My Story

The chronicle of the journey from infertility, to miscarriage, to finally raising twin girls born in June 2012.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

F You Finances!

I've spent the last 24 hours feeling especially hopeless.  Hopeless about money, hopeless about my future, hopeless at my chances of ever becoming anything in life.

There's a new focus.  By the time I'm 45, I want to be raising 2 kids.  So my current 35 year old self has some choices to make.

Do I tread softly trying to save my financial future at the risk of not having those 2 kids, or do I say fuck it, throw all caution to the wind and go for broke?  Literally.

I'm going for broke.  I'm going to extend every line of credit, take out whatever loans are available, and go into whatever debt it takes.

If it's a choice between living in a tent the rest of my life while the debt collectors try to hunt me down and having my kids versus keeping my house and manageable credit card payments with no family to bury me when my time comes, I'm getting those kids.

I'll be making a new appointment with my IVF doctor to determine what my smartest reproductive choices are right now regardless of the financial choices.  No more of this "well, you have a good chance with the embryos you've got, let's see how that works out."  NO.

No more draining the bank account one attempt at a time hoping to save money in the long run.  That's the decision we made a year ago and it didn't work out for us.  If we had prepurchased the 3 attempt plan, we would still have another attempt in the bank for not much more that we've already spent.  I will NOT be looking back on this moment in 5 years having done the same thing over and over again and have nothing to show for it.

I will do whatever it takes to get the money in my hands NOW so that I can prepurchase a plan that has the most attempts for the best price.  Without further details, I believe that's a program that offers 3 fresh attempts and 3 frozen transfers for a discounted price by paying up front in a lump sum.

The success rates that have to do with age are based on the age at which the embryos are created.  So I'm going to spend the next year doing as many fresh attempts as it takes to get pregnant and freezing any extra embryos that are created.  If the next three attempts fail, I should have plenty of frozen attempts banked by then.  We got 5 embyos out of the last attempt.  We implanted 2 and banked 3.  If that pattern keeps up for three more attempts, I'll have about a dozen embryos frozen when I was either 35 or 36.

So if one of the fresh attempts works, and I have my first baby, my 40 year old self will have better embryos to work with in order to try for my second child.  And since stress is one of the factors in success, I will have less stress knowing that I have more attempts if this one doesn't work, so my stress will be a lot lower, thus my chances of success higher.  If it costs me more to have that security and be successful on the first try than than it would have been to take the cautious option and being stressed out the whole time....I'm perfectly happy with that first successful attempt costing more than 3 failed ones.

I simply refuse to look back on this moment and say I made smarter financial decisions, but dumber reproductive decisions.

So I'm risking it all.  My house, bankruptcy, starvation, whatever it takes.  In my life, having children is more important to me than anything else in the world I hold dear - except my husband.  If it's a choice between my husband and my kids, I'll choose my husband.  But if it's a choice between money and my kids?  I'm choosing kids.

This is the opposite of everything we've ever known.  We are both the responsible, don't get in over your head types.  There are going to be times when I'm going to regret doing this to my credit rating, but I'd rather regret being broke than regret being alone.  K is trepidacious, but when it came right down to it, he's on board with this decision.  It's dumb, it's not the wisest thing in the world, but it's a considered, eyes wide open decision.

So now that the decision is made, there's only one question left.  How do I go about being this dumb as intelligently as possible?

I'm terrified.

Damnit, it feels new again

I was plugging along pretty well there for about a week.  Yup, back to my old self.

I don't know what's got me today but I feel like I'm brand new to this grieving thing again.

I spent the day in the pottery studio, merrily ignoring my brain and just making big ole mugs and goblets.  Actually got quite a bit done.

But as soon as I'm in the house, I'm obsessive again and I'm crying.  And it's 2:30am, I've taken my sleeping pill hours ago and it never even made me drowsy.  I'm terrified to lay down because as soon as I stop obsessively web browsing, I'm going to cry again.

Maybe it's because I'm having brunch with extended family in the morning.  It will be the first time I see aunts/uncles/cousins/grandma since it happened.  Everyone knows so I'm probably going to get a lot of sad faces and "how are you?"  I have no idea how to respond to that.  "I'm in the middle of a complete and total nonfunctioning breakdown, but how are you?"  I'm not even sure just how fast the news spread through my family, but the gift basket from one branch arrived on my doorstep a day or two after it happened so I'm thinking pretty damned fast.

I feel like I'm going to be sitting there, keeping my head down, eating my breakfast and avoiding any talk about my life because my life sucks donkey balls right now and there's simply no getting around it.  It's hard to visit with Grandma when I have absolutely nothing positive to say right now.  And her hearing isn't all that great so anything I do manage to say I'm going to have to say it pretty loud in the restaurant.

