The past few months I've been doing a lot of thinking, mainly about child birth. I've unlearned to be afraid of it, but rather welcome it. I've mentally moved from, "when do I get my epidural?" to "bring in on!" au natural. We'll see how I perform on game day, I might end up seeking every pain killer in existence, who knows. I do know however, that I've done as much mental prep as I can, and that it this point in time, I feel calm and reassured about the whole process. I feel ready. I think.

But apart from visualizing the birth, I'm also trying to picture life with baby, including the fact that I will rarely be alone in the next few years. And even though I know Stef will be a present father and continue to be a considerate husband, ultimately, I'm in charge of this little one's well being. Sure, I'll have breaks, I'll get away for the odd workout or dinner with the girls, but I'll almost always be with Sadie or Sam.

So I'm trying now to see beyond the hospital and start imagining all the little ways my life will change. Birthing just lasts a day or two, motherhood is a lifetime.

I’m full term, I’m full term! When I think back to all those blood tests and medication and doctor’s appointments and ultrasounds, I can’t believe that we’re almost at our goal. A little baby. Delicate, human, tiny, in need of all the love we can provide. And the cool thing is the fact that he/she will look like myself and Stef! It’s very strange, when one stops and thinks about it. Almost science fiction, this mixing of DNA, this new creature that will emerge from my body. And then what? We’ve got +18 of parenting!

Sleeping is becoming more difficult. For example, right now it’s 2.38 am and I’m wide awake because I just am. Sometimes the baby wakes me up with a big kick, sometimes my stomach with a big gurgle. A lot of the pregnancy info I’ve read claims that by the end, you won’t feel the baby moving much, but I feel it all the time. Big dramatic movements which completely alter the shape of my belly. Often a heel or foot, not sure what body part, is sticking out the side, giving my stomach a lopsided look! All so bizarre. And of course wonderful. I’m feeling very lucky at the moment that I after all our struggles I was given the chance to have this amazing thing happen to me. To us.

Week 36 and my body is starting to feel strained. Here's a list of my complaints, just for the record:

1. Sore feet, especially in the morning. They feel like little vienna sausages and my heels hurt to walk on. Generally feel better after I've walked around and shifted some of that pooled liquid.

2. Weird upper back and neck ache. Don't think it's a result of sleeping funny, as it doesn't feel tense in the mornings, but rather the evenings. I've tried putting a tennis ball between me and the wall to roll it out, but Stef's fingers seem to offer more relief.

3. Difficulty getting out of bed. All that extra weight makes things tricky. Also try to be careful not to twist in a way that could injure my back, rip my stomach muscles or hurt the baby! On top of this, attempt to do it all very quietly as to not wake up Stef who has to work early!

4. Swollen puffy eyes. I still have my vanity, what can I say. Also can't see my crotch, therefore can't shave my bikini line. Will have to try using a full length mirror or rely on Stef. Not sure how much I trust him though, think he's a bikini line virgin.

5. When the baby does his/her sun salutations. It's not really a complaint, more kinda freaky and exciting. I'm just afraid sometimes that he/she will break a rib or kick a hole through the membrane. Not sure if there's a case of any baby doing this anywhere, maybe I've just seen Aliens too many times.

6. Bending down to pick anything up off the floor, tying shoe laces. Uggs are my friends right now. I don't care if they accentuate my cankles.

7. Numb hands in the morning. This startled me at first, waking up with completely numb hands, but I've got used to it. It doesn't seem to make a difference what position I lie in, I still wake up with unusable digits.

8. Being a full on cry baby. I cry at the thought of my dog getting old and no longer being interested in playing with his annoying squeeky toys. I cry at the anything to do with birthing. Anything.

There you have it. I'm sure if I thought of it a bit more, I could come up with an even longer list, but hey, why dwell on the negative? I realize all my feelings and symptoms are not that different or unusual, but they certainly are different and unusual for me! I don't care how many billions of women have given birth throughout history, I never have!

