Even I am getting sick of my posts where I don't do anything but whine about how miserable I am feeling and all the sad crap going on right now, so I have been sorta quiet lately. This will be a quick post to catch up and then I promise that my future posts will be more light hearted and fun.
Thursday night was my final couples counseling with The Ex. It was tough. Again, I won't go into the details here but let's just say that she walked out halfway through the session. So it was a tough emotional night for all. I left counseling and went to my mom's house to pick up The Boy. When we got home there was a message on my voicemail. My caller ID said, "United Emergency Services," so I kinda freaked out as I was checking the voicemail. Turns out it was a feline member of my family. My cat Ranger had been hit by a car. He was hit a couple of blocks away and someone had (kindly) taken him to the emergency place. I have an ID chip in them (put in when he was spayed) so they scanned him when he got there and left me a message. I called them back immediately and they wanted me to come right down. I explained that I had a 2 year old in bed (it was 8:15pm at this point) and asked if he was still alive. They told me they don't usually release any information until someone had ID'ed the body (not a good sign) but spared me and put the doctor on the phone. He had been hit and had head trauma. When they brought him in his heart was still going, but there was nothing going on upstairs, so they did the humane thing and euthanized him. So unbelievably sad.
He was only a year and a half old. He was born in February of 2007 and I got him in April of 2007. Ironically, just that afternoon, I had gotten off work a little early and came home to take a nap before couples counseling. He slept with me on my bed during my entire nap. We cuddled. When I left for counseling, I let him out. "Have fun Range, see you later," is what I said to him as I drove away. So while this is quite devastating for me, I have to say that I am SO glad that I had that ID chip put into him. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have known what had happened to him. I would have wondered why he didn't come home and started looking at the pound etc. To have the finality of the phone call helped tremendously. It was a horrible phone call to get, but again, I am so glad to have gotten it. When I adopted him, I also adopted his sister, Lulu. I don't know how cats know these things, but she knew. She followed me around all night (actually all weekend) meowing. She never does that. All weekend long I tried to get myself to post a little RIP Ranger post with his pictures but everytime I thought about it I burst into tears so I didn't.
Between the finality of my final couples counseling and the loss of my cat, not to mention the fact that I still feel horrifically shitty most of the time, it was a rough weekend for me. So like I said, I will leave this post now and hopefully join you back in the future with happier news to report. I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The Real Update
Okay so I promised I would upload the ultrasound photo. I didn't. My excuse? I'm pregnant people, and by the time I get home at the end of the day it is all I can do to concoct some sort of dinner for The Boy and myself, feed us, and get it cleaned up. I'm going to segue here for a minute. By far the hardest time of the day for me is the hours between like 4:00 and 8:00pm. I usually get home sometime around 4:30ish and I seriously HAVE to lay down until my mom gets to my house with The Boy. There really isn't any other way around it. Yesterday I had to check in on a client and then drop off my prescription at the pharmacy (which of course had to be some compound pharmacy so it was WAY further away then it needed to be...) and I got home around 4:00pm. I was supposed to do some work for a client that I do out of my house, but there was seriously no way it was going to happen. In the car ride on the way home I was chatting with a friend on the phone and I realized I didn't even have the energy for our conversation. I hung up when I arrived home and went in to lie down "for just a few minutes" before I went to work. I was shaking and nauseous and could barely make it to my bed to lay down, shove about 6 saltines in my mouth and some water and wait for it to give me energy. Yeah, it didn't. When my mom got there around 5:00 I was still laying there. And when I stood up to try and function? I feel like I have the flu. You know that feeling where you are so dizzy that you aren't sure if you can make it to the bathroom and you have so little energy that you consider crawling because it might be easier? That is how I feel. And yet I have a manic little 2 year old running around like a crazy child. And I have to get up and somehow come up with some food for both of us. Then I have to actually COOK the food, set the table, sit at the table and eat, and then...god help me, clean it all up. I swear it almost kills me every single day. By the time I get The Boy in bed at night, I literally lay on the couch and watch ONE show from my tivo and then go to bed. It is all I can handle right now. I may sound like a huge cry baby and that is not my intention. I am merely documenting this so that about 10 weeks from now when I am in the bliss of second trimester and telling people, "it really wasn't that bad..." I can look back and know that yes, it really WAS that bad.
But about the appointment. They sent me straight into a room with an ultrasound machine and the nurse lubed up the "condom" like thing right away. I said, "Am I getting an ultrasound today?" all innocent-like. She said that yes, it is their procedure to always do an ultrasound on the first visit so that they can tell how far along you are and get an accurate due date. Man, I wish I had known that going in, but YAY!! So I hear my nurse lady coming down the hell yelling, "OH MY GOD!! No one told me!" and she opens the door and runs in and gives me a big hug. "No one told me you were pregnant! This is fabulous! Holy crap!" I smiled and reminded her that I had told her last time I was there (to get a list of things to test donor boy for) that I was about to start trying. She replied with, "Yeah, but who knew you were fertile myrtle?" Ah yes, that familiar phrase that still kills me. Fertile myrtle. About ME. Okay, I won't go into that again. So we finally got down to the ultrasound and there I am, feet in the stirrups, looking straight ahead just waiting for her to make mention of whatever she sees on the screen. She's searching around with the dil.do cam and doesn't seem to be able to find anything. I glanced up at her face and she had a concerned look on her face and was just rooting around down there. Finally she goes, "Oh! I had it on the wrong screen!" and switches something and says, "There's your little peanut." Good lord, woman! Talk about stress. But at that point I looked up and I saw the blob on the screen. I could see something, but I couldn't see a heartbeat. Nothing was moving. It was just a blob. I said (probably quite frantically), "Where's the heartbeat? I don't see a heartbeat?" She said, "Oh, it's there...let's just zoom in..." and she did. And then I saw the flickering. I saw the little twinkle. I think I exhaled for the first time that entire morning. Then she said, "do you want to hear it?" and she took these two little lines and put them around the flicker and pushed a button and there it was. That fast little beat. She only left it on for a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make me cry. She said, "around 150 BPM I would say...perfect." And then she moved on to measure it. She pointed out the yolk sac and said she couldn't include that in the measurement and clicked the little things and said "You are measuring at 7 weeks, 6 days." How does that compare to your calculations? I told her I was supposed to be exactly 8 weeks that day. Pretty damn good. She then printed me out a picture and we chatted about how deathly I have been feeling (I was eating saltines as we were talking) and she told me about the new drugs that are supposed to help without rendering me unconscious. She wrote me a prescription, sent me next door to the lab to give them 5 vials of my blood and told me how happy she was for me and that she would see me in 4 weeks. A pretty perfect appointment if you ask me. Now, if I can just figure out a way to LIVE through the next four weeks, we will be in business!
But about the appointment. They sent me straight into a room with an ultrasound machine and the nurse lubed up the "condom" like thing right away. I said, "Am I getting an ultrasound today?" all innocent-like. She said that yes, it is their procedure to always do an ultrasound on the first visit so that they can tell how far along you are and get an accurate due date. Man, I wish I had known that going in, but YAY!! So I hear my nurse lady coming down the hell yelling, "OH MY GOD!! No one told me!" and she opens the door and runs in and gives me a big hug. "No one told me you were pregnant! This is fabulous! Holy crap!" I smiled and reminded her that I had told her last time I was there (to get a list of things to test donor boy for) that I was about to start trying. She replied with, "Yeah, but who knew you were fertile myrtle?" Ah yes, that familiar phrase that still kills me. Fertile myrtle. About ME. Okay, I won't go into that again. So we finally got down to the ultrasound and there I am, feet in the stirrups, looking straight ahead just waiting for her to make mention of whatever she sees on the screen. She's searching around with the dil.do cam and doesn't seem to be able to find anything. I glanced up at her face and she had a concerned look on her face and was just rooting around down there. Finally she goes, "Oh! I had it on the wrong screen!" and switches something and says, "There's your little peanut." Good lord, woman! Talk about stress. But at that point I looked up and I saw the blob on the screen. I could see something, but I couldn't see a heartbeat. Nothing was moving. It was just a blob. I said (probably quite frantically), "Where's the heartbeat? I don't see a heartbeat?" She said, "Oh, it's there...let's just zoom in..." and she did. And then I saw the flickering. I saw the little twinkle. I think I exhaled for the first time that entire morning. Then she said, "do you want to hear it?" and she took these two little lines and put them around the flicker and pushed a button and there it was. That fast little beat. She only left it on for a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make me cry. She said, "around 150 BPM I would say...perfect." And then she moved on to measure it. She pointed out the yolk sac and said she couldn't include that in the measurement and clicked the little things and said "You are measuring at 7 weeks, 6 days." How does that compare to your calculations? I told her I was supposed to be exactly 8 weeks that day. Pretty damn good. She then printed me out a picture and we chatted about how deathly I have been feeling (I was eating saltines as we were talking) and she told me about the new drugs that are supposed to help without rendering me unconscious. She wrote me a prescription, sent me next door to the lab to give them 5 vials of my blood and told me how happy she was for me and that she would see me in 4 weeks. A pretty perfect appointment if you ask me. Now, if I can just figure out a way to LIVE through the next four weeks, we will be in business!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Whew!!!
