Yeah, last night was pretty bad. It ended with me crying in bed while JD ignored me in the living room. I could of course just blame the hormones, but I don't really think that's the full story. The full story is that I need to come to terms with the fact that I am the person who is going to do 95% of the day-to-day parenting with the fusspot until the economy changes or we win the lottery.
I think that I realized this pre-baby. Nobody seriously accepts a job 4 hours away from their apartment and husband with a 5-week old baby in tow unless they are suspicious that said husband is not going to be the most helpful person. Let alone moves to Europe for 11 months with baby, sans husband. But somewhere in that time away I romanticized what life would be like back here in NYC.
To start with the obvious, this is not a character flaw with JD. His employment supports our family, pays for daycare, is getting him out of debt, and provided the necessary cushion to consider doing fertility treatments less than 2 years after our last go-round (without a penny of insurance coverage for treatments). And of course, it allows us to plan to grow our family again in the future (hopefully through both IF treatments and adoption at some point). And needless to say, every single medical professional I have spoken to says "NOW NOW NOW" on growing our family. Every single one of my problems will only get worse with age, and if we have been given the incredible gift of needing neither IVF nor donor eggs, than we should take advantage of it.
But in short, it sucks for me. He leaves the apartment at 8:45 and on a really good night is home by 10 pm. And it's not exactly as if he happily leaps to do the dishes or laundry when he gets home anymore. He works at least a couple of hours every weekend, and not on his own schedule. This past weekend he was given a new job on Saturday morning to finish by Saturday afternoon, and then told that he had a conference call at 6 pm on Sunday. Not flexible, couldn't be 7 pm. So there went our dinner plans because there was no way that we were going to take 2 toddlers to a restaurant at 7 pm for dinner. On said conference call, his employer suggested that they might send him to Asia 'for a few weeks.' Yesterday. Yup, on less than 24 hours notice they wanted to ship him out indefinitely. Luckily someone else got that assignment, but the prospect of a few weeks abroad is looming over us, and particularly over our long-awaited weekend away, visit to my family for new years, and the two conferences that I need to attend this fall (and no, his work won't reimburse for our plane tickets, hotel reservation, etc.). I have a sinking suspicion that we will be that awful NYC couple who drops their toddler at daycare at 7 am on Friday morning and picks her up Sunday night. Because I can't cancel my work commitments (people apply to these conferences up to a year in advance and getting the reputation as a no-show can be a career ender), the family is not close enough to show up on 24 hours notice, and we don't have the type of local friends who could take the fusspot for the weekend. And she is in a home daycare, which she loves, and where she is comfortable.
But it's not just the big travel and the weekends. It's the fact that I have 30-32 hours of daycare a week, and I am also solely responsible for cooking, cleaning, doctor's appointments (which are soon to be a good 6-10 hours of my daycare time weekly), etc. I have suggested several times that we splurge on a once-a-month cleaning service, but JD is adamantly opposed. And it is just one more monthly bill that we'd have to pay and that would keep us locked in this awful Catch-22 even longer. So the only possibly way I can be competitive given my short workdays is to work 3-4 hours every night. But when it takes up to an hour to get the fusspot to bed, and then I have to clean up and cook dinner for the next night (still losing weight ... trying not to panic about that but definitely prioritizing cooking GD-friendly dinners in advance because otherwise I just skip meals), vacuum, dust (NYC grime is endless), etc. I am not sitting down at my desk until 9:30 at the earliest, and I am exhausted.
So something has to give. And I don't want it to be my career. I am good at what I do, and it is a good career for us in the long-term. It will provide me with a small paycheck (definitely not good pay, but I know that), good benefits, a flexible schedule, the possibility for flexible work during the summer, etc. I need that flexibility if we are seriously considering a family with several children who will inevitably all need to be driven to dentists appointments, speech therapy, language and religious lessons, sports, friends, etc.
So the question is what to compromise: cooking is out given that I am currently underweight and panicked about the health repercussions to the bargain baby. Cleaning seems likely to go, even though I feel awful watching the fusspot play on the floor of our apartment when it hasn't been mopped in weeks (true current state of the situation. If you lived in NYC you would understand quite how gross it is). As does any type of social activity for the fusspot and I in the afternoon because they just take too much energy at the moment. We go to the park and to run errands most afternoons, but I also pick her up between noon and 2 pm on Fridays and we had been trying to do a big NYC-adventure on Friday afternoons pre-shabbos (also an attempt to get her to sleep during services, which thus far has been a total fail). But I just don't know what else to cut. We briefly attempted CIO last week in an attempt to get me another free hour in the evenings, but it turns out that JD simply can't cope. And thus far the fusspot has yet to fall asleep after crying, she just sits bolt upright in her bed waiting for us for hours and hours and hours. She is down to waking up 1-2 times a night, but the end result of that is that either JD or I land up sleeping on the floor or her room for some part of the night. Needless to say my hips are a bit sore, and I really wish the room had space for a twin size mattress (it doesn't).
