News from the blob

I arrived back in Korea last night after 20.5 miserable hours on an airplane (well, 1.5 of those were actually spent in the San Francisco airport on a layover, but those were no less miserable). I had only had about 3 hours of sleep the night before that flight, and I don't think I've ever been so tired. Still, it's good to be home.

Of course being tired didn't stop me from rushing off to the RE the second her office opened this morning for a scan. When the probe went in, the first thing she said was "it's really big!" The blob is still a blob, but now it has a discernable head, rump, and tail, and is measuring on target for a 9 week embryo. I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful. We could see and hear the heartbeat loud and clear. You should have seen the look on my husband's face. Priceless.

My dad

My father's surgery was on Monday. If you're new to my blog, he had been diagnosed with early stages of cancer of the esophagus, and had to get the majority of his esophagus removed. I'm happy to be able to cut to the chase and report that he handled the surgery really well, and that the pathology report shows that the cancer was caught so early that there is relatively little risk of a recurrence. We are all ecstatic.

Still, it has been a hard week. While the surgery went really well, it wasn't easy on my poor dad. He's not a spring chicken anymore, and this was a pretty major surgery. He has been very uncomfortable, unable to do much for himself, and worst of all, having trouble breathing. So, my mother and I have been by his hospital bed day and night, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible, and to call the nurse/doctor/whoever-the-hell-would-respond when necessary. I had the night shift, so I haven't done much but tend to him, or grab a few hours of precious sleep during the daytime. It has been an exhausting, but also an interesting experience. I realized a few days ago that this is the first time I've ever really been able to do anything for my dad. He's always been there for me, but he's never needed anything from me before. It felt good in a way to be able to take care of him for once. It was also interesting to see how he handled the situation. He's never been a whiner (I got that from my mother), and as usual has been fairly stoic, even though he's utterly miserable. He is also a really private person, so I've been amazed at how gracefully he's handled situations like his daughter taking him to the bathroom, or spending a whole week in a skimpy gown that doesn't quite cover him to his satisfaction. I really can't imagine being as pragmatic about such things as he has been able to be. I am now determined to be a bit less of a wimp the next time I have a paper cut and am considering phoning the paramedics.

I'm scheduled to start my long journey back to Korea later this afternoon. I can't wait to see my sweetie and to FINALLY get that scan to make sure that the blob is still alive and growing. Still, it will be hard to leave with my dad still in the hospital. I guess that's one of the down sides of living on a different continent from your parents.

False alarm

Sorry for the long silence. I've been in the USA for five days now, and it has been quite an ordeal. About 9 hours after I landed, I started vomiting uncontrollably. I couldn't keep anything down, and within two days, I was dehydrated, exhausted, and utterly miserable. I was also near panic, because I thought it was the beginnings of hyperemesis gravidarum, which would be a complete disaster, especially if it struck while I was in the US, where a) I don't have health insurance, and b) I don't have a home. I couldn't even imagine how I would get back to Korea and my husband and doctor if I couldn't stop throwing up. Then on day three, the vomiting stopped and it turned into diarrhea. Around the same time, my friends started getting sick too. It turns out that I had picked up some yucky stomach virus on the plane. By yesterday I was fine. Whew! I actually made one of my business meetings yesterday, and will be heading off to another today. Now I'm just hoping that the embryo wasn't damaged by the turbulence in my digestive system. I didn't have a fever, so I'm hoping that all is well.

In other news, I picked up a belly band yesterday, and several friends have donated maternity clothes, so I'm in much better shape to cope with an expanding belly in Korea, assuming that all goes well.

To shop or not to shop...

I've got a bit of a dilemma right now. I'm heading to the US tomorrow for two weeks. Week 1 will be for a couple of work-related meetings. Week 2 is to be there for my dad's surgery. I'll have a little free time in between, and plan to take the opportunity to do a little shopping stock up on things that are hard or impossible to find in Korea.

So here's the question: should I go ahead and buy a few maternity clothes? The down sides are obvious. If the pregnancy goes south, I'll end up having wasted money and brought home sad reminders. However, there are some major up sides to shopping in the US rather than here. Korean women are for the most part TINY. I'm about 5'7" and am not stick thin. So, buying clothes here is a real challenge. I'm sure that there are maternity clothes sold here that can accomodate my growing belly, but I'm not at all sure that there'll also be room for my J Lo arse, my rapidly expanding boobs, and my corn fed frame. Of course I don't know how much weight I'll gain with the pregnancy, so buying clothes now is also risky since I'm not sure exactly how big I'll be later. Any thoughts?

One

Well, the big day finally arrived. I went in for the scan, and saw ONE sac, and ONE little embryo. I couldn't see the heartbeat, but the doctor said that she could see it. It was still too faint to measure the heart rate, but the doctor seemed to think that all was well. Whew!

I'm about 1% disappointed that it's not twins, but 99% relieved. While in theory, twins would be wonderful, given our situation (thousands of kilometers away from family and friends, living in a foreign country on a single salary), twins would be really hard. One is perfect.

Just like you said it would be

As a result of infertility, I have learned many things about myself, and about the human condition. Before infertility, I never knew that I was capable of jealousy so intense that someone else's good news could make the sun stop shining. I also never would have imagined that I could learn to be so patient. (To be clear, you still have to measure my patience in dog years to get a number that fits onto the chart, but compared to the extreme instant gratification girl I used to be, I'm doing pretty well.) I also never could have known that something that I didn't have could make me so sad, that my husband could make me smile on my darkest days, or that I could become so close to people that I've never met. I can't say that I've enjoyed a second of it, but infertility has been nothing but a learning experience. I'm a different person as a result, and I do like to think a better person.

Pregnancy after infertility is a horse of another color. While infertility made me miserable, pregnancy has made me absurdly happy. So happy that it's hard to believe that I could stay this happy. This makes it hard to believe that I could stay pregnant. Ridiculous, I know, but I am finding the wait for my ultrasound on Tuesday very difficult. Every time I have a little cramp, or don't have a little cramp, or don't feel nauseous for a second, or realize that my boobs don't hurt QUITE in the same way that they did yesterday, the fear takes over. 90% of my attention is below my neck at all times. I have recently seen several thoughtful posts about the epic battle between joy and fear that goes on in the heart of the newly pregnant infertile, but somehow I always thought I'd be able to keep it together. Such hubris! I now laugh at my naїve former self. When I first got that elusive, miraculous positive hpt, I promised myself that once I saw a doubling beta, I'd relax and enjoy the pregnancy. After the doubling beta, I promised myself that I'd calm down after I saw a heartbeat. Now, three days away from possibly seeing that heartbeat (please please please!), I'm starting to realize that this paranoia may be with me for the long haul. Well, no worries. There's plenty of room. Paranoia, I suggest that you make yourself comfortable in the seat in between the neuroses generated by body betrayal and the emotional scars from years of disappointment and bitterness. Just stay away from the bluebird of happiness that sits on my heart if you know what's good for you!

My happy ass part II

Here's a graphic illustration of why I heart crin*ne gel (courtesy of the Korean instruction booklet).

Mine is the arse on the left.