Okay this will be short. I will do a proper post later. I got an ultrasound. Didn't even have to beg or lie or cheat or steal. Baby is fine. Heartbeat present. 150 beats per minute. Measuring 7 weeks 6 days. Got a picture I will scan when I get home this afternoon. Also got some (apparently) safe drugs for my evil morning sickness. So, so happy. I can relax a little now. More later.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Weekend Wrap Up
So it was a tough weekend. Do I have the flu? Nope, just the small fetus-like thing that is trying to suck the life out of me slowly. But I will try not to dwell on that for our purposes here. :) Friday The Boy and I went out to lunch with one of the BFF and her son. That was nice, we hadn't hung out with them in a long time. Her son is so damn cute. He is everything that my boy is NOT. He is big and healthy and a great talker and POTTY TRAINED! How jealous am I? Seriously, it's a good thing I happen to adore this woman (been one of my best friends since 7th grade) because otherwise I would seriously have to hate her. She's SUCH a good mom and always does the things I aspire to do but either run out of time, or claim laziness. She breast fed until he was a year old. She hand made all of his organic food. He still, to this day, does not take a bite of sugar. He is a healthy growing boy that continuously grows out of his clothes and makes new milestones. Oh and did I mention that he's potty trained? As in both pee and poop? Oh and that he's almost 4 months younger than The Boy? Yeah, she's a rock star mom and he's a rock star little boy. Good thing they are both so fabulous. So that was Friday. Then in the evening the gay boyfriends came over for our usual Friday Night dinner. We got take out and I had a completely boring grilled cheese and french fries. And it made me really happy cause it didn't seem to try and kill me. And I was in bed by 10:00. It was a good day.
Saturday just sucked. No two ways about it. I felt like death the moment I got up and it never got better all day long. The Boy's Grammie and Gramps called and asked if they could take him to a farm for a couple of hours. Ummm, let me think about that for half a second...YES!! So they took him from about 11:30 until about 1:30. During that time I layed pitifully on the couch and didn't move. I didn't pick up one toy, I didn't wash one dish, I didn't do one moment of work. I did manage to shower, but that was about it. When The Boy got back I had to spend a good half an hour sitting outside (trying not to faint) talking to his Grammie about all the things she deems wrong with him. I won't get into it too much here, but let's just say that I had to hear about how she could only understand about 1/2 of what he said, and about how she thinks it is RIDICULOUS that he will not be covered for speech therapy through the school district when he is three, oh and my personal favorite...that she wanted me to know that he has "autistic tendencies" because he lined up his cars at their house. I could spend 4 pages talking about this issue with her, but I won't. Let's just say we tend to see things in a different light. I tend to focus on how much amazing progress my boy has made in the last 6 months and how wonderful he's doing. She tends to focus on his areas of weakness and where he still needs work. She's not trying to be a judgemental person, she just sort of...is, I guess.
So after that, The Boy went down for a nap and I continued to lay in a horizontal position. Later that evening my mom decided I should get out of the house (god love her) and she and my step dad came over and took me and The Boy out for Mexican food. I had the most mellow thing I could find on the menu: a cheese quesadilla. It wasn't too bad. My mom and step dad are loving the fact that I can be a permanent designated driver for the next year or so. We went to a Mexican restaurant they love because of the Sangria. Since I came, my mom could drink, which in turn makes my step dad very happy. So they got loopy and I drove them home as a thank you for taking us out. We came home and had a mellow evening and were both in bed by 9:00pm.
Sunday I was determined to not repeat Saturday so I varied my "pregnancy diet" a little and was able to function (thank god for my new favorite thing: Chunky Chicken Noodle soup). I cleaned the house and picked things up and ran the dishwasher and did a couple of loads of laundry. I even managed to make it to the grocery story with The Boy all before his nap time. We both napped a good portion of the afternoon away and when The Boy woke up, my suspicions were confirmed: He has a cold. Crap. Just what we need. He had been sneezing in the morning, but was acting fine other than that so I was hoping it was just something in the air. Nope. He was full blown sick when he woke up. Bummer. So we had a nice bath with some eucalyptus bath gel and some yummy dinner and watched his new Fireman Sam videos. Then The Boy went to sleep and I watched a little of the Emmy's before I got too bored and headed to bed.
This morning The Boy was far too sick to go to school, so he came to work with me here for an hour or so until my mom was able to come and pick him up. He just left and is going to her house for the rest of the afternoon. He doesn't have a fever or anything and he still has an appetite (!!!), so hopefully he will be better by tomorrow. I am trying that new activia yogurt as part of the pregnancy diet today, so we'll see how that goes.
Tomorrow is my first prenatal appointment! I will be 8 weeks tomorrow. I really don't think they are going to give me an ultrasound but man, do I really want to see/make sure that there's a heartbeat in there. I have thought about "fibbing" and saying that I have been having some cramping and spotting because I am pretty sure that would ensure me a peak, but that is bad baby karma. Because you know if I do that and get to take a look, and everything looks fine, as soon as I get home I will have the cramping and spotting. So it isn't worth it. I am not going to lie. But I am definitely going to beg... I will post after tomorrow. Hope everyone had a nice weekend!
Saturday just sucked. No two ways about it. I felt like death the moment I got up and it never got better all day long. The Boy's Grammie and Gramps called and asked if they could take him to a farm for a couple of hours. Ummm, let me think about that for half a second...YES!! So they took him from about 11:30 until about 1:30. During that time I layed pitifully on the couch and didn't move. I didn't pick up one toy, I didn't wash one dish, I didn't do one moment of work. I did manage to shower, but that was about it. When The Boy got back I had to spend a good half an hour sitting outside (trying not to faint) talking to his Grammie about all the things she deems wrong with him. I won't get into it too much here, but let's just say that I had to hear about how she could only understand about 1/2 of what he said, and about how she thinks it is RIDICULOUS that he will not be covered for speech therapy through the school district when he is three, oh and my personal favorite...that she wanted me to know that he has "autistic tendencies" because he lined up his cars at their house. I could spend 4 pages talking about this issue with her, but I won't. Let's just say we tend to see things in a different light. I tend to focus on how much amazing progress my boy has made in the last 6 months and how wonderful he's doing. She tends to focus on his areas of weakness and where he still needs work. She's not trying to be a judgemental person, she just sort of...is, I guess.
So after that, The Boy went down for a nap and I continued to lay in a horizontal position. Later that evening my mom decided I should get out of the house (god love her) and she and my step dad came over and took me and The Boy out for Mexican food. I had the most mellow thing I could find on the menu: a cheese quesadilla. It wasn't too bad. My mom and step dad are loving the fact that I can be a permanent designated driver for the next year or so. We went to a Mexican restaurant they love because of the Sangria. Since I came, my mom could drink, which in turn makes my step dad very happy. So they got loopy and I drove them home as a thank you for taking us out. We came home and had a mellow evening and were both in bed by 9:00pm.
Sunday I was determined to not repeat Saturday so I varied my "pregnancy diet" a little and was able to function (thank god for my new favorite thing: Chunky Chicken Noodle soup). I cleaned the house and picked things up and ran the dishwasher and did a couple of loads of laundry. I even managed to make it to the grocery story with The Boy all before his nap time. We both napped a good portion of the afternoon away and when The Boy woke up, my suspicions were confirmed: He has a cold. Crap. Just what we need. He had been sneezing in the morning, but was acting fine other than that so I was hoping it was just something in the air. Nope. He was full blown sick when he woke up. Bummer. So we had a nice bath with some eucalyptus bath gel and some yummy dinner and watched his new Fireman Sam videos. Then The Boy went to sleep and I watched a little of the Emmy's before I got too bored and headed to bed.
This morning The Boy was far too sick to go to school, so he came to work with me here for an hour or so until my mom was able to come and pick him up. He just left and is going to her house for the rest of the afternoon. He doesn't have a fever or anything and he still has an appetite (!!!), so hopefully he will be better by tomorrow. I am trying that new activia yogurt as part of the pregnancy diet today, so we'll see how that goes.
Tomorrow is my first prenatal appointment! I will be 8 weeks tomorrow. I really don't think they are going to give me an ultrasound but man, do I really want to see/make sure that there's a heartbeat in there. I have thought about "fibbing" and saying that I have been having some cramping and spotting because I am pretty sure that would ensure me a peak, but that is bad baby karma. Because you know if I do that and get to take a look, and everything looks fine, as soon as I get home I will have the cramping and spotting. So it isn't worth it. I am not going to lie. But I am definitely going to beg... I will post after tomorrow. Hope everyone had a nice weekend!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Assessment
My son is covered through the county's Early Start Program. Part of that program means that he has to be assessed every 6 months. This will be his last assessment because he will turn 3 in January, when his coverage will end and (possibly) be picked up by the school district he will be joining. He was assessed using the Battelle Developmental Inventory, or BDI. Overall he did great. When he was approved for services, just 6 months ago, his assessment was much worse than this one. So I am proud of my little dude for making so much progress in such a short amount of time. It really is true that getting them involved in early start programs makes a HUGE difference. Gwendomama wrote an excellent post on this here. If you think your son or daughter might need special assistance in, well pretty much anything, read it. Seriously. It's a great post. I couldn't have written it better myself.
