Someone Handed Me a Baby

Everyone who has followed the Sir and my story knows the journey we have been on to become parents over the past 2 plus years.

We went through 2 years of struggle with infertility which included 6 rounds of IUIs, almost $30,000 in medical costs, and a miscarriage.  I learned how to give myself injections and how to smile when someone else told me they were pregnant “on accident.” We went through the heartache of not ever knowing if any of it would be worth it in the end.

But we kept on praying and kept on going. And then through IVF we got pregnant.

Unfortunately, in the theme of this journey, pregnancy wasn’t a piece of cake for me either.  I spent the first 20 weeks barfing multiple times a day and lost almost as much weight as I ended up gaining by the end of my pregnancy.  Once the sickness phase finally passed, I was just plain uncomfortable and dealt with the usual issues of swollen feet, the inability to get comfortable enough to sleep, and the overall anxiety of impending childbirth. 

But once again, we kept on praying and kept on going.  And then the doctor said it was time to schedule a c-section to get the baby out of me.

And so the Sir and I headed to the hospital and waited in the pre-op room for 4 hours until it was time to go back to the operating room.  In keeping with the curve of difficulty theme, the anesthesiologist had to try 4 times to get the spinal block in my back and had to call another doctor in to assist before the numbing began.  They brought the wide eyed Sir in shortly thereafter, who was dressed in a snazzy pair of scrubs with a paper hat and all (although he couldn’t understand why he needed a scrub cap to cover his shaved head). 

And after all of the hard stuff, after the years of tears and anger and hopelessness, after all the prayers, that one second where they told me they could see her head and then I heard her cry for the first time---that emotion is something I will never have again in my life.  It was like joy was exploding out of my heart and running down my face as I heard that tiny but powerful cry.  And when they brought her over and placed her on my chest for the first time and I looked at the Sir’s face and saw all my emotion mirrored there as we looked at our daughter, that’s when I knew it had all been worth it. 

All of it was for her.

On November 15^th at 2:31PM, someone handed me a 6 pound, 13 ounce baby girl and my life will never be the same again.

The Lowdown

This post is one of those oversharing posts that people are going to be fascinated or weirded out by…hopefully the former rather than the latter. It is also a way to share another aspect of my life that many people don't talk about...probably because most people have never heard about it!

Four years ago during a routine annual pelvic exam, a poor military resident doctor (who didn’t know what he was getting himself into), discovered that I had a crazy uterine anomaly called Uterine Didelphys. 

Now since uterine anomalies are not in your usual high school anatomy textbook, here’s a rundown of Uterine Didelphys…basically, when I was forming inside the womb, my female reproductive system didn’t meld into one total unit, but stayed partially separated.  This means that rather than one uterus and one cervix, I have two of each---two uteri and two cervices.  Mind blown, yet?

Believe me, this is not news anyone expects when going in for your annual pap smear (especially when it’s not your first!). 

Of course, when people hear that I have Uterine Didelphys, I always get the usual questions:

Could you get pregnant in BOTH uteri? (Yes, but it is super rare)

Which uterus is the baby in? (The right one! The left one just gets smashed down and pushed out of the way now that Baby Girl is taking up all the space)

What problems come with having two uteri? (Higher risk of miscarriage, early labor, baby is breech)

And as weird as this anomaly is, the doctors don’t think that Uterine Didelphys is what affected our fertility or why it took us so long to get pregnant.  

Currently for the Sir and I, our biggest concern about how this condition may affect me during labor, is that a c-section may be needed if my right cervix decides it doesn’t want to dilate properly. Thankfully, baby girl has cooperated through all of the other pregnancy concerns, and will not be born early (I'm 37 1/2 weeks today!) and is head down already.

So once again, we are asking for prayers for me and my baby girl----that my unique body reacts like it should during labor and that both of us come out of the whole birth process healthy and happy (and that the Sir is not emotionally traumatized for life).

Because sooner rather than later, someone will be handing me a baby!        

Winter is Coming

This summer, the Sir and I decided to binge watch “Game of Thrones” and catch up with the pop culture zeitgeist.  We watched all six seasons and learned about dire wolves, dragons, and that “Winter is Coming” a catchphrase we appropriated when describing the upcoming arrival of our baby girl.

Because, just like the snows of winter transforming the landscape of Westeros, this little girl is totally going to turn our lives upside down. 

It has only been recently that I think the Sir has realized the big change coming his way.  The first day of my third trimester he was about three shades paler than normal now that the final stretch before her arrival was finally in front of him.  The other evening he spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out what songs he knew that would be appropriate to sing to her at bedtime (and eventually came up with the “Cool Runnings” song and “Take Me Out to the Ball Game”).  This man, who has never changed a diaper or fed a little one, has no idea what is in store for him, but I have no doubts that he will hit the ground running once she arrives.