I just waddled my ass up to the local elementary school to vote in the federal election. Of course I didn't vote for the Conservatives. I wonder if all those mothers out there on maternity leave who voted for Harper realize they have the Liberals to thank for their full year leave? It's been over ten years now since Paul Martin and his Liberal majority government passed legislation that changed maternity leave from 6 months to a year. This would've never happened with a Conservative in power.

Of course there are still problems maternity leave in Canada. The fact that we only receive %55 of a maximum $40,000 salary should be reviewed. Salaries have gone up since the legislation passed. It also seems there's a underlying sexist attitude that assumes that this %55 is a sufficient amount because in the majority of households the father is the primary breadwinner. In many cases, this simply isn't true. But even with these shortcomings, maternity leave is a hell of a lot better than it used to be. Can you imagine leaving your little tot after only six months in order to secure your job? No more breast milk for them! No more mid morning cuddles or watching them learn how to crawl! It's going to be hard enough to leave them after a year!

And by the way, I didn't vote Liberal either.

Bright and early, I went for my ultrasound at 9. Or should I say "we", as I grabbed Stef from work on my way. Of course I was a little apprehensive about it. My driving, in fact, sucked. Stef made sure to point that out.

As usual, we made sure to tell the ultrasound technician that we did not know the sex, nor did we want it revealed today. She was nice. And forthcoming with information, she told us exactly what we wanted to hear - that our baby wasn't a runt! With plenty of amniotic fluid to pad her/his little body to boot! Thank the baby gods!

But I have to say, I really wasn't that nervous because this past week I really feel like I've grown. Or should I say "he/she" has grown because according to all I've read, it is the baby packing on the pounds at this point, not me. In celebration I dropped Stef off back at work, went for a hearty jaunt in Stanley Park, then ate a big greasy breakfast, followed by a chocolate cupcake.

I am now at 33 weeks. Tomorrow I have an ultrasound to check the baby's growth. Apparently, two weeks ago at my last doctor's appointment, I measured a little on the small side. I guess she was a little concerned, but overly so, otherwise she would have sent me in for an ultrasound the next day. Right?

Just ate half a snickers on my deadhead between Panama City and Cancun. The sugar has woken her up. She’s dancing about, kicking her arms and legs with chocolate joy. Regardless of this junk food, I think I’m still hiding my pregnancy remarkably well; a little baggy top is all it takes. My days however, are obviously numbered. But as it stands right now, I’ve had no offers from strangers to help me put my bags in the overhead bins or give up their seats on public transport.

I am now 25 weeks pregnant, or 6 months. It’s been months since my last post! Between teaching, flying and rubbing my belly, I’ve done very little documenting. But now I’m not just a bad blogger, but a bad mother! Isn’t part of writing all this down so my son/daughter read this later in life? Let the parenting guilt begin!

I try to picture a little boy running around, but it doesn’t feel right. My ‘maternal instincts’ say it’s a girl, but that might just proof of my single-minded personality. Instincts can be wrong I guess but my gut is saying otherwise.

Overall, this pregnancy’s been a breeze (where’s the wood?). Other than a bit of nasal congestion that seems to have cleared up, I’m feeling fine. Starting to feel a bit heavy, a bit of tossing and turning at night, but other than that, I’ve got energy. Went to pre-natal yoga last week for the first time and after ten minutes, wished I’d started earlier. It took me about 5 minutes before I using my towel to wipe my face of tears. I’ve always found yoga a bit of a mental trip, so I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that it would make me well up. Goddamn Tim Hortons ads make me cry. But it’s nice to have that energy focused so I’m going to try my best to attend as many classes as possible.

From now on, I will try to be a better blogger and a better mother and at least post once a week. Goodnight from Cancun with a belly full of shrimp quesdilllas and a craving for a coke that I will resist with all my will. The mini-bar prices are just ridiculous.

