Lately, I've been finding myself rather at a loss about what I should and shouldn't post. Do I really think that it's necessary to mention being tired again? Will anybody really want to read about the fact that I can now (just barely) feel my uterus in my lower belly? Is it beyond unnecessary to celebrate the fact that I am now officially entering the second trimester? Well, the answer to the last one at least is a resounding NO, I think. For some reason, the end of the first trimester was a big deal to me. With every passing day, I start to become more optimistic that maybe, just maybe, there will actually be a baby at the end of this all.
In general, though, I actually feel more comfortable blogging about my neuroses, psychoses, and dilemmas than about the happy moments that have resulted from my first-ever (apparent) victory in my long-running war with infertility. It's not that I'm not grateful. I'm beyond grateful. Almost 14 weeks into this pregnancy, I still feel like kissing my RE every day to express my gratitude for my incredible luck in making it so far. Infertility is still far to fresh in my mind to take a second of this for granted. Rather, I am (like every other former infertile, probably) coping with the survivor's guilt in part by trying to shut up when I don't have something to say that I'm not embarrassed to say in front of people who are still in the battle.
What I'm about to say, though, is not only embarrassing to say to people who are still in the battle. It's embarrassing to admit to anyone at all. Nonetheless, I thought I'd throw it out there, just to see if I'm the only freak in the world, or if other people actually think about these things. Are you ready? Here goes... Sometimes I worry that they put the wrong embryos back in my IVF cycle, and that this is actually somebody else's baby. Am I completely deranged? Should I run, not walk to the nearest psychiatric emergency clinic?
I should clarify that when I say "worry", I don't mean "lying awake at nights fretting", I mean more like wondering, but in a slightly apprehensive way. And when I say "somebody else's baby", I don't mean a baby that I won't (or don't already) love with every fiber of my being. I mean a baby that someone else might also have a legitimate claim on. That's the part that takes me from wondering into apprehensive wondering. Given that every other customer at my clinic was Korean at the time that I was going there, if they DID put the wrong embryos back in, then it will be obvious to everyone involved on the child's birthday. What would this mean for us? Would we be in danger of having the child taken away? In the US it wouldn't, but in Korea, who knows?
I think that some of this anxiety results from the differences between the procedures at my clinic here in Korea versus my clinic in the USA. In the USA, with every IUI, we had to sign a document when we dropped the semen off to be washed stating that the semen came from my husband's body, and that it had been in our custody since it had been produced. Then when we picked up the washed sperm to take it in for the IUI (it was in an office across the street from the RE), the technician signed a document basically stating that the sperm hadn't been out of her sight, and I signed a document stating that I had verified that the name on the label was my husband's name. Then at the RE's office, Mystery Man had to sign something saying that he agreed that I could be inseminated with his sperm, and I had to sign something stating that I had verified the identity of the sperm with the technician. They were serious about chain of custody issues. Here in Korea, though, we just brought in a vial in a paper bag (carefully kept at boob temperature on the subway ride), wrote his name on the vial, and handed it over to the receptionist, not to hear from it again until the day of embryo transfer.
When I think about this realistically, I realize that they probably relaxed a lot of that legalese here partly because Koreans are less litigious by nature than Americans, and partly because having me sign legal documents in Korean is not only an exercise in futility, as far as communication of risks and responsibilities is concerned, but also requires that they provide a translator, which would be an enormous hassle. I can't believe that they really fling embryos about randomly in the back room. Furthermore, even if they do normally fling embryos about, I would think they'd be a bit more careful with mine, given that it would be really obvious in my case if they made a mistake. So, rationally, I realize that I just need to turn off the TV and my imagination and stop thinking about things like this. Still, I keep finding myself wondering.