The dogs equally are not prepared for a new little human to take over this house.  The multiple wrestling matches throughout the day and the epic howling at the gray cat down the street that enjoys terrorizing them out the front window will not be nearly as tolerated as it is now.  I keep trying to tell Huck and Fletch that they better start mentally preparing to be big brothers, and they respond with wagging tails and requests for more belly rubs, without fully taking in the upcoming change in their furry lives.

And I, the clear planner in our little family, am sure I will be equally unprepared once she gets here.  I have lists of baby items, breastfeeding tips, freezer meals to make, what to pack in my hospital bag...but am I really ready for those midnight feedings after days with no sleep or having to breastfeed a baby every two hours or making sure all of the boys in my house are getting loved on, too, in the midst of the chaos?  We will have to wait until November to see!

As unprepared as all of us are, we are a family that thrives on adventures, and we are prepared for this one to be our biggest yet.

So yes, winter will be coming to our house this November…and we absolutely cannot wait when someone hands us that baby!

A Weighty Issue

Not a lot of my pregnancy has taken me by surprise over the past 6 months.  I had assumed there would be barfing (just not as much as I have had to put up with!).  I knew I would cry more, pee more, sleep less.  I was pretty sure I would get increasingly uncomfortable and that I would be obsessive about baby prepping.

I was taken by surprise, however, when I weighed myself recently and burst into tears at the number on the scale.

Sure, I knew weight was a factor in pregnancy---isn’t that supposed to be the best part? Being able to eat whatever your heart desires with the excuse of growing a human inside your body? All the macaroni and cheese, peach pie, and fried pickles that your pregnant heart desires with none of the guilt.

And I always had assumed I would be one of those women that reveled in growing a baby and saw every pound as “a blessing” and each stretch mark as a badge of honor for growing a baby inside my body like a wonder woman.

To my surprise, that has not been the case. 

The ever increasing number on the scale brings me anxiety and as the number shoots higher, I find my self-esteem plummeting, even though I am right in the normal range for being 24 weeks pregnant and very healthy otherwise.

And you know what? That makes me sad. It makes me sad that I have allowed myself to be so sensitized to my weight as a woman that I have corresponded it to my beauty and worth. I’m sad that when the Sir tells me how beautiful I look, I don’t entirely believe him. And most of all, it makes me sad because I am not the only pregnant woman that has felt this way.

So this is my war cry and my call to pregnant women and women who have been pregnant ---WE CANNOT ALLOW OURSELVES TO BELIEVE THE LIE THAT OUR PREGNANT BODIES ARE NOT BEAUTIFUL. I believe that the Creator has created us in His image…do we deny His beauty by denying our own?

We must choose and decide every single day that the weight on the scale does not reflect our beauty, our intelligence, or our sass.  That extra pounds are not a reflection of our character or our kindness or compassion. That we are indeed wonder women and these extra pounds are helping keep a tiny human alive inside our bodies every single day.

Yes, I know this is something ALL of us have heard many times before, myself included, but is it something I have really let become ingrained in my heart? Clearly not.  Is this easy? Nope. Will it be something I will have to pray about every day, in some cases minute by minute, in order to change my mindset and finally enjoy the growing body I have been blessed with? Definitely.   

But I am determined to try, because this November, someone is going to had me a baby girl.  And I want that little girl to know how absolutely gorgeous and stunning she is, no matter what she weighs.

The Ugly Truth

I have been open about a lot of things over the past few months since I started writing this blog...my miscarriage, our struggle with infertility, our IVF journey.  And so to continue that pattern, I would like to be open about one more thing:

I don’t like being pregnant.

I know, that’s shocking---just like how you don’t hear about infertility very often, you rarely hear a pregnant woman speak up about how pregnancy is not all they had dreamed of. And how often do you hear about a woman that struggled to get pregnant not like the reality of it once it came along?

But pregnancy is very very hard and has been an especially difficult few months for me.

In the past 21 weeks, I estimate that I have thrown up approximately 250 times and dry heaved just as many due to my hyperemesis gravadarum (because regular morning sickness wasn’t good enough for this high maintenance body).  Although things have improved over the past few weeks, I still have days where I can’t keep any food down.  And have you ever had to move across the country with two dogs, a fish, and a constantly nauseous and overheated wife? The poor Sir (my newly commissioned hubby who henceforth has a new title to match his new rank!) may need therapy after having to deal with that mess for four days as we traversed to our new home in Georgia.

