It's Christmas Time!

Thank goodness it's Christmas Time! Because Thanksgiving is not for the faint of heart.

At least mine wasn't.

It started off well. The HG and I went to visit his family in Florida. As I've mentioned on many occasions, flying is not my favorite activity. I've had fillings I enjoyed more. The time I fractured my ankle ranks higher than flying. There are really only a couple of events that are lower on my list of things to do than flying. But fly I must if I want to spend the holidays with my husband. So I suck it up and go. Generally all hopped up on Xanax. One to get to the airport. One to get on the plane. One with every bump of turbulence. And it works well. I don't even draw blood on the HG's hand (anymore).

On the flight TO Florida, I was a champ. I got to the airport and on the plane without even the slightest hesitation. And no Xanax. I "breathed" through the take-off. (Ok, I actually prayed constantly. And repeated "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" and "Let go and let God" and singing various praise songs that popped into my head "God is so good, he's so good to me".) But whatever. I did it. And there was virtually NO turbulence. AND the flight was not full so I even had an empty seat next to. Best flight ever! Our luggage was the first out of the baggage claim! This vacation is going to rock!

And then we went to pick up our rental car.
And it went down hill from there.

Rich, my new anti-BFF started with the attitude. Ok, ok. I know I'm not known for my love of the people on the other side of the counter, but for real. This guy was a piece of work. At this point in my pregnancy, I'm clearly pregnant. Or at least really fat wearing maternity clothes. Either way, there is certainly enough of a question that you shouldn't mess me with. And secondly, it was after midnight. Ok, so I was really, really tired. And HOT. It was 20 degrees when we left Boston...and over 70 when we landed in FL. And I had a sweater and a fleece on. SO I'm hormonal, hot, and tired. And Rich was coping attitude. I didn't understand what he said when he asked for our phone number. So I said, "I'm sorry?" (I said it nicely. I PROMISE! I swear, this is true. The HG will vouch for me.) His reply: "PHONE.NUMBER." (really slowly..like you would to a 2 year old) Um, excuse me? Did you really just say that? Anyway, I let it go. I figured I'd have to fight about not taking the insurance and wanted to save up my sweet customer points. Rich wasn't having it. We had a similar exchange at least 3 times with different questions. I let it all go. I was too tired. I really just was. And then. After giving me a quick look over he said, "Is the Chevy Alero ok or do you want something, um, bigger?" He was very clearly insinuating that I'd be happier in a bigger car. Oh, no you didn't. (Insert finger snaps here) Ok, that's it buddy, we're gonna battle.

But I didn't. I was sweet. (Hi, can I get some karma points, PLEASE?? apparently not. Read on)

We got in the matchbox car Chevy is calling an "economy" car and headed to the family house without further incident. Which is too bad. Because had there been a problem on the way to the house, I would have assumed the trip was doomed and insisted we drive back to the airport and grab the next flight home. But instead, I assumed the rental car guy was an isolated incident and the rest of the trip would be great.

How wrong, how wrong, how wrong I was.
Once we got into the house and ready for bed (ahhhh....BED), I realized that I left my wrist braces at home and would have to sleep without them. That was a mistake. The HG woke up and found me in tears the next morning. Between his snoring (Dear Lord, how does he not wake himself up? Seriously.) and the stabbing pain in my arms, I got no sleep. My arms hurt so badly, that had I not known it was because of my carpal tunnel, I'd have headed to the ER. But Ok. It's fine. I'm in FL, the weather is fantastic, and I can fix the arm pain with some new braces. The worst is behind me, right?

Wrong. I made the mistake of checking my work email. The first one I read said, "I know you're sort of on vacation, but.....". Sort of? SORT OF? There is no sort of. I am ACTUALLY on vacation. Except for the next 2 days apparently, because I spent half of each of the first two days working. Lovely. But really, at this point, there's no place to go but up.

Right? Wrong.