Honestly, if they did make a mistake, I'll still be grateful for this amazing gift. However, I've got to say that I really really hope that they didn't.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Pink or blue
Being pregnant is amazing, in a very good way. Being infertile was also amazing, but in a way better categorized as "soul-destroying" than "good". I was constantly amazed at how miserable the absence of something that I'd never had could make me. How jealous and petty I could be. How stressed I could be for months and years on end. Mostly, though, I was amazed at how different everything was than I thought it would be. Prior to infertility, I'd always thought that if there was the slightest hint of a problem, I'd run screaming to adoption. Of course this was before I had actually researched adoption, and knew about the expense, the paperwork, the waiting, the parenting issues with attachment, loss, etc. It was also before I met my Mystery Man, who is rather more concerned about the issue of genetic relatedness than I am. I had also thought that whatever happened, I'd face it with grace. (I couldn't even write that without laughing at myself. I have been many things over the last three years, but graceful has not been one of them.) I had thought that I wouldn't take the risk of multiples. I had thought that I wouldn't do IVF, and never even considered the possibility that one day I might be excited, thrilled even, to be starting a cycle. I had never thought that any step of the way would feel the way that it did. If there is one enduring lesson that has come out of all of this it's that you really never can know how you'll feel in a situation until you've actually experienced that situation.
It's the same way with being pregnant. I was right about how happy it would make me. I really am happy every day about this pregnancy. That's one thing that is exactly as I expected. However, I'm a lot less controlling about it than I thought I'd be. I assumed that I'd have amnio. I had never even given it any thought before a few weeks ago. I KNEW I'd do amnio. Now I don't think I'm doing amnio, and I don't even really remember when I changed my mind. Similarly, I have always, always, known that I would find out the sex of my child as soon as possible. I thought it would help me to visualize and bond with the child inside of me. I thought that it would prevent any whiff of disappointment on the day of my child's birth. I thought I'd want to know. So, I'm shocked to find that here I am, and I really don't want to know.
There are a lot of reasons that I don't want to know. I think probably the most profound on an emotional level is the yearning for some sense of "normalcy", a whiff of old-fashioned romance, in this pregnancy. This baby was the result of my Mystery Man wanking in a cup, and me being given enough drugs to make Margaret Thatcher ovulate, and then being impaled on a giant needle and having my eggs sucked out. Neither of us when in the room when our baby was actually conceived. He/she spent three days in a lab before we even met. I've had an ultrasound every two weeks or so from that date on. I don't think that this makes my baby any less of a miracle than any child (rather I think it makes her/him even more of a miracle), but it has made the whole process feel rather, well, medical. Since I'm not going to have a nice home birth with a midwife (at the age of 38, and after years of infertility, that strikes me as a very very bad plan, if it's even possible in Korea), and there's no guarantee that I'll even be able to have a vag birth (you never know!) I'm finding myself really fixating on the moment when the baby first arrives, and I get to hear those magic words "it's a _____!!!!!!"
I also just don't care about the sex. I care if the baby is healthy. I want desperately for the baby to be healthy. At this point, that's the only thing I care about. Before infertility, I used to fantasize about having a baby girl, and then a baby boy. I thought I had it all figured out, and if I had gotten pregnant right away, I probably would have been slightly disappointed if my little life plan hadn't worked out that way. However, having had years to think about it, I've realized that ANY child is such a precious gift that I would be insane to think that it makes any difference what flavor I get. Every child is a unique and precious individual, and is welcome in my uterus, in my home, and in my heart.
Finally, (on a political/social note) I think that people put WAY too much of an emphasis on an infant's sex. Since my friends have started having babies, and I've had to deal with showers and baby gifts, I've realized that almost all baby clothing is categorized as "girl" or "boy". People, an infant does not care what color it's wearing! And even if they did, who's to say that boys like blue better? Some girls hate pink! Baby clothes are a trivial example, though. I really worry more about the tendency to assume that a boy will be one way, just by virtue of being a boy, and that a girl will be a different way, just by virtue of being a girl. Having been a nanny for a baby boy, I WAS amazed at how early and strong his attraction to cars and trucks started. However, he also liked his doll, and LOVED dancing (his grandmother once walked in while we were doing my own uncoordinated version of salsa together, and watched us for about five minutes before I noticed she was there. I was mortified!) Most girls love their barbies, but some don't. Some boys hate sports. Some girls love fishing. These things happen, and sometimes it's very hard on a child when everyone tries to force them to be something that they're not. So, for now at least, while I can keep the world from imposing its expectations (reasonable or unreasonable) on my child, I'd like to do so.