I don't think shouting "I miss my dead babies and I wish I could have them back" across the restaurant is a really swell idea.

And I'm probably going to hear stories of other relatives who went through miscarriages and went on to have happy babies.  Swell.  It's kind of ok when I see others stories on message boards, but I'm not sure I really want the stories so close to home.

Someone else being in pain doesn't ease my pain at all so why would it be comforting to tell me about the pain someone I care about has endured?  Telling me about that switches my role from the one who needs to be comforted, to becoming the comforter of their pain.  I ain't got that in me right now.

A relative sent me a very nice card outlining her journey.  Actually, I'm not certain how she's related.  Kind of a cousin of a cousin of a cousin kind of thing.  I don't think I would recognize her walking down the street but I'm familiar with her name and what branch of the family that she's closest to. 

I received this with mixed emotions.  First and foremost, she hardly knows me at all and she took the time and emotional energy to reach out to me.  That's pretty damned swell of her.  And there was a comfort in knowing I'm not alone.  On the other hand, she went through several losses before she finally got her son.  I'm barely surviving my first loss of 2 babies, I can't imagine going though this half a dozen more times.  Holy shit, is that in my future???  Once it happens once, it's probably going to happen again???  NOT what I want to hear right now. 

When others tell their stories of multiple losses, I kind of feel like they are trying to one up me.  I think we all know that game that we play on a daily basis of oh your day sucked?  Well let me tell you how much mine sucked worse!  Is that what's happening when people tell you how many miscarriages they had to endure?

By the way, I don't interpret this particular person as doing that.  Her letter was really very nice and when I have the gumption to respond with more than "I'm sad" I'll write her back.

Damnit, I've started crying again.  I'll be curled up in the fetal position on the couch if anyone needs me.

I'm just a failure

Feeling pretty hopeless today.

I've done exactly one thing right since becoming an adult.  I met and married my husband.

Everything else I've tried has completely gone to shit.

I really expected to be something by the time I was 35.  I never wanted to be a captain of industry or anything big like that, but I thought I'd at least have a career track, more money in the bank than I had in debt, I'd be a mom.

But nope.  Didn't accomplish any of those things.  I'm still applying for the same entry level jobs I was applying for when I was 20.  The difference is, back then, I got responses when I applied.

No kids to show for it.  As my business tanked over the course of the last 2 years, I figured oh well, I guess I wasn't meant to run a business, maybe being a stay at home mom and housewife will be the right direction for me.  And now I've failed at that too.

I don't understand why I have the brains and abilities to help others through their problems but I can't seem to see what it is I'm doing wrong myself so I can fix it.  Seriously.  When I'm in various forums and someone poses a problem, I'm usually one of 20 responses and the person always singles my response out as the brilliant one and the one that fixes their problem.

So why is it that I can point other people in the right direction, but seem to take the wrong turns myself?

I'm using all of my energy to tread water and I'm still getting swept out with the tide.  How can I ever get closer to shore when I don't even have enough energy to keep myself in place?  No matter what I seem to do, I go backwards.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Can't sleep

It's 4am, I've taken 1 1/3 of an ambien and I'm still not sleeping.

I'm back at my computer because the last thing I want to do is lie in bed and not sleep.  That leads to thinking.  Don't wanna think. 

I've been in this little bubble of denial that's serving me quite well actually.  It feels like I'm back at the beginning of all of this when we were still deciding between adoption and IVF.  The whole concept of having kids are vaguely in the distant future.  Much easier than feeling the recency of them in the past.

I'm a crier now.  I've never been a crier before.  But it's always just below the surface.  If anything doesn't go my way, I cry.  So I'm not doing much of anything significant.  I'm afraid that if I do, and it doesn't go right, massive meltdown.  So I'm keeping busy with random, unimportant tasks.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Twins were my reward

Petty thought time.

One of my fears about getting pregnant again, having a singleton boy.  Everyone tells me that if that's what comes along, of course that's exactly what I'll want the moment he's here.  And part of me agrees.  Of course I'm going to love whoever comes along.

But since I'm not there yet.....

I kind of felt like twins were my reward for going through such hell to get pregnant.  And they were identical girls to boot.  I mean really, what are the odds of identical twin girls?

According to Twin Statistics the odds of having identical twins is 1 in 285.  So the odds of having identical twin girls is 1 in 570.  Yeah yeah, not so rare, but rare to me!  And identical twin girls were the fantasy I never even allowed myself to fully fantasize about since the odds of my getting them were so slim.

And I had them!  I had the fantasy!  That was my reward for doing everything right.  For getting my education, staying away from drugs, treating my bipolar disorder properly rather than trying to drink it away, for marrying a wonderful man, for setting up a stable life with a house and the ability to work from home, for failing at one IVF attempt and having to drain the bank account for the second attempt.  They were my reward for doing everything so fucking right in life.