But back to The Boy. They start off by talking about his health and some of his health issues. I have talked about those ad nauseum here so I won't repeat. Short version: the dude doesn't gain weight. But thanks to his super human strength medicine, he is an eating machine and is gaining weight like a rock star. Then they get into assessing all the "sections" of his life and then compare him to what they have deemed normal. Now let me start off by saying that he is "developing at an age appropriate level" for all things assessed. However that doesn't mean he is testing up to the level of his age. For example. For his gross motor skills, he is deemed "age appropriate," but then it talks about how he does not yet jump forward with both feet, or walk backward. And at the end they tell you what the age equivalence to their "acheivements" is and then the percentile with which that falls. Make sense? I thought not. For gross motor, although he is deemed age appropriate, his BDI age equivalence is 25 months and his percentile is 25th. The Boy is 31 months old. So he is a little behind in that one. He fell into the same age range and percentile for his fine motor as well. While he "isolates his index finger while pointing, scribbles linear and circular patters, places rings in a post and stacks up to 8 cubes vertically, he does not yet use pads of his fingertips to grasp a writing tool, string large beads or fasten clothing without assistance." Who knew I was supposed to be making him fasten his clothing? And what kind of clothing are they talking about? Doing a zipper by himself? Buttoning his jeans? I never even thought to have him do that. Frankly we would never get out of the house in the morning. So perhaps that one is a case of a bad Mommy.
So the one section that he did the worst on was "adaptive/self help" section. He is reported to be a "picky eater, able to use a spoon to feed himself with minimal assistance and also drinks from an open cup with minimal spilling (I love that qualification!). He is able to remove his shoes independently but requires some assistance to remove clothing. He does not yet express a need to use the toilet." His age equivalence was 19 months and his percentile was 5. Ouch. Now, I have a couple of issues with this portion of the assessment. It isn't that he doesn't express a need to use the toilet per se, it is just he refuses to do anything while sitting on the toilet. We sit on that damn toilet for like 30 minutes at a time, a couple of times a day. He just refuses to pee while he's there. How one person can physically sit on a toilet for that long and not pee, I will never understand. But he loves sitting on the potty. See? That damn potty training is the vein of my existence. I really need to focus on that a little more. But that is another post in and of itself. But as my BFF and I decided, potty training is not something to be achieved while the mother is in her first trimester of pregnancy. So I will focus on that in a couple of months.
The place where he "scored" the best was in the cognitive section. He is categorized as "a smart and delightful child. He demonstrates high average to above average skills in the area of attention memory, pre academic skills and knowledge of concepts. He searches for removed objects and finds objects hidden under one of two cups. He can match and sort forms by color and shapes and can also name basic colors. He enjoys books and readily points and labels pictures. He can count to 10 and has already begun to identify most numbers and almost all letters of the alphabet." His BDI age equivalence is 38 months, which is in the 80th percentile. See? He's smart... :) Who cares if he doesn't use the toilet or know how to talk correctly, his brain works people! Yay boy!
Then they go into the communication section. This is why he is receiving therapy in the first place. His speech has made great strides in the 6 months that he has received therapy (although he's been getting it LONG before that time, I was just paying out of pocket for it). But he still has a ways to go in this area. Example, "While [Boy's] expressive vocabulary has improved, poor speech intelligibility negatively impacts his ability to effectively communicate. [Boy] is a very social and communcative child and repeats himself and uses gestures when not understood. Although he is combining up to 4 words in a meaningful manner, listeners have to rely on context cues to understand him. He has a speaking vocabulary of over 70 words. He consistently verbalizes to get his needs met and comment about his play or his immediate environment..." And it goes on from there. But this is where his issues are. In the pronunciation of words. I guess because I am his Mommy, I think he is doing SO much better in this regard. But I forget that sometimes the words that make perfect sense to me don't so much make perfect sense to the general public.
Here is their fancy explanation for this: "For example, [Boy] can imitate the word 'tot' but articulates 'table' as 'bable.' Similarly, although he demonstrates acquisition of 'k' and 'g' sound (EX: cookie/go) he names a 'cow' as 'tow' and the color 'green' as 'beem.' His speech intelligibility is best at single word level. He demonstrates difficulty imitating simple isolated tongue movements on demand as well as performing alternate lip and tongue movements with precision. His poor ability to coordinate oral movements in a smooth manner affect his overall intelligibility..." And it goes on.
So that is the gist of his assessment. Overall he did great. Like I said, when I received this assessment 6 months ago, he was SO FAR below his age level in almost everything. And now he is still below levels (with the exception of his ferocious BRAIN!!), but not nearly as low as before. And the funny part? With all that is mentioned above, I have been "warned" that he will most likely NOT qualify for services once he turns three. I guess the school district has much higher standards (or lower standards as the case may be) with which to qualify. But just because he doesn't qualify, that doesn't mean that he doesn't still need services. It just means...you guessed it...I have to pay for them all myself. Now I guess I could just say that since he isn't "bad" enough to qualify then that means he doesn't need speech therapy anymore. But I know this isn't the case. And I don't want my boy to be made fun of at any age, but definitely when he enters school. So I will continue to get him the therapies he needs. I will just have to possibly re-mortgage my house in order to do so. :)
But back to The Boy. They start off by talking about his health and some of his health issues. I have talked about those ad nauseum here so I won't repeat. Short version: the dude doesn't gain weight. But thanks to his super human strength medicine, he is an eating machine and is gaining weight like a rock star. Then they get into assessing all the "sections" of his life and then compare him to what they have deemed normal. Now let me start off by saying that he is "developing at an age appropriate level" for all things assessed. However that doesn't mean he is testing up to the level of his age. For example. For his gross motor skills, he is deemed "age appropriate," but then it talks about how he does not yet jump forward with both feet, or walk backward. And at the end they tell you what the age equivalence to their "acheivements" is and then the percentile with which that falls. Make sense? I thought not. For gross motor, although he is deemed age appropriate, his BDI age equivalence is 25 months and his percentile is 25th. The Boy is 31 months old. So he is a little behind in that one. He fell into the same age range and percentile for his fine motor as well. While he "isolates his index finger while pointing, scribbles linear and circular patters, places rings in a post and stacks up to 8 cubes vertically, he does not yet use pads of his fingertips to grasp a writing tool, string large beads or fasten clothing without assistance." Who knew I was supposed to be making him fasten his clothing? And what kind of clothing are they talking about? Doing a zipper by himself? Buttoning his jeans? I never even thought to have him do that. Frankly we would never get out of the house in the morning. So perhaps that one is a case of a bad Mommy.
So the one section that he did the worst on was "adaptive/self help" section. He is reported to be a "picky eater, able to use a spoon to feed himself with minimal assistance and also drinks from an open cup with minimal spilling (I love that qualification!). He is able to remove his shoes independently but requires some assistance to remove clothing. He does not yet express a need to use the toilet." His age equivalence was 19 months and his percentile was 5. Ouch. Now, I have a couple of issues with this portion of the assessment. It isn't that he doesn't express a need to use the toilet per se, it is just he refuses to do anything while sitting on the toilet. We sit on that damn toilet for like 30 minutes at a time, a couple of times a day. He just refuses to pee while he's there. How one person can physically sit on a toilet for that long and not pee, I will never understand. But he loves sitting on the potty. See? That damn potty training is the vein of my existence. I really need to focus on that a little more. But that is another post in and of itself. But as my BFF and I decided, potty training is not something to be achieved while the mother is in her first trimester of pregnancy. So I will focus on that in a couple of months.
The place where he "scored" the best was in the cognitive section. He is categorized as "a smart and delightful child. He demonstrates high average to above average skills in the area of attention memory, pre academic skills and knowledge of concepts. He searches for removed objects and finds objects hidden under one of two cups. He can match and sort forms by color and shapes and can also name basic colors. He enjoys books and readily points and labels pictures. He can count to 10 and has already begun to identify most numbers and almost all letters of the alphabet." His BDI age equivalence is 38 months, which is in the 80th percentile. See? He's smart... :) Who cares if he doesn't use the toilet or know how to talk correctly, his brain works people! Yay boy!
