The Middle Chapters

I read several entries from other bloggers over the years addressing the question of whether women who go through infertility or recurrent miscarriage get over it. After a lot of thought, I've come up with what I think is a very reasonable conclusion -- that its a lot like being a geeky teenager. Back in high school, there were those that skipped acne and being all knees and elbows. They knew how to apply makeup without looking silly and actually had dates with boys. Then there were the rest of us. The ackward, funny-looking and uncomfortable. I think I was at least 18 before my knees weren't the widest part of my legs.

Luckily, I grew out of it, but never forgot those years. The comparison between me and girls that looked like celebrity girls look today -- who I've always told myself peaked in high school. To judge the difference between high school and later, its easier to look at other people. To see the boys who played computer games vs. the sports stars -- those who became the kind thoughtful adults vs. the beer-drinking armchair quarterbacks. (Guess which one I married.)

Anyway, back to the point: while high school was easy for some; it wasn't for others. The hard, painful experiences shaped us into the adults we became. I think infertility or recurrent miscarriage is like this. When we're fortunate enough to have children, it doesn't erase the taunts in the hallway or more specifically the pain of loss after loss. These experiences shaped and changed us and forever impact the way that we view the world.

My sister's visit is going swimmingly. Its been great having her here. Her daughter is missing her terribly because she's not used to mom being away, but its only for a few more days. I was feeling much better/less tired after taking my iron supplement. Then started doing more than I can handle, like walking for 10 minutes, and am wiped again. The heartburn is getting more prevalent. But the baby, he is agrowing, so it makes sense. I've been super sore today and yesterday which I am chalking up to a growing baby doing a lot of moving. I'm 33 weeks now and measuring 35. My weight is up 2 more pounds for a total of 22.

I'm starting to feel totally gigantic and just feel the aches and pains of late pregnancy. It seems like there's no place left I can grow, but know that I will. Part of me would love to have this baby be born as soon as possible, but the rest of me knows that he needs to stay in for several more weeks. I'm still having some contractions that simply tire me out. But they don't seem to be leading anywhere.

D is being great with my sister. He's feeding her and took her running last night, while I lay around. Bacon is finally (!!) getting over whatever she's had for almost 2 weeks. I think it may have been a few things that happened to come up at about the same time. This last part I'm assuming was her fourth molar that I just noticed poking through today. She's finally getting back to her usual sunny self. Its much easier to deal with late pregnancy when you don't have a 19 month old clinging, crying and wanting to nurse constantly. (Yes, I can't believe that I'm still nursing her. We were close to having a mutual stop about a month and a half ago, but no. With this recent illness, I am the combined complaint department and comfort center. I have no idea if I'll nurse 2 or how I'll do it. But I'm going to worry about that later.)

I love ultrasounds. They are so - information packed. Today I got to know that (1) my cervix is doing great - the best measurement this pregnancy at 2.9 cm; (2) my fluid levels continue to be good; and (3) I have a baby sized baby in there. Baby x is estimated to weigh 5 lbs. 4 oz. That's baby sized! Everything except his femurs are measuring three weeks ahead. Ironic because Bacon's femurs were super long.

I am freakin' tired. Maybe I'm a bit sick or anemic, or, I don't know. But taking care of a toddler is kickin' my butt. All I want to do is lay in bed. If I actually had full time daycare coverage, bedrest would be a blessing. But of course I don't, so fortunately I don't need it right now.

My sister is coming next week. Because I asked her to and paid for her ticket. I'm expecting the worst. Sounds crazy I know. But, she's related to me by birth, so that seems to be the way to go to actually enjoy any of the visit.

32 weeks. Likely 6-8 weeks left. Holy Moses.

Bacon seems to be finally getting over whatever has made her nose run and turn her into a super crab for the last several days. I'm really hoping that all of it was a cold and not (as I fear) the beginning of the twos. Oh no, she doesn't want her shoes on! Oh no, she doesn't want her shoes off! Up, up, up! Down, down, down! I've been going to bed at 7:00 - Bacon's bedtime - this week.

