Recovery, Part 1

Well, the worst is over.

We waited the requisite week to go back and have the second transvaginal ultrasound. We did not go in expecting different results, but there was always a glimmer of hope in the back of our minds for a "miracle."

It seems the only miracle we'll be allowed this time is the ability to heal and get through this, and have the courage to try again.

But let's back up for a second.

After the bad news last Thursday, Craig and I spent many, many hours talking and thinking about what we were going to do next. We cried, and talked some more, and asked each other questions. We must have spent an entire afternoon just laying on the bed and working out our thoughts.

We considered going to see a different doctor because of our negative experience with this one: she seemed dismissive and almost cold, whereas everyone else at this group practice had been wonderful. It would also give us an opportunity to be subject to a different technician, and different equipment. But in the end we decided that the disadvantage to it would be having to start at zero with a new doctor's office, and midway through something we had already started. Plus, all my *other* doctors are affiliated with Carolinas Medical Center in some way. I'm part of the "system." It's just easier to stick with it.

And we decided to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was just having a bad day.

On Tuesday the 22nd, I went to see my endocrinologist. She is fantastic, as she's one of those doctors who will sit and listen, and you feel as though she has all the time in the world for you. And while you're talking she may be taking notes but you can practically see the little gears turning in her head, like, "How can I best help this person based on what she's telling me?" And then she asks good questions to follow up, and the whole experience is like an excellent dialogue. It's...well, like what going to the doctor *should* be.

It was hard to sit in that waiting room. There were the requisite old and young people, but there was also a woman with a stroller with two little girls in it. They were cute and energetic, and it was hard to watch them and not feel sad and envious. By the time the nurse led me in and checked all my vitals, and I sat in the exam room on the table, I felt a little better. Until I considered the fact that I had made this appointment 4 weeks ago, when things were exciting and happy and new. This was supposed to be a GOOD visit, a checkup on how things were progressing, and looking forward to the next 7 months. And now, just...hurt.

So the doctor walked in and introduced herself, and I said we had met before. She looked puzzled and said, "I *thought* you looked familiar; why did I think you were a new consultation?" And she looked at her notes and said, "Oh yes, primary hypothyroidism...and...Oh, you're pregnant!"

And I just shook my head, and she got a look on her face I can't quite describe and said, "Oh no. Bad visit. This is turning out to be a bad visit so far! Tell me what's going on with you."

And I told her the story. I talked about what we'd been going through and what happened and she looked back at her notes. We had done some lab work in April, and she wasn't entirely pleased with the results back then, but let me go try to fix things on my own, with the promise to see her in six months OR when I got pregnant.

After a long time of thinking and asking questions, she suggested I go next week for an oral glucose tolerance test. This will help her possibly uncover any insulin resistance I may have going on, which may hinder ovulation. She said I did not have all the classic symptoms of PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) but she wanted to think about ways to help us succeed in our next pregnancy. She said if I show insulin resistance, she'll start me on metformin (aka Glucophage) which is normally a diabetes medication, but they also use it off-label for women who are having trouble ovulating regularly.

So I left her office feeling positive. The OGTT is kind of a lengthy process though, and I'm going to be at the lab for several hours. I'm looking for a good game or something to do next Wednesday while I'm there...

Part 2 tomorrow...

Quality Assurance at The Factory has found a fatal flaw with Baby 1.0

The visit to the doctor today was not good.

To try and allay my fears (and for what she said she would code as "paternal sanity,") the doctor said she would flag down her ultrasound tech and see if they could give a look inside today. They were able to accommodate us.

It was strange to see the little orbs on the monitor, the gestalt effect of the monochromatic shapes ebbing and flowing as the tech moved the wand. She thought she saw the flicker of the heartbeat and tried to point it out to us, and my heart leapt a little to hear her say that!

But when she moved in closer, she could no longer see it...

She asked about dates, and looked again. She tried the doppler. There was no sound audible. She seemed pained, and said she would go call the doctor in to take another look.

The doctor confirmed what the tech saw. There was no heartbeat. The embryo size indicated that should not be a problem at this stage, but it was not there.

The doctor started throwing around words like "miscarriage" and "D&C" and my body went numb and I couldn't register anything else. She said we could do a follow up scan in a few days just to make sure, if I was still having doubts, and I said I wanted to do that. I could not live with myself and the doubt I would suffer if I didn't take the chance of double checking, to be sure. We've scheduled the follow up for next Thursday, though she warned me not to be alarmed, and to call the office right away, if I started bleeding before then.

Then the doctor apologized and bolted from the room, excusing herself because she was still with another patient. The tech was warm and understanding, and left us alone to talk for a few minutes. Craig and I mostly stared at each other in what can only be described as shock.

I don't have the words yet to describe how I'm feeling or even to talk about what happened. It's been a very difficult day for both me and Craig. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep now; the brain is much too loud.