Then they go into the communication section. This is why he is receiving therapy in the first place. His speech has made great strides in the 6 months that he has received therapy (although he's been getting it LONG before that time, I was just paying out of pocket for it). But he still has a ways to go in this area. Example, "While [Boy's] expressive vocabulary has improved, poor speech intelligibility negatively impacts his ability to effectively communicate. [Boy] is a very social and communcative child and repeats himself and uses gestures when not understood. Although he is combining up to 4 words in a meaningful manner, listeners have to rely on context cues to understand him. He has a speaking vocabulary of over 70 words. He consistently verbalizes to get his needs met and comment about his play or his immediate environment..." And it goes on from there. But this is where his issues are. In the pronunciation of words. I guess because I am his Mommy, I think he is doing SO much better in this regard. But I forget that sometimes the words that make perfect sense to me don't so much make perfect sense to the general public.
Here is their fancy explanation for this: "For example, [Boy] can imitate the word 'tot' but articulates 'table' as 'bable.' Similarly, although he demonstrates acquisition of 'k' and 'g' sound (EX: cookie/go) he names a 'cow' as 'tow' and the color 'green' as 'beem.' His speech intelligibility is best at single word level. He demonstrates difficulty imitating simple isolated tongue movements on demand as well as performing alternate lip and tongue movements with precision. His poor ability to coordinate oral movements in a smooth manner affect his overall intelligibility..." And it goes on.
So that is the gist of his assessment. Overall he did great. Like I said, when I received this assessment 6 months ago, he was SO FAR below his age level in almost everything. And now he is still below levels (with the exception of his ferocious BRAIN!!), but not nearly as low as before. And the funny part? With all that is mentioned above, I have been "warned" that he will most likely NOT qualify for services once he turns three. I guess the school district has much higher standards (or lower standards as the case may be) with which to qualify. But just because he doesn't qualify, that doesn't mean that he doesn't still need services. It just means...you guessed it...I have to pay for them all myself. Now I guess I could just say that since he isn't "bad" enough to qualify then that means he doesn't need speech therapy anymore. But I know this isn't the case. And I don't want my boy to be made fun of at any age, but definitely when he enters school. So I will continue to get him the therapies he needs. I will just have to possibly re-mortgage my house in order to do so. :)
The Pregnancy Diet
So anyone who is unfortunate enough to suffer from morning/all day sickness knows how crappy it is. Like most women, I am one of those people. And it sucks. There is just no other way to put it. I have tried to describe it to people who haven't ever had it and I usually say something along the lines of, "You know the worst hangover you have ever had? Imagine feeling that way for about 3 full months." Because in my opinion, that is the best way to describe it. And I am in the thick of it right now. Every woman is different and things that work for some women may not work at all for other women, but I am going to talk about how I am trying to get through it and what changes I have made in my diet to try and combat the evilness.
I should point out that the things I am doing this time are completely different from the things I did during my last pregnancy. Last time, I read all the books and I tried all the typical things. I ate so many ginger snaps that to this day, the smell of a ginger snap makes me want to barf (and that was before I got sick). In fact, anything ginger related at all makes me feel that way. And that is because during my last pregnancy I ate everything ginger. I don't think it helped at the time, but damnit that's what people said was supposed to help, so that's what I ate. I also took the papaya enzyme pills last time. Not doing that either. I guess I am searching for something new that might...oh I don't know...WORK this time! It seems that usually you can find one thing that can *always* work if you need to eat something. Last time it was Totino's party pizza's. I know, they are SO healthy. But they worked. And after months of trying every single dinner known to man kind, I ate one pretty much every night for about 6 weeks. Whatever, don't judge. Sickness makes you do crazy things.
One thing I learned from last time is that it truly is worse if your stomach is empty. So no matter how shitty you feel, and how much even the thought of food makes you want to barf, you HAVE to eat. An empty stomach feels worse. At least for me. So this time I have been trying to be proactive in keeping the tummy full, or at least not empty. I lost 9 pounds in the first trimester of my last pregnancy so that should tell you how much I didn't eat. So here is what I am doing now.
Before I go to bed at night, I put a banana next to my bed for first thing when I get up. So as soon as the alarm goes off, and as I am stumbling to the shower, not really even awake, I scarf down a banana. That way by the time I wake up (somewhere mid shower), I already have food in my stomach. Then I proceed with my morning, and while I am packing my lunch for the day, I eat a thing of organic applesauce. (As you can see, I am sticking with the BRAT diet thing first thing in the morning--something I learned with a kid who barfed a lot). So by the time I leave for work/drop The Boy off I have already eaten two things. Next difference is I now skip my morning cup of decaf chai tea. Damn I love that thing. I have had one every morning for years. But right now, even the thought of it makes me feel nasty. So I skip it.
By the time I get to work I am usually feeling pretty terrible again. So as soon as I sit down at my desk I eat about 3 saltine crackers and some water (currently doing that now). Then by about 10:00am I try and eat my breakfast. Now when I am not pregnant, that breakfast is usually a bagel with cream cheese. But since I like to at least try to put things of substance into my body when I am pregnant, I have switched this to cottage cheese with mandarin oranges. I will admit, it pretty much never sounds good, but I make myself eat it. I eat it slowly and usually drag it out over about an hour. Then I eat lunch around 12:30 or so. My lunch usually consists of a hard boiled egg (protein), a string cheese (calcium) and then a pickle and a frozen healthy meal. Today I am ditching the frozen meal and having a some chicken noodle soup. And right now that soup sounds damn good. We will see how it sounds by the time I get to it.
Then usually mid afternoon I need a snack. So about 3:30ish I usually either eat a handful of pistachio nuts, or if I am feeling really horrible, I stick with the saltines. Never leave the house without saltines. That will usually keep me going until dinnertime. For dinner things vary depending on how crappy I feel. If I am feeling horrible, I feed The Boy something healthy and I will most likely revert to the party pizza's mentioned above. I still enjoy them, and they still seem to agree with me. But if I am just feeling moderately nasty, then I try and eat something healthy with some protein in it. Last night I made chicken taco's for The Boy and me. Once I am done with dinner (usually by about 6:30pm) I have NO desire to eat anything else for the rest of the evening. The thought of a sugary snack is gross. In fact, I have a ton of leftover yummy things from my birthday and they are all in the freezer. Just doesn't sound good. I would prefer to not put anything else in my mouth after dinner for the rest of the night. Unfortunately if I do that, it means I wake up with a REALLY empty stomach and that is a bad thing. So the last few nights I have been forcing myself to eat about 5 - 7 saltines before I go to bed to fill the tummy. That seems to be enough. Then I gratefully collapse in bed (usually around 9:30) and sleep like shit until I wake up the next morning to start the whole thing over again.
I apologize to anyone who suffered through reading this entire post. It is clearly more for my "records" than to be entertaining. As I have mentioned before, I am finding it difficult to be entertaining during the fiery pit of first trimester hell. But hopefully 6 weeks or so from now we can return to our regularly scheduled bloggingness. :)
Monday, September 15, 2008
Skirting the Issue
I try very hard to not blog about certain things in my life. My family, which could be an entire blog by itself, is pretty much off limits. And I try very hard to not blog about negative things where The Ex is concerned. After all, one day The Boy might read the contents of this blog. And I wouldn't want him to ever hear me say anything negative about his Mom. And god forbid The Ex herself were to ever discover this blog. There isn't enough money in therapy to fix what would happen if that were to happen. So I found myself all weekend long trying to come up with things to blog about that didn't include either of those subjects. Some of the things I came up with was the ever-favorite filler post about the new fall TV shows that are coming up. Or the ever-boring and repetitive post about how much morning/all day sickness sucks. But really I don't want to write about either of those things. I struggle between allowing this blog to truly be my outlet, or whether it is a future diary for my children to read. And I haven't really decided what the answer is.
But I do know one thing. When I started reading blogs (when I was home on maternity leave with The Boy) I was touched by how personal the stories/posts were. In those early days of motherhood, I really needed to hear those personal stories. And then as I sought out other blogs of things that I had experienced (infertility as one example), I felt such comfort in reading a post that paralleled my life in some way or another. But what I never found, and what I still don't see a lot of is blogs that deal with the break up of lesbian relationships. Especially after kids. Either it is a very unheard of occurance, or else people just don't talk about it. Now I am sure there are many single mother after divorce blogs out there, and to be honest, I haven't really looked for any. I like to stay right here in my own little community of lesbian parents and their blogs. As I have mentioned before, I don't have any other lesbian parents in my group of friends. So I use these blogs, and the women listed in my blogroll to the right, as my peer group. I read their posts and stories much like I am sitting in a bar having a beer with these women. And it makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I am part of a community where my son is NOT the only child of a gay couple that I know. But I never hear about any issues with the relationship themselves. Is it that it is too taboo to post about such things? Are we somehow afraid that if we admit that our relationships have shitty points as well then we are somehow devaluing further the validity of our partnerships? Or is it a sense of respect for our partners? Is it because as lesbians, we generally (HUGE stereotype coming here) end up friends with our exes, and therefore don't want to say negative things in the big, open world of the internet? Is it because sometimes one partner is much more private than the other, and frankly the other partner wishes we wouldn't post the stuff we do out there, much less anything personal? Why is it? I wonder this often. And when I started my blog, I wanted to be one of the first to tread the terrain of living life as a single mother after my lesbian relationship went kaput. I wanted to talk about this stuff. Because I know that as I read, I sometimes feel very alone. I feel like I am the only asshole lesbian who had a child with someone else and couldn't make it work. I look at all the other people I read and I wish that I had their seemingly perfect partners and relationships. And sometimes I feel like a failure. Now any relationship ending breeds feelings of failure. This isn't specific to the lesbians in general. And I know that no relationship is made up of "perfect partners and relationships." So I don't mean to generalize and I don't mean to insinuate that the women who's blogs I read have perfect relationships without their pitfalls. It's just that I don't get to read about them very often. So I don't get that lovely feeling of knowing that I am not the only one.