Anyway, I'm sure no one has read quite this far and this really about my venting and strategizing. But it is clear that the current schedule and my workload and responsibilities are completely not viable and part of my frustration is that my darling husband doesn't get that, and keeps saying he wishes I were less stressed and demanding when he gets home at night. His solutions are to skip cleaning entirely (such a guy) and to stop keeping kosher so that we could order cooked meat to eat, but my food restrictions are a fundamental part of who I am and I am not willing to consider compromising them at the moment, especially as the fusspot is becoming aware of her food choices. That may change at some point in the future, and when it becomes a real health issue instead of just a lack of energy/sleep trade-off issues, we will consider it further. But for now there just doesn't seem to be much to cut. I have a beautiful, sweet toddler who needs my attention from 4 pm to 8 pm every day. I have a career which requires long hours, and a husband whose career requires longer hours. I am about to add multiple doctors appointments every week, and eventually, hopefully another person to the mix. No wonder I am stressed.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
whee
Failed the 1-hour glucose tolerance test. Three hour test scheduled for the end of this week.
I of course offered to skip the test, seeing as how in the -five- times that I have taken the test (4 non-pregnant, dating back to age 12) I have never passed it. But the midwives suggested that the GD clinic would appreciate precise numbers. Here's four extra blood draws in honor of 'precise numbers.'
And yes, the current schedule means that I will be off to the diabetes clinic by Week 15 at the latest.
Let the stockpiling of desserts for March and April begin.
I of course offered to skip the test, seeing as how in the -five- times that I have taken the test (4 non-pregnant, dating back to age 12) I have never passed it. But the midwives suggested that the GD clinic would appreciate precise numbers. Here's four extra blood draws in honor of 'precise numbers.'
And yes, the current schedule means that I will be off to the diabetes clinic by Week 15 at the latest.
Let the stockpiling of desserts for March and April begin.
Friday, August 27, 2010
this and that
Nothing too ground-breaking going on. Went to the midwives yesterday and was finally able to hear the heartbeat with a doppler. So very glorious. This is starting to feel much more real to me. Also, starting to feel every so slightly better. Nothing close to normal energy levels, but functioning until 8 pm without a 3 hour nap is an excellent start.
I love this phase of pregnancy. It's the phase where I basically float around on a cloud. Can't get on the subway because it's too crowded? Long line at the grocery store? Rude salespeople? Totally irrelevant ... because I'm really starting to believe that I have a bebe in my tummy, and none of them even know about it.
Speaking of that, yet again I find the situation highly humorous. I have a very distinct bump and stopped covering it up at all on Monday when I reached the magic 13 weeks. But given that my, um, upper body seems to be growing again no one notices. I had no idea that the breasts would continue to grow at this point given that they never deflated from the fusspot (more on the nursing situation another day). Since I started about Pamela Anderson size (34G, although I do try to dress slightly more modestly ...), I'd guess that I am about at 1.5 Pamela Anderson size now (something like 2 sizes about my standard J nursing cup bra). So yeah. Nobody even notices the belly, they just stare at the breasts. Oh well, at least they are still getting some use.
In other delightful news my dear friend in Ind.i.a is at last pregnant and due 3 days after me. It all just seems so surreal. One day when we were trying to squeeze 3 hot and sweaty babies into 3 carseats in a large cab, she jokingly said "Well, next summer we'll need 5 carseats/boosters when we travel." And yeah, we just might. She is also sending me a full box of India.n maternity clothes, and I have been assigned to find her some items stateside.
JD and I were also asked to be guardians for a baby. It is a great honor and means that at least someone thinks we're decent parents.
Speaking of decent parenting, this week was the final straw in our sleep schedule. The fusspot and I were traveling for 10 days and JD was supposed to join us for a family vacation the last 3 days. Needless to say, he was summoned to work and missed the whole thing. Which left me staying with the fusspot at a beach house full of family while she broke all 4 incisors and thus screamed non-stop. And since beach houses have notoriously bad sound proofing and our room was directly next to the other baby's, I had to grab the fusspot and race out of the house to muffle her cries between 5 and 5:15 every morning. Which got me thinking about how I have now slept through the night only 5 times in over 2 years, and that's probably not so good for me. So we are looking for something slightly more draconian for the fusspot, primarily to deal with her waking up between 2 and 5 am and requiring one of us to sleep on the floor of her room for the final part of the night (she also wakes up between 12 and 1 am every night, but we're still up then so it's not a big deal). Suggestions? Advice?
And in entirely expected and banal news, I have no self-control. None. Really, that's my only explanation of these:
Yes, both the carpet and um, other items are new. Now in my defense, I would happily put a baby of either gender in a fire truck onesie, and we were a tad short last go-round. And of course since I bought these new (on clearance) I am keeping the tag on in case I use them as a gift for someone else. But still.