Everything was great right up until Thanksgiving dinner. Or rather, right up until AFTER Thanksgiving dinner. Dinner was wonderful. I am a huge fan of butternut squash and my diabetes nutritionist informed me that I can have a WHOLE CUP of mashed butternut squash versus a lousy half cup of mashed potatoes (For real? 1/2 a cup? What's the point of that?) So for the first time, we had butternut squash for Thanksgiving while in Florida. I made it. And it.was.fantastic. I decided I was so good at dinner (3 slices of turkey, my cup of squash, one roll, and some green beans) that if the HG and I took a nice long walk, I could afford to have some pumpkin pie (mmmm....pie....). So I hit up the bathroom first. Hey, I'm pregnant. You have to prepare for long walks.

And that's where I saw the terrifying sight. Blood. Again. (Come ON, it's Thanksgiving for crying out loud!) But rather than panic, I decided to take the walk and see what happened when we got back. So we took it easy and walked to the lake. It's a nice lake and lots of people in the neighborhood had Christmas lights up. And the weather was beautiful. Mid 60's, low 70's, not a cloud in the sky. Too bad I didn't enjoy any of it. The second we got home, I ran to the bathroom and hoped to see nothing.

It was a futile hope. So the HG and I called my OB, who I have to say, was fantastic. She told me that I was fine, but for peace of mind to head to the nearest ER with an OB department. If I was having cervix problems, she didn't want me on a plane the next day. So we headed back to the family room and said, "Oh hey, so we're gonna take a ride. Um...where's the nearest hospital with an OB department?" We're so subtle. And stealth... nobody suspected a thing. (Ok, that's not true, but it did ease our path to the door....)

Anyway, very long story short, our little Nutter is just fine. A big pudger, measuring 2 weeks ahead by weight and a week ahead by length. So big, but fine. Whew. Once again, it's just my cranky cervix. I over did the walking, cooking, flying...etc. So I'm back on pelvic rest for the duration of this pregnancy. My doc wants me to continue walking and I can swim. But nothing more than light walking. And no sex. Sigh. Poor HG. He's such a trooper.

Ok, so Nutter man is fine. I'm fine. We can head home. 2 hours on a plane and everything will be fine.
Huh.

I had a bad, bad feeling about getting on the flight. But then I ALWAYS have a bad, bad feeling about getting on the plane. So I sucked it up and got on. But this was different. I could not shake the feeling that being on that plane was the worst idea ever.

And while it turns out that it wasn't the worst idea EVER, it wasn't a good idea, either. We hit the worst turbulence I've every felt with in 15 minutes of take off. I woke up the HG (that boy can sleep through ANYTHING) and tearfully told him I wanted off the plane. Immediately. He suggested that perhaps leaving the plane at that moment was not the best plan I'd ever had. Alright, I'll give him that. The turbulence settled down, but I was still very nervous. More nervous than I've been on a plane in about 5 years. I was just terrified and I didn't know why.

It seems that there really is such a thing as women's intuition. Since we fly into Boston, we fly right over Providence, RI. Once we got there, the pilot come on the intercom and said "Due to some heavy wind sheer in Boston, we're in a holding pattern here until they can change up some runways to clear us to land."

Ok, now to a normal person, this is a not a scary announcement. But I am NOT a normal person (Hi, if you think I am, you've clearly not been reading for long.) I read those fear of flying websites. Or rather, I used to read those fear of flying websites. I have since learned that they just scare me more. But I did manage to learn enough to know that wind sheer is actually the only kind of turbulence that can bring a plane down. Oh.freaking.joy.

