Another good report at my FINAL RE VISIT today!
I'm measuring 9 weeks, 0 days, which is right on schedule from where the little guy has been in the past 3 weeks, but still not consistent with my chart. We got to see and hear the heartbeat again - it's up to 174 bpm! That's right about smack in the middle of "average" for 9 weeks, so things are looking good.
It's starting to feel like this is going to happen. There is still risk, as there will be the whole pregnancy, but with no bleeding or spotting and a good heart rate, we are very optimistic about actually having a baby in June!
I've experienced all the normal symptoms except heartburn and constipation. In fact, I am suffering from the opposite of constipation - I've had diarrhea five times in three weeks. One day it was bright green, so that was kinda concerning. After some obsessive googling, I think it's fine. Something about passing through your body too quickly to change the color, yada yada yada. Have I officially crossed into TMI or am I still toeing the line?
Also, no one ever told me about the "throwing up in my mouth a little," which has now happened four times in two weeks.
All in all, not bad problems to have, friends. I'll take it.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
~8 weeks
No news is good news these days, friends. I am approximately 8 weeks, 3 days pregnant and I've been having an appropriate amount of nausea, exhaustion, boob soreness, and moodiness. I didn't think I was experiencing any emotional swings until I realized I was crying while reading at least half of your all's recent blog posts. I wasn't sure if they actually are sadder / happier than usual or if I am experiencing them differently, but I think I'm going to go with the latter.
We've spilled the beans with our immediate families this weekend and I didn't expect so many happy tears! My sister just sobbed. I knew I was "supported" as an infertile the past year, but I don't think I realized how much they have been thinking about me and worrying about me. Now that I think of it, it would have been nice to know, in my dark times especially, that we were on their minds. Only now, when they know I'm on Cloud Nine and thrilled to pieces, have they told me how they were worried about saying the wrong thing or bringing me down by talking about it.
I went to therapy last night for what I hope will be my last session in a long, long time. I told her she must be really good because I'm knocked up! I wasn't sure what we were going to talk about for a whole 45 minutes, but I must have been bursting to agonize over every detail, because I talked her ear off.
I still worry a lot about the baby and making it through the pregnancy with a healthy take-home baby in 7 months. It's still early, after all. And I'm still not convinced that I'm actually 8 weeks, 3 days pregnant, even though the baby has been measuring along those lines for the past two ultrasounds. If we go by the first day of my last period (Sept 22), I'm actually only 7 weeks 5 days along. Either way, it's early.
I am very encouraged by the nausea, which I'm learning to manage, and by the exhaustion, which has me in bed by 9 or 9:30 every night. I feel bad for Champ because he's literally doing EVERYTHING around the house. I am exactly zero help. I get home from work and lay down for an hour, then force myself to shower, then turn down 99 out of 100 of Champ's suggestions for dinner, then wait for him to feed me, then I go to bed. Exciting stuff, huh? I think I must use every ounce of energy I have at work and by the time I get home, I can barely drag myself off the couch. I've been working myself up the motivation to do laundry for like 6 days.
We go back for our last RE visit on Friday for one more ultrasound. I can't wait to see the little guy again and make sure he's growing as he should!
We've spilled the beans with our immediate families this weekend and I didn't expect so many happy tears! My sister just sobbed. I knew I was "supported" as an infertile the past year, but I don't think I realized how much they have been thinking about me and worrying about me. Now that I think of it, it would have been nice to know, in my dark times especially, that we were on their minds. Only now, when they know I'm on Cloud Nine and thrilled to pieces, have they told me how they were worried about saying the wrong thing or bringing me down by talking about it.
I went to therapy last night for what I hope will be my last session in a long, long time. I told her she must be really good because I'm knocked up! I wasn't sure what we were going to talk about for a whole 45 minutes, but I must have been bursting to agonize over every detail, because I talked her ear off.
I still worry a lot about the baby and making it through the pregnancy with a healthy take-home baby in 7 months. It's still early, after all. And I'm still not convinced that I'm actually 8 weeks, 3 days pregnant, even though the baby has been measuring along those lines for the past two ultrasounds. If we go by the first day of my last period (Sept 22), I'm actually only 7 weeks 5 days along. Either way, it's early.
