Aunt Wars (or, the SciFi post)

I spilled the news to my sisters last weekend. They'd insisted (long ago) that whenever I got pregnant I had to tell them both at the same time. So, considering they are currently living on opposite sides of the country, the best I could do was see one in person and get the other on speakerphone. I'm surprised that I managed to pull it off without either getting a clue ahead of time. I haz mad skillz. :D

But within minutes of having absorbed the news (that is, after the screaming and general pandemonium died down - my ear drums are still recovering), they were already at it, competing with each other over who would be "The Coolest Aunt." It was fun to witness. And the sister I was visiting last weekend became instantly over-protective of me, getting chairs for me while waiting in line, holding me back from crossing the street before she checked for oncoming cars. While unnecessary (I've got a while before I start showing, I think, and I haven't been feeling too tired... yet), it was truly heartwarming to see my baby sister looking out for me.

As for the Aunt Wars, I say, bring 'em on. I figure I won't have to worry about spoiling this kid* (I think there's only one in here)... what with six aunts and seven grandparents (and don't get me started trying to count the numerous "greats"-- -aunts, -uncles, and -grandparents, etc.), they'll all probably have it covered.

But I did ask that they hold off a little bit before they start going crazy. Let's make sure this little one is in there first! 8-week ultrasound is still two and a half weeks away (October 18). Can't wait!

*At this point, though (5w4d), this "kid" supposedly looks more like a sentient jelly fish, so if my sisters want to war over this wee alien life form inside of me, more power to them. Call me Ripley.

This is starting to feel real...

...because I'm late -- woo hoo! (reminds me of the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland) -- and because finally got my beta test result from the doctor, and it's positive. 156 (hCG) positive, for 12 dpo. And my progesterone was 43 point something (.2 or .5 I think, didn't have a pen on me when I got the call). Sound like pretty good numbers to me. 'Course at this point I am 19 dpo (took the lab and doctor That.Long to get my results to me, which does give me some pause) and not lined up for any more tests so that'll have to do, I guess.

Now the doctor also said I shouldn't be trying to ride a tractor trailer across country next week, but hmmm... that's going to be a tricky one to dodge (it's for work, and was scheduled months ago). So I outed myself to the dispatcher tonight, and I hope she doesn't freak. I know the truck drivers are not going to appreciate having to stop every two hours so I can go for a 15-minute jaunt around the Flying J (because otherwise I'm apparently at risk of blood clots and possible miscarriage - fun stuff... not).

But I figure maybe better to give them a heads up than have to plead with them that my bladder is bursting and brave their glares. Ugh. Not looking forward to this...

Stay tuned for the fall-out.

Whoa.

So... yesterday* I was 10 dpo, and had woken up feeling crampy (and also the day before), my abdomen was feeling kind of tight and my BBs a little on the sore side (but less sore than the day before). So all day I'm thinking to myself, "ahhh... just another one of these new PMS symptoms. ho hum" (every cycle it seems something "different" happens, I get my hopes up, and... nada).

Anyway, I figured, as I can feel myself getting anxious, let me go home and pee and get this BFN over with... should cure my urge to POAS until AF shows up.

So I PIAC (pee in a cup), dip my Dollar Tree test, and I get...

...a BFP!!! What?!? No way!

So, I go get the First Response test I have kept hidden away... dip... and...

...another BFP!!! The lines are both really there, no squinting!

And just to be sure it wasn't a dream, I used a CBE digital this morning,* and it came up "Pregnant" pretty much right away. I'm so giddy and beside myself, it's like when DH asked me to marry him... I was running around in circles last night before DH got home... couldn't think straight!

DH and I kinda feel like this right now:

*Disclaimer: I have a confession to make: by "yesterday" I actually mean last Wednesday, September 15 (and "this morning" was Thursday the 16th). I posted what I wrote above on the TTC after 35 board, my usual stomping ground on The Bump. Since then, my week (and weekend) has been pretty much non-stop (work-wise and home-wise), and I've been meaning to get back on here and do a proper "announcement." And now that I'm sitting down to type, six days later, I'm at a loss for how to write a new announcement that sounds as fresh and immediate as that one had been. So I apologize being so slow to post this update, and for the cutting and pasting it. But now that the cat is out of the bag,** I promise to keep this blog up to date!

