crazy light, the transition from wanting to having

Mo's new miracle baby, and Della's upcoming 2 year birthday have had me really thinking hard again about the bizarre and oddly difficult transition from full-time IF struggle to parenting.

First, let me be clear:  "Difficult" does NOT mean bad.

Let me explain.
I got used to being in the midst of the struggle. Every day, every night, every waking moment. I got used to the ebb and flow of the process of cd1, baseline scan, follicle counts, cysts or stimulation drugs, ultrasounds, injections, prayers while watching those little voids tucked into clusters in the midst of my innards, praying for them to grow, not too fast! please, all at once, same pace, same size.  I got used to seeing a big one and worrying. Seeing too few and worrying. Living from ultrasound to ultrasound, blood work to blood work.  When when luck would have it, I even got used to egg retrieval. When luck would have it, waiting for counts. When luck would have it, fertilization reports. When luck would have it, transfer. Interminable 2 week waits. Progesterone. Pee sticks. Negatives. Failures.

I also got used to a life that revolved around early morning appointments, injections of refrigerated equivalent of liquid gold. Liquid hope.
I got used to the struggle.
I got used to the regimented and intensely private lifestyle of IF and IVFfing.
And on some level, I got used to the failure.

When I read of someone else's cycle resulting in a negative, or heartbreaking miscarriage, I never EVER think of them as having FAILED.  And yet, with every one of mine, I felt like it was me who was failing. I remember apologizing, as if I had made it not work.  I was the old one, afterall. I was the one who waited too long. I was the one whose body did not respond like so many other people's. I was the one whose ovaries kicked out tiny follicle counts, often just over the limit to stay on the IVF path. And it was my body, mine, that somehow could not get pregnant. I felt, somehow, that I was responsible.

I confess, I'm slightly shamed by my own hypocrisy. My own double standard. 

My first pregnancy, I was stunned. It was from a conversion from an IVF cycle to IUI, a lead follicle messing things up.  I had no hope of it working. Cried my way through the insemination.
And then, suddenly and miraculously pregnant.
And then, numbers of weeks later, belly already rounding and hard, just as suddenly, not.

As soon as I could, I was back in-- cycling however they would let us.
Cycling and failing. Cycling and failing.
Failing, in fact, enough, that our old clinic would not cycle with us any more.
With Della, it was our hail mary.
It was a new clinic.
It was going to be Our Last Cycle (or so I say, who knows what I would have done to try again, or again, or again).
New places to drive to.
New phlebotomists to get to know.
New ultrasound protocols.
New new new.
But at the heart of it, it was the same old dance of injections, blood work, ultrasounds, numbers...
The first pee stick read was negative.
That was familiar too.
Then, it was not the same old dance.
Hours and hours after I peed on that stick, the faintest of faint lines had emerged:I was pregnant.
Bucking all odds, moon shot, crazy lucky, statistically LOTTO-winning, lightning striking.

And now, I have this perfect little person in my life who calls me Momma.

I have not yet learned to trust this, the way I trusted that.
That process, IVFfing, was something I could not believe I was doing (over and over and over and over), but it became so familiar to me.
Me as Momma? Not so much.  Each day I wake amazed. I know I have said this, but I really mean it.
I wake and worry some day I will wake up and I will discover to my horror (but perhaps not to my surprise) that I have dreamed this whole thing. This is too good to be true (knock wood, salt over shoulder, run around under a ladder backwards carrying a black cat).

So, some part of me wants to write to Mo and say: hey sweet and lovely lady, for some of us, not all of us, the transition from TRYING (and failing and trying and failing and trying...) to HAVING is as surreal as if we woke up next to a unicorn.
Be gentle with yourself as you try to learn this new way of being.
The new way of NOT struggling.
This new way of holding something miraculous and precious and singular and magnificent, in the crazy light of the wee hours with no sleep and no desire to close your eyes, because you don't dare close them, just in case you wake up and find it was all a dream.
And don't be surprised if, two years down the line, you find yourself in the crazy light of the wee hours, with no where near enough sleep, staring at this miraculous and precious and singular and magnificent being, stretched out long across the bed,  and feeling you don't dare close your eyes, because you don't want to wake up and find it was all a dream.