The odds of a second set of identical of twins, 1 in 70,000 or less.  And thus identical girls, 1 in 140,000.


Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I feel so cheated!  Of course I'll love whoever comes along, but FUCK!  I want identical twin girls!  I always have!  I had them in my belly and now they're gone!

It's like being bankrupt and unemployed, then winning the lottery.  Not just the local lottery with a couple hundred bucks, but the monster million lottery.  And everyone is congratulating you and you've started to look for a house to buy so you can get out of the streets and you're living a decent life for a few months, finally free of the daily fear and hunger.  And you're just soaring and marveling at your good fortune at winning such a long shot.  What are the odds of something so fabulous?  And then the bank calls, says the lottery check bounced, once again you have nothing, and you go back to the shelter, even more broke because now all of the checks you wrote during those months have now bounced too.

And every day you have to explain to yet another person why you're life is in the shit hole again.

Right now, I feel like the next pregnancy will be like winning a hundred bucks after losing the million.  And don't tell me how horrible I am for feeling like that or that any healthy baby is like a million bucks cuz my brain already knows that.  I just don't feel it.  And if I still feel this way in March, I'll put off the FET for another month until I get over this.  No I won't.  Don't have a shot at getting either of my girls back until I try the FET.  So I guess I'll just risk some disappointment during the pregnancy for the reward of falling completely in love at birth.

The sex question

Just in case someone is reading this in chronological order and wondering what ever happened to the question of whether or not I could ever have sex again.

Yes, there is is sex after miscarriage.  Yes, there are some awkward thoughts that run through your mind in momentary flashes, but for the most part, it's the same as it was before the pregnancy.  Still not as high on my priority list as it once was though.


Had my follow-up with Dr. C yesterday.  Not a whole lot to report that we didn't already know.

It was a random thing.  We don't need to get rid of the cats because the bacteria they warn you about with cat feces wasn't the same one that got us. 

I must have misunderstood when I was in the hospital.  I could have sworn Dr. C told me that the second baby was also infected.  It turns out that it hadn't actually reached her yet.  It reached the first twin and she did have some distress.  The placenta and the cord were infected but it didn't actually reach the second twin yet.  But it was creeping down that cord, coming to get her and there would have been no escape.  And I had at most about 36 hours before the infection spread to me to a degree that it would have taken my whole reproductive system and possibly my life.

I wavered on whether or not this information made me feel better or worse.  I'm doing my best to let it make me feel better.  She never knew that my body had betrayed her.  She never felt any distress caused by my body.  The only distress she ever knew was at the hands of the doctors and I'm sure that was quick.  Sorry Dr. C, but I'm really glad it was you that caused the only pain she ever knew and not me.

I almost feel like there's some forgiveness for that.  Like she's out there somewhere saying "I had no idea that your body was failing.  No, really, the entire time I was there, life was good."

And I've been feeling guilty about not insisting on being seen when I had that mucousy discharge a few days before.  But he said that if I had, they would have pumped me with antibiotics (which wouldn't have helped), attempted a cerclage, and doing so probably would have either ruptured the weaker sac or added more puncture points for the infection to spread faster.  So by NOT going in, we probably delayed their deaths by a day or two.

I told him about the marketing research phone call of pure insensitivity and he agrees that the administrators need that feedback.  So he provided me his email address and when I'm in a position to write a professional letter rather than an emotional one, I'll do that and he'll forward it.

And I asked him to tell the nurse that was on duty that night that I know it was a shitty night at work for her and that there's not this random woman out there in the world who hates her or anything.  I know she did a good job and did what she could and I'm not angry at her just because things didn't work out the way I wanted them to.  He said that she had expressed some concern about that so it's good that she'll get a little bit of closure by hearing that I'm not angry with her or anything like that.

And I wasn't so sure about Dr. C during the pregnancy portion of this blog, but I'm pretty sure about him now.  He's clearly a man who went into his profession because he wants to help people and he doesn't have the ego that so many doctors are guilty of.  My situation honestly stressed him the fuck out and while I certainly don't wish anyone else to have a negative experience, knowing that he reacted to my situation with empathy and that it caused him some pain, well, yeah, that's the guy I want watching over my next pregnancy.

My body can carry to term if I get lucky again.  My body can carry twins if I get that lucky again.  This was just a random thing like a fall down the stairs or something.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Finally said something I've wanted to say for years

I really hate those people that come door to door and try to convert you to their church.  I often come home to find some sort of religious pamphlet stuffed into the crack of my door.  And while I've searched each piece of paper for a phone number to tell them to not come onto my property again, oddly enough, there's never any contact information other than a time and place to go to a service.