And an additional symptom that you don’t hear about very often but I have experienced since day 1? A funky taste in my mouth that NEVER EVER goes away---not with constant teeth brushing, mouth wash, flossing, sugar free gum, mints---and it’s driving me crazy.  Apparently it’s a hyperemesis side effect that can last all 40 weeks of pregnancy. Definitely not a pregnancy perk.

I do have the distinct feeling an alien has invaded my body.  My body has slowly started changing, which is honestly more disconcerting than anything else.  I don’t feel the glow, I just feel weird. 

I’m tired, but have trouble sleeping.  I’m dizzy.  I can barely climb up a flight of stairs without being winded. Standing on my feet for long periods of time makes my back hurt. I ugly cry twice as much as usual (and that was already a decent amount of crying BEFORE pregnancy…just ask the Sir and the dogs). 

I’m impatient to get back to “my body” and have this whole crazy experience be over with!

I would like to end this by saying that I am 100% excited and grateful to finally be pregnant after our years of struggle and that not enjoying pregnancy does not negate the fact that I am enormously excited that I am growing a little girl (despite the hardships) and get to meet her this fall.  This is just an honest moment that as much as someone can look forward to getting pregnant, it definitely isn’t as easy as many can make it appear. 

Would I do it all over again in order to create this little girl? A thousand times over.

As always, what keeps me going?

That in November, someone is going to hand me a baby!

Mother's Day PSA

Mother’s Day is a holiday (similar to how singles feel on Valentine’s Day) that can be such a painful, bittersweet day for women struggling with infertility.

Just a year ago, I completely ignored the holiday altogether after having just suffered my miscarriage weeks before.  I didn’t even want to go out to a restaurant to eat with the Sergeant, because I knew it would be too difficult to see a bunch of moms celebrating the day with their kids.  My poor Mom (who of course, was full of grace and didn’t bat an eye), didn’t even receive a card.

This year, of course, is a whole different ball game.  Mother’s Day 2016 marks the first day of my 2^nd trimester…just the thought of it brings happy tears to my eyes.

However, I am not far enough removed from that memory to not be thinking about my friends that are still in the midst of their infertility journeys…women who will be crying tears of an entirely different sort this Sunday.

And so I am writing this blog as a reminder to all of us to reach out, to touch base with those women (and their families, too) to let them know that you know that it is a tough day for them, that you care about them, that your greatest hope is that this is the last Mother’s Day in which they are not holding their child in their arms.  Remind them that they are valuable as women because of who they are, what they bring to other people’s lives, even if they don’t have the current status of “mom.”  Send them some love, to break through the lonely wall that can often be built around a woman suffering from infertility.  Don’t forget the women around you who have yearned to be celebrating this holiday for years, and have not had that dream come true yet. 

My prayer for these women who are struggling this Mother’s Day is that one day, someone will hand them a baby.

Not Glowing

8 weeks pregnant and I am definitely not glowing.  I may be sweaty, but it’s not one of those dewy, light filled sweats.  It is the sweaty face of a woman who may possibly vomit at any unexpected time.

Yes, I am still ridiculously excited that in 32 weeks we will be able to meet our little girl.  I am also extremely pumped about seeing her heartbeat a week ago on the ultrasound and looking forward to hearing that same heartbeat later this week when we have our next check-up.

But this very wanted pregnancy has definitely been a lot bumpier than I have been imagining for the past two years.

In the past 6 weeks, I have had two unexpected trips to the ER to pump me full of fluids and anti-nausea meds in hopes they could get me rehydrated after days of being sick.  I have spent more hours hunched over a toilet than humanly possible.  I have lost enough weight that I can’t fit into half of my pants. Pregnant belly? My stomach’s flatter than it has been in years.  

And I can confirm that "morning" sickness is definitely a myth---I have been sick all around the clock.  Nausea has become my companion every day, all day...there's no escape!

Baby girl loves lemonade, but hates water (unless it is icy cold and it is after 7pm).  She hates the smell of dog food, the Sergeant’s morning breath, and all of my beauty products.  She doesn’t like hot showers, standing for long periods of time, or extended car rides.  Baby makes me tired all the time, but won't ever let me sleep for long (she's practicing for when she gets here in November!). She’s definitely a high maintenance girl.

With the knowledge that this pregnant woman has to move across the United States in 60 days, I will take all the prayers and help I can get! 

And I am 100% sure I will finally be glowing when they hand me that baby.

773 Days

I’m Pregnant.

According to the doctor, I’m “very pregnant.”