Gut-truth, angels, waiting for the apocalypse

I know I've written here before, obliquely or directly about my lifelong battle with my guts.
I was 9 or 10, on my way to an ill-fated 3 days at camp when I had my first attack that I remember.
Diagnosed via old-school long barium x-ray series and inflexible scope/horrid biopsy as "healing ulcerative colitis" when I was about 10, and again in early adult hood as "IBS", and from one obnoxious Dr. it was due to me being an "emotional female"... *cough*biteme*cough*

I've been on a million medications, some relatively benign (Lomotil), some not (phenobarbital), tried therapy, hypnosis, food allergy testing, rotation diets, bio feedback, dropping out of school...
tried herbs and ozone and colonics...

I've made many life decisions based on this pretty intensely debilitating thing. Avoided mornings. Travel. Excitement. Anxiety. Avoided all known triggering foods (leading to a very limited diet).  Limited my choices, options, experiences, ideas.... I lived smaller than I would have, more fearfully, more carefully, more cautiously.

A few years before Della when I was doing acupuncture, my practitioner suggested sensitivity testing and I said yes... based on the results, this time I went completely gluten and dairy free, and within three days (THREE DAYS) was so much better it was as if I'd been visited by angels. Seriously, from three attacks a week to NONE.

I've been almost completely in remission since.  Occasional echoes, but mostly? Fine.  Fine enough to imagine things I would have done, if only I could have.  Fine enough to feel bad for my young self who had to be so careful.

Then this morning, 2 hours of badness.  A reminder with the only obvious cause an uptick in stress. And I remember everything I hate about it. The shaky intensity, the exhaustion, the depletion... the real mystery of whateveritis. But the rhythm of it, this I know. I know the waves. The rocking. The breathing. The waiting.
Blessed to have a bathroom and time, and access to both...

This afternoon, I am fine. And it almost feels like I imagined it.
I expect to be fine tomorrow.
I expect to be fine in general, which is why it surprises me so much when it happens.

After so long without actively having to deal with it, I can say this: I did not miss it.

I wanted to write this since IBS and the evil cousins are pretty common.  I know it is true for many in the IF community. To you I say-- try gluten free. It sucks. It is not easy. It takes planning and consciousness.  But for me, this combination of no dairy, no gluten has been a life saving change.  I forget to mention it because it is just the way I live now.  Try a week. For others in my family it was key not only to gut stuff but mood and energy stuff as well.

As for my own guts? Trying to be compassionate.  And not extrapolate to the apocalypse.  So far, so good.

cow-baby

Della's third bottom tooth erupted yesterday, along with two big developmental steps--Della spent the day rather suddenly pulling up one handed and then shocked us by walking with daddy while he held only one of her hands.

We went to the fair, met pigs, chickens, ducks, bunnies, cows, horses and a seriously cute mini burro. Della also met fried dough. YUM.

Before I forget, there are so many things I want to say-- things that have helped, things that didn't...

Aveeno unscented diaper cream. Thick, unscented totally.... works. UNSCENTED> Hurrah!

Pampers sensitive swaddlers.... no disney characters, and they work *fine*. I get mine via Amazon Mom and have a subscription. I wanted to choose differently for the earth, but this is what is working for us right now and we can't (I can't) afford trial and error.

For me-- all breast pads suck. I finally got pull over sleep bras from Medela, 20 bucks each, and wear them with bamboo or cotton breast pads that look like I've stuffed pancakes in my bra. For work I wear a more structured bra that does not show the pads, and I simply remove the whole thing to pump using a pumping bra (fembot).

At night, I leak like mad, sometimes sleep bra-free just to have less to deal with but nearly always regret the sopping dripping wetness of it all.

Baby stuff we bought and wasted money on: mechanical swing, she just did not take to it. Maybe the crib? we'll see. it was cheap and maybe it will get use. I hope so.

Soft toys. MOMMA like soft toys. DELLA likes things that rattle, crinkle, make music, noise....

Clothes: she is now in shirts and pants, all cotton jersey or soy (sales on diaper.com!).... no onesies. She is robust not lanky so this is working best for us right now. Barefeet rule. Her first real shoes arrived today via Zappos amazing overnight delivery. Soft soled and I will let daycare decide when they want them on her. For now, i want her barefoot as often as possible for kinesthetic feedback, balance and walking.