Yet here I am perpetuating exactly what I wanted to avoid. I haven't posted about what's going on with The Ex. I have posted about The Boy and the pregnancy and avoided the stress that is currently going down with The Ex. For what? To protect her? To protect myself in some crazy, future lawsuit where my words could be used against me? For whatever reason, this is hard stuff to post about. In fact I have written this long just avoiding talking about it. But for me, I am going to try and talk. I will try and keep things simple and non-judgemental, but I want to talk about my truths.
And right now my truths include ending up back in couples therapy to deal with the fact that The Ex is "very upset, and hurt, and angry" at the fact that I made the decision to have another baby without talking to her about it first. And in that regard, even though I worked my ASS off to create the financial stability to raise this child on my own, The Ex then gets to come to me and tell me she simply can't afford to keep giving me the amount of money a month that we agreed on. So basically all the planning I did and hard work I did to create enough money to just make it, has to be "fixed" yet again. And I am very angry about this. And yet, somehow my pregnancy and my future child have become all about her. Again. And truthfully? Right now I don't have the energy to deal with all of this.
It is taking all I have to not go back and delete these words that I have just written. It turns out it is damn hard to talk about this stuff on the internet for the whole world to see. So maybe I understand why I don't read so much of it. But damnit, I am going to try and start the trend. Maybe then one day people will be able to talk freely about this and we can receive comfort in this area in the same way that blogs bring us comfort in so many other ways. Here's to trying.
But I do know one thing. When I started reading blogs (when I was home on maternity leave with The Boy) I was touched by how personal the stories/posts were. In those early days of motherhood, I really needed to hear those personal stories. And then as I sought out other blogs of things that I had experienced (infertility as one example), I felt such comfort in reading a post that paralleled my life in some way or another. But what I never found, and what I still don't see a lot of is blogs that deal with the break up of lesbian relationships. Especially after kids. Either it is a very unheard of occurance, or else people just don't talk about it. Now I am sure there are many single mother after divorce blogs out there, and to be honest, I haven't really looked for any. I like to stay right here in my own little community of lesbian parents and their blogs. As I have mentioned before, I don't have any other lesbian parents in my group of friends. So I use these blogs, and the women listed in my blogroll to the right, as my peer group. I read their posts and stories much like I am sitting in a bar having a beer with these women. And it makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I am part of a community where my son is NOT the only child of a gay couple that I know. But I never hear about any issues with the relationship themselves. Is it that it is too taboo to post about such things? Are we somehow afraid that if we admit that our relationships have shitty points as well then we are somehow devaluing further the validity of our partnerships? Or is it a sense of respect for our partners? Is it because as lesbians, we generally (HUGE stereotype coming here) end up friends with our exes, and therefore don't want to say negative things in the big, open world of the internet? Is it because sometimes one partner is much more private than the other, and frankly the other partner wishes we wouldn't post the stuff we do out there, much less anything personal? Why is it? I wonder this often. And when I started my blog, I wanted to be one of the first to tread the terrain of living life as a single mother after my lesbian relationship went kaput. I wanted to talk about this stuff. Because I know that as I read, I sometimes feel very alone. I feel like I am the only asshole lesbian who had a child with someone else and couldn't make it work. I look at all the other people I read and I wish that I had their seemingly perfect partners and relationships. And sometimes I feel like a failure. Now any relationship ending breeds feelings of failure. This isn't specific to the lesbians in general. And I know that no relationship is made up of "perfect partners and relationships." So I don't mean to generalize and I don't mean to insinuate that the women who's blogs I read have perfect relationships without their pitfalls. It's just that I don't get to read about them very often. So I don't get that lovely feeling of knowing that I am not the only one.
Yet here I am perpetuating exactly what I wanted to avoid. I haven't posted about what's going on with The Ex. I have posted about The Boy and the pregnancy and avoided the stress that is currently going down with The Ex. For what? To protect her? To protect myself in some crazy, future lawsuit where my words could be used against me? For whatever reason, this is hard stuff to post about. In fact I have written this long just avoiding talking about it. But for me, I am going to try and talk. I will try and keep things simple and non-judgemental, but I want to talk about my truths.
And right now my truths include ending up back in couples therapy to deal with the fact that The Ex is "very upset, and hurt, and angry" at the fact that I made the decision to have another baby without talking to her about it first. And in that regard, even though I worked my ASS off to create the financial stability to raise this child on my own, The Ex then gets to come to me and tell me she simply can't afford to keep giving me the amount of money a month that we agreed on. So basically all the planning I did and hard work I did to create enough money to just make it, has to be "fixed" yet again. And I am very angry about this. And yet, somehow my pregnancy and my future child have become all about her. Again. And truthfully? Right now I don't have the energy to deal with all of this.
It is taking all I have to not go back and delete these words that I have just written. It turns out it is damn hard to talk about this stuff on the internet for the whole world to see. So maybe I understand why I don't read so much of it. But damnit, I am going to try and start the trend. Maybe then one day people will be able to talk freely about this and we can receive comfort in this area in the same way that blogs bring us comfort in so many other ways. Here's to trying.
Friday, September 12, 2008
It's a Good Day!
I am giddy right now. And believe me, that doesn't usually happen by 10:00 in the morning. Especially lately...but I digress. We just got back from our doctor appointment for The Boy with his gastroenterologist. This was a "weigh in" appointment to check on his weight after starting him on the medication to stimulate his appetite. I will recap what has happened recently to bring you up to date. He weighed a little over 23 pounds at his 2 year old appointment. Then in March he was up to 23.7 pounds. We went back in August and he was up to 23.14 pounds. Now, just for clarification purposes, these numbers were decidedly NOT GOOD. My dude is little. That we know. So we are never expecting him to suddenly show up in the 50th percentile or anything. What seems to be normal for him is staying around the 5 - 10th percentile. That is where his height has stayed and that is what they would like to see his weight at as well. He went BELOW the 0 percentile around March. So he basically "fell off the charts." We don't like this. Neither do his doctors. He has not gotten back "on the charts" since. But for a while I heard things like, "Well he isn't on the chart but he is still making a curve underneath the chart, so that's better than flat lining." Then on the last couple of visits I have heard the dreaded "flat lining" commentary. It sucked. And that was the reason why I finally allowed him to go on that medication to stimulate the appetite. Today was his first check in since being on the medication.
I had said to friends and family that if he wasn't at least somewhere in the 24 pound range that I was going to poke my eyes out with a sharp stick. So that is what I was hoping for. He had been in the damn 23 pound range for almost a year. And with winter coming, we need him to put on some weight because he always loses weight with the cold and flu season. So today? Today my BIG boy weighed in at 25.4 pounds!!! Holy shit! He gained a pound and a half in a month. That is totally unheard of in my world. I practically danced around the office. I couldn't believe it. His height was 34 1/2" tall. Once his doctor came in she told me that his height is on the 10th percentile! Holy crap. He may make it to over 5'4" after all! Yay Boy! And the best part? His weight is now on the charts. He is between the 3rd and 5th percentile. It is still small but it is ON THE CHARTS! You couldn't have given me any better information. I am seriously giddy.
I have often lamented to my friends with kids that I would kill to have just one appointment with my son where the doctor looks at me and says, "everything looks great. She him again in ___ time." Seriously, up until today, that has honestly NEVER happened to me. I have never had an appointment where I didn't get some sort of "look" or "conversation" about what was going on and what we needed to do to fix it. But I got that today. She said he looks perfect. She does want to see him back for another weight check in 6 weeks, but as of when we left today she said she couldn't be happier with his progress and that he was doing great. I still can't believe it. I am so proud of my big boy. And he was proud too. He told everyone in the office as we were leaving "I do great. I big boy!" Indeed my boy, indeed.
Pictured above, my big fire fighter. He is using the plant and pretending it was his hose as he ran around the neighborhood putting out fires. Love that little boy so much!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Disclaimer
Okay I feel as though I need to put up the disclaimer. I am not very good at early pregnancy. I was HORRIBLE at it with The Boy, and the way things are lining up, it doesn't look like I am going to be all flowers and sunshine this time around either. Like a lot of other people, I am aware that some people read this blog that are still trying to get pregnant and would do virtually ANYTHING to be in the position that I am in. So in an effort to not be a complete asshole, I have tried to not write about some of the unpleasant things associated with early pregnancy. I am now realizing that if I continue on this vein, then my blog posts will be short and (not so) sweet for probably the next 6 - 10 weeks. Not only is that boring and totally unrepresentative of my life, but it isn't MY truth. And the reason I started this blog was to be able to talk about my truths, no matter how crappy they may be. So I am going to proceed with caution.