On the rare occasion that they catch me at home, I'm always very polite and send them on their way.

But tonight, not so much.  I was already feeling argumentative so I decided that social convention can go to hell and if you're going to bother me, I'm going to tell you why I'm so friggin bothered.

First of all dudes, you are 2 men, probably in your 20's, dressed in dark clothing on your bikes.  And you approached a woman who was by herself, at night, in the dark, at the mailbox.  The fact that you were approaching me in the first place put me totally on guard as I didn't know if you wanted to mug me or what.

You politely asked if you could give me some information about your church.  This put me on guard for 2 reasons - 1)  If I interact with you, this might be a ruse to put you in a position to attack me, and 2)  I REALLY don't want to hear about your god right now.

I find this rude, and ill advised so fine, I'm going to be rude and ill advised in return.

So I told one of the guys flat out, in an angry, somewhat loud tone "I just had a miscarriage and I'm so pissed off at any version of god right now, that your church can shove it.  Please just be on your way."

One was very nice and said he was sorry for my loss and moved ahead a little bit but the other hung back and continued to try to engage me.  "I'm sorry for your loss, but if it's any help, I believe....."

And I put my hands up to stop him as he tried to convince me "No, this will help you..."

So I got angry and told him "You going from place to place and inflicting your beliefs on me is OFFENSIVE under the best of circumstances and downright intolerable right now under the worst.  Seriously, you need to move on."  And yes, that was a threat that I issued.

And I'm so angry that I'm shaking but he finally rides off.  And I get the mail and a wave of pain and tension goes through my body so I'm standing there for a moment unable to move as my lower back spasms out of control and my legs are about to buckle.

I deserve some credit here.  I was brief while I really wanted to give him 101 reasons why it's so wrong for his church to send him and his cohorts out into the neighborhoods try to convert me to their beliefs when we live in the land of the free.  And I really wanted to, was physically URGED to grab his face and twisting every piece of metal from that bike into a ring around his neck, but all he endured was an uncomfortable moment with an overly emotional woman.

They not only scared me by approaching me in the dark, but the anger he triggered caused me physical pain. 


Now I'm wondering if they are going to show up at my door as a part of the evening rounds they were already on.  My mailbox is on the corner, away from my house so they have no way of knowing what house the crazy lady lives in.  If there's a knock at my door, I might be a little less, reserved, than I was on the corner.

I want to argue

Feeling really argumentative.  Just want to get into some sort of battle where I can verbally beat down some unworthy opponent!

But I ain't got no one to argue with.  K and I just simply don't disagree about a whole lot and we both have a talent for coming to a mutual conclusion on the rare occasion that we do disagree without actually arguing about it.

But oh man!  I just really want to deliver some sort of smack down!

Watch out people in the forums I frequent.  If you step outta line, I'm gonna be there to smack you back in!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Can I have a do over?

It was going so well.  Heartbeats were strong from the very beginning.

Once we saw the heartbeats the first time, my chances of a miscarriage dropped.  Once we passed the 8 week mark and still had 2 strong heartbeats, my chances of a miscarriage dropped again and we passed the hump of vanishing twin syndrome.  Then we got passed that first trimester with no problems, everybody was healthy, strong, just the size they were supposed to be.  And my odds of a miscarriage dropped to practically nothing.

17 week ultra sound and once again, everyone is strong, healthy, heartbeats and measurements right where they're supposed to be.  Oh look!  Little spines are formed and visible!  And the legs look like legs and are bending and kicking.  Those are little people now and not just blobbies on the screen.  Yup!  Everything is right on track!

18 weeks and uh oh, gestational diabetes.  Better make sure this hasn't started affecting them at all so we're going to run pretty much every test we have available.  Several days of stabbing myself an hour after I eat anything to check blood numbers, several vials of blood at the lab getting tests run.

18 weeks, 4 days, wow we're healthy!  All those vials of blood came back with the exact numbers we want them to be.  Food diary and all of those numbers recorded after eating, looks great! Only 3 numbers out of 50 or so are elevated and by such a minimal amount it barely even counts.  I'll get to see them again on the ultra sound in 2 days and I can't wait.  And I should feel them move any minute now.

18 weeks, 6 days and my water is broken, the girls are riddled with infection and I'm in surgery ending the pregnancy before it kills all three of us.  At 1pm, instead of watching my girls on a screen, my doctor is removing them from my body.

What the fuck happened?  And when the fuck did it happen?  Can't I just go back to that 17 week point and see if I can live the next 2 weeks again?  See if I can get it right this time?  They were perfect at that appointment.  I saw them being perfect!  Why can't I just go back to that point and give it another go from there?  Why are those 17-18 weeks of perfect just thrown away?