And craigslist. The bane of my budget. I saw the most gorgeous Haba playmat on craigslist in a neighborhood I had to visit anyway ($160 new, $20 on CL) and when I e-mailed the woman I figured I'd ask if she had anything else since she obviously was not trying to price gouge, and for about 40 cents a piece, I picked up this stack of newborn clothes (including all the usual high-end stuff like Zutano and Daily Tea and Gap):
While I am deeply superstitious about my due date and would never reveal it in person except to my mother, I am totally happy to fill the bottom drawer of our new bureau with washed and newly folded newborn clothing. No logic at all, but oodles of fun. And thus ends week 13.
I love this phase of pregnancy. It's the phase where I basically float around on a cloud. Can't get on the subway because it's too crowded? Long line at the grocery store? Rude salespeople? Totally irrelevant ... because I'm really starting to believe that I have a bebe in my tummy, and none of them even know about it.
Speaking of that, yet again I find the situation highly humorous. I have a very distinct bump and stopped covering it up at all on Monday when I reached the magic 13 weeks. But given that my, um, upper body seems to be growing again no one notices. I had no idea that the breasts would continue to grow at this point given that they never deflated from the fusspot (more on the nursing situation another day). Since I started about Pamela Anderson size (34G, although I do try to dress slightly more modestly ...), I'd guess that I am about at 1.5 Pamela Anderson size now (something like 2 sizes about my standard J nursing cup bra). So yeah. Nobody even notices the belly, they just stare at the breasts. Oh well, at least they are still getting some use.
In other delightful news my dear friend in Ind.i.a is at last pregnant and due 3 days after me. It all just seems so surreal. One day when we were trying to squeeze 3 hot and sweaty babies into 3 carseats in a large cab, she jokingly said "Well, next summer we'll need 5 carseats/boosters when we travel." And yeah, we just might. She is also sending me a full box of India.n maternity clothes, and I have been assigned to find her some items stateside.
JD and I were also asked to be guardians for a baby. It is a great honor and means that at least someone thinks we're decent parents.
Speaking of decent parenting, this week was the final straw in our sleep schedule. The fusspot and I were traveling for 10 days and JD was supposed to join us for a family vacation the last 3 days. Needless to say, he was summoned to work and missed the whole thing. Which left me staying with the fusspot at a beach house full of family while she broke all 4 incisors and thus screamed non-stop. And since beach houses have notoriously bad sound proofing and our room was directly next to the other baby's, I had to grab the fusspot and race out of the house to muffle her cries between 5 and 5:15 every morning. Which got me thinking about how I have now slept through the night only 5 times in over 2 years, and that's probably not so good for me. So we are looking for something slightly more draconian for the fusspot, primarily to deal with her waking up between 2 and 5 am and requiring one of us to sleep on the floor of her room for the final part of the night (she also wakes up between 12 and 1 am every night, but we're still up then so it's not a big deal). Suggestions? Advice?
And in entirely expected and banal news, I have no self-control. None. Really, that's my only explanation of these:
Yes, both the carpet and um, other items are new. Now in my defense, I would happily put a baby of either gender in a fire truck onesie, and we were a tad short last go-round. And of course since I bought these new (on clearance) I am keeping the tag on in case I use them as a gift for someone else. But still.And craigslist. The bane of my budget. I saw the most gorgeous Haba playmat on craigslist in a neighborhood I had to visit anyway ($160 new, $20 on CL) and when I e-mailed the woman I figured I'd ask if she had anything else since she obviously was not trying to price gouge, and for about 40 cents a piece, I picked up this stack of newborn clothes (including all the usual high-end stuff like Zutano and Daily Tea and Gap):
While I am deeply superstitious about my due date and would never reveal it in person except to my mother, I am totally happy to fill the bottom drawer of our new bureau with washed and newly folded newborn clothing. No logic at all, but oodles of fun. And thus ends week 13.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Another day, another airport
It was one of those classic wake-up-early to see someone who just returned to town, rush to the airport (car-to-plane-to-bus-to-boat-to-car transfers) and go to bed happy and full at the beach.
But what I really enjoy nowadays at the airport is watching the families with slightly older children. There was a truly charming mom with about a 9 and 7 year old on our airport bus and while I could hear her reminding them which bags to grab and to step away from the curb, it was also clear that they were both big enough to take care of things themselves. And then I saw a mom with a 5 year old, 3 year old and newborn in a sling. The two older kids both walked through the airport and onto the plane on their own and she carried only a small purse (of course, her husband did show up eventually lugging the big diaper bag).
So, resolved: starting around mid-spring I will stop going carry-on only. Blasted, cheapskate airlines, I will waste $25 of my money for the ease of not lugging everything with me. And, more importantly, I will remember that the days of toddlers and diapers and sippy cups and endless snacks and board books are so very temporary.