Back at Work

So I'm back at my main work gig after the taking the first trimester off. Not that I was sitting around the house rubbing my belly during those 4 months, I was still teaching part time, but I wasn't on the road like I usually am. But now it's all back on: very early wake-ups, sleep deprivation, checking in and out go hotel rooms, schlepping my suitcase around, smiling sweetly at passengers. To be honest, the actual job part has been the easiest-I've had no problems smiling sweetly-it's the being away from my own bed that has been the hardest. I like being home right now, I like feeling safe.
I just spent 4 days lounging around an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica. The weather was lovely, my room comfortable and the food delicious. But I missed my mammals Stef(hubbie) and Jack(dog). I'm glad to be back in rainy Vancouver where I have to cook my own food and make my own bed.

17.5 Weeks

I had my monthly check up this week and I am happy to report that so far we have a 1 in 14,000 chance of having a Downs baby! I'm so relieved that I don't have to deal with the stress of an amniocentesis. And the stress of waiting for the results.

Now, the next biggest hurdle is my 19 week ultrasound. In this ultrasound, called the 'anomaly scan', they'll be looking at the baby's organs, the brain, the spine, etc . They could still find something abnormal or worrisome, but all I can do is keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best. So far so good. I've done my research on the internet and have an idea what to expect and what some of the worst case scenarios could be, but I'm finished now. I'll pass on the links to Stef so he also can be best prepared, but I myself won't revisit them. And hopefully I won't ever have to again.

Stupid Questions People Ask

Last night over dinner with some girlfriends, we had a rant about stupid questions people ask, in particular those that pertain to reproduction. Sometimes, these questions can be attributed to just being 'young and dumb', other times, it's just a lack of sensitivity. Here's some examples of conversations:

a: So, you've been together with your husband for a while, when are you going to have kids?
b: I'm not sure.
a: Do you want kids?
b: Yes, I do.
a: How old are you?
b: 36.
a: Well then what are you waiting for?

There are several variations of this conversation. They all suck when you're having to deal with failed IVF procedures. And even if you haven't had to resort to IVF, when you're trying to get pregnant, it rarely happens instantly and therefore trying to answer these questions with composure, is difficult. Especially when they are thrown at you casually from people you barely know.

There's a million and one reasons why you and your partner may not have kids. Maybe the relationship is unstable and you're sure if you want to procreate with this person. Maybe you hate kids. Maybe your uterus is covered with a thousand fibroids making conception very unlikely. Maybe you want kids but your partner doesn't. Maybe your partner has a low sperm count. Why should I have to explain this to acquaintances or even strangers? Do I ask to see your medical records?

Fertility Freakout

Last week we received an invoice from our fertility clinic for the amount of $200. It stated, "to continue cryopreservation storage, please pay the following amount. Quantity of embryos: 1". Cryopreservation, for all you non IVF buffs, refers to the deep freezing of embryos.

Whaaat? I thought we had already used all our frozen embryos! We started off with 7 embryos. In our first IVF attempt we transferred 2 embryos into my womb. In the second attempt we used 2 again. And the last and final attempt, we threw caution into the wind and tossed in 3. Therefore 2+2+3=7. Where did this mysterious remaining embryo appear from?

Our first thought was that maybe we miscounted. Maybe we had assumed we had 7 when all along there had been 8. We immediately started rummaging through our paperwork and found the important document from the fertility lab that stated our embryo quantity. We had been correct, 7 was indeed the lucky number. So where did this last little 8 cell cluster come from? By this time it was 8pm, the fertility clinic was definitely shut down for the night. At first we dismissed it as a admin error, not a lab error, but as the night progressed some seriously nagging doubts started to screw with our minds. The worst scenario we could think of was : What if they had put the wrong embryos in? In other words: What if they baby growing inside of me wasn't mine?