Mystery Man isn't quite as sold on the idea of waiting as I am, but he is warming up to it. Our one real problem is that this means that we have to prepare TWO names. I had a dream last night that our child was already a month old and we still couldn't decide on a name. Given how undecisive we can be, I wouldn't be too surprised if that actually happens. Oh well, if we wait long enough, the baby can pick their own name!
***********************************
A footnote--this post is NOT intended as a criticism of people who do choose to find out. Like I said, I'm shocked that I'm not begging the ultrasound tech to try to figure it out now, and certainly don't feel that finding out is wrong. I think that if I still had any preference whatsoever, I would find out, because the last thing I'd want to feel on my baby's birthday is anything but thrilled.
It's the same way with being pregnant. I was right about how happy it would make me. I really am happy every day about this pregnancy. That's one thing that is exactly as I expected. However, I'm a lot less controlling about it than I thought I'd be. I assumed that I'd have amnio. I had never even given it any thought before a few weeks ago. I KNEW I'd do amnio. Now I don't think I'm doing amnio, and I don't even really remember when I changed my mind. Similarly, I have always, always, known that I would find out the sex of my child as soon as possible. I thought it would help me to visualize and bond with the child inside of me. I thought that it would prevent any whiff of disappointment on the day of my child's birth. I thought I'd want to know. So, I'm shocked to find that here I am, and I really don't want to know.
There are a lot of reasons that I don't want to know. I think probably the most profound on an emotional level is the yearning for some sense of "normalcy", a whiff of old-fashioned romance, in this pregnancy. This baby was the result of my Mystery Man wanking in a cup, and me being given enough drugs to make Margaret Thatcher ovulate, and then being impaled on a giant needle and having my eggs sucked out. Neither of us when in the room when our baby was actually conceived. He/she spent three days in a lab before we even met. I've had an ultrasound every two weeks or so from that date on. I don't think that this makes my baby any less of a miracle than any child (rather I think it makes her/him even more of a miracle), but it has made the whole process feel rather, well, medical. Since I'm not going to have a nice home birth with a midwife (at the age of 38, and after years of infertility, that strikes me as a very very bad plan, if it's even possible in Korea), and there's no guarantee that I'll even be able to have a vag birth (you never know!) I'm finding myself really fixating on the moment when the baby first arrives, and I get to hear those magic words "it's a _____!!!!!!"
I also just don't care about the sex. I care if the baby is healthy. I want desperately for the baby to be healthy. At this point, that's the only thing I care about. Before infertility, I used to fantasize about having a baby girl, and then a baby boy. I thought I had it all figured out, and if I had gotten pregnant right away, I probably would have been slightly disappointed if my little life plan hadn't worked out that way. However, having had years to think about it, I've realized that ANY child is such a precious gift that I would be insane to think that it makes any difference what flavor I get. Every child is a unique and precious individual, and is welcome in my uterus, in my home, and in my heart.
Finally, (on a political/social note) I think that people put WAY too much of an emphasis on an infant's sex. Since my friends have started having babies, and I've had to deal with showers and baby gifts, I've realized that almost all baby clothing is categorized as "girl" or "boy". People, an infant does not care what color it's wearing! And even if they did, who's to say that boys like blue better? Some girls hate pink! Baby clothes are a trivial example, though. I really worry more about the tendency to assume that a boy will be one way, just by virtue of being a boy, and that a girl will be a different way, just by virtue of being a girl. Having been a nanny for a baby boy, I WAS amazed at how early and strong his attraction to cars and trucks started. However, he also liked his doll, and LOVED dancing (his grandmother once walked in while we were doing my own uncoordinated version of salsa together, and watched us for about five minutes before I noticed she was there. I was mortified!) Most girls love their barbies, but some don't. Some boys hate sports. Some girls love fishing. These things happen, and sometimes it's very hard on a child when everyone tries to force them to be something that they're not. So, for now at least, while I can keep the world from imposing its expectations (reasonable or unreasonable) on my child, I'd like to do so.
Mystery Man isn't quite as sold on the idea of waiting as I am, but he is warming up to it. Our one real problem is that this means that we have to prepare TWO names. I had a dream last night that our child was already a month old and we still couldn't decide on a name. Given how undecisive we can be, I wouldn't be too surprised if that actually happens. Oh well, if we wait long enough, the baby can pick their own name!
