke too soon. Today, I think I was right the first time around.

I got a shiny white negative HPT on Monday. Then when I noticed there was no Aunt Flo hangin' around, I peed on another stick two days later. It came up positive. Not a bright second line, but a line nevertheless. So, I had my beta HCG checked with a blood draw (and my progesterone by the way). Tonight, I got the results and it didn't look so promising. 54 is the grand number that isn't so grand. If the IF blogging world has taught me anything, it's that 54 is not promising. My progesterone is all good, but I can't get that damn 54 out of my head.

I go back in for another beta to see if that number is doubling. But, I gotta be honest, I am not so sure that 108 is going to make me feel any better. I'm sad, very very sad.

Is this thing still on?

So sorry for dropping off the face of the blogosphere for so long. I have been battling my thoughts on how to manage my blog. While I really want to write quite a bit and even set aside some time for it, I also really want you, my bloggie buddies, to read it and comment. But, how can I expect others to read and comment when I have not been doing the same. Basically, I feel bad for not making the time to visit all my bloggie buddies. Surely, the rules for blogging are no less strict than the rules for in-person friendships. If I don't return phone calls, do I really deserve to get any phone calls? I think not.

And, so on that theory, I stopped writing for a bit. I kept telling myself that as soon as things calmed down I would resume my original time commitment to blogging. As many of you would have predicted though, things never calmed down. Sixteen units in l@w school really is an insane load. A 25 hour per week part-time job at a wine shop really does contribute to total exhaustion. Another job doing research for an attorney may not absorb a lot of time, but it sure absorbs a lot of mental space. Plus, the volunteer job for yet another attorney (so I can learn actually how to practice l@w as assigned counsel in TinyTown) has an inverse relationship between salary paid and time taken. (I think I can already hear the "Well, duh." from the peanut gallery.)

Given all that keeps me busy, I still find myself quite lonely in the world of TTC and just general emotional/social connection. So in the interest of a hint of sanity, I think I need to keep writing even if I fail to visit others for now. So, if you are still reading, please stop by for a visit again and take it on faith that I will come by yours after the completion of the semester. Really, I will.

Now, for a quick update on life below the belt.

Two weeks ago, all the blood tests started to suggest that I had an ectopic pregnancy cruisin' around in there. After an emergency appointment with the dildocam, it turns out that my body finally figured things out and ejected that lingering blastocyst that was producing HCG at a record low. Much wine was enjoyed that evening. This week, I got the news that I have a cute little 3cm cyst on left ovary. Good times. Apparently, I am to go back for another romp with Mr. Dildocam in 3 months to check on cute little cyst. More good times. And in case any of you are wondering, trying to conceive and have sex on demand with a housemate wandering about does NOT work. So, in the absence of immaculate conception, there will be no double lines this month either.

How many jobs you got, mon?

Financially, things haven't been too good in our household. We took on a new roomate to help with the rent, but then when that wasn't enough I got another job. Thankfully, I love my new job that involves working at a wine and liquor store selling quality wine. Although, how I am going to work a 25 hour per week job and go to l@w school is still beyond me.

Instead of focusing on how I am going to manage my time, I have been absorbed in my own body. As you can see I am well through half my cycle this month. Apparently last month's entertainment wasn't enough for Uterus, so she decided to keep me on my toes by throwing me a new curve. Despite the fact that I am on cycle day 13 or so, I am bleeding. Not the full force menstrual version, but there is enough to make me think, "What the fuck?". This has been going on for about a week now. I have a lab order to have blood drawn so we can look at my estrogen and FSH level, but I haven't had a single moment to go and get it done. So, I am wondering what you all think is going on. It's bright red blood but there are no cramps or pain. Any thoughts?

Shall we say this is number 2?

I took 3 more home pregnancy tests over the weekend and they all came up vaguely positive. Then on Sunday, it all went into the crapper.

Well, that sure was fun.