Someday my children will walk quietly through the airport, I will not have to flash my seatmate and get nasty glares when I nurse a very active toddler, and I will not sing eensy weensy spider for 45 mintues while we circle to an entire section of the plane, and it will be so lovely.
But what I really enjoy nowadays at the airport is watching the families with slightly older children. There was a truly charming mom with about a 9 and 7 year old on our airport bus and while I could hear her reminding them which bags to grab and to step away from the curb, it was also clear that they were both big enough to take care of things themselves. And then I saw a mom with a 5 year old, 3 year old and newborn in a sling. The two older kids both walked through the airport and onto the plane on their own and she carried only a small purse (of course, her husband did show up eventually lugging the big diaper bag).
So, resolved: starting around mid-spring I will stop going carry-on only. Blasted, cheapskate airlines, I will waste $25 of my money for the ease of not lugging everything with me. And, more importantly, I will remember that the days of toddlers and diapers and sippy cups and endless snacks and board books are so very temporary.
Someday my children will walk quietly through the airport, I will not have to flash my seatmate and get nasty glares when I nurse a very active toddler, and I will not sing eensy weensy spider for 45 mintues while we circle to an entire section of the plane, and it will be so lovely.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Running out of words at the moment
There was one other little bit of my conversation with my most-favoritest-doctor-in-the-world from last week that I did not mention. In part, because the level of hubris displayed by me ought to be downright offensive to just about anyone out there with a level of awareness of how things really work. And I do know that. I know it's not normal to ovulate two (maybe three) times in your life and to get pregnant every (or almost every) time. At home. Sans catheters and tubes and spinning sperm. But let's just ignore that part, and go back to the part where this is the doctor who has been following me (for free) for over six years for my most serious medical issue aside from IF.
I was rattling on, complaining about how tired I had been. Let me stop here and add that the good doctor is a Catholic, and I'm guessing fairly religious at that. There are certainly plenty of children and grandchildren photos in his office, and my strong suspicion is that if life had thrown him a diagnosis of infertility he would not have felt comfortable seeking treatment. And I really do admire him for the support he has given me, despite that. So anyway, I'm rattling on about how awful I've been feeling and worrying about not getting a job (side note: the job market in my field runs once a year. If you're not ready on the relevant day, you have to sit it out for a full year. I could get a temporary/adjunct/online teaching job, but there is no way that any of those would even cover the cost of daycare in NYC let alone everything else).
Right. So there I am rambling on and I said something about how I had been hoping we'd be able to do this a couple more times, but I've been feeling so awful that I just can't imagine trying again with a toddler and another little person at home. And he just gave me this look and said: "Three months of misery is nothing for a baby."
And I know that. That's much how I feel about IF treatments at the moment too (see above: easiest path from infertility to baby ever). But it's really why I haven't had so much to say. I am too tired to function, using up every bit of my energy planning fun activities for the fusspot and then crying at night from the stress about work, and yet I know that I am the luckiest woman in the world. So here's to hoping that both my energy and my spirit return soon because at the moment I feel like a very sad, whiny, sleepy little girl who just wants to crawl into bed and wake up in a few months with a neatly bound dissertation next to me.
I was rattling on, complaining about how tired I had been. Let me stop here and add that the good doctor is a Catholic, and I'm guessing fairly religious at that. There are certainly plenty of children and grandchildren photos in his office, and my strong suspicion is that if life had thrown him a diagnosis of infertility he would not have felt comfortable seeking treatment. And I really do admire him for the support he has given me, despite that. So anyway, I'm rattling on about how awful I've been feeling and worrying about not getting a job (side note: the job market in my field runs once a year. If you're not ready on the relevant day, you have to sit it out for a full year. I could get a temporary/adjunct/online teaching job, but there is no way that any of those would even cover the cost of daycare in NYC let alone everything else).
Right. So there I am rambling on and I said something about how I had been hoping we'd be able to do this a couple more times, but I've been feeling so awful that I just can't imagine trying again with a toddler and another little person at home. And he just gave me this look and said: "Three months of misery is nothing for a baby."
And I know that. That's much how I feel about IF treatments at the moment too (see above: easiest path from infertility to baby ever). But it's really why I haven't had so much to say. I am too tired to function, using up every bit of my energy planning fun activities for the fusspot and then crying at night from the stress about work, and yet I know that I am the luckiest woman in the world. So here's to hoping that both my energy and my spirit return soon because at the moment I feel like a very sad, whiny, sleepy little girl who just wants to crawl into bed and wake up in a few months with a neatly bound dissertation next to me.
Friday, August 13, 2010
all is well
Just still extremely tired. And traveling.
Had the real NT scan on Wednesday. Everything looked good, still waiting for results with blood draw.