***********************************
A footnote--this post is NOT intended as a criticism of people who do choose to find out. Like I said, I'm shocked that I'm not begging the ultrasound tech to try to figure it out now, and certainly don't feel that finding out is wrong. I think that if I still had any preference whatsoever, I would find out, because the last thing I'd want to feel on my baby's birthday is anything but thrilled.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Anatomical details
Nuchal fold width--fine.
Nasal bone--present.
Whew!!!
Having an abdominal ultrasound was a surreal experience. I never thought I'd make it to the days of doctor's appointments with pants on! No worries, though. I did still have to have a pap smear and a transvag ultrasound to check the length of my cervix (which was good-yay!), so I got plenty of pants-free time too.
What a huge relief. The only disappointing thing was that the tech had the monitor facing away from me the entire time, so I couldn't see what was going on. My lucky husband saw it all, but failed to give me the running commentary that I wanted. Oh well. The important thing is that all is well.
Sarah asked what it was like. Really, it was just like having an absurd quantity of gel put on your abdomen and then a ball rubbed around on it. The one thing that surprised me was how long it took. The tech was working on me for a good 15 minutes. Of course this made me really nervous, since he didn't say anything while he was doing it. I guess he was just being thorough, though.
I was also surprised that they didn't do any bloodwork. I wanted to ask the doctor about that, but then she suddenly disappeared before I had the chance. I have heard that it's not that accurate with women over 35, so maybe that's it. Or maybe it's just a Korea thing. Who knows?
Nasal bone--present.
Whew!!!
Having an abdominal ultrasound was a surreal experience. I never thought I'd make it to the days of doctor's appointments with pants on! No worries, though. I did still have to have a pap smear and a transvag ultrasound to check the length of my cervix (which was good-yay!), so I got plenty of pants-free time too.
What a huge relief. The only disappointing thing was that the tech had the monitor facing away from me the entire time, so I couldn't see what was going on. My lucky husband saw it all, but failed to give me the running commentary that I wanted. Oh well. The important thing is that all is well.
Sarah asked what it was like. Really, it was just like having an absurd quantity of gel put on your abdomen and then a ball rubbed around on it. The one thing that surprised me was how long it took. The tech was working on me for a good 15 minutes. Of course this made me really nervous, since he didn't say anything while he was doing it. I guess he was just being thorough, though.
I was also surprised that they didn't do any bloodwork. I wanted to ask the doctor about that, but then she suddenly disappeared before I had the chance. I have heard that it's not that accurate with women over 35, so maybe that's it. Or maybe it's just a Korea thing. Who knows?
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Footnote to the last post
I was just looking at my last post, and realized that it might have sounded like I thought A&M were odd because of their religion. That wasn't what I meant at all. I meant that they were odd in terms of their social skills, doing things like paddling out to the sea just to abruptly accost me about deep philosophical matters while I was treading water. I hope that nobody was offended.
My nuchal scan is tomorrow. I'm a bit nervous, but am also looking forward to getting it over with. It's always nice to get a look at what's going on.
My nuchal scan is tomorrow. I'm a bit nervous, but am also looking forward to getting it over with. It's always nice to get a look at what's going on.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
And then I'd sit, and think some more
Several years ago, I spent a few weeks on the Perhentian Islands, in Malaysia, just sitting on a beach, contemplating my life. I was on a break from graduate school, was in Southeast Asia anyway, and was recovering from a broken heart. I think that I thought that if I sat on the beach long enough, the waves would somehow wash away my pain and confusion.
There is very little to do on the Perhentians. The name comes from the Malay for "waiting", and that seems to be the main activity there. My hotel had basically no amenities (there was a water shortage, so even bathing was a hit or miss proposition), so within a few days, I found myself chatting with other denizens of the hotel. They were a motley crew, including two absolutely adorable American college students, a soulful German seeking enlightenment, a sweet Danish couple, and two kind but odd South Africans.