**Please note: [Yes, this is footnote within a footnote... think "Inception" minus most of the mental gymnastics] Well... in truth the cat is only partially out of the bag. DH and I are still in the process of telling our immediate family, and we won't make a public announcement to friends and coworkers for a few weeks yet. So if you're friends with me on Facebook, please please PLEASE keep this under wraps - thanks!!!

Horse Latitudes

No pun intended, but despite its true meaning, I get a lot of mileage out of this term. Literally, "horse latitudes" refers to the subtropical areas of the ocean that are characterized by light, variable winds mixed with periods of calm, balmy temperatures and little precipitation. Perfect beach weather, right? Well, not so if you're trying to propel a ship across the ocean... using sails.

The "urban legend" version of the story has it that Spanish ships carting horses to the Americas got stuck in these light to nonexistent winds, and that the crew had to throw cargo -- usually the horses -- overboard to lighten the load (this is the version I remembered from my college oceanography course - sick and twisted as it is). The more humane version of the story (thanks, Wikipedia) suggests that the horses weren't cast away unless they had already perished due to low rations. There's another, perhaps more accurate, derivation (Wikipedia's got that one too), but why ruin a good story?

In either case, I've adopted the term for my own use and apply it to any situation where I feel I'm stuck waiting... to get somewhere, to do something, or waiting for something to happen.

So it occurs to me that it's a perfect term for those middle days of the dreaded Two Week Wait -- when you're waiting until it's time to take a pregnancy test -- somewhere from around 4 - 9 dpo where there's really nothing to do but wait. I've got my cross-hairs, but it's still way too early to test. Staring at my chart just strains my eyes, because there's really nothing to see (well, maybe an implantation dip if I'm lucky, I suppose). I'm even wondering if there is any point to temping during these days. But of course there is... it gives me something to DO.

Granted I suppose there are other ways I could occupy my time (still have a bunch of boxes to unpack from our move last month, for example), rather than this nearly literal navel-gazing --or is that naval gazing, since we're working with a nautical metaphor here? -- but really, I think it's more masochistic than narcissistic. The pot take forever to boil, but you can't stop watching it.

8 dpo and counting...

:sigh:

A Cycle of Life

So, I had been all excited to come back from the trip to MIL's with a report of our success in the "taking advantage of my fertile window this cycle" department, but that's not the only (and by far the lesser) news of this past week.

As I mentioned in a previous post, DH and I went to visit his mom and his grandparents over the long holiday weekend. Officially, we'd gone down to celebrate Papa's Labor Day birthday, like we had last year. Unofficially, or rather, unbeknownst to Grandma, we were coming down to spend some special time with her, because she'd not been doing well at all. Her lung cancer had resurfaced, and she had entered a Hospice program, which signaled to us that time was short. Ever the stalwart, Grandma didn't want anybody to know, but Papa told us anyway.

We arrived late Friday night, and on Saturday and Sunday nights, DH, MIL, SIL (who made the trip down as well) and I went over to Grandma and Papa's for dinner. We brought everything for the meal: main course, salads, drinks, even down to the paper plates and cups that Papa refused to let us use. On Sunday night we added cake to the mix, and had an early birthday celebration for Papa, since SIL had to leave the next morning. It was a fun time, we chatted all evening and took pictures with Grandma in all possible familial combinations. We also helped her wrap her gift for Papa, a handsome green patterned tie, which she hadn't had a chance to wrap (since he was pretty much always with her). Then we said our good nights and went home. We left feeling somewhat relieved, as we grandkids had all expected Grandma to look like she was on death's door. Instead, she'd been pretty much her chipper, fiesty (and somewhat flirty) self.

So we were shocked when Papa called early the next morning saying that Grandma had died in her sleep.

The saddest thing is that she died on Papa's birthday, and they were due to celebrate their 66th wedding anniversary three days later. We made sure Papa opened the present we helped Grandma wrap the night before. It was a heart-wrenching moment when he realized who the present was from.

Luckily DH and I were able to switch our return flights, so we stayed an extra couple of days to help with the arrangements and to attend the funeral service on Wednesday.