Suffice to say at this time your prayers and thoughts are welcome and needed.

I'm a Deadbeat Dad in Training

Kathy accused me recently of having abandoned this blog.

I assure you, that's not the case. It's just, in all honesty, between not allowing myself to get too excited (for fear something bad could still happen) and not being able to see anything tangible yet (aside from the violent effect progesterone has on my otherwise calm wife), there's not that much to write about.

We're going back to the doctor Thursday for our monthly appointment. I'm confident they'll have good news for us (of the "nothing's wrong" variety). I'm confident because I have no other choice. I can't feel the things Kathy's feeling right now. I know she's probably much more worried than I am, because she can feel everything that's going on in her body (or not going on when she thinks it should be).

I'm not completely without context for her worry, however. When I went through chemotherapy starting almost five years ago, each subsequent follow up appointment was met with as much dread as (if not moreso than) the last, in spite (or because) of the fact that everything had been fine the previous visit. Given enough time without a reassuring pat on the back, I inevitably devolved into a state of worry every six months while I waited to be re-scanned, no matter how confident I'd been the last time I received the "all clear".

I'm afraid that, until the baby (screw you, Dr. House, I'm not calling it a fetus) becomes developed enough to move around, kick, and generally make a mess of Kathy's insides, there's going to be a modicum of the unknown which can (and probably will) lead to doubt or even fear. There's so much we can do at this stage, we're told, to ensure our baby is born healthy (and at all), and yet so much seems to be out of our hands.

So to me, just as it was when I was going through my treatment, it's just a waiting game for now. I'll be happy for Kathy's sake when we get some good news on Thursday, but until then you'll find me staring at my watch.

* Note to self: delete this entry before the kid is old enough to read or we'll have to shell out for a therapist because "Dad just compared me to cancer!"

Beans, beans, good for your uterus...

(I hope you think my rhyme is humorous!)

As we are now in week 8, I've got the kidney-bean baby! Not only does the baby resemble a kidney bean in size (a little less than .75") but it's got that characteristic bean shape we all know and love in a fetus!

That tail we were talking about has now almost disappeared. Eyelids are forming, limbs are getting longer, and we even have knee joints by now.

Early pregnancy time wasting activity #1:
My lack of symptoms has (of course) caused me to spend endless hours scouring the internet for other people who are NOT barfing their guts up all day, who don't want to ravenously eat everything they see, and who can still fit into their old pants. All this time-wasting has actually proven valuable though, as I've found I'm not at all alone! Many women get NO 'morning sickness' and go on to have happy and healthy babies. And if this is a first time pregnancy, there may be little-to-no outward sign that there's something going on in the lower abdomen. (Women who have already had babies have loosened up those muscles, and may show much sooner.) Weight gain in the first trimester may be as little as one pound, or some women even find they lose weight from eating more healthily.

I do have the unfortunate symptom of being not hungry...not hungry...not hungry...RAVENOUS!!!!! And then when I go to look for something to eat *nothing* seems even remotely appealing. So I've been trying to grab a piece of fruit or a little something with protein when that happens.

The more I read about it, the more I realize I am just having the "normal" amount of anxiety. I feel *less* anxious, but I know I won't feel much better until Thursday.

Early pregnancy time wasting activity #2:
What color will the baby's eyes be?

I found two very nice "calculators" online. (Do I have to say "For Entertainment Purposes Only"?)

The first is a very simple one, and was created by Athro, Ltd:

Inheriting Eye Color
It's fun without getting too "science-y" and lets you see the averages if you just keep clicking "Produce Child." (Careful - before I knew it, I had about 30 children!)

The second one LOOKS to be a really nice tool, but I can't get it to calculate. (It seems to have lost the server to which it's supposed to connect.) I sent an email to the company that created it to let them know its broken so they can either repair or remove it. (It's posted seemingly everywhere on the "mommy-net" and it doesn't really make them look good as a company if the thing they created doesn't work!) Here it is for reference, and I'll post an update if I hear back from them.

What Color Eyes Would Your Children Have? by Ideum

The problem with ALL of these is that we have no idea what color eyes Craig's parents had (have) as he is adopted. And Craig's got a really interesting eye color to begin with as well: not quite hazel, not quite green, or brown... Wikipedia described the color fairly accurately as "amber."

Interesting factoid: (most) Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes. Why?

The color of your irises is determined by melanin. Melanin is the same protein that determines the color of your skin and whether you tan well or not. It's reactive to ultraviolet light, and how much you get is coded in your genes. When you are born, the melanin has not been fully deposited in the irises and has not yet reacted to ultraviolet light, hence the light-colored eyes. Most babies develop their eye color by about 6 months, but eye color can change over the course of one's life.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see like everyone else!