***If you don't want to read about the shitty side of pregnancy, just skip the rest of this post, okay? Thanks...*****
When I got pregnant with The Boy, I was thrilled for about a week. And then the morning/all day sickness set in. Somehow I didn't feel as thrilled after that. I think that for people who have tried for a long time to get pregnant, we (meaning ME) somehow think that once we see those double pink lines that we have succeeded. We have done what we tried so hard to do! Frivolity and joy may commence now. And if for some reason that doesn't happen? Well you feel doubly shitty. Not only do you feel physically shitty, but you have all this guilt associated with not feeling like this is the best thing that has ever happened to you. And if you are lucky enough to have a partner who has gone through this journey with you? Then damnit you need to be happy for them as well. They have gone through this journey with you, and they too feel like they succeeded when they get to see those double pink lines. But, they don't feel like they have the worst hangover of mankind FOR MONTHS ON END, and therefore they get understandably upset when you keep telling them that you just want to die. Again, I am talking about my own experience here. It was really tough the first time around because I genuinely wanted to be nothing but thrilled and happy and looking at all the books and baby clothes and oh happy, happy, joy, joy. BUT that wasn't how I felt. I didn't want to see the damn books, or the damn clothes, or think about a damn baby name because I simply wanted to be left alone, lying on my couch waiting for death to overtake me. And I will be honest...it did some damage. The Ex retreated and by the time I felt like this pregnancy WAS an amazing thing (there is light at the end of the tunnel), she was long gone with her enthusiasm. And who could blame her? I tried to "bring her back," but really a lot of the damage had been done. So that brings me to where I am now...to this current pregnancy.
I had a pretty good idea that this pregnancy would go similarly to the last one. Sure there are all those people who tell you that each pregnancy is different, and that if you got sick last time, that doesn't necessarily mean you were going to get sick this time...blah, blah, blah... But if you really press people and ask them specifically about their own pregnancies, I have yet to find a person who was sick the first time around, but NOT sick the second time around. (Feel free to prove me wrong if you know someone who this happened to...I would love to hear it). So each day that has passed without feeling like death I have taken as a blessing. But a blessing I know will be short lived. And the one thing I have looked forward to is that this time I am doing it alone. I know that sounds CRAZY!! but at least I won't have to try and be happy for someone else. If I am miserable, then I am miserable, but at least I won't be dragging down someone else's happiness. I had visions of laying on the couch wanting to die, but doing it alone and being able to blissfully moan, and toss and turn, and yell about how horrible I felt, ALL BY MYSELF. Inflicting no negativity on anyone else who would care (of course The Boy is always happily sleeping in bed in my visions...). And you know what? I am getting my wish. There isn't someone there to judge me and remind me that each pregnancy is a blessing, and couldn't I possibly look on the bright side to the beautiful child that I am creating.
But the flip side? There isn't someone there. Period. And I am one giant ball of hormonal mess and yuckness. And that person who I so judgingly tried to make understand that she couldn't possibly know how horrible this felt, and how I was really downplaying it all just for her benefit, she isn't there to bring me cold wash cloths to put on my head. And she isn't there to get up early and make me a plate of melba toast with peanut butter on it and slide it by my bedside so I could try and eat it laying down before I even moved in the morning. And she isn't there to remind me that each pregnancy is a blessing and that I am creating a beautiful child. It's just me. It's just me feeling like I have a hangover and having to get out of bed and do something about it. And do it all before The Boy wakes up in the morning. And I won't even tell you how every time I see The Boy, I feel like throwing my arms around him and sobbing and promising him that nothing will change and that his Mommy is sorry for doing this to us, and...and...and...
Fuck. Pregnancy hormones suck. That is all there is to it. And I know that this will pass. I have approximately 6 to 10 more weeks of feeling like this and then I will enter the blissful stage of pregnancy. I know I can make it. And I know it is going to get worse before it gets better. I was 6 weeks pregnant yesterday and if I am being totally truthful, the sickness isn't all that horrible yet. Yes, I would say that it's here. But it isn't horrific yet. I can still function. And most times right now I can still eat something, or do something to make it mostly go away. But I can see my future...I can smell it. And it ain't pretty.
If there is anyone who is still trying to conceive who made it through this entire post (god bless ANYONE who could make it through this entire post), then all I ask is to be kind to yourself. WHEN (not if, when) you actually achieve your pregnancy, if it isn't all sunshine and roses, give yourself a break. Sometimes the beginning of pregnancy is hard. No matter what it took you to get there. So just buck up, and acknowledge the suckiness of it all. It will pass. And you will get to that amazing point in pregnancy where you no longer look just fat, and where you get to feel your baby move for the first time, and where you get to find out the sex of your little one. That is what makes it all worth it. And you will get there. And I will get there. I am reminding myself as much as I am reminding you... Thanks for reading. I needed to get that out.
***If you don't want to read about the shitty side of pregnancy, just skip the rest of this post, okay? Thanks...*****
When I got pregnant with The Boy, I was thrilled for about a week. And then the morning/all day sickness set in. Somehow I didn't feel as thrilled after that. I think that for people who have tried for a long time to get pregnant, we (meaning ME) somehow think that once we see those double pink lines that we have succeeded. We have done what we tried so hard to do! Frivolity and joy may commence now. And if for some reason that doesn't happen? Well you feel doubly shitty. Not only do you feel physically shitty, but you have all this guilt associated with not feeling like this is the best thing that has ever happened to you. And if you are lucky enough to have a partner who has gone through this journey with you? Then damnit you need to be happy for them as well. They have gone through this journey with you, and they too feel like they succeeded when they get to see those double pink lines. But, they don't feel like they have the worst hangover of mankind FOR MONTHS ON END, and therefore they get understandably upset when you keep telling them that you just want to die. Again, I am talking about my own experience here. It was really tough the first time around because I genuinely wanted to be nothing but thrilled and happy and looking at all the books and baby clothes and oh happy, happy, joy, joy. BUT that wasn't how I felt. I didn't want to see the damn books, or the damn clothes, or think about a damn baby name because I simply wanted to be left alone, lying on my couch waiting for death to overtake me. And I will be honest...it did some damage. The Ex retreated and by the time I felt like this pregnancy WAS an amazing thing (there is light at the end of the tunnel), she was long gone with her enthusiasm. And who could blame her? I tried to "bring her back," but really a lot of the damage had been done. So that brings me to where I am now...to this current pregnancy.
I had a pretty good idea that this pregnancy would go similarly to the last one. Sure there are all those people who tell you that each pregnancy is different, and that if you got sick last time, that doesn't necessarily mean you were going to get sick this time...blah, blah, blah... But if you really press people and ask them specifically about their own pregnancies, I have yet to find a person who was sick the first time around, but NOT sick the second time around. (Feel free to prove me wrong if you know someone who this happened to...I would love to hear it). So each day that has passed without feeling like death I have taken as a blessing. But a blessing I know will be short lived. And the one thing I have looked forward to is that this time I am doing it alone. I know that sounds CRAZY!! but at least I won't have to try and be happy for someone else. If I am miserable, then I am miserable, but at least I won't be dragging down someone else's happiness. I had visions of laying on the couch wanting to die, but doing it alone and being able to blissfully moan, and toss and turn, and yell about how horrible I felt, ALL BY MYSELF. Inflicting no negativity on anyone else who would care (of course The Boy is always happily sleeping in bed in my visions...). And you know what? I am getting my wish. There isn't someone there to judge me and remind me that each pregnancy is a blessing, and couldn't I possibly look on the bright side to the beautiful child that I am creating.
But the flip side? There isn't someone there. Period. And I am one giant ball of hormonal mess and yuckness. And that person who I so judgingly tried to make understand that she couldn't possibly know how horrible this felt, and how I was really downplaying it all just for her benefit, she isn't there to bring me cold wash cloths to put on my head. And she isn't there to get up early and make me a plate of melba toast with peanut butter on it and slide it by my bedside so I could try and eat it laying down before I even moved in the morning. And she isn't there to remind me that each pregnancy is a blessing and that I am creating a beautiful child. It's just me. It's just me feeling like I have a hangover and having to get out of bed and do something about it. And do it all before The Boy wakes up in the morning. And I won't even tell you how every time I see The Boy, I feel like throwing my arms around him and sobbing and promising him that nothing will change and that his Mommy is sorry for doing this to us, and...and...and...
Fuck. Pregnancy hormones suck. That is all there is to it. And I know that this will pass. I have approximately 6 to 10 more weeks of feeling like this and then I will enter the blissful stage of pregnancy. I know I can make it. And I know it is going to get worse before it gets better. I was 6 weeks pregnant yesterday and if I am being totally truthful, the sickness isn't all that horrible yet. Yes, I would say that it's here. But it isn't horrific yet. I can still function. And most times right now I can still eat something, or do something to make it mostly go away. But I can see my future...I can smell it. And it ain't pretty.