If there had been problems from the start that we were desperately hoping to overcome, it would have been somewhat understandable to not be able to overcome them.  But we weren't that pregnancy!  We were a perfect pregnancy!  We should have been able to guard against any downturn as it came along!  I don't understand how we go from perfect to shit overnight.

Can I please try those last couple of weeks again?  Please?

Had to mention it again today

I called my video company with a question today about my shoot.  While we were on the phone, the person asked me when I was due.  That question wasn't in response to me being fat, I had told her a month or two ago that I was pregnant and would be avoiding shoots that were in nail salons (fumes) and I probably wouldn't be going up on roofs for roofing companies for a while.  She probably saw that in my notes, it reminded her that I was pregnant, and she was asking both out of polite curiosity and to know when I would no longer be available for video shoots.

And I had to say that I miscarried over the holidays and that I'm a little scattered at the moment, thus, the confusion about some paperwork I was looking at that I probably would have figured out on my own if I were fully together at the moment.

She was very polite about it, offered the standard "I'm so sorry" and I got through the moment ok.

I made my follow-up appointment with Dr. C so that will be happening next week.  I've requested the first appointment of the day and can I please be shuttled back to a room as soon as I get there.  I really don't want to sit in a waiting room with a bunch of happy pregnant women.  And I've opted to skip the pelvic exam and just go in for a basic follow-up and to learn what I can about what happened. 

So my latest trigger is thinking about that appointment, what questions I have, and what I might learn.  They'll have the pathology report for me.  I asked if anyone had taken pictures of the girls after they were born.  Mostly so I could prepare myself to be presented with that if that's the case.  But no, no pictures were taken.  I'm a little sad about that, but I also think it's for the best (for me). 

The last clear picture I have in my head is Christina dancing on the ultrasound at 17 weeks and I'm just as happy with that being my lasting mental image.  As curious as I am to know what they looked like, it's also possible that an image like that would be haunting.  So for me, it's best to just be able to imagine what they could have been, to remember them dancing, and to not have a true image of their deaths to overshadow those mental pictures.

But I have learned from the nurse on the phone that they measured at 18 weeks and 4 days.  They measured at 16 weeks, 4 days at my last ultrasound appointment exactly 2 weeks prior so they were growing just as they should have been right up until the very last moment.  I'm not sure if that makes this better or worse. 

It makes me wonder if we had waited, would they have continued to grow?  If we had been able to hold off for a few weeks, would they have grown large enough to be viable and have a chance at survival?  I have to trust that the doctors would not have performed the D&E if there was any possibility of that.  But I still can't help but wonder and feel guilty about it.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Scary Reaction

About a week or so after I lost the girls, I did have one reaction that I didn't blog about.  And I didn't blog about it cuz it scared the living daylights out of me.

I don't even really know how to describe it.

We were on the couch watching a movie.  Just trying to pass the time in between crying jags.  I felt a jag coming on and asked K to pause the movie cuz I felt like it was gonna be a big one.

Oh my lord was it ever.  I don't even know what the hell happened to me.  I started sobbing and my body started twisting in on itself.  I was panicking, wailing, twisting, writhing, just freaking out beyond all comprehension.  It was painful.  And loud.  And uncontrollable.  I was screaming and wailing, almost like I had been during labor.

And that paragraph doesn't do the experience justice.

And then it passed.  Lasted about 10 minutes, and then I started to get my breath again and started saying "what the hell was that?  I've never seen anyone do that!  I've never even seen that in a movie or anything!"

And K just kind of quietly said "I have."

"Really?  When did you ever see a reaction like that?"

"When your water broke."


It was too intense to blog about before now.  And I leave it here in case anyone else experiences something like this.  It was incredible.  Nothing triggered it, it just suddenly happened, for no reason.  And I'm terrified of it happening again.

I married real good

ME:  Wanna take the chocolate pie out of the freezer to defrost for later?

K:  I already did.

ME:  When did you do that?

K:  About 10 seconds before you asked me to.

Oh yeah, that's my man!

Monday, January 10, 2011


Big goal for today.  Eat at regular intervals.

I just haven't been able to look in the fridge and find anything to eat.  I'm not a cook anyway, so just figuring out what to eat has been so difficult.  So I've been eating barely enough to make it through the day until K comes home and feeds me.  Yes, he makes dinner, puts it in front of me, and I eat as much as I can tolerate which tends to be about half the dinner.  So it's become a daily chore for him, like at the end of his day he's thinking "gotta go home and feed the wife" the same way someone else would say "gotta get home and walk the dog".

But left to my own devices, the best I can seem to do is a little cottage cheese and the occasional granola bar.

Had instant oatmeal with my latte this morning.  Now eating left overs from last nights dinner.  Don't really want to be eating, but I promised I'd make an effort today.