Then I saw my GI doc who was not particularly concerned about nutrient malabsorption. He gave me a long lecture about stopping nursing soon. I actually didn't mind given that he included all of the following statements "no danger to baby or you" "no wonder you are tired" and "totally unnatural for your body." He is by far my favorite doc, has been following me for free for many years, and I had after all (yet again) fallen asleep on the exam table waiting for him to come into the room.
Off to a wedding this weekend, and then hopefully more internet access soon. And energy would be lovely too.
Had the real NT scan on Wednesday. Everything looked good, still waiting for results with blood draw.
Then I saw my GI doc who was not particularly concerned about nutrient malabsorption. He gave me a long lecture about stopping nursing soon. I actually didn't mind given that he included all of the following statements "no danger to baby or you" "no wonder you are tired" and "totally unnatural for your body." He is by far my favorite doc, has been following me for free for many years, and I had after all (yet again) fallen asleep on the exam table waiting for him to come into the room.
Off to a wedding this weekend, and then hopefully more internet access soon. And energy would be lovely too.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Let'st start with today
Today I woke up rather refreshed having slept through the night for only the 2nd time in going on 20 months. This was accomplished less thanks to the fusspot but rather more thanks to the fact that my husband spent the night on the floor of her room.
I then wandered off to school, did a little work, came home and took an hour nap rather than go to the blogher meet-up, had a hearty lunch and fully plan on another half hour catnap prior to picking up the fusspot. Followed by an afternoon at our favorite playground and dinner with a friend and her son.
Not exactly my usual day. Largely precipitated by fainting at the playground yesterday. Less than an hour after I had got off the phone with one of the midwifes and run by the lab to have some tests done. So it turns out that in addition to being way under in calorie consumption (and certainly contributing to my failure to put together healthy low-carb meals), my exhaustion has entirely taken over. I was a bit worried but the midwife reassured me that the perfect storm of getting pregnant the month after I'd been on zofran and losing weight thanks to the gas baby, nursing, and being anemic were sufficient explanation. Just in case we checked my thyroid and a few other things.
Then I ran to pick up the fusspot because JD was supposed to call our daycare provider and tell her I was running late and he forgot (and often when I am more than 5 minutes late to afternoon pick-up she has taken the bigger kids out to activities. This means that the fusspot is home alone with her 15 year old daughter, which I honestly find totally appropriate and safe. The kid lives in a home where her mom runs a home daycare, has a sibling, and has always been responsible when I talked to her. However, I feel bad that she gets stuck with the fusspot and try not to be late).
Then I went to the playground and ... more elipses ... realized I was in trouble. And called JD and told him he had to come home immediately because I couldn't possibly take care of the fusspot. And he? Said he'd finish up at work in the next hour and be there. Which wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear and resulted in a few nasty words and hence my night of sleep. So here's to hoping for a weekend of big meals, lots of sleep, seeing friends, and peace in our apartment. Oh, and finishing a sewing project for our trip next week.
I then wandered off to school, did a little work, came home and took an hour nap rather than go to the blogher meet-up, had a hearty lunch and fully plan on another half hour catnap prior to picking up the fusspot. Followed by an afternoon at our favorite playground and dinner with a friend and her son.
Not exactly my usual day. Largely precipitated by fainting at the playground yesterday. Less than an hour after I had got off the phone with one of the midwifes and run by the lab to have some tests done. So it turns out that in addition to being way under in calorie consumption (and certainly contributing to my failure to put together healthy low-carb meals), my exhaustion has entirely taken over. I was a bit worried but the midwife reassured me that the perfect storm of getting pregnant the month after I'd been on zofran and losing weight thanks to the gas baby, nursing, and being anemic were sufficient explanation. Just in case we checked my thyroid and a few other things.
Then I ran to pick up the fusspot because JD was supposed to call our daycare provider and tell her I was running late and he forgot (and often when I am more than 5 minutes late to afternoon pick-up she has taken the bigger kids out to activities. This means that the fusspot is home alone with her 15 year old daughter, which I honestly find totally appropriate and safe. The kid lives in a home where her mom runs a home daycare, has a sibling, and has always been responsible when I talked to her. However, I feel bad that she gets stuck with the fusspot and try not to be late).
Then I went to the playground and ... more elipses ... realized I was in trouble. And called JD and told him he had to come home immediately because I couldn't possibly take care of the fusspot. And he? Said he'd finish up at work in the next hour and be there. Which wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear and resulted in a few nasty words and hence my night of sleep. So here's to hoping for a weekend of big meals, lots of sleep, seeing friends, and peace in our apartment. Oh, and finishing a sewing project for our trip next week.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A miracle at bargain price, and thank heavens for good nutritionists
I got an explanation of benefits bill in the mail today. And I opened it and laughed. First time ever, folks.