If there is anyone who is still trying to conceive who made it through this entire post (god bless ANYONE who could make it through this entire post), then all I ask is to be kind to yourself. WHEN (not if, when) you actually achieve your pregnancy, if it isn't all sunshine and roses, give yourself a break. Sometimes the beginning of pregnancy is hard. No matter what it took you to get there. So just buck up, and acknowledge the suckiness of it all. It will pass. And you will get to that amazing point in pregnancy where you no longer look just fat, and where you get to feel your baby move for the first time, and where you get to find out the sex of your little one. That is what makes it all worth it. And you will get there. And I will get there. I am reminding myself as much as I am reminding you... Thanks for reading. I needed to get that out.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Finally...THE VERDICT!
Holy shit, I'm pregnant. I FINALLY heard back from my doctor's office this afternoon and I am officially pregnant. Whew. BIG whew! She said that my numbers looked great and that my "quants" (what the hell is a quant? I know what a BETA is, but what is this quant thing?) were in the thousands. I clarified that she knew that my tests were done a week apart instead of 72 hours apart and were the numbers still good given that? Yes, yes they are.
And the best part? I get to go in for my first prenatal appointment at 8 weeks as opposed to at 12 weeks, which is when I thought they were going to bring me in. So I actually have an appointment scheduled on Tuesday the 23rd with my very favorite nurse practitioner in two weeks. Okay I finally feel like I can breathe a little bit. I know I am crazy, but I really needed that phone call to feel better about things. And now I have it. Now I must go lay down, all this excitement has taken its toll...
And the best part? I get to go in for my first prenatal appointment at 8 weeks as opposed to at 12 weeks, which is when I thought they were going to bring me in. So I actually have an appointment scheduled on Tuesday the 23rd with my very favorite nurse practitioner in two weeks. Okay I finally feel like I can breathe a little bit. I know I am crazy, but I really needed that phone call to feel better about things. And now I have it. Now I must go lay down, all this excitement has taken its toll...
Monday Randomness
- Is anyone watching the show Must Love Kids on TLC? If you're not, it's about 3 single moms who are "finally ready" to join the dating pool again. The potential dates have to interact with not only the women, but also their kids. As a single mom, I wanted to check it out. While I am mostly enjoying the show I had to mention that one of the moms has a kid that is SO out of control that none of the men seem to want to spend more time with her. She's a pretty hot looking woman, but man, as soon as you introduce her little daughter into the mix, she just plain isn't worth it. We are getting to the end of the show and she might finally be understanding that perhaps some of her parenting choices are affecting the fact the she is still single. Kids need boundaries. They count on us as parents to provide them for them. I'm just saying...
- So it appears that one of my cats has been adopted by a neighbor of mine. All of my cats are outdoor/indoor cats and one in particular came home the other night with a new collar on him. A collar with a BELL, no less. I would never humiliate one of my cats with a bell collar. How are they supposed to catch the birds and mice with a big ole bell hanging off of them? But seriously? It's MY cat. And he did have a collar. So apparently they took off his collar and put on their own? Who does that? The Ex said that she has seen him slutting around with the kids that live in the house a couple of houses down from me. She even saw one of the kids carry him inside once. What do I do about this? Do I do nothing and just allow us to "share" the cat? Or do I take the damn bell collar off and put his old one back on with an address tag stating that he has an owner? Or do I simply wander down to their house and nicely ask if they are the ones who have been giving my cat the extra love as of late? I have several cats, so I suppose I am fine to share. But still. Who does that? Maybe they seriously think he doesn't have a home and are just trying to take care of him. He is kinda skinny... But he's only a little over a year old and I adopted him and his sister together, so I would kinda like to keep them both. Very strange...
- My hormones are OUT OF CONTROL!! I swear I feel like crying at everything! I practically burst into tears when dropping The Boy off at school today. Why? I have no idea. I just wanted to keep him close to me. When he said, "No, Mommy stay..." I seriously considered it. "I could take a day off I suppose..." What the hell? I can't take a day off, and why would I want to? Plus, last night I had to discipline him after he poured the contents of his water cup all over the dining room table and rubbed it around with his hands. My discipline made him cry. No news there. And I felt like a giant asshole. I swear I can still see his hurt little eyes crying and it makes my heart break. What the hell is wrong with me? Good lord...
- The Boy's "baby Daddy" came over for a visit yesterday. He lives out of state and doesn't really see him all that often. Sometimes it is a fine visit, and sometimes he leaves and my blood pressure is through the roof and I swear I have to make an extra visit to my therapist to be able to handle it at all. Yesterday he was fine. We hadn't seen him since the beginning of April, so he didn't know that The Ex and I had officially broken up. We told him. He also most certainly didn't know that I was pregnant again. We told him that too. And he took both in stride. He was actually very pleasant and just seemed to genuinely enjoy the time he was able to spend with The Boy. AND he brought me card for my birthday. (I have NO idea when his birthday is...). And inside the card? An $100 bill. Holy shit. Wonders never cease.
- The Ex is going to make an offer on buying her own house (we co-own the house that I live in). While that certainly makes sense, it means that I have to come up with the money to buy her out of our current house. She needs my money to use as a down payment on the house she is buying. Good news is, the market is so bad that this is a really good time for me to buy her out. I will end up saving a lot of money as opposed to buying her out when the housing market is better. Bad news is, holy shit, I have to come up many many thousands of dollars. But I suppose if all goes well, then I will be the sole owner of my current house (which is worth A LOT more money than the house she is buying). But man, that is a really final thing. And did I mention how much money I am going to have to come up with?
- So I called the damned doctors office this morning. And after the line was busy for over a half an hour (seriously, that is not an exaggeration), I got through. And shock of all shocks, someone will have to call me back with my results. I meekly asked, "Can I expect a call back sometime today?" And she said, "Ummm, you should, yes." I guess I will call them back tomorrow after I don't hear anything today. :)
Sunday, September 7, 2008
It Was Inevitable
So Friday was my birthday. I turned 34 years old. In a lot of ways, I am really the luckiest person alive. I have amazing friends, and awesome family, and between The Boy and the little fetus thing (man do I have to come up with a better name...) that is supposedly growing inside of me, I feel really complete. I honestly do. And to just show you how ridiculous I am, let me tell you about my weekend.
Thursday night I went out with my best friend from high school to this restaurant and had the best scallops in a wild mushroom and asparagus risotto with some crab artichoke dip that almost made me weep it was so good. Then on Friday, my actual birthday, my mom and I went out to lunch and then hit the mall to try and find me some birthday treats. Now I mentioned this before but I am so unbelievably bloated that nothing in my size would fit. So my mom mentioned that maybe I wanted to try on some maternity things since that appears to be where my life is heading. So I did. And I looked like a little girl playing dress up. Way too early for that. So with disappointment, I headed through Nordstrom on my way out and found a really cute zip up fancy hoodie thing, and a couple of shirts. So that made me happy.
Then Friday night my cousin was coming to spend the night (for unrelated reasons, just happened to coincide with my birthday, but it was fabulous to see her) and The Gay Boyfriends were supposed to come over and bring king crab legs for dinner; my favorite. My cousin came, and eventually the boyfriends showed up but they hadn't had time to get the crab legs so we ordered out, which ended with them coming home from picking up the food quite crabby because they had gotten in a fight while waiting. They were very sweet and got me a gift card to previously mentioned department store and had put together a picture frame with 3 pictures from our recent trip up to my cabin. Of course I cried. That seems to be what I do right now. :) But overall it really was a lovely day.
Then on Saturday The Boy and I went up to have lunch with my 92 year old grandmother, which she loves and we love as well. Then later on in the afternoon I hosted a BBQ to celebrate my birthday and my other grandmother's (who turned 86) birthday. As it always goes when all the cousins get together, it was a bit chaotic at times, but The Boy so loves playing with his cousins. And by the end of the evening after everyone left I was truly touched as to how wonderful my family really is. We all live in close proximity to one another and for the most part, we all get along really well. I am so, so, so lucky to have the people in my life that I do. My son is lucky to be able to grow up with his cousins and family so close that he sees them almost two or three times a month. We are both tremendously lucky and my heart feels how amazingly special that is.
But at the end of the night, after everyone had gone home, and after The Boy was asleep, I got kind of sad. Blame it on the hormones, but it happened. Even despite all of the amazing things I just described above, it does occur to me that for right now, I am alone in this world (and by alone, I mean single). The Ex and I couldn't make things work, and the fact remains that I am pregnant and alone. That is sad to me. Not sad enough to lose sight of how lucky I really am in the big picture, but sad enough to sit on my couch, bloated and fat from a great evening of food and cake, and feel just a little bit sorry for myself that my life hasn't turned out how I planned it. Believe it or not, I never wanted to be a single mom. I never wanted to be creating my family without the presence of another woman there to share it all with. I wanted the two parent household and the white picket fence. I guess in some ways we all want some version of that. And most days I am content with what I have ended up with. A beautiful son who sang happy birthday to me for the first time, and a family that loves and supports me, and wonderful friends who wish me the best. But, if I'm being greedy, it would have been nice to have someone sitting there on that couch with me last night holding my hand marveling with me about our good fortune.