The oddness of the South Africans became clear one day when I was having a swim in the warm, blue-green ocean and they came paddling up on inflatable rafts that they had clearly brought with them. Having cornered me thus, without any further ado, one of them suddenly asked "are you a believer?" I was utterly flabbergasted, and spluttered out something like "can you be more specific?" Their answer made it clear that their question related to my opinion about the literal truth of the Christian bible. Well, I'm a woman of many moods, and certainly have a lot of opinions about many things religions, but the literal truth of any text written thousands of years ago is not high on the list of things in which I hold a lot of faith. Upon discovering this fact, they seem to have adopted converting me as their mission. Under normal circumstances, I would have found this offensive, but having nothing at all better to do at the time, it resulted in many interesting conversations. During that time, I learned many things about myself, including the fact that I had been harboring an irrational fear of people with views different from my own, which had been cutting me off from wonderful sources of support and inspiration. I will forever be grateful to them for that lesson. Thanks A & M!
One day M and I were talking about something having nothing to do with religion, and he suddenly changed the subject, by saying "you know, I've been talking to you for days now, and have noticed that you have a wonderful head, but also a good heart, but that you always seem to listen to your head when making decisions. I think you need to stop thinking so much!"
I remembered this incident yesterday, when I finally got the chance to visit some of my favorite blogs, and saw that Sarah at For the Flavor has nominated me for a "Thinking Blogger" award. Well, so many bloggers are wonderful thinkers that I am beyond flattered to be singled out. I was also relieved to finally be given a logical explanation for the headache that I've had throughout much of my pregnancy. I must be thinking too much!
Anyway, the purpose of the award seems to be to encourage others to follow the trail of nominations, and therefore to "meet" some new wonderful bloggers. So, I am now tagged to nominate five more bloggers for the "thinking blogger" award. I love this idea, and have put a lot of thought into my nominees.
Before I open the envelope, I'd like to explain some of the logic (or illogic) behind my nominations. Given that I have an infertility blog, and that most of the bloggers that I visit regularly, and that visit me regularly, also have infertility blogs, I wanted to mainly nominate blogs that are relevant, yet off of the beaten path. So, I'm not going to nominate wonderful thought-provoking blogs by bloggers with enormous readerships, since that really wouldn't help to point anyone anywhere new. I'm also not just going to nominate my five favorite underappreciated IF blogs. Rather, I've decided to branch out a bit, and also nominate some blogs that deal with some of the other sides of fertility and infertility.
I have always been very interested in adoption, and continue to consider it as an option for my own family. There are some wonderful adoption blogs out there, but the following two particularly stand out in my mind for the ways in which they've helped me to think and rethink the complexity involved in building a family through adoption. I haven't listed these blogs on my blogroll, as they aren't IF blogs, but I visit them often to see what's going on.
I wish that Lorrie at Clueless in Carolina lived next door to me. She is smart, kind, thoughtful, and absolutely pee-in-your-pants hilarious, as well as being both an adoptee and the mother to two gorgeous little girls that she adopted from China. If you haven't "met" her already, go check her out. You won't regret it.
Shannon at Peter's Cross Station never fails to teach me something new whenever I visit her blog. She's the busy mom to the adorable Nat, and has her hands full with a variety of things, but she makes a point of constantly educating herself and others about adoption and all manner of other topics.
You really didn't think I wasn't going to include infertility blogs, did you?
Whenever I get a comment from Thalia at Thalia's Fertility Journey, it invariably includes something that makes me think "that Thalia is so smart!" Her blog is the same way. She's a lovely writer, and also always has something interesting to say. If you're not already one of her many fans, go pay her a visit.
I love to visit Marie-Baguette's blog. Not only does she diligently update almost every day, but you never know what you're going to get. Some days it's an update on her pregnancy, other days it's the most recent medical research on any one of a number of topics. On really fun days, it may be music recommendations, or even videos. Great stuff!
Finally, I discovered Watson via the International Infertility Film Festival and am now hooked. If you like to laugh, you'll LOVE Watson. She's thought-provoking too. Really. Check her out.
There is very little to do on the Perhentians. The name comes from the Malay for "waiting", and that seems to be the main activity there. My hotel had basically no amenities (there was a water shortage, so even bathing was a hit or miss proposition), so within a few days, I found myself chatting with other denizens of the hotel. They were a motley crew, including two absolutely adorable American college students, a soulful German seeking enlightenment, a sweet Danish couple, and two kind but odd South Africans.