DH and I have been together 8 years, though only married for four months now, so I've gotten to know his Grandma a bit. It was hard to see Grandma go, not the least because she is the fourth grandmother I have buried (my parents' parents are all deceased, and we lost one of my step-grandmothers earlier this year). It also was hard to see Papa look so lost without his life mate, which made me appreciate DH's presence in my life all the more. Amazing how the major events in the cycle of life reflect on each other; being born, growing up, finding a life mate, trying to conceive, raising a family, dying. They're all integral parts of one big whole.

R.I.P. Grandma S., we'll miss you.

Technical Difficulties... gah!

It appears that my free blogger design theme has disappeared, making my blog look all wonky. So please give me a moment to go fix this mess! :sigh:

Coming up... The Cycle of Life (or, My Week in Review).

Please stay tuned... and while you wait, here's a random clip from one of my favorite movies of all time (sorry, I tried to find the clip where they're in the elevator listening to the Muzak version of the "Girl from Ipanema", but apparently it's not YouTube worthy, psh!). I swear I had to point out that there was "lots of space in this mall" every time my mom and I went shopping as a kid... probably drove her nuts, but I suppose I felt it was my Mission from God to inform her of this fact.

Edit: And... we're back! Apparently Leelou Blogs had too many images on Photobucket so they switched to a new server while I was away --- and I almost missed the deadline for reformatting... whew!). More soon!

A great way to start the long weekend...

A brief update: I got a call from my gynecologist's office yesterday evening with my CD3 blood work results. Everything's normal!!! I was elated to hear the news... it's really taken a weight off my shoulders, as I was freaked out and afraid to test and get bad news. I asked for the numbers breakdown, and this is what I got:

FSH: 6.4
LH: 6.7
Thyroid: 1.480
Prolactin: 16

From what I've read, those are pretty darn good numbers (I'm especially excited about the low FSH number). I know those numbers may not mean much to many; I promise to start up a glossary soon!

In the meantime, DH and I are off to visit his mom and grandparents for the long weekend (which also happens to be "fertile time"... AWKWARD). Wish us luck, and Happy Labor Day!

"LEET (1337) speak" in TTC land...

When not focusing on trying to conceive, among other things, I'm a gamer. Specifically, I play Guild Wars, a Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game (or MMORPG). In quintessentially geeky fashion, we -- and by "we" I mean all gamers, I'm pretty sure it's not limited to just GW players -- often talk in code, with liberal use of insider slang, abbreviations and acronyms. We call it "'leet speak", or for the truly elite (hence 'leet) gamers, "1337 speak" (kind of like when you'd use a calculator to spell "HELLO" upside down with numbers - I told you it was geeky).

Well, apparently, there is also "'leet speak" in the (Usually) Dual-Player In-bed Role-Playing (if-that-sort-of-thing-works-for-you) Game that is TTC, and I got called out using it today... on the phone with the doctor's office.

My ob/gyn (Dr. K) recommended a fertility doctor (Dr. C) to me at my last visit a couple of weeks ago. So, this afternoon, on a whim (mostly because I was getting impatient waiting for my CD3 results), I picked up the phone and called Dr. C's number.

Receptionist: Doctor's office, may I help you?

Me: Hi, I'm a patient of Dr. K, and she suggested I give you a call. I'd like to make an appointment to see the RE.

[pause]

Receptionist: Well the doctors here specialize in helping people who are trying to conceive...

[pause, with crickets]

Me: um... oh, I'm sorry (???), I have a tendency to shorten things... yes, my gynecologist wants me to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist. That's what I meant by an 'R.E.' She wants me to see Dr. C."

After that awkwardness, things proceeded swimmingly. She took down my name and number, and told me that I'd either hear back from the coordinator/scheduler-type person within the next twenty minutes or first thing tomorrow morning. Nothing yet, so we'll see.

Okay, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she didn't hear me correctly. Honestly, though, I guess I was surprised that the folks (or this particular folk) at the doctor's office aren't more hip to the lingo.

Trying to conceive can seem like a game sometimes: you start out as a "noob" with Cycle 1 and "level up" (Cycles 2, 3, 4, 5, etc.), learn new skills (in the bedroom - *ahem* - and bathroom), acquire weapons that increase in power (thermometers and charts, pee sticks, OPK's, fertility monitors), go on quests (trips to doctors' offices, labs, drug stores), and, of course, battle monsters (mental as well as medical). And, hanging out on topic-specific message boards (like hanging out in towns reading chat in the MMORPG) can let you "level up" faster, at least in knowledge, if not necessarily in experience. So, while I have been only at this TTC thing for a few months, and had thought I was pretty noobish in comparison to other more seasoned members on the boards, I realized today that I've been soaking up a TON of info, and am, perhaps, more 1337 than I thought.