Of course everything is triple checked before any embryo transfers are performed. In fact, just prior to every frozen embryo transfer, the nurse comes in with the actual test tubes in which our little 'snowbabies' were once frozen in. On each of these test tubes are serial numbers, along with both of our names. We are told to verify them and then sign off on them. But still, what if the lab made a mistake that we didn't catch? A moment of distraction? I vaguely remember seeing the tiny test tubes, but I don't remember looking at the serial numbers and checking the names on each tube....

A quick search on the internet revealed that this like never happens. Ok, maybe once or twice in all the 3 million babies that have been born worldwide. But boy did those cases get a lot of attention, especially by those crazy Catholic pro-lifers who think they've got an answer for everything.

We went to bed a little apprehensive. The next morning when Stef kissed me goodbye before heading out to work, he slipped in, "don't forget to call the clinic". Completely unnecessary. There was no way I was going to forget. I called them at 8.05 and directed my call to the financial officer who had sent me the letter, still hoping it was a clerical error. Being so early, I got her voice mail. I tried my best to not ramble and sound frantic. I'm sure if I succeeded though as she returned my call pretty fast. I couldn't take it though because I was in the middle of a tricky driving manoeuvre and as usual, my phone was in the bottom of my handbag. As soon as I could though, I pulled my car over and listened to my voice mail. "Please disregard the invoice, sorry, sometimes our files aren't up-to-date with the lab's."

Phew. Big fucking crisis averted.

Time Heals

As the weeks pass, slowly we're allowing us to imagine life with a child. For years we didn't dare, it was simply too painful. And whenever one of us went off-course and did, the other would scold. 'Don't go there!', we'd say to each other. Our emotional well-being couldn't afford the indulgence. Instead we'd review all the positive aspects of being 'childfree'. Eventually we convinced ourselves that we'd find ways to be happy, fill the gap with adventure, with travel, with eating nice meals in fancy restaurants. We had to damper our urge to procreate with promises of boundless freedom. In retrospect, not a bad approach. The only problem being, that we have travelled a lot and have had a lot of adventure in our lives already and now there's a natural urge to grow in a different way.

There's that word again, urge. And therein lies the problem. Urges aren't something that can be controlled rationally. Like sleeping, eating and fucking, they are our raison d'etre. This is not to say that absolutely everyone out there should be reproducing. Hardly. Just like some people have big appetites, while others eat like birds, why can't the same be true for the urge to have kids? But urges come and go and it was our hope that eventually the baby urge would fade away. Or become less pulsating. Or something. When you find yourself in a situation that is totally beyond your control, the only hope remains is that time will heal. Our infertility wounds had started to close, making this pregnancy all the more flabbergasting. So as we get closer to the end of the first trimester, we're losing our fears, bit by bit and becoming a little less afraid to dream.

mini bump

Stef is obsessing over my mini baby bump. He makes me pull up my shirt about 4 times a day and wants to stroke it. Sometimes when I don't oblige , he whines loudly and says, "it's not fair, you've had it all day to play with your tummy and all I want is two minutes with it". Like a child wanting a turn with a new toy. But it's so small right now that he can't see it through my shirt, he can't even see it at certain angles.

It's cute how interested he is, but it's winter and his hands are freezing on bare belly.Especially when he first gets in from biking home. I can't complain though, the fact that I'm starting to poke out is all very exciting. Other than my growing girth, I feel great. No sickness, maybe a bit tired in the evenings, but other than that, I'm flourishing. Just hungry as hell!

Time is slowing down

Time is creeping along at a tortoise-like pace right now. I feel like I've gone down 3 levels on that Inception machine and seconds have become minutes, minutes have become hours. Will the 1st trimester never end? Not that I've been deathly ill or horribly tired, but I just want to be out of the danger zone . My next ultrasound isn't for 16 days!

On a fun note, I've a got a very slight belly. Especially if I slouch and let my shoulders hang. From the side I've got a bump! I've got a baby bump!