Whoopidy doo, big friggin progress.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Going Backwards

I was doing ok for a couple of days but now I feel like I've taken a few steps back.  More crying, more snotty tissues.

Still feel like I'm in that hospital room and I could have said or did something different to make this come out better. What I wanted to say was "I'm just going to lie here and do nothing until the hearts stop beating.  And if mine stops first, that's just fine and dandy with me!"  But they seemed pretty convinced that mine was going to stop first  Still wish I had been stronger and kept to that that conviction.

And I keep hearing that damned Chili's theme song in my head - I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back, I want my baby back......

Friday, January 7, 2011

McLendon's Kicks Home Depot's Ass

Totally off topic post here.

Home Depot is less than a mile from me while McLendons is a couple of miles away.  Not a big difference, but I will go to McLendons every single time.

Why?  Because I don't think I've ever walked in there with a problem and walked out without a solution.

A year and a half ago, I bought some paint for the bedroom.  After going over colors and getting my paint mixed, I went home and had some regrets.  I checked one of the colors and confirmed my suspicions, it was too bubble gum instead of rosey.  And it was my own fault.  They mixed the colors as I asked them too, but I had given them a sample that was too pink.

So I went back in with my receipt and the paint a few days later.  I wasn't expecting a refund or anything, I was fully prepared to just buy a new thing of paint and have them mix the color anew.  But I figured someone might want the bubblegum paint so maybe I could give it back to them and they could resell it as a discard or something.

But as soon as I told the paint guy my problem, he bent over backwards to fix it!  I made certain that he understood that it was my own mistake and they didn't do anything that needed correcting, but he still insisted that he give it a shot.  He added all sorts of pigments and remixed my old pink and came up with a color that I was perfectly happy with.  All of this effort, all of that extra pigment and materials and he didn't charge me one cent!  I had fully intended to simply purchase new paint, and instead, they fixed the paint I already had for free.

And today.  I wanted a couple of shelves for my bookcase and headed down there to see if they had something prefabricated that would fit.  Nope, everything they had available was a few inches too short or way too long.  So I asked the person at the painting station if there was someone who could help me with shelving.  She walked over with a measuring tape, asked what I was trying to do and said that they could cut down one of the longer shelves to fit.  Sweet!  So we found a really long shelf that would yield 2 shelves of the size I wanted and she handed it off to a second guy to cut down after warning me of the rough edges. 

I even asked if I should go purchase the shelf and come back with it to be cut down, and she told me not to worry about it, just let him cut it down and then checkout. 

Is it perfect?  No.  It's about a quarter of an inch too deep so the corner sticks out a little.  And she said that if it didn't fit right when I got home, just to bring it back in and they could trim it any way I like.  But you know what?  It's 95% there and I'm perfectly happy with that.  Too lazy to take them back in to trim them.

If I go to Home Depot, I rarely walk out with a purchase.  There's no one to help me find or make what I want.  But the sales associates and I always find a perfectly good solution when I go to McLendons and I always walk out of there with a purchase.  Whatever you've spent on assisting me McLendons, you've earned it back in my loyalty and with every additional purchase I've made from you because of that previous assistance.

Job Interview

After our counseling appointment today (went fine, minimal tears), I had a job interview.

I'm currently hunting for something part-time but long term.  It's not just for the income, that's more of a beneficial side effect, it's mostly because I need to be a part of the world again.  I'm such a recluse that I'll use just about any excuse to hide out at home.  And the "I'm about to pregnant" and "I'm pregnant with twins" became a really darned good excuse.

But even when I was on my way to Mommyland, that wasn't the wisest decision for me.  K was right, if I had gone into Mommyland with no other lands to belong to, I probably would have woken up one day, with toddlers in my life, and nothing else.  That's not who I am.  I need an adult identity outside of my kids (whenever they get here).

And work as a videographer is just too unreliable.  I've held out as long as I can, but one or two gigs a month isn't enough.  But those one or two gigs a month are fun, and profitable, and I'd like to continue to take them when they come along.

So off to my job interview this afternoon.  Office Manager for a small office, 16 hours per week, mornings.  Awesome.  I can hold down something steady and still be able to take 90% of the video jobs I'm offered.  And I'm not big on giant corporate so a small office usually works out pretty good for me.

I head in and I'm immediately given a typing test.  Okey dokey,  Crappy keyboard, almost like a laptop keyboard and I totally biff it on the first go.  35WPM.  I haven't typed that slow in 20 years!  Second and third go around net me 65WPM, but I generally average closer to 75WPM when on a decent keyboard.  Oh well, they wanted someone with 60WPM so my 65WPM on a crappy keyboard will do.

When I head in, I'm immediately asked 3 questions that I don't think they can legally ask.  Am I married?  How old am I?  Do I have any children?  Ok, wow.  Correct me if I'm wrong in the comments, but in the State of Washington, I thought those kinds of questions were illegal in a job interview.  Especially asking about parental status.