The oddness of the South Africans became clear one day when I was having a swim in the warm, blue-green ocean and they came paddling up on inflatable rafts that they had clearly brought with them. Having cornered me thus, without any further ado, one of them suddenly asked "are you a believer?" I was utterly flabbergasted, and spluttered out something like "can you be more specific?" Their answer made it clear that their question related to my opinion about the literal truth of the Christian bible. Well, I'm a woman of many moods, and certainly have a lot of opinions about many things religions, but the literal truth of any text written thousands of years ago is not high on the list of things in which I hold a lot of faith. Upon discovering this fact, they seem to have adopted converting me as their mission. Under normal circumstances, I would have found this offensive, but having nothing at all better to do at the time, it resulted in many interesting conversations. During that time, I learned many things about myself, including the fact that I had been harboring an irrational fear of people with views different from my own, which had been cutting me off from wonderful sources of support and inspiration. I will forever be grateful to them for that lesson. Thanks A & M!
One day M and I were talking about something having nothing to do with religion, and he suddenly changed the subject, by saying "you know, I've been talking to you for days now, and have noticed that you have a wonderful head, but also a good heart, but that you always seem to listen to your head when making decisions. I think you need to stop thinking so much!"
I remembered this incident yesterday, when I finally got the chance to visit some of my favorite blogs, and saw that Sarah at For the Flavor has nominated me for a "Thinking Blogger" award. Well, so many bloggers are wonderful thinkers that I am beyond flattered to be singled out. I was also relieved to finally be given a logical explanation for the headache that I've had throughout much of my pregnancy. I must be thinking too much!
Anyway, the purpose of the award seems to be to encourage others to follow the trail of nominations, and therefore to "meet" some new wonderful bloggers. So, I am now tagged to nominate five more bloggers for the "thinking blogger" award. I love this idea, and have put a lot of thought into my nominees.
Before I open the envelope, I'd like to explain some of the logic (or illogic) behind my nominations. Given that I have an infertility blog, and that most of the bloggers that I visit regularly, and that visit me regularly, also have infertility blogs, I wanted to mainly nominate blogs that are relevant, yet off of the beaten path. So, I'm not going to nominate wonderful thought-provoking blogs by bloggers with enormous readerships, since that really wouldn't help to point anyone anywhere new. I'm also not just going to nominate my five favorite underappreciated IF blogs. Rather, I've decided to branch out a bit, and also nominate some blogs that deal with some of the other sides of fertility and infertility.
I have always been very interested in adoption, and continue to consider it as an option for my own family. There are some wonderful adoption blogs out there, but the following two particularly stand out in my mind for the ways in which they've helped me to think and rethink the complexity involved in building a family through adoption. I haven't listed these blogs on my blogroll, as they aren't IF blogs, but I visit them often to see what's going on.
I wish that Lorrie at Clueless in Carolina lived next door to me. She is smart, kind, thoughtful, and absolutely pee-in-your-pants hilarious, as well as being both an adoptee and the mother to two gorgeous little girls that she adopted from China. If you haven't "met" her already, go check her out. You won't regret it.
Shannon at Peter's Cross Station never fails to teach me something new whenever I visit her blog. She's the busy mom to the adorable Nat, and has her hands full with a variety of things, but she makes a point of constantly educating herself and others about adoption and all manner of other topics.
You really didn't think I wasn't going to include infertility blogs, did you?
Whenever I get a comment from Thalia at Thalia's Fertility Journey, it invariably includes something that makes me think "that Thalia is so smart!" Her blog is the same way. She's a lovely writer, and also always has something interesting to say. If you're not already one of her many fans, go pay her a visit.
I love to visit Marie-Baguette's blog. Not only does she diligently update almost every day, but you never know what you're going to get. Some days it's an update on her pregnancy, other days it's the most recent medical research on any one of a number of topics. On really fun days, it may be music recommendations, or even videos. Great stuff!
Finally, I discovered Watson via the International Infertility Film Festival and am now hooked. If you like to laugh, you'll LOVE Watson. She's thought-provoking too. Really. Check her out.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Graduation day
Yesterday was a big day for me. I reached 11 weeks gestation, and officially "graduated" from my RE. I had mixed feelings about this, as on the one hand, I love my RE, and on the other hand, it's nice to all of a sudden be a "normal" patient. I still don't feel normal, but maybe that'll come one day.