So I guess I gotta remember that not everyone hangs out on message boards, and that I'll have to turn my geek off sometimes. :P

This is it!

I did it. I made it. I'm 40 today. Happy Birthday to me! So, this is it, eh? Not much different from yesterday. I did not feel this super sinking feeling in my ute, seems just as it has always been. Yeah, sort of like Y2K... freaked out that the end of the world was coming, and then... nothing. Not even a cyber-fart.

So I'm going to continue to believe that every thing's okay in there, until proven otherwise. In the meantime, it's time to celebrate! Celebrate four decades of being me. Okay, so maybe I don't really want to celebrate all of it; there were certainly moments that I won't mind at all if they never make it into the "public record". But it's been a great ride so far. Looking forward to the next round.

I share my birthday with Michael Jackson, which has always been fun (and hence the nod to him in the image to the right). I also share it with my paternal grandmother, who would have been either 102 or 104 today (or maybe even only 101... she never did set the record straight). My grandmother and I shared a love for geometry and acting, and, I'm hoping I've inherited her fertility too. She had both my father and his older brother in her mid- to late- thirties, and my youngest uncle when in her mid to possibly late forties. I know fertility is not necessarily inherited, but well, it gives me comfort at least to know I come from a line of very fertile women. My maternal grandmother had 9 children. Granted, I am an only child, but I'd like to blame that more on social circumstances than biology (my parents split when I was 8).

I've not been particularly open about TTC with my mom yet, well, she knows we're not preventing, but maybe I should talk to her and see how actively my parents tried to have more children. But then again, that means I'd 1) have to admit to my mother that I have sex and 2) have to admit to myself that my parents had sex. Um, yeah. I might be forty, but there's a part of me that still feels about twelve.

Kitchen 'speriment #1: Green tea fail

Okay, so here's what I mean about being over-whatever --- over-anxious, over-zealous, over-analytical --- or, in this particular instance, over-DISTRACTED. I've just come back from doing laundry (we're in an apartment, so laundry is down three flights, out the door and around to the basement on the other side of the building) and I notice that it seems really hot in the apartment when I get back. Now, it's a GORGEOUS day outside, and while I only have one little fan on, I'm thinking the air outside should be cross-ventilating through.

I start hanging up hubby's and my long-sleeved shirts and when I get back to the living room I sniff and think, wow, they're really cooking up a storm downstairs. But then I think, hey, that's a really strong smell, and it's a burning smell. Wha-ha? It takes me a few passes through the apartment, but then I go in the kitchen and @#$!%* --- the front burner in on full blast, baking a pot* that used to have boiling water in it... oh, about an hour ago. I'd put water on to boil for some green tea when I came back from putting the clothes in the dryer (or was it the washer??)...

*Yeah, I have a tea kettle, but it's broken. Has some rust issues, and I'd prefer to get my iron dosages elsewhere, so until it's replaced, the tea gets boiled in a pot.

Anyway, now I've got to wait until the pot cools down so I can wash it. No green tea for me today, 'cos I'll take my prenatal vitamin at bedtime. Well, I might stay up past midnight, so I could still manage to pull it off.

See, I was thinking of drinking green tea this cycle, to see if it would help with CM (cervical mucus) production. But green tea inhibits the absorption of folic acid, so you don't want to drink green tea within four hours of taking folic acid supplements, or prenatal vitamins containing it. I've had a hard time coordinating drinking green tea with my vitamin schedule, since I take a 3-times-a-day supplement. But then I finished the bottle and got a one-a-day version, and just started them today. But I'm still not timing things right. It's silliness, and I get frustrated with myself for being silly and for, well, being me, sometimes. This wasn't supposed to be complicated. Ha!

T minus 1 and counting...

I might as well begin at the end... the end of my thirties, that is. If my mother knew I had this blog going, she'd probably be pretty upset to see me outing myself, because if I reveal how old I am, then her age is incriminated, by association... oops! When I'm with my mom (or either of my parents actually, dad's pretty ageless too) people often ask me "How's school going?" Granted, I did spend much of my adult life in grad school trying to major in, well, racking up degrees. So, in everyday social situations, it seems I can "pass" for late twenties or so.