It has been almost a month since I had my first positive result. And even though I'm only 8 weeks along, it's starting to feel like this might actually happen. Life really is wild. Just as I was beginning to accept the possibility that I may never be pregnant, that I may never be that woman rubbing her belly and looking satisfied and smug, here I am feeling my uterus stretching and growing by the day. Like the old saying goes, "just when you least expect it".

After two promising blood tests, we had to wait 2 weeks for our first ultrasound. Typically women don't get to have an ultrasound until the 12th week, but using a fertility clinic to conceive has some benefits. Oh thank god for early ultrasounds! Waiting until the 12th week would have been excruciating. Already those 2 weeks were punishing enough.

Last Thursday I picked Stef up from work and we drove over to the clinic together. Luckily I'd been tutoring all morning so time had gone by relatively fast. When we got to the clinic though, they were behind schedule so we ended up waiting an extra half an hour. We both sat in the waiting room, desperately trying to keep ourselves occupied with the magazine offerings. Thankfully, over the years, the selection has improved. It used to be all glossy fashion magazines for the women and Sports Illustrated for the men. We both read long, engrossing articles to keep ourselves occupied. Finally, I hear my name called. Or a version of my name, I jump up. Like a student getting an award at school assembly.

Stef takes his seat next to the examination bed and the nurse makes sure everything is in order. Dr Taylor, my new favourite doctor at the clinic, is doing the ultrsound today. She is my favourite because she performed my one and only IVF successful embryo transfer. Also, immediately after performing the transfer, with my legs up in stirrups, she clasped her hands in prayer. A nice, sensitive touch.

Within seconds of her inserting the ultrasound 'wand' up my vagina, she tells us we're having a baby! And it's a singleton! What a mix of relief and exhilaration. Stef asks Dr Taylor to have a good look around, just in case there's one hiding on the sides. I well up and the nurse fetches me a couple kleenex. We hear the little heartbeat. It sounds good. The doctor measures the little bean to see if it's adequately growing. It looks good. I'm pregnant! I really am pregnant! It's legit! It's viable! It's a about time, fuck. We leave the clinic all smiles. Hopefully we"ll never be back.

Stef broke his arm the same day I found out I was pregnant. He called me just after 8am from the hospital, woke me up in fact. "My own stupid fault", he said. "My foot slipped off my pedal. I was only going 3k an hour." I told him to call me back when he was ready to be picked up. Then I went back to sleep. I've been lying in bed a lot these past few weeks. I figured it can't hurt.

An hour or so later, I wake up to him standing over me with a cast. With a sling and everything. He looks surprisingly cheerful, considering. His grin has acceptance. You win some, you lose some it said. I look up, eyes glassy from oversleeping. "Hi there lefty", I say as I stretch my two good arms over my head. My dog, Jack, who's curled up next to me, stretches out his back too and groans.

I get up and make us tea. Leaded for Stef, decaf for me. I'm playing it ultra save, which was really hard at first but now my body's used to it. It's been exactly 11 days since my embryo transfer and according to all the chat rooms I've been poring over, a home pregnancy test should be able to detect if I'm knocked up or not. Stef wants to wait for the blood test because it may not be entirely conclusive. I can't wait for two reasons; 1. i'm impulsive. 2. it's my frikkin body we're talking about and I want to know what's going on. But Stef asks me to wait until the end of the week because that way, if it's negative, he'll have the weekend to mourn. I respect his wishes, but wonder if I should do one in secret. It'll be a damned hard secret to keep if it's positive though.

Stef decides he's in too much pain to go back to the office and takes the day off. Around 2pm he gets bored and decides to watch a documentary in the bedroom. I'm in the living on the computer when I jump up and run to the bathroom. "Screw it, I can't wait any longer." I figured I'll tell him regardless of the result, we've got the rest of the day to digest it. Before I can change my mind, it's a free flow onto the stick, the most expensive stick I could buy, in fact. Instantly the thing lights up with two lines. I stare at it, half expecting one of the lines to fade away. But it doesn't, for the first time ever for me, IVF has resulted in a pregnancy.