To mark the occasion, I had an ultrasound, which was AMAZING. I saw little arms and legs flailing, a big head, and the spine. Those little legs were kicking so fast, I couldn't believe that I can't feel it from the outside. All of a sudden, the blob has turned into an actual baby! I couln't stop grinning.
The only fly in the ointment was getting the results from some lab work that I had done two weeks ago. Apparently all is well with my urine (good thing, since I pee every 30 seconds these days), and most of my blood results were good. However, they ran my rubella titers to check my immunity, and the results were on the low end of "indeterminate", just one point above "negative". So, I'm potentially at risk for rubella, and it's now too late to get revaccinated. The RE was quick to reassure me that all will be well if only I avoid children. But how on earth am I supposed to do that? If a kid is sitting next to me on the subway, shall I pull out a gas mask? I was screened for immunity to rubella last year by my old RE, and the results were fine, so if I've lost the immunity, it's just happened in the last year. How typical.
Today, I had my first appointment with my new OB/GYN. I've transferred to a big hospital that is only about a 10-minute walk from my apartment, so it's really convenient. They also have a big international clientele, so they have a whole clinic set up for non-Korean speakers. My new doctor was really nice, and spoke perfect English. She did look like she was about 12 years old, but I'm trying to convince myself that's a good thing. If she's just finished her residency, then she should be chock full of information about the latest greatest advances in the field, right? The most amazing thing was that I got to keep all of my clothing on for the whole appointment. I didn't know that was possible! I'll have to get back into the stirrups next week for a pap smear and the nuchal fold translucency screening, but still, it was nice to meet the doctor fully clothed.
Two things came up that made the appointment a little stressful. First, she really encouraged me to have amniocentesis. I'm really struggling with that issue. On the one hand, I really do want to know if there's something wrong. On the other hand, I really don't want to risk my baby's life for some information. I guess I'll decide after the nuchal scan next week. It's hard to know what to do.
The other worrisome issue came up when I asked her about my plans to travel to Indonesia for work in June/July (have I posted about that?) She said that flying is fine in the second trimester, but that I'm at risk for cervical incompetence because I had a LEEP procedure (removal of abnormal cervical cells) about 15 years ago. So, she discourages me from having any real exertion after 16 weeks! I was planning to try to exercise regularly throughout this pregnancy, but I guess that's out. Well, at least now I have a doctor's permission to be a fat lazy slug.
And speaking of fat, I've already gained almost 3 kilos! Aargh!
To mark the occasion, I had an ultrasound, which was AMAZING. I saw little arms and legs flailing, a big head, and the spine. Those little legs were kicking so fast, I couldn't believe that I can't feel it from the outside. All of a sudden, the blob has turned into an actual baby! I couln't stop grinning.
The only fly in the ointment was getting the results from some lab work that I had done two weeks ago. Apparently all is well with my urine (good thing, since I pee every 30 seconds these days), and most of my blood results were good. However, they ran my rubella titers to check my immunity, and the results were on the low end of "indeterminate", just one point above "negative". So, I'm potentially at risk for rubella, and it's now too late to get revaccinated. The RE was quick to reassure me that all will be well if only I avoid children. But how on earth am I supposed to do that? If a kid is sitting next to me on the subway, shall I pull out a gas mask? I was screened for immunity to rubella last year by my old RE, and the results were fine, so if I've lost the immunity, it's just happened in the last year. How typical.
Today, I had my first appointment with my new OB/GYN. I've transferred to a big hospital that is only about a 10-minute walk from my apartment, so it's really convenient. They also have a big international clientele, so they have a whole clinic set up for non-Korean speakers. My new doctor was really nice, and spoke perfect English. She did look like she was about 12 years old, but I'm trying to convince myself that's a good thing. If she's just finished her residency, then she should be chock full of information about the latest greatest advances in the field, right? The most amazing thing was that I got to keep all of my clothing on for the whole appointment. I didn't know that was possible! I'll have to get back into the stirrups next week for a pap smear and the nuchal fold translucency screening, but still, it was nice to meet the doctor fully clothed.