After about 15 minutes of circling (during which time I prayed they'd just have to land us in Providence. That's cool. I have friends in Providence...I'd get home. No problem. Land the plane...) we were cleared to land in Boston. And land we did. Praise the Lord. After 10 minutes of the plane being pushed from side to side and several nose down drops that caused passengers to scream, babies to cry, and flight attendants to visibly panic, we landed. Dear Lord. I might never get on a plane again. If you've ever seen the movie The Day After Tomorrow, picture the plane scene in that movie and you'll have an idea of what we went through. Terrifying does not even begin to describe the last 10 minutes of that flight. The HG didn't want me to know how scared he was, but later he admitted that he was a bit concerned that he'd die watching "True Life: I'm a Shopaholic" on MTV. (Ok, now that's just funny.)

I shook for a good three hours after the flight. I cried for no reason several times that afternoon. But we were home.
And my Thanksgiving was over.

And now it's time for Christmas! I can't wait! I'm so blessed this year. So happy for everything we have. So happy to be pregnant and having this little man. It is such a change from last Christmas when the baby nazi made her monthly appearance on Christmas day.

I am so happy to be past that.

Best Dressed Class of 2027

I'm starting the little man off right.
Look what I bought him today. I love it. The little bear on the bum is just too cute for words.

http://preview.tinyurl.com/6qs8vo
http://preview.tinyurl.com/5gqlov

That is all.

Well that's.....new.

So, it turns out that Poppy isn't so much a Poppy as a Poppi.
Seems my little girl has an extra part.

And he is NOT shy about showing it off! If I didn't want to know what I was having, I would now, regardless. there was simply no mistaking what was on the ultrasound screen. The little man, who will thus forth be known as "Nutter" (I will explain later), was happy to show us the goods whenever the wand was anywhere near his legs. Whenever the ultrasound wand was near his face, he covered his face with his hands. Apparently he's only partially camera shy. I love him already!

Everything looks great, according to the U/S tech. Unfortunately, the doctor wasn't there so we don't know everything yet, but she did say that she'd tell me if there appeared to be a problem. So, I'm going with the idea what everything is OK. Except for one minor setback....
Our little Nutter was NOT very cooperative when it was time to get a good look at his heart. The good news is that because we couldn't get all the views we needed, I get to see my little man on December 10th again.

The bad news is that crazy girl (Hi! That would be me!) is going to obsess over it for the next two weeks. Maybe there was a problem and she didn't want to tell me. Maybe there is a problem she couldn't see. Who knows? Rational girl (um, anyone see her? Bueller?) knows that everything is probably fine. We've had a million ultrasounds and a lot tests all pointing to the fact that our little Nutter is just fine. So do I still worry over every little thing?

But I'm trying to put that out of my mind. Because if I start, the list of crazy gets longer and longer.
And longer.
As an example. I hate to fly. Hate it. And we're going to Florida on Sunday. And if I let my imagination run crazy, I can come up with at least 15 reasons the plane will crash and I'll meet a fiery death after spending 10 agonizing minutes knowing the plane is going down.
See? This is not rational. Whenever something good happens, I'm convinced that on the other side of that coin is something terrible. So terrible the bad is worse than the best good.

So really, it's best not to even get going there. Instead, let's talk about how Nutter got his name.

A few years ago (this is so funny, given all we've been through), the HG and I had a condom malfunction (Dear Trojan, can we get a refund on all the money we spent on condoms??). We decided we'd just let nature take it's course and if I ended up pregnant, that would be fine. Bad timing, but fine. Good times. Anyway, I asked him what he thought we should name the baby, if one should appear. "Fluffy". Leave it to a man.

Clearly we didn't end up with a Fluffy, but Fluffy became the name we used when we discussed all of our future children. After a while, it occurred to me that Fluffy, sort of like Poppy, was a rather girly name. We needed a boy name as well. And what goes better with Fluff than peanut butter? But "Peanut" and "Butter" seemed sort of silly. Besides, Fluff + Peanut Butter on bread=Fluffer Nutter. And thus, Nutter was born. We're not normal. I'm fine with that.