Since I have found out I was pregnant, I have spent a lot of time telling people that I planned this. That I desperately wanted this and explaining the ways that I made it happen. I have been telling people that it is okay that I am doing this alone. That I knew what I was doing and that I took steps to make sure that I could make it happen without any detriment to my son or my future child. And all of that is true. But maybe on birthdays we think more about wishes and wants. And I didn't want to do it this way. This wasn't my intention. But with the little curves that life has thrown me so far, I made a choice to not let those curves kills ALL of my dreams. I have continued to fight for what is important to me. But every once in a while, when my guard goes down, I am sad for what isn't.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
How Accurate Are Those Pink Lines?
So I think it has been clearly established here that I am somewhat of a neurotic freak. Especially when it comes to pregnancy. Now a lot of people have told me that since I was able to get pregnant the first time I tried that I need to drop my "infertile" label. First of all, I don't necessarily label myself as infertile. I had what a lot of people have, which was "unexplained infertility." Now, looking back it seems that label is only accurate when I was using frozen sperm. Now I am not saying anything bad about frozen sperm, but for me personally, I tried to get pregnant for 3 years using frozen sperm and it never happened. When I switched to use a known donor, and therefore "fresh" sperm, I got pregnant on the first month I tried. Both times. So an infertile I am not. However, the fact that I spent 3 years at my local REI clinic and over $30,000 trying to create a child that never happened leaves a girl a bit scarred. Because I seem to be able to get pregnant rather easily using fresh sperm, does that mean that I didn't go through the stress of trying to get pregnant for 3 years? Does it erase the memories of dildo cam, after dildo cam, and shot after shot, and month after month of waiting and hoping and praying, only to find out that it didn't work? Does it put all the money I spent back into my bank account? Does it make up for all of those months where I sat during the two week wait, just like everyone else out there, and was ultimately disappointed? I don't think it does. Now I am not saying this because I am in some way "fighting" for my infertile title. I'm not. I don't want the title. I don't want any title. But because I have a (somewhat) healthy son, and am pregnant with my second child, that doesn't erase the feelings and emotions that go with trying to get pregnant and not having it work the way you would like it to work. Sara over at The Egg Dance has posted some writings that take me right back to where I was about 5 years ago. I feel for her, and I feel for every single other blog reader/writer that I frequent that is fighting for their chance at parenthood. And while I read them, I still feel a sense of guilt because for whatever reason, I am not fighting that battle anymore. I am incredibly lucky to be where I am, and yet, like many of the people who have had to go through any battle to become pregnant, I am still a skeptic. The "infertile" in me is alive and well. Oh, and the neurotic freak that I mentioned above.
As of today, I still have not heard that I am pregnant out of a doctor's mouth. I still have not received any results on any bloodwork that could possibly confirm that there is indeed a child growing inside of me. And because I am no longer considered "infertile," I am supposed to be handling this pregnancy just like any "normal" woman. Meaning, I have not had any ultrasounds and/or BETA's that would make me feel like things are going as they should be. So I have no idea. And since I am still a neurotic freak, I am not really convinced I am pregnant. Sure, there are the 47 pee sticks that I have peed on, but that doesn't seem like enough. No, I haven't gotten my period yet, but still... I need some sort of confimation. As I wrote about before, I went in for one blood test last Tuesday. And since I was out of town on Friday (72 hours after the initial test when I was supposed to do the second test), I didn't go back in for the second test until Tuesday of this week. Today is Thursday and I haven't heard anything from my doctor about any tests. So I wait. And I wonder. And I freak out a little bit. Because even if you are lucky enough to lose the "infertile" title, that doesn't mean that you suddenly assume all is wonderful and going smoothly. I know about what can happen. I have seen it happen and I have read about it. I know that lots of women have miscarriages, and that sometimes the numbers just don't double the way they are supposed to. I can't get rid of all the baggage that comes with it and I can't stop assuming that there is something wrong. And I can't convince myself that this ginormous BLOAT around my middle section will somehow, in about 9 months, produce a baby. I need something more concrete. And so I wait...
As of today, I still have not heard that I am pregnant out of a doctor's mouth. I still have not received any results on any bloodwork that could possibly confirm that there is indeed a child growing inside of me. And because I am no longer considered "infertile," I am supposed to be handling this pregnancy just like any "normal" woman. Meaning, I have not had any ultrasounds and/or BETA's that would make me feel like things are going as they should be. So I have no idea. And since I am still a neurotic freak, I am not really convinced I am pregnant. Sure, there are the 47 pee sticks that I have peed on, but that doesn't seem like enough. No, I haven't gotten my period yet, but still... I need some sort of confimation. As I wrote about before, I went in for one blood test last Tuesday. And since I was out of town on Friday (72 hours after the initial test when I was supposed to do the second test), I didn't go back in for the second test until Tuesday of this week. Today is Thursday and I haven't heard anything from my doctor about any tests. So I wait. And I wonder. And I freak out a little bit. Because even if you are lucky enough to lose the "infertile" title, that doesn't mean that you suddenly assume all is wonderful and going smoothly. I know about what can happen. I have seen it happen and I have read about it. I know that lots of women have miscarriages, and that sometimes the numbers just don't double the way they are supposed to. I can't get rid of all the baggage that comes with it and I can't stop assuming that there is something wrong. And I can't convince myself that this ginormous BLOAT around my middle section will somehow, in about 9 months, produce a baby. I need something more concrete. And so I wait...
Monday, September 1, 2008
Back from the mountains
My family has a cabin up in the mountains where we have gone since I was 2 years old. I headed up there this weekend with The Boy, The gay boyfriends and The Ex. It was amazing, as usual. This place is truly my "happy place." I feel so rejuvinated when I am up there. The air, the smells, the river that runs outside my cabin door, and the beauty all come together and really make me feel whole again. It is a long drive to get there, but once arrived it worth every single minute. I learned some things this weekend.
I am very thankful that my relationship with The Ex allows us to continue to take family vacations together. Our boy was SO excited to have "two Moms! Two Moms!" with him the whole weekend. He went back and forth between us sharing all of the amazing things he was doing. And honestly? I really needed the help. It can be an exhausting adventure to do by yourself. The gay boyfriends are lovely, but really don't understand the concept of being early on in a pregnancy and therefore needing some extra time to sit and relax, and also the need to not have to schlep heavy suitcases and coolers up and down the stairs. She was helpful both with physical things, as well as with entertainment of our son. It made the weekend MUCH more relaxing for me.
Being the only sober person kinda sucks. Yes, I understand that I am growing a life and that is a MUCH more important job than having a couple of glasses of wine. But I am not sure if I have ever been up to my cabin as an adult and done it totally sober all night long. Like I said, it wasn't so much that I was missing getting shit faced, but I kind of realized that the "fun" evening times aren't quite as fun when you are stone cold sober. The things that usually seem hysterical weren't quite as funny. So I spent most of my evenings relaxing on the couch reading a book.
Pregnancy hormones are a bitch. Man, was I hormonal. I probably cried like 3 times while we were there. And not over anything. Just being overwhelmed with emotion. As I said, I have been going up there since I was 2 years old and there have been a ton of good times, but also some not so good times (like during my parent's divorce). It was interesting to me that on this particular trip, I was in touch with some of the not-so-pleasant moments that occurred there. I guess because I now have my own family, I am adamant about making sure that my boy does not endure some of the things that I did growing up. And so far he hasn't. Even though his parents have gone through a divorce and split up, he is still able to go away for a weekend with both of us and know how much we both love him.
But the biggest thing that I learned was about my little boy. What an amazing child he is. As I have mentioned here, this is not a daring child. In fact, he could possibly be titled the most tentative child in history. But up at my cabin? TOTALLY my boy. He had absolutely no fear whatsoever about all things nature. He walked right into the rushing river. He stood up to his ankles in the freezing cold water and threw rocks with a joy on his face like I have never seen before. He hiked up and down the large hills and traversed the terrain like a champ. He hiked around the lakes, and up and down the hills like he had been doing it his whole life. He is truly a nature boy. I really cannot explain the emotion that I felt when I watched my little boy do the exact same things that I had done as a kid. And he did them in the exact same places that I had done that. The sense of family and generations was overwhelming. I am so thankful for my grandparents to build a cabin for us to grow up in. But now, to have my son experiencing the same things that I did as a little girl, well it is almost too much for me to handle. I don't feel like I am able to express the feelings properly, but just understand that this was one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced in my entire life.
Pictured above, The Boy enjoying mountain-y goodness...
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