And I was so not ready for that question.  Do I have kids?  I'm doing my best to not be flustered, but they got me.  It just so happens that the employer is a forensic psychologist, and I have one of those faces that may as well be a novel because every word I think crosses my face.  I figure these two can tell I'm a bit smacked by the question so I figure I may as well answer as honestly as I can.  "I miscarried a couple of weeks ago and I haven't decided yet how to answer that question.  But no, I don't have any children at home." 

And later in the questioning, I'm asked if I intend to get pregnant again.  Ok, WHOA!  I'm REALLY certain you're not allowed to ask me THAT!  But again, I do my best to keep my composure while being honest.  "I'm don't even know if that's a possibility, but even if it is, I'm looking for a position that I'm able to maintain regardless.  I intend to have an identity outside of the home."  It probably didn't come out quite that succinct, but that's the gist of how I answered.

And during the interview, it comes out that this guy knows my dad and he's rather impressed when he finds out who my dad is.  And I agree, my dad is a very impressive guy!  I'm not exactly sure how it works, but I think expert testimony is a hired position, hired by either judges, lawyers, or the court as an entity.  And since part of this guys job is expert testimony, it's in his best interest for the court to like him.  And my dad being a judge, and a very respected one at that, well....

So as I'm leaving, I kind of feel the table turn a little bit as he says something about say hi to my dad and something mushy to the effect of he'd like to be called upon more often.  So it was kind of like he was asking me to put in a good word for him.

I don't think I'm going to be offered the job.  Despite the fact that I know I want to be somewhere part time for a long time, I can totally see why someone else wouldn't be convinced of that.  But if I am offered the job, I think I'll politely decline.  I'm really not comfortable with the line of questioning, very few questions about my skills, more about my personal life, and the commute would suck.

But I'm signing up with an agency next week that specializes in freelance work for us creative folks.  I've downloaded a trial version of the most recent Microsoft Office so I can update my PowerPoint skills since that seems to be my most hireable ability.  I get the impression that they will be offering jobs that last a week or two at 40 hours per week.  Since I know most of my video gigs about 2 weeks in advance, I can accept or turn down gigs from both places as my schedule allows.  I'm hoping they are able to keep me working often enough to make a financial impact while allowing me the flexibility to keep myself available elsewhere.  I'll keep glancing at the part-time positions but I think I'll give the agency about a month to see how much actual work will come my way through them.

Ah, the employment balancing act of a freelancer.

And just because I've been so text heavy, here's a picture of our mini kitty.  There's a heating vent under her.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

And we're back

Exactly 2 weeks after losing our girls, we're back in the fertility clinic talking about our next attempt. 

We have 3 frozen embryos from the last IVF cycle.  And it looks like we'll be spending the next year or so banking on those.  As much as I want to go for a fresh cycle to increase my odds and to make additional frozen embryos to try with as I get older, unless some generous soul drops $20k on us in the next couple of weeks, a fresh round is simply not feasible.

So we have one, possibly 2 attempts in the bank.  Depends on the quality when they thaw on whether they will immediately transfer 2 or all 3.

Since in our successful attempt we transferred 2 fresh embryos and ended up with identical twins, this tells us that one embryo didn't take at all, and one split.

So if they thaw and transfer 2 frozen embryos which have a slightly lower success rate than fresh, there are several possible outcomes:

Nothing takes and no babies
One takes making one baby.
One takes and splits making identical twins.
Both take making 2 babies, fraternal.
Both take and one splits making a total of three babies, one fraternal triplet and 2 identical.  Might have a hard decision to make.
Both take and both split making 4 babies, 2 sets of identical twins and a really, REALLY hard decision in our future.

The first two outcomes are the most likely to actually happen.  But I'm not going to lie, I'm really hoping for twins again.  We ultimately want 2 children, however they get to us, and financially, getting them both at the same time would allow us to spend more on the raising of those children than creating them.

I've got another prescription for Metformin to try to stave off gestational diabetes again.  And it helps me lose weight in the mean time.  And I've got a prescription for a few rounds of Provera so I can regulate my periods without having to go on the pill which is somewhat counter intuitive to the baby making process.

We're looking at starting the process in March and/or April.  It feels wrong for me to spend May trying to make new babies since that's when we expected to have these babies.  And when March gets here, I might feel it's too soon even though I would probably start today if I could.

Our anniversary is May 1.  My birthday is May 2.  K's birthday is May 5.  If the girls didn't come on their own by May 7th, we would have induced at that point.  I used to joke that one will be born just before midnight and the other would be born just after midnight making their birthdays May 3 and 4.