Future time-waster: baby hair color

Not a Zygote, Not yet a Fetus

Week 7, according to most things out there, marks the last of the Embryo Days. The week the baby officially becomes a fetus varies, depending on whom you consult, from about 8 to 10 weeks. I've always been ahead of the curve, so I choose to think on the early side...

The baby-to-food comparison for this week is the blueberry. ("Violet, you're turning violet, Violet!) Strangely enough, the baby's limbs look more like flippers because the fingers are webbed, and it has something of a tail, which will (God willing) disappear in the coming weeks. Eyes are becoming more fully formed and have a retina and a lens. Intestines should be fully formed by now, and the baby's liver is starting to produce its own blood cells, complete with its own blood type. (Next week, when I go back to the doctor, I will finally get to learn my own blood type! Hooray!)

I'm starting to have paranoid delusions that there's something wrong because I can't detect anything going on. I'm just barely queasy sometimes, which I had before I was pregnant, and I find it hard to believe that I'm one of the lucky 25% that will get through all this without "morning sickness!" (which is a misnomer because you actually have it all day.) I'm bone-crushingly tired the last few days, but I have that any time I can't sleep, and I haven't slept well in weeks. (I generally sleep for a few hours, then wake up once an hour at 6 am, then 7, then 8, etc. even on the days I can "sleep in.") My one saving grace is that the boobs are killing me, and though they don't really seem larger because my bras still fit well, they seem "fuller", if that makes any sense.

But there's no sense in worrying about anything, because there isn't anything I can do about it now anyway. I go to the doctor next Thursday the 17th, and then they'll poke and prod and ask a zillion questions, and we'll just have to see what's what then. In the meantime, please forgive my crazy paranoia. Sometimes this feels like I'm on one of those runaway train rides, where you're just strapped into a cart and you have no steering controls so you're just along for the ride, and you're supposed to be having fun! (Actually, I do like those kind of rides a lot.)

Also, in the runaway train department, my emotions are pretty much spontaneous moment-to-moment, and I'm going through things that I can't control and will just have to rely on the patience of my husband to get through. For example, on Saturday morning, Craig and I were sitting in bed, and I told him I just feel like I have to cry. I wasn't sad, or upset, or in pain; I just needed to cry. So he let me cry on his shoulder for about five minutes, and then I was fine. It was such a weird feeling, like having the urgency of REALLY having to use the bathroom, and then that nice cathartic relief when you're done. And it was no more emotional than that either. It was just like a "function."

I'm managing the runaway mood swings (happy-sad-SO ANGRY-fine again, in the span of an hour) by attempting to do exactly what I did when I got myself off the antidepressants: Make a conscious effort to recognize that what I'm feeling is irrational and without base, probably completely hormonal, and that if I just give it a little time, it will pass.

This method also works well for staying out of fights with, and thereby wasting time with, idiots on the internet. Sometimes "ignore it and it will go away" really does work.
(Not recommended for dentistry.)

"It"

When you're dealing with something that takes 40 weeks, I think it's important to break the time down into mini-goals, things to look forward to and plan for when "B-day" seems both agonizingly far away and terrifyingly close. My current one is: I'm really looking forward to the day we find out our baby's gender.

I find myself referring to our unborn child as "it" a lot... we both do. Not out of cruelty or coldness, but out of basic necessity. "What do you think we should name it?" "What color should we paint its room?" "Do you think it will be cute/smart/funny?"

To listen to us, you'd think we were referring to some sort of abstract idea, rather than the very real baby that's coming our way. I just can't wait until I know what to call him. Or her.

*sigh*

Okay, it.

For now.

My Fair Lentil

Here we are in week 6 and I almost still don't believe I'm pregnant. I mean, nothing's happening that I can *see.* Aside from the sweeping waves of "tired" (progesterone), and the rare but occasional queasies, and the trouble sleeping (progesterone), the odd bouts of shortness of breath (damn progesterone)... You know, I had all those things *before* I was pregnant! I'm daily resisting the urge to take that second pregnancy test *just to make sure.*

So Week 6 means that our offspring is now about the size of a lentil. (For those of you that don't know what a lentil looks like, that's a little bit like a baby pea, or about .2 of an inch.) It's got little dots where the eyes and nostrils are going to be, and little buds for arms and legs. If we had a really sensitive ultrasound done just the right way, we'd be able to hear the heart beating at about 100 to 160 bpm. If we also had a teeny tiny electroencephalogram (EEG) machine we'd even be able to measure brain activity.

I've started an easy walking and exercise program, and though it's hard to fit both that AND nap time into a day, I've been managing, and I haven't gained any weight yet. Craig has been caring and understanding as he always is...

We're having family and friends over for Fourth of July. Mom has cautioned me to not work too hard and to ASK FOR HELP. (Does my mother know me or what?)