See, JD is in charge of our finances. And the only way Project 2.0 was going to happen this year was if I supported myself and the fusspot in Lalaland and he focused on saving money towards Project 2.0. And while we are young and my income is fairly paltry this year, we also have very few monthly bills: no mortgage, no car payment, no car insurance. In fact, our monthly bills consist of: rent, utilities, life insurance, health insurance for the fusspot, netflix, cell phones and student debt repayment. And one thing that JD and I have always been in full agreement upon is that once we start cycling we never want to have to stop (until we are fully broke, that is) because of finances. So while I hit up the excellent international thrift stores abroad, JD worked to stash something close to $40,000 in an account labeled "Project 2.0/Mortgage." We figured that would get us through 5 IUIs and 1 IVF if we were lucky, and then we'd take out a short term loan to cover IVFs 2 and 3 before calling it a day.
But my long-time readers know that the current dream baby is the result of a miraculously timed "first appointment." And while we never even filed with the insurance for Project 1.0's fertility bills, I had heard a rumor that "diagnosis but not treatment" of infertility was partially covered. The office manager at the clinic explained that that usually meant a first appointment, but nothing more.
Total cost for the conception of Project 2.0:
$10 co-pay on "assessment of infertility appointment"
$110 HCG trigger shot bought 10 minutes post-appointment
My bargain-priced miracle. I never ever in my life thought that we would have a baby who would cost more to get out than to get in.
And in other excellent news, I saw a nutritionist today. Recommended by another blogger, and unaffiliated with the clinic which will have to official clear me for hospital liability so that I will be "allowed to go into labor." Needless to say, she cost more than the conception of Project 2.0 as outlined above. But she was really good.
She took a complete medical history, which nutritionists never seem to do. And given my insulin resistance, nursing, the-great-gas-baby-May-2010-debacle, my GI problems and nutrient malabsorption and keeping kosher there was actually rather a bit to talk about. And as I dutifully recited a list of all the foods I'd eaten over the last 2 days I figured there'd be a few little problems (primarily the 11 pm dinner last night because there were no groceries in the house, too many Greek yogurts). I had no idea that she would dutifully listen, give me a rather puzzled look, and say "No wonder you are tired. You're at least 1000 calories below what you need at this point." WHEE!!! It turns out that nursing while expecting while dealing with post-infection stomach problems means I need a LOT more calories than I'd thought.
So I am off in the morning to stock up on food. And here's to hoping iron and calcium and a 1000 calories a day more (plus even a few more carbs) helps me get my energy back. Because I am -so- tired of not being able to keep up with my usual full days.
Oh, and sadly the dresser got away from us so I am yet again searching craigslist. Rather annoying that I'll have to pay movers since I am not supposed to lift anything at the moment. And since it will be sitting in our living room/kitchen I'd also like something a bit light in color.
ps - I guess I should clarify. I don't usually talk about particulars of money. But in some ways I feel that talking about the real cost of IF treatments is part of my activism. My insurance would not have covered even a foll0w-up appointment at our clinic, nor an initial consult at another clinic this year. It is pure luck that our bill was so low, and I certainly think that the huge costs are why we took such crazy risks last time around (and may very well in the future, to be honest).
See, JD is in charge of our finances. And the only way Project 2.0 was going to happen this year was if I supported myself and the fusspot in Lalaland and he focused on saving money towards Project 2.0. And while we are young and my income is fairly paltry this year, we also have very few monthly bills: no mortgage, no car payment, no car insurance. In fact, our monthly bills consist of: rent, utilities, life insurance, health insurance for the fusspot, netflix, cell phones and student debt repayment. And one thing that JD and I have always been in full agreement upon is that once we start cycling we never want to have to stop (until we are fully broke, that is) because of finances. So while I hit up the excellent international thrift stores abroad, JD worked to stash something close to $40,000 in an account labeled "Project 2.0/Mortgage." We figured that would get us through 5 IUIs and 1 IVF if we were lucky, and then we'd take out a short term loan to cover IVFs 2 and 3 before calling it a day.
But my long-time readers know that the current dream baby is the result of a miraculously timed "first appointment." And while we never even filed with the insurance for Project 1.0's fertility bills, I had heard a rumor that "diagnosis but not treatment" of infertility was partially covered. The office manager at the clinic explained that that usually meant a first appointment, but nothing more.
Total cost for the conception of Project 2.0:
$10 co-pay on "assessment of infertility appointment"
$110 HCG trigger shot bought 10 minutes post-appointment
My bargain-priced miracle. I never ever in my life thought that we would have a baby who would cost more to get out than to get in.
And in other excellent news, I saw a nutritionist today. Recommended by another blogger, and unaffiliated with the clinic which will have to official clear me for hospital liability so that I will be "allowed to go into labor." Needless to say, she cost more than the conception of Project 2.0 as outlined above. But she was really good.