But for the past three years, we have been discussing Nutter at length. Sometimes Nutter ends up as a Pro Baseball player. And sadly, sometimes poor Nutter ends up on the short bus. Hey, you have to be realistic. But now that Nutter is a reality, I'm quite certain he'll be an All Star catcher. You should see this kids thighs. He's well prepared for squatting all day.

In addition to his already beefy thighs, our little man weighs just over half a pound. I'm so proud of our little man! Average for the end of 17 weeks is between 5 and 7 ounces. Our little Nutter is a beefy 8 ounces. Sadly, I think most of that weight is coming from his larger than average head. Yeah. That'll be fun. Thanks HG for passing THAT lovely trait to your son.

But all in all, the little Nutter looks good. His heartbeat was nice and strong and he has 10 fingers, 10 toes, 2 arms, and 2 legs. We saw his little kidneys, bladder, and liver. He has all his parts! Not to mention the cutest little baby bum ever. He had the hiccups and was practicing his swallowing. **Swoon** I just can't wait to meet my little man.
(Um, Nutter, just so I'm clear, I can't wait to meet you in APRIL. Feel free to hang out in there for a few more months.)

I'm not sure I'll ever be over the shock that my "little girl" has an extra part, though! I'm THRILLED he's a boy. But just flat out shocked! I can't wait to tell him his first name was Molly. His therapist will love that.

I'm so old.

I hope I'm just old.
If not, I'm an idiot.

I think I'm the last person on earth who cannot figure out Facebook. I just spent the last45 minutes searching for people I know. Or rather, knew. I suppose if I still knew them, I wouldn't have to spend 45 minutes looking for them on Facebook. But let's not nitpick. You'd think that in 45 minutes, I'd find someone. Or at least figure out how to narrow a search down from, oh say the 5000 hits I got on one name, to something usable. But you'd be wrong.

In the interests of not embarrassing myself for the person I was looking up, let's just say that some names are entirely too common. How the heck does anyone find anyone on Facebook? You hear stories all the time (um, perhaps I'm the only one who hears them...I also hear voices...so maybe don't judge this by me) of how people connected with old friends on Facebook. HOW? I just want to know. I mean, perhaps if your best friend from elementary school was Penelope Dorothy Nicademous you'd be able to find her. But say her name is Sarah Smith. Don't hold your breath. Unless you're not me. In which case, please send Sarah my love. Because you will certainly find her.

Ok, so while I was searching for people who don't want to be found by me (I hate you all. And don't need you. So there.) I decided to try to figure out how my wall works. And what, exactly are the gifts I keep getting. Frankly, I can't figure it out. I really can't. I do, however know why high school kids all over the place aren't getting their homework done. They're busy planting facebook trees (or whatever) and cropping out shots of beer cans in their profile pictures. And it's fine. Really, it doesn't often bother me that I can't figure these things out.

But, um. Just like high school I haven't been nominated for any superlatives. And I'm still hurt.

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And in other news, Poppy and I had a doctor's appointment today. Where there has been further proof that the Poppy is doing whatever she can to give me a run for my money for the next 5 months.

We'll start with the good news. Poppy has a strong heartbeat of 150ish BPM. At 16 weeks, they expect the heartbeat to be anywhere between 120 and 180 BPM. I love that Poppy managed to find the number smack in the middle. Average in pregnancy makes me very happy. How can you complain about that?

Also, despite being a bottomless pit for the past 4 weeks, and bracing myself to be yelled at for my weight gain, I only gained ONE pound since my last appointment. Turns out I can't button anything because I'm pregnant. Not just because I'm fat. Who knew?

And finally, my uterus is right where it should be right now. And in the best news EVER, it's right where I've been feeling some flutteries. I'm not sure if it's wishful thinking or if it's real, but how exciting that it could be my little poppy moving around in there! She's really making herself at home. Which is what we're going for. Move on in Poppy. Hang some pictures. Get to know your neighbors (please don't get too friendly with Mr. Bladder....mommy spends too much time in the bathroom as it is). I'll eat more pizza as a welcome to the neighborhood gift if it makes you happy. In a few months, you can come out and play. When it's warmer. Just skip the winter. Spring is a lovely time to born.