Kate stuff: the in between body has been a very interesting journey and no doubt will continue to be pretty amazingly weird. I am trying not to buy things for this in between place but have needed bras (got cheap ones from hanes at walmart that work fine), needed pants for work (kohl's dockers), and am simply going to go with t shirts/tanks and cardigans for the foreseeable future. Things that fit and are comfortable are really important to me. My goal is to be unconscious of what I am wearing-- somehow achieve comfort+ appropriateness.

I was wearing maternity T shirts to cover/disguise The Belly but they are now way too big and just look bad. Shirts are still a problem for me.

I hoarded one pair of maternity pants, white jeans I love, but now the waist band feels thick and weird (which it should). But I cannot quite part with them yet.

I moved a button on a pair of jeans. This felt like progress. My weight is pre-preg but my shape is something very foreign.

Motherhood has given me everchanging breasts, but still no butt. Alas.

I wash my hair every two or three days, have it up in a barette most of the time. Floss every few days. I try to shower each day, even if it just is a rinse, and try to shave since apparently that is what sets me apart from the animals. That and cover-up.

I totally see how easy it would be to give in, give up. Stretchy pants, slept in shirts.. I walked today in my sleep outfit. But when I got home I made myself change. I think FOR ME it is important to feel as if I am "ready", which, when possible means clean teeth, deoderant, and fresh undies. When possible, it also means clothes I don't mind being seen in.

Now that I am in an apartment, folks just come to the door. Odd to be sprawled post nursing with a sleeping baby and have someone just suddenly be there. Not my favorite thing.

Pumping: I bought a medela pump on super sale but god damn it was expensive...and I still use it. I am glad I spent the money on it even though it and I are not friends. I bought a hand pump as a backup and had to use it once and I hated it completely. I have decided for sanity to pump only once a day--feed before and immediately upon returning home. I read or do work on a mini laptop while pumping. I pump in a bathroom (I did in my last job too) and it just rots. Reading/working helps a lot. Also Lynda.com is amazing for on-line learning for 25$/month unlimited access to training videos for SW and a lot of great documentaries that I hope to watch someday.

Feeding: We are still using the small medela bottles and slow flow nipples. I have med flow to try this week maybe. I will be mixing breast milk with formula, thank you What IF for the affirming suggestion! Della does not drink more than 4 oz per feeding since she is really about solids too--so we've never needed bigger bottles. I keep seeing babies drinking from them and worried (over and over) that maybe I am doing something wrong. A 22lb baby says things are fine.

New in-between car seat comes this week. I'll let you know if I like it at all once it is here. I interviewed many in real life at babys r us and gosh darn, do they HAVE to be so hard?

I am pretty sure this will not solve Della's hatred of being in the car. But it will solve the "she is too big for her baby bucket" problem if it works out.

I still have multifaceted envy but will write more about this in a different post. I met someone's newborn yesterday and felt that twinge, you know the one... and I thought goddamn it! Really? Still?

Apparently, yes. Still. Damn it.

unsolicited advice part 1

From a newbie:

Take all of the hospital underwear they will allow you to take

trust me on this

take them all

ugly or not

they stretch, wash well, and you do not want to wreck your own

order boxes of your favorite big pads before you give birth-- if you are sensitive like me, I cannot say enough about Natracare Maternity Pads-- big, long, cushy, free of plastic, and covered in cotton. no kidding. available at drugstore.com.

Bring a bunch of tank tops with you-- preferably ones you can cut off if needed (if you're on an IV). At some point in the laboring process they let me change into a tank from the damned hospital gown-- bliss and worthwhile. bring loose ones, not tight ones.

Do not expect you'll be in any kind of pants until they put you in a pad.

Bring your favorite maternity pants with you to go home in.

Do not underestimate the amount of pads you will need, you will change one each time you go to the bathroom and you will be peeing a LOT. Get more than you think you need. Expect to leak.

Clots are frightening but common, big ones are terrifying, but unless they come with worsening in bleeding or clotting, you're ok. Check with your doc always, but don't panic just because it feels like you lost your liver.

Pain-- take the medication, do not try to be superwoman, pain means slower healing and that sucks... so

also take colace. Trust me. Prunes. I cannot overstate this enough.

Sweating-- at night, I go through 2 shirts and would actually go through more if I could haul my ass out of bed. Soaked shirts, sweaty beyond belief-- wet with sweat-- I'm just sayin'.