So shall we say that I am in the middle of miscarriage number two? I hate the "chemical pregnancy" label. Not sure why.

Mmmm, gin.

Just because it's funny. (now with a useless update)

Just because she thinks it's funny, Uterus decided to produce both a second line (if you squint and use photoshop to enhance the contrast on the vast whiteness of my pee-stick) AND brown blood. It's anybodies guess at this point. But just in case the whole thing ends in the crapper (nice right?), I have a stockpile of mindnumbing pills at the ready.

Escape? Me? Never.

Updated to add: Got an appointment for a blood draw to check my beta and progesterone, but I still have some brown stuff going on down there. I'll let you know what they say once I get the results.

Not so fast.

I really hate to break my promises. But, if I don't break the promise I made to you all regarding posting "good times to come", well, then I don't think I would be posting for awhile. I know it was silly to hope that I would be pregnant the first full cycle after a D&C, but I hoped anyway. And, I hoped beyond hope that I would be able to post about the elusive pink line. Suffice it to say that today I am back to square one, or as we like to say, cycle day 1 (CD 1).

Somehow, Husband always manages a high level of optimism. Lately, his favorite chant is "We did it once, we can do it again", or "there's always next cycle". I feel so bad when all I can do is glare at him as he says these things. It sucks to be married to me.

Meanwhile the universe makes sure that every pregnant woman in town crosses my path. The new job that I was so looking forward to this summer was effectively ruined by the presence of the same pregnant l@w student that I couldn't stand to get even a glimpse of at school. Approximately every 5 minutes she passes conspicuously rubbing her over 8 month belly. And no matter how hard I try to look away, my eyes seem drawn to her belly in the same way that I can't help but stare at a gruesome car accident. So instead of coming home feeling like I am helping others avoid homelessness, I arrive weepy and defeated, feeling like I will never ever get the one thing that I want more than anything else in the entire world, a baby.

Two down, one to go.

After finals, my brain has the mental capacity of a turnip. It's not pretty. In fact, it's so bad that I am a little afraid of writing this post. I have trouble escaping the feeling that everything I write is being graded. On the upside, I am officially two-thirds of my way through this educational hell that they call l@w school. Two years down, one to go.

Dear Aunt Flo is busy packing her bags. While I am absolutely thrilled that AF finally paid me a visit after the D&C, I am anxious about this cycle. Going virtually unmedicated for bipolar in order to try to conceive is not fun. And, I am sure Husband would say the same. He misses those meds even more than I do. Although, he really is a mighty good sport about it all. So, I have the usual anxiety that you are all familiar with when staring at the potential of this cycle. But, I also have the anxiety of wanting to be off my meds for as little time as possible. I am constantly doing calculations to determine "how much longer if". How much longer will I have to be off my meds if I conceive this cycle? How much longer will I have to be off my meds if I don't conceive? And then there's the really sad one. How much longer will I have to be off my meds if I conceive and then miscarry again?

Before I sign off so that I can go comment on all the blogs I have missed for the last week or so, I would like to give a mention to Amy at "A somewhat ordinary life." She has an article published in her newspaper that I think deserves a good look. It's a courageous writing called "Dear Everyone: What to say to a childless couple." Thanks for writing it Amy!

8.0

Just a quick update to let you know that I finally got my HCG results, after 4 phone calls to my doctor. It's 8.0. I am pretty upset at this whole process and feel continuously insulted by my body. I want a period or a pregnancy, everything else can go fuck itself. I just want to cry, I am getting nowhere with all of this.

I will be absent for at least 24 hours, because I have a final tomorrow. So I need to study and forget this whole procreation thing. Actually, both studying and procreation send me into sadness. It's entirely possible that I will fail at both.

Simple need not apply

Because I like to torture myself, I peed on a stick yesterday. Perhaps you are wondering why a woman who still hasn't even had her period since the D&C would do such a thing. I am over four weeks past the procedure, and I was starting to get concerned. Of course, we all know that I should give it a few more weeks before I start to worry that my uterus may have initiated a revolt. But, I was a bit curious as to whether an HPT could detect any HCG still clinging to my body. The problem is that I didn't really anticipate what I would do with the results.