So that's the good news. The not so good news is that I have the worst carpel tunnel known to man. My OB said "Oh, that's not good!" She seemed very, very concerned about it. Enough to briefly panic me until she said "Oh, not that it's a problem for the baby! It'll just get worse and you have 24 weeks to go. Your third trimester is going to be difficult." Gee. Thanks for the pep talk. So I'm off to see my PCP on Wednesday for a referral to a specialist. Apparently it is not normal to have to sleep sitting up with your arms propped up on pillows so your arms don't feel like someone is stabbing them with a hot knife. Who knew?

And she geared me up for the really bad news. She is pretty sure that at some point, I'll end up on insulin. I'm hoping that'll be later, rather than sooner. But at 16w, that is NOT a conversation you want to have with your doctor. I want to keep Poppy as safe as possible for as long as possible. And I hate the idea that my body might betray me. Again. But at least we know early and can keep an eye on everything. And hey, I'm really good at giving myself shots.

Oh oh! And my blood pressure was superfly low! The lowest it's been all pregnancy! Whoo hooo!!! Pre-Eclampsia scares me so every week my BP stays low is a happy week indeed.
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And quickly. One more thing I don't understand. If the secret service is going to give someone a code name, and that code name is made public, doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of using a code name in the first place? Just wondering.
I wonder if Renegade has a Facebook page. Probably. Such a "man of the people" (insert gag here)

Alright. That's IT!

I love Private Practice. Love it. It's probably one of my favorite shows.

But I have HAD IT with inaccurate medical procedures on that show. Specifically the inaccurate infertility treatments they show.

Last year one of the episodes showed 2 of the doctors doing an egg retrieval, sperm retrieval, ICSI, and embryo transfer all in one day. The woman did not have any fertility drugs to stimulate her ovaries, thicken her lining, nothing. Then they pronounced her "pregnant".
Sigh.

Tonight, they are attempting to get a 17 year old girl pregnant. She was awake during the egg retrieval. Her mother was present and her husband joined them part way through the procedure. And now the entire family is watching the ICSI procedure. And according to Naomi, she'll be pregnant in 24 hours.
Bigger sigh.

Let me explain the finer points of IVF. It starts with a month of Birth Control pills and lupron (or some other drug) to stop your body from ovulating so your doctor can control when you ovulate the following month. Then, if blood tests confirm you are sufficiently "suppressed", you take a cocktail of drugs (all injected--none of these are oral drugs) to stimulate your ovaries. After weeks of ultrasounds to confirm you are producing enough eggs, you have an egg retrieval. Under twilight. A very long needle is jammed into your private parts and you cannot be awake during that procedure. You can't have any perfumes, hair spray, lotions, etc on your body that day because the eggs are so fragile. While you are having the egg retrieval, your husband is busy providing his half of the DNA. And you can be darn sure he won't be in the same room with you. Nor would your mother. 17 or not.

Once your eggs have been successfully harvested, they are generally mixed in a petri dish with your partner's contribution to this blessed event. It is NOT common, as TV shows would have you believe, to do an ICSI procedure. ICSI is when the sperm is inserted directly into the egg. It's a procedure that is only done in certain instances. Anyway.

The embryos need to three to five, sometimes six days to mature. To split. To grow. This makes perfect sense. During a "natural" pregnancy, the egg is fertilized in the fallopian tube not the uterus. The environment is different in the two places. You cannot place a recently fertilized egg directly into the uterus, it needs time to mature in an environment that more closely matches the fallopian tube. So no, it's not going to go right into the uterus the second it's fertilized.