Diapers-- praise the disposables for now-- I am very crunchy granola envrio aware geeky whatever but to be able to throw them out at this point is great. Simplifying is key here. We did get unscented bio degradable bags for them and no kidding, they do not smell. Some magical something of breastmilk. So no diaper genie. When food begins or we have to do formula again, this would change.

Breast care-- I use a microwaveable hot pack big enough to drape across my breasts... mine is from The happy company, and is vaguely moist. I had to cut lace off the rim, but it works just great. Also great for draping across my belly. I had one bloody nipple day. It corresponded with The Dark Day. Nuff said.

Breastfeeding more generally-- ask for help, but do not necessarily ask the zealot. Ask the pragmatist. I had the most shitty 45 minute visit with the lactation consultant. What I wanted was a gap solution to feed a hungry baby with no milk in yet-- what I got was a .... lecture is not fair, but a full fledged philosophical treatise that was not only unnecessary, but left me with a screaming pissed off baby with no improved ability to help. Enter pragmaticnurse that night-- she saved me. SAVED ME. I cannot say enough that you can mmm your way through a shitty consult, and then ask for help from someone else...

Growth spurts of your little one will be prefaced with 24 hours or more of non stop feeding, and general irritation. This will cue your body to ramp up production. Expect at least one nearly sleepless night when this begins, and expect you will wake with amazing breasts a day or two later ready for the increased demand.

Tears-- I have cried more in the past week than I have in a long while-- happy stunned tears, only one day of shitty sad self esteem from hell tears, all others are just near the surface, waiting for a look or a thought or beauty and whoa... they just come. No warning no control and it is weird to just have them spill out complete with crumpled face and throat lump.

Healing-- let's talk briefly about The Belly.

It is down to half what it was when I left the hospital, but completely foreign. I am trying not to look at it very much and am relying on other senses to send love to it...I love the soft skin, will miss my flush belly button. I can actually see parts of myself kept under the cloak of mystery these past 6 months at least...my weight is down to 10 above pre-baby, I am wearing maternity pants, a tank with stick-in ultra soft breast pads, and a big soft shirt over that...and no bra since none of the so called nursing bras that I have will actually work for me, and hospital underwear.

Nursing bras--

hm. Might want to wait until you and your little one figure out the basics so you can know the way you prefer to access your body. I am globally disappointed. And at this point, I do not envision a solution for me, except maybe a good old front closure bra. Screw one handed operation. Full access is more important to me.

Do not underestimate the power of a hot shower-- even three minutes, no shaving, just hot water, gentle cleanser, cetaphil for the underpinnings, blot yourself dry, put on clean clothes, you WILL feel better.

Drink more water than you can imagine needing. You will need more than that. Beware the lightheadedness, eat dried fruit for a quick shot of sugar while you think of something to eat that makes more sense.

Belly binding-

the hospital bound me up after surgery-- helps make the whole region feel supported, which is really nice. But, my skin HATED their binding thingy, so I ditched it. Got a cheap one. Wore it a few hours each day when I wanted to feel less immense and more supported. It helped with both things. But, finally, it is just not comfortable. I admit I spent $20 on it not 60-80 (not a belly bandit) so perhaps I chose too cheaply.

Nail file not nail clippers for the little one's talons. His/her face and your breasts will thank you.

Baby clothes--cute outfits with shirts and pants are cute, indeed, but totally impractical. Get the snap or zip up footed sleeper thingies. They rock. Our one day in shirt + pants lasted 1 hour. All of our side snap t-shirts will be in giveaway. Onesies and pants will be fine, but for now we are addicted to simplicity.

The happiest baby on the block-- the book is too long, rent the video. Worth it. It really works- not always but often.

Learn to type with one hand. I am learning but have yet to be able to let go of my desire for punctuation (even if incorrect and sporadic) and capitalization. I will get over it. My desire to document and communicate will win over typo paranoia.

*******

Della is rocking our world--

one week old yesterday

eyes changing from slate gray to brown we think...

she smiles in her sleep sometimes and I will be completely doomed when she can do that on purpose.

Tears are new, and break my heart.

She has the saddest sad faces in the world.

She laces her fingers together, nurses with them tucked up by her face, stretches big big stretches now that she has room to do so! and has the hiccups much of the time.

Last night was hard rain and hard wind, a wild weather night. Today is all fast clouds, moments of brightness, moments of darkness, moments of rain. The sun came out and all the rain drops in the woods sparkled like they only had a minute to show off- a dazzling display.

Now, back to dark and moody.