She took a complete medical history, which nutritionists never seem to do. And given my insulin resistance, nursing, the-great-gas-baby-May-2010-debacle, my GI problems and nutrient malabsorption and keeping kosher there was actually rather a bit to talk about. And as I dutifully recited a list of all the foods I'd eaten over the last 2 days I figured there'd be a few little problems (primarily the 11 pm dinner last night because there were no groceries in the house, too many Greek yogurts). I had no idea that she would dutifully listen, give me a rather puzzled look, and say "No wonder you are tired. You're at least 1000 calories below what you need at this point." WHEE!!! It turns out that nursing while expecting while dealing with post-infection stomach problems means I need a LOT more calories than I'd thought.
So I am off in the morning to stock up on food. And here's to hoping iron and calcium and a 1000 calories a day more (plus even a few more carbs) helps me get my energy back. Because I am -so- tired of not being able to keep up with my usual full days.
Oh, and sadly the dresser got away from us so I am yet again searching craigslist. Rather annoying that I'll have to pay movers since I am not supposed to lift anything at the moment. And since it will be sitting in our living room/kitchen I'd also like something a bit light in color.
ps - I guess I should clarify. I don't usually talk about particulars of money. But in some ways I feel that talking about the real cost of IF treatments is part of my activism. My insurance would not have covered even a foll0w-up appointment at our clinic, nor an initial consult at another clinic this year. It is pure luck that our bill was so low, and I certainly think that the huge costs are why we took such crazy risks last time around (and may very well in the future, to be honest).
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Still there
The dream baby was still there, heartbeat going strong this morning.
I braved the appointment and went alone. Which turned out not to be such an awful thing since the baby was a little too small for the NT (the NT is based off probabilities on a chart and your baby has to have a crown to rump measurement which puts them onto the chart. Same thing happened with the fusspot). So, that's all around good news because it means another ultrasound next week, and maybe JD will even be able to make it. And after that it's no more u/s until the anatomy scan (October, folks) unless the GD clinic kicks into overdrive early.
I made peace with my slacker husband this morning. But not until I'd spent the entire night on the (wood) floor of the fusspot's room trying to keep her from waking him up. I am occasionally a great wife.
Very busy tonight trying to get JD to agree to purchase a new dresser for the living room. Despite my frequent fears that this dream baby will disappear (complete with detailed nightmare last night that the u/s this morning revealed a heartbeat, but one that was slower than the last u/s and the tech wanted to do a D and C immediately and I wanted to wait a week and I got into a screaming match with an abortion protester that a D and C for a dead baby was not an abortion. Yeah. It was a fun dream. At least I haven't run over any abortion protesters this time around) I am proceeding full speed ahead. The dresser will do double duty: replace our entirely un-babyproofable crate and barrel mini kitchen island and provide storage for baby things in the living room. But finding someone to move furniture in NYC is such a hassle, especially since I'm not supposed to help at all.
In other not at all surprising news, I am anemic. Really rather anemic. What pisses me off is that I yet again fell for the ol' midwife "we'll call if the tests results are bad, no news=good news' line. Never, never, never again dear readers. Because I had that test done a full 3 weeks ago and only bothered to call when killing time with a sleeping toddler in the waiting room of my friend's midwife. 3 weeks that I should have been taking iron and might have had a little more energy (I was on Floradix for my entire pregnancy with fusspot and the post-partum period but stopped it when we started cycling again because I didn't want to take unnecessary supplements given how contaminated/polluted they could be and I knew we'd test early).
Here's to hoping I post tomorrow with a photo of my new dresser and spotless living room.
I braved the appointment and went alone. Which turned out not to be such an awful thing since the baby was a little too small for the NT (the NT is based off probabilities on a chart and your baby has to have a crown to rump measurement which puts them onto the chart. Same thing happened with the fusspot). So, that's all around good news because it means another ultrasound next week, and maybe JD will even be able to make it. And after that it's no more u/s until the anatomy scan (October, folks) unless the GD clinic kicks into overdrive early.
I made peace with my slacker husband this morning. But not until I'd spent the entire night on the (wood) floor of the fusspot's room trying to keep her from waking him up. I am occasionally a great wife.
Very busy tonight trying to get JD to agree to purchase a new dresser for the living room. Despite my frequent fears that this dream baby will disappear (complete with detailed nightmare last night that the u/s this morning revealed a heartbeat, but one that was slower than the last u/s and the tech wanted to do a D and C immediately and I wanted to wait a week and I got into a screaming match with an abortion protester that a D and C for a dead baby was not an abortion. Yeah. It was a fun dream. At least I haven't run over any abortion protesters this time around) I am proceeding full speed ahead. The dresser will do double duty: replace our entirely un-babyproofable crate and barrel mini kitchen island and provide storage for baby things in the living room. But finding someone to move furniture in NYC is such a hassle, especially since I'm not supposed to help at all.