If we move forward as we currently expect to, we're either going to be getting good news for our birthdays, or that's just going to be one miserable week.

Sneak attack sadness

So after feeling like I was doing pretty well for a couple of days, I got hit again last night.

About 2am, I've taken only 1/3 of a sleeping pill and I'm not feeling very sleepy.  I'm about to turn off the light and I start having those warm fuzzy thoughts that one wants to have when about to go to sleep. 

But the warm fuzzy thoughts are about what the next year is going to be like and then I remember that my go to warm fuzzy thoughts are no longer something to fantasize about.  My next year is not going to be about tucking in babies and sitting on the couch with two babies for lunchtime.

And a whole new wave of sad and tears hit almost as if I hadn't realized that before.

I think I'll take the entire prescribed sleep aid tonight.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

They'll be back

I have this nagging belief that they'll be back. 

I'm not stupid, I know I'm not going to magically wake up and be entering week 21 of the pregnancy like I should be.

And spiritually, I have no defined beliefs so I can't really pin point the idea there either.

But, they'll be back.  They might come back one at a time, they might decide to be boys next time, I dunno.

But it's like I've always had 2 children, they were just waiting for us to create a body for them.  Guess they didn't like the two I was cooking up and would like us to try making something a little different.

Talked to K about this last night.  Mostly because I don't know if this is a safe little delusion to go ahead and believe in.  And because I don't want him to look at me with pity like I'm deluded.  And I don't want to go on believing something that dishonors what he believes about his girls.  We'll talk to the counselor about it and get her opinion.  But as far as delusions go, this seems to be an ok one not to force my brain to correct.

But will I be betraying my girls if I feel like one of them has returned when I'm pregnant again?  No longer mourning because I will feel like what I've lost is back in my belly?  Will I be denying the next baby who s/he is by ascribing him/her with the essence of a previous child?

We didn't get far enough along to believe that they had personalities or real identities yet.  Or at least any means of demonstrating those personalities.  We gave them names, and I've kind of given them identities, but not completely. 

That's probably why I was so obsessed with trying to feel them move for the first time.  I think that when the mother feels them move, that's the first direct communication between the child and the mother.  Everything else we saw of them was what the doctors told us and showed us rather than a direct line of communication.  I wasn't yet in a place where I could know them to be there except when it was shown to me on the monitors and ultrasounds.  So there was a disconnect in the information loop.  They couldn't communicate with me yet via kicks or other tangible communications. 

One might even argue that when I saw one dancing, it was nothing more than a biological reaction to the sugar in the orange juice I drank before going in for the ultrasound.  So being rational people, but with some sense of spirituality, we are stuck constantly debating within our own heads whether we believe that they were already little people, or that they were just biological organisms that reacted to stimuli in a scientifically explainable manner.

So I seem to be settling on the idea that we have 2 children out there in the ether somewhere.  And that they checked out the bodies we were cooking for them, tried them on for a time, and decided to wait to see what the next body offers and to go ahead and reject these two.  And it's even possible that they will prefer the bodies that a different couple can provide and we'll get them back via adoption. 

But when they're ready, and when the right body is made for them, they'll be back.

Feels like it wasn't real

The farther the pregnancy gets away from me in time, the more unreal it feels.  It's been just under 2 weeks and it feels like it was years ago or never happened at all.  Maybe it was just a game I was playing?  Or a dream I was having?  Whatever it was, I was really enjoying it at the time.

I'm physically smaller than I was during any of my pregnancy.  I'm currently about 10lbs lighter than when I conceived.  I'm assuming that will pack back on when I start eating regularly again, but for the moment, I'm considerably smaller than I was.  I guess my improved diet during my pregnancy helped me to lose some of my fat while I was gaining baby weight.  Now that the baby weight is gone, I'm left with a little less fat than I had when I started.

The bleeding has almost stopped.  Just a few traces now.  I suspect it will be gone by tomorrow.  The last remaining trace of what I had.

My boobs seem to have settled down.  It's been a few days since I've seen any traces of leakage and the firmness has pretty much gone away.

I'm both grateful and regretful for this current state of affairs.  On the grateful side, I don't just hurt anymore.  I can actually live like a living person to a certain extent.  On the regretful side, at least while I was actively mourning, I was still involved with my girls in some way.

But I also have the luxury and burden of not needing to leave the house or interact with anyone if I don't want to.  I don't have a job to go to (but I'm trying to change that) and I don't have any social obligations to worry about.  So I also don't have to be faced with random triggers throughout my day.  K has had to deal with a few triggers.  Like the very pregnant coworker.  Or the comment he overheard from someone stating he was going to be a dad to 2 pretty soon (she had been told of the miscarriage but obviously had a brain fart). 

But all in all, it feels like it wasn't real.  It's just gone.