At the doctor's office, however, the disguise is gone (enter Dorian Gray, minus the soul-selling stuff). I can't pretend that I'm 29 anymore, because there it is, right up at the top of the form, age 39. Well, tomorrow that will shift to the big Four-Oh. Forty. Okay, there. I said it. Forty. Quarante. XL. Hmmm... takes a little getting used to but, I guess it's not so bad. Yehright. I'm so not ready for this. Granted, it's more concise than thirty-nine / trente-neuf / XXXIX. Yeah, well, whatever. It's not like, if I could turn the clock back, I'd stop at 39 anyway. I guess it's just that I'm going to miss that leading 3. And for some reason hitting 40 seems like a big effing deal. Oh, right. I remember why. It's my eggs. They may not have gotten the "I'm still 29" memo.

I guess for now it's the fear of the unknown that's been getting to me. We've been trying to conceive since our wedding in April (or rather, I've been trying, and DH has been a willing participant - he's much more laid back about, well, most things in life, including having kids). Of course I have been hoping that we'd luck out and get pregnant without even needing to do any testing. But well, my ob/gyn said to come see her if nothing's happened after 3-4 months, which turns out to be right around my birthday. It's been 5 cycles and nada.

So, I went for my CD3 blood work yesterday. That should give me some indication whether I should even be anxious about my eggs. I have been really nervous about getting the tests done, because, well, I wonder if the results will make me more anxious rather than less. Here's to hoping I get good results and we can continue TTC the old-fashioned way!

My husband has a prescription for an SA (semen analysis) but we still need to make an appointment with a urologist for that (have some insurance stuff to work out). Luckily, hubby isn't squeamish about getting the test done, which I appreciate. He's "only" 31, and while that may not mean a thing fertility-wise, I'm hoping that his relative youth is a good thing.

How do I start?

Someone's actually reading this??? Wow, and... Welcome!

*blushing as I try to tidy up quickly*

The first words, at least for me, are always the hardest to come by. So, I suppose I'll start with an introduction. Hi! I'm Kiki, and I started this blog as a way to let off some steam as I begin my quest for motherhood. I've been inspired by other blogs I've enjoyed reading over the past year or so (especially the ones in the list to the right), but I just haven't felt I had much of a TTC story until now. And maybe I still don't, but I'm finally feeling the urge to write.

My husband and I have been married for almost four months (wow times flies!), and we started TTC on our honeymoon - woo hoo! I've been charting my BBT (basal body temperature -- hmmm, better start a glossary) for a year now, and that's been enlightening. I've also been trying to learn what I can -- and do what I can -- to increase our chances to conceive without medical assistance. Sometimes I feel empowered by this, other times, overwhelmed. It's been quite the learning process, and really, it's only just begun. While I hear the clock chiming as loudly as if I were standing right next to Big Ben, we've only been trying for a little while, in the grand scheme of things, so I try (often failing miserably though) to keep things in perspective.

Hence the theme of Eggs Over Anxious. Over the past few months, I've watched myself try to do everything I can to facilitate getting a BFP ("big fat positive" pregnancy test). At times though, I wonder if I'm over-doing it. I don't mean that I'm already feeling burnt out, because if that were the case I know I might as well just forget about it. I've read enough stories about TTC on various message boards to know that it's not for the weak. So that's not quite what I mean. I guess what I do mean is that I can see already that I've got the type of personality that might burn out (or worse, completely thwart myself) by being too hyper-conscious in my efforts to conceive.

Yet, I know myself well enough to understand that I need to feel like I'm doing something, even if something is nothing more than writing all this stuff down so I can take a step back and breathe. The true quest then, perhaps, is a search for balance. Perhaps with writing this blog I'm trying to answer the following question: What's the "critical mass" for my level of involvement in my own reproductive process, especially when so much of it is out of my (and my husband's) control?

Anyway, over time I hope to log in here and jot down my thoughts about this journey (and, at times, other random aspects of my life), and share what I've done, and not done, what's not worked, and hopefully at some point, what HAS worked!

Thanks for reading -- I hope you find it time enjoyably spent!