In other not at all surprising news, I am anemic. Really rather anemic. What pisses me off is that I yet again fell for the ol' midwife "we'll call if the tests results are bad, no news=good news' line. Never, never, never again dear readers. Because I had that test done a full 3 weeks ago and only bothered to call when killing time with a sleeping toddler in the waiting room of my friend's midwife. 3 weeks that I should have been taking iron and might have had a little more energy (I was on Floradix for my entire pregnancy with fusspot and the post-partum period but stopped it when we started cycling again because I didn't want to take unnecessary supplements given how contaminated/polluted they could be and I knew we'd test early).
Here's to hoping I post tomorrow with a photo of my new dresser and spotless living room.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Back. Tired.
We're back in the city. The trip was lovely. Relaxing, low key. My friend has a toddler the same age as the fusspot and happens to be about 10 weeks ahead of me, so we scheduled our days around big activities like the zoo and going to the fabric store. And I did the most incredible thing all week long: I napped when the baby napped. And folks, it was delightful.
The return trip not so much. We live the house sometime around 5:30 am this morning. The fusspot was exceedingly well-behaved (no crying) on both flights, but only because I kept a breast firmly inserted into her mouth for the better part of the day. And then we got home. And the breakfast dishes were still out from the day we left (6 days ago). There were still cheerios under the table. I didn't really expect JD to have time for a deep cleaning, but a clean table and 5 minutes of vacuuming would have made a huge difference. And of course, he's sick today. And still stuck at work. But we were gone for 6 days. When he called to tell me he was sick, I spent a good 5 minutes thinking about how I could do all of the overnights tonight and tomorrow and let him rest. Cue-music-for-moment-of-sudden-realization: he had 6 nights home alone. Sans baby. And he didn't even waste the time to vacuum. Huh.
Speaking of the great sleep regression, last night the fusspot only woke twice (between 8 pm and 5 am, I must add. Not exactly a full night) and that was the first time in over 2 weeks that she's been up less than 4 times. And since we don't let her CIO, that means that at least 4 times a night for the past 2 weeks I've gotten up to get her water and sing to her and keep her company. Needless to say, my friend was not impressed. I really don't want to write anything too critical because she is a dear friend and I was well aware that we would have different parenting styles, but it was so different. They put their baby in bed at 8 pm and get him out a little after 8 am. No, he doesn't sleep through the night, they just leave him in his own room 'to train him.' And the little guy was so entirely non-chalant about being left (even thought he is not in any type of daycare). It was such a contrast with the fusspot who runs over to greet me every time I return from the bathroom.
More on our trip later, but for now I'm off to obsess about whether we'll still have a healthy heartbeat at the NT scan (which needless to say JD forget, so I'll be alone most likely). It's midday tomorrow, and then I have days of work to catch up on if I can stay awake.
In the meantime, I leave you with a (generic) photo of our vacation destination. It's nice to leave the city sometimes:
And life in the suburbs:
The return trip not so much. We live the house sometime around 5:30 am this morning. The fusspot was exceedingly well-behaved (no crying) on both flights, but only because I kept a breast firmly inserted into her mouth for the better part of the day. And then we got home. And the breakfast dishes were still out from the day we left (6 days ago). There were still cheerios under the table. I didn't really expect JD to have time for a deep cleaning, but a clean table and 5 minutes of vacuuming would have made a huge difference. And of course, he's sick today. And still stuck at work. But we were gone for 6 days. When he called to tell me he was sick, I spent a good 5 minutes thinking about how I could do all of the overnights tonight and tomorrow and let him rest. Cue-music-for-moment-of-sudden-realization: he had 6 nights home alone. Sans baby. And he didn't even waste the time to vacuum. Huh.
Speaking of the great sleep regression, last night the fusspot only woke twice (between 8 pm and 5 am, I must add. Not exactly a full night) and that was the first time in over 2 weeks that she's been up less than 4 times. And since we don't let her CIO, that means that at least 4 times a night for the past 2 weeks I've gotten up to get her water and sing to her and keep her company. Needless to say, my friend was not impressed. I really don't want to write anything too critical because she is a dear friend and I was well aware that we would have different parenting styles, but it was so different. They put their baby in bed at 8 pm and get him out a little after 8 am. No, he doesn't sleep through the night, they just leave him in his own room 'to train him.' And the little guy was so entirely non-chalant about being left (even thought he is not in any type of daycare). It was such a contrast with the fusspot who runs over to greet me every time I return from the bathroom.
More on our trip later, but for now I'm off to obsess about whether we'll still have a healthy heartbeat at the NT scan (which needless to say JD forget, so I'll be alone most likely). It's midday tomorrow, and then I have days of work to catch up on if I can stay awake.
In the meantime, I leave you with a (generic) photo of our vacation destination. It's nice to leave the city sometimes:
And life in the suburbs:
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