I am very encouraged by the nausea, which I'm learning to manage, and by the exhaustion, which has me in bed by 9 or 9:30 every night. I feel bad for Champ because he's literally doing EVERYTHING around the house. I am exactly zero help. I get home from work and lay down for an hour, then force myself to shower, then turn down 99 out of 100 of Champ's suggestions for dinner, then wait for him to feed me, then I go to bed. Exciting stuff, huh? I think I must use every ounce of energy I have at work and by the time I get home, I can barely drag myself off the couch. I've been working myself up the motivation to do laundry for like 6 days.
We go back for our last RE visit on Friday for one more ultrasound. I can't wait to see the little guy again and make sure he's growing as he should!
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
One Year Later
It's November 6, 2012.
I had originally envisioned this day's post to be a bleak, tear-streaked stream of consciousness in which I spilled my guts about how the past year changed everything but I have nothing to show for it. How infertility nearly broke me and I feel like a failure, a disappointment, and a disaster in general. I had considered, a couple months ago, of taking today off work to get a massage or go see a movie and eat ice cream, because I knew that I'd be a blubbering mess, reliving the moments leading up to and immediately following the news in the OBGYN's office a year ago. I was going to end the post on a note of hope, because really, I have come a long, looooong way from crying every single day, considering darker thoughts than I'd like to admit, and isolating myself from friends and family.
Today, on the one year anniversary of my Premature Ovarian Failure diagnosis, the post I'm actually writing is very different from the one I planned. I didn't even dare imagine a couple months ago that I'd be pregnant while I wrote this post.
So I thought I'd take a minute to go ahead and remember how infertility challenged me and changed me this year, because I have a feeling this year is one for the books. I'm going to remember it like I won't remember a lot of other years.
The first few months after my diagnosis on November 6, 2011 are hazy. I cried a lot. Sobbed. A lot. Threw temper tantrums. Screamed into pillows. Had hot flashes. Spent a lot of money on meds that didn't work a lick.
In March, I got on Hormone Replacement Therapy, which resolved my hot flash and brain fog issues. I finally felt like I could live with this condition. I trained for my first ever full marathon - and ran it! But I was still depressed, sad and angry.
By late June, I made an appointment with a therapist, and whaddya know, it actually helped. After a few weeks, I started to see that my condition was out of my control and I might as well try to have some fun if I can't get pregnant. I decided to wait at least three years post-diagnosis to try IVF with a donor and in the meantime, hell, we were going to live it up.
In August, we went to San Diego and tried marijuana for the first time. I booked a trip to Mexico with my girlfriends. I went out with friends, drank a lot, ran a half marathon, and went skydiving.
And then when I least expected it, after a year and a half of trying, during a cycle with NO eggwhite cervical mucous and a wonky ass chart, it happened. My BFP.
I'm so grateful to be in 5-10% of women with my condition who get pregnant. I feel like I owe the universe. Or God. Or something. Why me? I know there's not an answer to that, but I can't help but feel completely overwhelmed with it all.
I will say I think about all of you still in the trenches all the time. I am rooting for you and I won't forget you!
I had originally envisioned this day's post to be a bleak, tear-streaked stream of consciousness in which I spilled my guts about how the past year changed everything but I have nothing to show for it. How infertility nearly broke me and I feel like a failure, a disappointment, and a disaster in general. I had considered, a couple months ago, of taking today off work to get a massage or go see a movie and eat ice cream, because I knew that I'd be a blubbering mess, reliving the moments leading up to and immediately following the news in the OBGYN's office a year ago. I was going to end the post on a note of hope, because really, I have come a long, looooong way from crying every single day, considering darker thoughts than I'd like to admit, and isolating myself from friends and family.
Today, on the one year anniversary of my Premature Ovarian Failure diagnosis, the post I'm actually writing is very different from the one I planned. I didn't even dare imagine a couple months ago that I'd be pregnant while I wrote this post.
So I thought I'd take a minute to go ahead and remember how infertility challenged me and changed me this year, because I have a feeling this year is one for the books. I'm going to remember it like I won't remember a lot of other years.
The first few months after my diagnosis on November 6, 2011 are hazy. I cried a lot. Sobbed. A lot. Threw temper tantrums. Screamed into pillows. Had hot flashes. Spent a lot of money on meds that didn't work a lick.
In March, I got on Hormone Replacement Therapy, which resolved my hot flash and brain fog issues. I finally felt like I could live with this condition. I trained for my first ever full marathon - and ran it! But I was still depressed, sad and angry.
By late June, I made an appointment with a therapist, and whaddya know, it actually helped. After a few weeks, I started to see that my condition was out of my control and I might as well try to have some fun if I can't get pregnant. I decided to wait at least three years post-diagnosis to try IVF with a donor and in the meantime, hell, we were going to live it up.