At today's OB appointment. I'm up a pound. A trace + protein. And on digital exam (ouch), the OB estimates that my cervix is closed and in the "low 2s." She seemed to be unconcerned, so I'm trying to be too. I will be scheduling an ultrasound measurement for next Monday.

I have 2 more weeks of my meds and then I go off the ibuprofen and increase the nifedipine. This really has been an easier pregnancy that the one with Bacon. Part of it is simply emotional. I've mentioned this before, but I was so convinced that Bacon was going to die; either before or very shortly after she was born that I went through the pregnancy with a sense of doom. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. This time, no doom. Other than the shortened cervix, everything else is going much better. The contractions are there, but generally not bad. Very few bloody noses so far. Last time they were daily at least for several months. My back has been great. Heartburn is minimal and so far I don't have that really bad pain under my lower right my ribs.

I have a feeling that there are many things that I will have wished I had done when I only had one child to deal with, but I can't think of anything to actually do. Well, the one thing I can think of is grocery shopping, but that's not something that I can do now to avoid later.

Earlier in this pregnancy I was seriously worried about the idea of caring for 2 little ones. I still feel a touch of panic when D and I are in some situation with Bacon that is taking effort from both of us and he asks if I can imagine it with two. But, Bacon, who is now 19 months old, is getting so grown up that it doesn't seem so bad. Multiples sounds overwhelming to me. Sleep deprivation is simply bad no matter how many kids/babies there are. While I definitely expect two to be much busier, I'm not nearly as frightened as I was when Bacon was younger and her needs more similar to those of a younger baby.

Pregnancy has a lot of good things, but, for me, its also a time of some fear about the future; both near and far. I can't physically do what I want to do. I'm not earning my potential. I'm facing time off of work with even less income coming in, plus a sidestep in my "career," and well, I look funny. Its not that I think that I won't get back to where I want to at work and that D will find some hot young thing. But, I'm definitely a bit off balance and feel less certain about myself.

D and I don't talk about the future much. We've started a college fund for Bacon and will for baby x. We've spoken a bit about vacations in the next few years. (This year got skipped with bedrest and D's new job.) But D has said a few things lately that I just find - cool; reassuring; sweet; wonderful - that I'm assuming have a lot to do with pregnancy hormones and this sense of vague uncertainty. The other day we were out driving somewhere when D noted that some day we will have spent more time together than we have apart. This morning I was talking about something and his response was that whatever it was wouldn't happen until we were retired. We've been together for less than five years. I'm 40. Clearly, these times that are coming are decades away. For some reason (hormones?), his simple assumption that these events will come to pass just makes me say awwww, on the inside of course.

The other night I had a dream that I was back to working full time and it felt wonderful. I woke up thinking about the dream. The feelings were so strong, yet so different than work actually feels in real life. I enjoy the work part of work. I like the challenges and the successes, and well, the income. I don't like the politics and in particular, some of the interpersonal issues of my actual job. I also don't enjoy the stress associated with the balancing. Today was a day of very bad balance - my fault. It was a no nanny day that I needed to work for an unknown period. Back-up plan D was finally in place - my wonderful friend L agreed to watch Bacon while I was busy. And I was a bad friend. I went hours over my estimated time with a dead cell phone and without calling her. I kept thinking that we were close to wrapping up and I'd call when I was heading out. Things kept stretching out. They were worried. They ended up calling D. He was worried. He went to pick up Bacon without a carseat. L had to feed Bacon dinner. She went through all of the diapers I sent. Traffic was horrible. It took me forever to get there.

I apologized and will apologize again to both L and D. I hate being a bad friend. I try to be thoughtful, but sometimes, like today, I totally blow it. It was all me -- strangely enough (1) trying to only pay for parking that I would need while not getting ticketed or towed -- I ended up moving the car twice; and (2) representing my client while doing things as quickly as possible which included follow up calls to my office and the client and getting my office to do on-line research for me (the work was out of the office). Boy, I can make things complicated when I really try.