I catch my breath and walk into the bedroom, the piss stick in my hoodie pocket. Stef looks at me slightly annoyed, then asks we why I'm opening all the blinds, he's still got 45 minutes left of his doc. I sit down next next time him in bed, trying not to burst into song. I don't say anything, just smile and pull the stick out of my pocket and, face down and out it in his hand. He looks at it, shocked. I start to cry.

Round Four

It's been a long time since my last post, almost a year in fact. To be honest, I forgot I had this blog. A lot hasn't changed in my life, but overall it's been a pretty good year. I've floated down the canal du Midi in southern France, driven around the Spanish Pyrenees, been introduced to the amazing Oaxacan coast, revisited Athens and discovered Madrid. My life has not been dull.

And between all those adventures, I have squeezed in two IVF attempts, one which is currently in progress. The last one, back in May, was a total disaster and was cancelled before they could even knock me up with my frozen embryos (aka 'snowbabies' according to some women in IVF chat rooms) . The doctors decided that I should reduce some of the medications that I was taking for my last two IVF cycles. That was a bad decision. I ovulated when I shouldn't have.

So now I'm on my 4th and final IVF session. I will not do it again. I cannot put my life on hold any longer. Money is not the issue, it is about the mental hold that this process has over me. I start this session with few expectations, but happy in the knowledge that whatever the outcome, it'll be my last.

Life continues, just not in me. My little guys decided to not stick around, even though I did promise them chocolate cupcakes for their first birthday. So I'm trying to focus on all the things I don't have to worry about at the moment, like constipation from pre-natal vitamins or remembering to take my hormones, morning afternoon and night. It's also quite nice to not be a miserable bag of hormones and worry whether I might break into tears in the middle of doing my groceries.

I kind of knew that they didn't take. At the start of the transfer I was super excited and was gleeful that this was my time, but after 10 days, I just of kind of knew. No baby dreams, no sore boobs, no nausea, nowt. So it wasn't a total shock when Nurse Maureen called. And even before she even mentioned the test results her tone of voice gave it away. She must have to practice that tone of voice. "Poor nurse", I thought after I hung the phone. Every time she goes to work she has to break people's hearts.

And now back to my regular routine. Off to the gym I go, pumped up a cup of caffeinated coffee.

Feeling Weird

I feel weird. I'm so used to not feeling myself lately that I'm not sure if it's just a new wave of the old weirdness or something completely new. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Luckily I'm past the halfway mark. Just. I still have 7 more days to go before my Big Blood Test.

I over-analyzed the fuck out of my body last time and told myself I wouldn't to that this time, that I'd graduated from such first-timer naivete, but here I am again scanning IVF forum sites, hungry for as many stories and details as I can absorb. Thank god I've had some teaching to do this week to distract me. It curtails my incessant researching and lets a stomach twang remain but a stomach twang.

From all my reading, I've learned that a lot of women in my predicament will buy home pregnancy tests and starting pissing on them a couple of days after their embryo transfer. Sounds like a big waste of money considering it's rare that you'll have enough of HCG(Human chorionic gonadotropin)in your system to register anything. But it's day 7, almost day 8 for me, a completely different ball game, right?

I think London Drugs might be getting some of my money tomorrow. What can I say, I was never one to leave the presents untouched under the tree on Christmas eve. I always gave them a squeeze.

My First Blog

Here goes. I actually got my husband to set me up years ago, before he was even my husband, but I lamed out and never wrote anything. I guess I was lazy or scared or a combo of the two, but I'm now less afraid of what people think. Unfortunately I'm still lazy though. We'll see how this whole blogging thing unfolds. We'll see if in the past ten years my motivation has changed. Stay tuned.