In August, we went to San Diego and tried marijuana for the first time. I booked a trip to Mexico with my girlfriends. I went out with friends, drank a lot, ran a half marathon, and went skydiving.
And then when I least expected it, after a year and a half of trying, during a cycle with NO eggwhite cervical mucous and a wonky ass chart, it happened. My BFP.
I'm so grateful to be in 5-10% of women with my condition who get pregnant. I feel like I owe the universe. Or God. Or something. Why me? I know there's not an answer to that, but I can't help but feel completely overwhelmed with it all.
I will say I think about all of you still in the trenches all the time. I am rooting for you and I won't forget you!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Ultrasound: One Week Later
Everything is looking perfect with the little one. He's measuring seven weeks and one day, so he grew nine days worth in a week. His heartbeat is faster this week, too, just like it should be, at 133 beats per minute. I took the advice of some lovely other bloggers to record it on my phone so I can listen anytime I feel like hearing it. He also LOOKED a lot bigger than last week. You can almost make out a head and a body. But he still mostly looks like a little blob.
We keep referring to the little one as a "he." I heard once that female sperm are heavier and slower and are more likely to fertilize an egg when they have a long time to get to it (so, when sex happens a couple days prior to ovulation). The male sperm are quicker and lighter and more likely to get to an egg if sex happens right at or around ovulation. They also don't live as long as the female sperm. With the timing of ovulating on the 4th and having late night sex early in the morning on the 5th - that sperm had to FLY to that egg before it broke down. So my money is on a boy. And, no, I haven't been obsessively thinking about this at all, why do you ask?
I've had all the right symptoms - exhaustion, nausea, boob soreness. No spotting at all. Food aversions have begun in the past few days (all meat except for bacon and pepperoni, Mexican food, and chocolate (I know, what?!?)). Could things actually be going right for a change?
I go back for a final ultrasound with my RE in two weeks and then I'll "graduate" to my OBGYN. Speaking of, I need to get me one of those. I only saw my current OBGYN once (because the lady I had for years had just left the practice) and she's the one who delivered the news of my diagnosis, so I have bad memories of being there. Also, I want to go with an OB who can deliver at a "real" hospital in case anything goes wrong. I might be getting ahead of myself a tiny bit, eh?
I am still in shock that it's happening. A year ago Tuesday I was told my chances of ever getting pregnant with my own eggs were around 5%. I am cherishing every minute of this pregnancy, knowing full well how very lucky I am to be on the right side of those odds. Now it's just taking things one day at a time. Grow, little one, grow!
We keep referring to the little one as a "he." I heard once that female sperm are heavier and slower and are more likely to fertilize an egg when they have a long time to get to it (so, when sex happens a couple days prior to ovulation). The male sperm are quicker and lighter and more likely to get to an egg if sex happens right at or around ovulation. They also don't live as long as the female sperm. With the timing of ovulating on the 4th and having late night sex early in the morning on the 5th - that sperm had to FLY to that egg before it broke down. So my money is on a boy. And, no, I haven't been obsessively thinking about this at all, why do you ask?
I've had all the right symptoms - exhaustion, nausea, boob soreness. No spotting at all. Food aversions have begun in the past few days (all meat except for bacon and pepperoni, Mexican food, and chocolate (I know, what?!?)). Could things actually be going right for a change?
I go back for a final ultrasound with my RE in two weeks and then I'll "graduate" to my OBGYN. Speaking of, I need to get me one of those. I only saw my current OBGYN once (because the lady I had for years had just left the practice) and she's the one who delivered the news of my diagnosis, so I have bad memories of being there. Also, I want to go with an OB who can deliver at a "real" hospital in case anything goes wrong. I might be getting ahead of myself a tiny bit, eh?
I am still in shock that it's happening. A year ago Tuesday I was told my chances of ever getting pregnant with my own eggs were around 5%. I am cherishing every minute of this pregnancy, knowing full well how very lucky I am to be on the right side of those odds. Now it's just taking things one day at a time. Grow, little one, grow!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Quick Poll
I go in for a second ultrasound tomorrow morning, so stay tuned for a more substantial update tomorrow, but in the meantime, I have to know:
What's the verdict on having sex while your vajay is disgustingly full of progesterone cream? I'm on two 200 mg tablets "per vagina" (hahahaha!) in the morning and night and I have to say, things have looked better down there. But I'm also finding myself to be rather in the mood to play. Thoughts? Advice?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)