Two things came up that made the appointment a little stressful. First, she really encouraged me to have amniocentesis. I'm really struggling with that issue. On the one hand, I really do want to know if there's something wrong. On the other hand, I really don't want to risk my baby's life for some information. I guess I'll decide after the nuchal scan next week. It's hard to know what to do.
The other worrisome issue came up when I asked her about my plans to travel to Indonesia for work in June/July (have I posted about that?) She said that flying is fine in the second trimester, but that I'm at risk for cervical incompetence because I had a LEEP procedure (removal of abnormal cervical cells) about 15 years ago. So, she discourages me from having any real exertion after 16 weeks! I was planning to try to exercise regularly throughout this pregnancy, but I guess that's out. Well, at least now I have a doctor's permission to be a fat lazy slug.
And speaking of fat, I've already gained almost 3 kilos! Aargh!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The lost ones
I had big plans for a post about how I made decisions about my infertility journey, treatments, etc. today, but now I'm too sad to even think about it. Today I found out that TWO of my close friends have had miscarriages. My heart is aching.
H has been a dear friend since college. She met her wonderful husband a bit late, and started trying to conceive at 36. Then she had a cancer scare, which forced them to stop trying for a while. They started again the next year. After six months of nothing, they saw an RE, and got the awful news that her husband's sperm had 0% normal morphology, and that their only chance of ever conceiving was IVF/ICSI. They started IVF at the same time as my first round, and were the lucky winners of the IVF lottery, scoring the daily double, boy/girl twins. Two weeks ago, the membrane of the little boy ruptured at 19 weeks. She lost him a few days later. Her little girl held on for another week, but was born two days ago, and lived for only three hours. Rest in peace, little ones.
S is my closest friend here in Korea. She had a daughter 7 years ago with her first husband, and two years later lost her husband to cancer. She remarried last year with an absolutely wonderful man, who is the best stepfather ever. I suspected that they wanted another child, but being infertile myself, would never dream of asking anyone that question. S is the only one at work that I was actually looking forward to telling about my pregnancy, and I had decided to share the news today. AFTER I told her that I wanted to speak with her privately, because I had big news, and needed her advice, but before I actually told her the news, she told me that she'd had a miscarriage while I was in the US (this was the first time I'd seen her since I got back). I felt like such an ass when I then had to tell her that my big news was that I'm pregnant (while choking back tears about her loss). I wish that I was quicker on my feet and could have thought of some OTHER big news to share, but I'm just not a good liar. She was an absolute angel about it, of course, but I'm just so sad for her. Sad for her loss, and also sad that if everything goes well with my pregnancy (please please please), it's going to be a constant reminder of her own loss. Our due dates were only about a month apart.
H has been a dear friend since college. She met her wonderful husband a bit late, and started trying to conceive at 36. Then she had a cancer scare, which forced them to stop trying for a while. They started again the next year. After six months of nothing, they saw an RE, and got the awful news that her husband's sperm had 0% normal morphology, and that their only chance of ever conceiving was IVF/ICSI. They started IVF at the same time as my first round, and were the lucky winners of the IVF lottery, scoring the daily double, boy/girl twins. Two weeks ago, the membrane of the little boy ruptured at 19 weeks. She lost him a few days later. Her little girl held on for another week, but was born two days ago, and lived for only three hours. Rest in peace, little ones.
S is my closest friend here in Korea. She had a daughter 7 years ago with her first husband, and two years later lost her husband to cancer. She remarried last year with an absolutely wonderful man, who is the best stepfather ever. I suspected that they wanted another child, but being infertile myself, would never dream of asking anyone that question. S is the only one at work that I was actually looking forward to telling about my pregnancy, and I had decided to share the news today. AFTER I told her that I wanted to speak with her privately, because I had big news, and needed her advice, but before I actually told her the news, she told me that she'd had a miscarriage while I was in the US (this was the first time I'd seen her since I got back). I felt like such an ass when I then had to tell her that my big news was that I'm pregnant (while choking back tears about her loss). I wish that I was quicker on my feet and could have thought of some OTHER big news to share, but I'm just not a good liar. She was an absolute angel about it, of course, but I'm just so sad for her. Sad for her loss, and also sad that if everything goes well with my pregnancy (please please please), it's going to be a constant reminder of her own loss. Our due dates were only about a month apart.
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