And finally, just because and embryo has been transferred, it does NOT mean you are pregnant. You have a 40-60% chance of success on any one round of IVF. I know many, many wonderful women who were not successful during IVF. I was one of them. (yes, i realize I just called myself wonderful. What can I say? I call 'em like I see 'em)

Ok, so I realize I'm nitpicking and it's just a TV show. And the sciecne behind the procedure isn't really the point. But I think it's important that people understand infertility. So many couples struggle with it. It's so very common. And so very misunderstood. And the more bad information that's out there, the worse the perceptions get.

For example, yes, I got pregnant naturally. And every time I tell someone my story, I get the same response. "Oh, isn't it great how once you relaxed, you got pregnant" or "They say all you have to do is relax." or "I know so many women who got pregnant when they gave up!".

Let's clear a few things up.
I did not relax.
I did not give up.
and my baby is a miracle 2 years in the making.

2 years, a miscarriage, a failed IVF, surgery and 2 months of weight loss in the making.
Yeah, I was wicked relaxed.

I just hate that shows like this diminish the hard work that goes into advanced reproductive therapies. It's emotionally exhausting. It's physically exhausting. It's a lot more than a quick trip to the doctor.

And I think people should know that.

And vent over. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

I'm baack...

Hope you all missed me. You should have. If nothing else, I'm entertaining. And modest.

Here is a quick run down of what's been going on:
Nothing scary!

Yay!
Our little Poppy seems to be just as healthy as possible. On October 15th, we had what's called a Nuchal Translucency Ultrasound. Basically they measure the space under the baby's neck and combine that measurement with some factors found in your blood to determine the risk for Down's Syndrome and other major chromosomal defects. The lowest risk is 1 in 10,000. At my age, the average risk is just over 1 in 300.
Ours is 1 in 10,000. That, combined with all the ultrasounds we've had showing no concerns mean that the odds are very, very good that our wonderful little Poppy is healthy.

Praise the Lord.

Also, I was able to get a "probable" diagnosis for all of the spotting I had. A "friable cervix". Sounds fancy, huh? It's not. It's actually quite dull. Pregnancy increases the amount of blood flow in your body...and it increases it everywhere. Even your cervix. And my cervix was just superfly sensitive. Since I had to use progesterone suppositories, I was irritating it every night. After all of that, I got the most boring diagnosis ever.

Does it sound like I'm complaining about that? I'm not. Not at all. When it comes to pregnancy, I feel like boring is better. Bring on the boring. I'm alllll about the boring.

Oh, except for when it comes to my little Poppy. This little baby is just about the most exciting thing ever. He/She is a tiny dancer. Every time we see her on the ultrasound screen, she'd just dancing up a storm. I hope she has better moves than her mom does. Either that or I hope she's a he so it won't matter. (Other things I hope Poppy doesn't inherit from me: procrastination, small feet, slow metabolism coupled with a love for food and loathing of exercise, hair that won't hold a curl (if it's a girl), stubby fingers. Poor Poppy. Saddled with me as a mother. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Screw the college fund. I'm starting a therapy fund.)

At our last major ultrasound, Poppy was very naughty and wouldn't get into the right position for measurements. We tried everything. Shaking my belly. Wiggling my hips. Poking my belly with the ultrasound wand. Moving the table around. Everything. Poppy was not having it. He was, however, happy to wave at us. I think he was mocking us. "Hi mom, hi dad! I know you want me to move....I'm not up for it right now.... but Hi!"

In just over 2 weeks, we'll have our "big ultrasound". This one make sure all the internal organs are developing correctly. And can usually determine the sex. Seriously, I cannot wait. Is it a boy Poppy or a girl Poppy. I must know. I can't wait. And I'm sure that our little problem child won't give up the goods. Just because I want to know so badly. Man I love this kid. I would expect nothing else.

Oh, and we moved. LOL It seems almost anti-climatic at this point. But we are in our house now. Which, honestly, makes me feel very grown up and a little old. And yet excited at the same time. I love our little house.

So that's us in a nutshell. I will be back to witty criticisms and observations of life soon. I just wanted to update everyone after the weeks of worry!