If you squint or applied the magic of super contrasting analysis, there were two lines. Either way, seeing a line didn't really help me. If it were totally negative then I would wonder where AF is, as I would erroneously conclude that I had no HCG in me and that indeed Ute was pouting. If it were totally positive, then I would be concerned that either I was pregnant again (way too soon btw), or that my body was waging an all out war against me and using the HCG as its weapon of mass destruction. With a kinda-sorta-positive or negative result, I am left with only one alternative...total mass confusion and being really really pissed off.

Thankfully, I have been well educated by the trials of others, so I got my doctor to draw blood for a quantitative HCG evaluation. That was yesterday, the results were supposed to be in today. And since simple and straight forward need not apply here, the results are delayed until Monday. So the question exists whether it is safe to have a gin and tonic this weekend and whether that Gorgonzola in the fridge is going to make it into my stomach. I am going with the safe assumption, as I have no symptoms of being pregnant. (God knows I have been obsessively checking.) But if I am pregnant, then I guess I would be good company to that smoking pregnant woman while I enjoy my gin.

WWBD?

Updated 4/26/07: Please know that the following post may get your panties in a bunch. I acknowledge that I am an angry, evil, nasty person right now. I am in no way saying that one must to do certain things to deserve a baby. Everyone deserves to be happy. I'm just not right now.

Sometimes when I am going through my day, I ask myself an age old question-What would Bloggies do? Perhaps you are wondering why I don't ask what Buddha or Jesus would do. Well, I already know what those two would do, and I also know it's not likely that I will choose to do what they do. So instead I ask what others with somewhat similar struggles would do in a particular situation. What would Aurelia, or Ultimate Journey, or Serenity, or Sara or Oneliner, or Lady in Waiting, or OHN, or Bumble, or Marie-Baguette, or Adrienne, or My Reality, or Sara, or Casey, or Megan, or Anns, or Nadine, or Berrybird, or Becks, or Barbara, or Renee, or Katy, or Carrie, or Caro, or Emilija or Mands, or Jane, or NSLS, or Diane, or Colette, or The Road Less Travelled or any of the other many Bloggies do in my spot? (by the way, if you comment I will add your name to the above list with a link to your site; yup shear desperation for friends, well that and I have no shame)

I had an appointment with my OB/GYN on Friday for my 1-month post-D&C checkup. Because they were running late and because all possible inconveniences insist on making their home in my life, I spent a fair amount of time in their waiting room. While doing time in OB hell, I desperately searched for something to read that didn't have the words "baby", "pregnant", or "parents" on the cover. Once I realized that this was too tall an order, I attempted to soothe myself by staring out their picture window at the cathartic sight of a parking lot. Looking back, I would have been better off counting loops of yarn in the waiting room carpet.

So, while I carefully studied the parking lot, an enormous pregnant woman comes into view. I would guess that she was around the 8th month. Instantly, I start to tear up and feel that boulder in my throat. When I caught sight of the next detail, I almost fell out of my chair and most definitely let out an audible gasp. This woman, who is lucky enough to still be pregnant was surrounded by cigarette smoke. Then, I realized it was coming from the cigarette in her hand. She was fucking smoking! I was livid. Just as I was about to march out to the parking lot and give her some of my mind blowing wisdom, the nurse called me in. I made a mental note to glare at the pregnant lady with the cancer stick when I came back out.

So the nurse saved this woman from my unmedicated, hormonal, post-miscarriage wrath. I still don't know what I was going to say, but I would venture to guess that it would have been along the lines of "What the fuck is wrong with you, lady?" or perhaps "Would you like a beer to go with that?". Let's be honest though, I am way too wimpy to have actually said anything to a woman with that much weight behind her. Scary.

So here's the ultimate question, what would you do?