The Sergeant and I have been waiting 773 days to hear those words and have that hope rise again.  25 months, 25 disappointments, 25 times where our dream seemed a little bit further away.

I have been on and off hormonal medications for over a year which has plummeted my self-confidence as my body has changed.  I have injected myself, slapped patches all over my body, and even made a surprise visit to the emergency room when I had an adverse reaction to a medication to dilate my cervix.  I have dealt with side effects from all these medications, including: fatigue, mood swings, acne, weight gain, and being even more tearful than normal.

We have spent thousands of dollars on infertility treatments that are not covered by our insurance and had to take out a loan to cover IVF.  I have spent more at the pharmacy in the last year than I have over the entire course of my life. 

I have been to our Reproductive Endocrinologist's office at least 40 times in the past year---for blood draws, vaginal ultrasounds, meetings to plan the next step, meetings with the nurse so she can show my husband how to poke a needle into my hip.  I could drive to our doc’s office with my eyes closed.

I have continued to live my already chaotic life, while constantly being reminded each day that I could not get pregnant.  Try staying “relaxed” and “stress free” when you are an Army wife (who is moving once again this summer), have a new dog with heartworm (a 4 month intensive treatment), and a busy work life.  It’s hard to get the laundry done when you are staring at another negative pregnancy test.

But do you know what makes it worth it? Hearing that you have a baby girl coming in November.

It’s difficult to describe this incomparable joy that I have been feeling since we received the results on Monday afternoon.  Imagine going to Disneyland mixed with a new puppy mixed with looking at your future husband as you walk down the aisle on your wedding day.  That’s what it feels like.

I know we still have a long road ahead.  I keep sending prayers up that this little one will stay tucked away until November. 

Because, guess what? Someone is going to hand me a baby!

The Waiting Game

Do you remember being a little kid and when Christmas was coming, the days seemed to get longer and longer? Or as an adult, counting down the days until a much needed vacation and time can’t seem to go by quickly enough?  Or waiting for anything that you are looking forward to and being absolutely sure that the clock is basically at a standstill? That’s how the two week wait is---the time between an embryo transfer (or fertilization) and finding out if you get a big positive blood test result.  That’s the window I am in right now and the days can’t pass quickly enough.

Last Friday, the Sergeant and I made another trip to the local hospital to do the final step for our IVF…the all important embryo transfer.  Per my usual, they had to do another trial procedure (which went smoothly) and then finally did the actual procedure (which took twice as long as it should have due to my complicated body).  That moment when they handed me an actual picture of our little embryo and then I saw the little teeny tiny white dot on the ultrasound screen…those moments were filled with such pure hope that my heart almost exploded (and of course, I cried my eyes out).

But after those big emotions and crazy physical shenanigans, the Sergeant and I were sent home to wait….and wait…and wait.  And these past 3 days seem like they have been the equivalent length of 3 weeks. 

Despite the really bad cold that snuck in as of yesterday and has knocked me on my butt, that hope I felt on Friday is still strong.  We have good odds and I serve a great God…I know we have a lot of people praying and rooting for us, which has been such an amazing boost during this emotionally crazy time and I continue to wholeheartedly appreciate all the support and kind words everyone has sent our way. 

One week…we have one more week.  Here’s praying 9 months from now I get handed that baby.

Suprise!

I have never been a fan of math and In Vitro has not helped with that hatred. 

6 weeks ago, we started with 15 eggs that had been retrieved while I was knocked out at the local hospital.  Just a week later, we were down to 11 eggs that had matured.  Two weeks after that, the lab called to inform me that only 4 embryos had flourished and were being sent to Michigan to test how healthy each embryo was.  And then, finally, we received a call from our doctor that after the testing had been completed, we only had 1 successful embryo after all of that work.  Not the equation I was looking for. We have one shot at this.

But the bigger surprise? The news that hit me in the gut like a 100 MPH train? The information that made my husband become paler than me (which we all know is a very difficult feat)? News that filled my heart with such excitement that I thought I could burst, mixed with the fear of what I could lose, and made this all seem so achingly real?

We’re having a girl.

And so this week, as I start my final round of medications and get mentally and physically prepared to have this one single embryo put into my body on March 1st, I ask that you pray for my little girl.  That we will get the chance to meet her this year and see who she will be.  That we can see if she has the Sergeant’s eyes, my crazy hair, and the combined sass from us both.  That all of you who have supported both the Sergeant and I through this crazy journey will be able to hold her and meet her, too. 

And please pray that she is not as crazy and naughty as her mother, because I am not sure any of us will be able to handle that.