My baby is in disposable diapers, and drinking formula, and I have to be OK with that

Oh yeah, and I can’t wear her right now.  A week ago, she was eating nothing but breast milk (though sometimes from a bottle! Gasp!), wearing cloth diapers, and I took her for a walk in the Ergo.  Now she’s drinking formula, wearing disposables, and I probably won’t be able to wear her for a while (though, I suppose Andrew still can).

So I’m a terrible parent, right?

No.  I’m not.

Friday night I started having some serious I-want-narcotics pain in my lower left side of my abdomen.  Sunday morning, the lighter and more delicate of my cats walked on my stomach, and the whole thing cramped.  I tried pepto, ginger ale, and anything else you can think of.  No dice.  So Sunday night, I went to the ER, and it turned out I had an abscess.  I just got home yesterday.  I spent 4 days in the hospital.  And am now a lot better, but still recovering, and tired, etc.

I didn’t feel well enough to breastfeed her Saturday or Sunday, but I tried to pump as much as I could.  But once I got to the hospital, I could barely sit up to pump as often as “oh my god my boobs are going to explode if I don’t pump!”  Which was about every 8 hours.  So, big surprise, my supply tanked.

So she’s taking formula.  And has a pretty nasty diaper rash, possibly related to the formula.  So she’s in disposable diapers.  And considering the problems were all in my abdomen, I probably shouldn’t wear her until I’m feeling better.  Though I think that last one is more a matter of convenience than anything else.

I know that feeding her enough, and taking care of her diaper rash are more important than anything we wanted to do.

But I still feel like a bad mom.  And I know I have to let go of that.  *sigh*

It’s not like I think other moms who give their children formula, or put them in disposable diapers, are bad moms.

The fact that I couldn’t sit up, in agonizing pain, and pump, does not make me a bad mom.  I am doing everything I can to get my supply back.  But I really hate the pressure I feel to breastfeed… even from Andrew.  I hope re-building my supply goes well.  Because there’s a part of me that just wants to throw in the towel. 😦

So…

roller_coaster

So, in the last like 4 days, I feel like my life has turned into this.

I should preface this with: baby girl is doing fine!  It’s not really about that.  My BP is consistently higher than I’d like, but not in the “call the doctor” zone they gave me.  I have another growth scan and appointment on Thursday, so I’ll ask if we should (further) up my meds.  And I know part of that is my slightly tight BP cuff.  I ordered a bigger one, and it doesn’t have the right plug for my machine (even though I called the company and asked which one to order!  Grr!) so I’m just using the one I’ve got, knowing it’ll run a little high, but give me a decent picture — so, better than *not* taking my BP at home.  If it gets super high, I’ll probably run to a drug store and take it there.

ANYway.  The roller coaster part is, I’m almost 7 months pregnant.  And we’re still considering a huge life change (besides the upcoming baby).  I don’t want to post too much about it until we know more.  It could be many months before we make something happen.  Or maybe not.  We’ll see.

I feel like a total cliche

I’m mostly ok with that.

So, we tried and tried for two years to get pregnant.  Had two miscarriages.  Saw a fertility doctor.  January ’13 was somewhat of a new beginning, we were taking a different approach with the fertility treatments — the IUI with IVF level drugs.  We’d also begun looking into adoption.  I set us up for info sessions with three different agencies.

We’d done our first round of this IUI, and it failed… and were about to do a second round.  But we had to wait, because the drugs had given me a cyst (and if you take fertility drugs with a cyst like that, it grows the cyst, and not the eggs, which is all kinds of no bueno).  “But that won’t prevent you from ovulating, so you can still try on your own,” said Dr. Lady.  I tried not to roll my eyes, thinking: yeah, right, ok… because that’s worked so well for us so far.

Way to prove me wrong, universe.  Just when I’d given up hope, we got really, really, extremely lucky.  We got pregnant by having sex.  WHAT?!  After all that?!  REALLY!?

And then we attended all three info sessions with the adoption agencies anyway, somewhere around 2 weeks after I found out I was pregnant.  We’d already set up the appointments, and being pregnant didn’t entirely rule out the possibility of adoption–what if I had another miscarriage?  What if #2 just isn’t going to happen with our genes?  It’s still not entirely off the table.  But I digress.

Anyway.  So we try and try and try, and the one month we can’t try as hard as we want, boom, I get pregnant.  Just as we dip our toes in the adoption process, too.

Total. Effing. Cliche.

I say I’m mostly ok with that, because, well, all signs point to: OMG I’m going to have a baby.  Which is amazing, and obviously the entire purpose of what seemed like an exercise in futility.  So that part makes me happy.

The part I’m not ok with, is thinking people are going to use me as an example to give TTCers hope.  “Relax” is about the last thing any of them want to hear.  Anecdotes about so and so getting pregnant: after giving up on treatments, relaxed on vacation, after adopting… the list goes on and on of unlikely scenarios meant to be encouraging.

It’s not encouraging.  It’s frustrating.  When you are putting all of your time and energy, and a lot of times money, into trying and trying for this one thing you want more than anything in the whole world… someone telling you to relax really diminishes all that.  At the least, it means the (presumably well meaning) person on the other end of the conversation has NO idea, and doesn’t know you that well.  I had medical evidence, scientific tests done telling me that it was going to be really REALLY hard to conceive without the assistance of fertility treatments.  Further, we’d done 3 unsuccessful IUIs with minimal medical intervention, another unsuccessful IUI with super drugs, and a failed IVF.  IVF is supposed to give a couple the highest possible chance of becoming pregnant.  Well, it didn’t work for us.

So, we got incredibly lucky to get pregnant without assistance.  We have not, as yet, decided to go further down the winding adoption road than minimal investigation.

I’m not a cliche, I’m a GD outlier.  Yes, these things happen.  But it’s incredibly rare.  I think they’re talked about/used as examples because it’s amazing when it happens, and it makes stories interesting.  And it sticks in peoples’ minds.

Yet I don’t consider cases like mine those of hope, I consider it a case of luck, a huge coincidence, or twist of fate–I might even say act of God if I believed in one.  Basically we got really effing lucky.

The cases of hope I like to think about, are the people I know who finally conceived after years of struggle, but persevered through the dark road of fertility treatments, or adoption.  I know a few people who conceived through conventional IVF.  I have a friend who conceived through donor egg IVF, and another who wasn’t successful until her THIRD donor egg IVF.  I know people pursuing adoption, and those pursuing Embryo adoption.  That’s all admirable, and true determination.  These are the people that give me hope.  Not your cousin’s friend’s hairdresser who got lucky in some fashion.  I also know those that have been as far down whichever road, or both, as they’re comfortable… and made the difficult decision to stop, and live child-free.  I admire them, too.

Anyway.  Please remember that–I am an outlier, not a cliche.

/soapbox

In Vino Veritas

This weekend we went to Andrew’s college reunion.  Pretty much in the middle of nowhere.  And slept in his Freshman dorm (though at least not the exact room, thankfully, as that was on the third floor).  When we planned this trip back in Late Feb/Early March, I pointed out to him that I might be pregnant, to which his response was something along the lines of, “yeah, but even if you are, you won’t be that pregnant.”  Gee, thanks hon.

So Thursday night we took the Red Eye, and arrived at our destination around 9am Friday morning.  Had a disappointing breakfast (how do you screw up eggs, home fries and bacon?) and then took a long nap.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was excited about meeting some of his college friends.  Who were all varying degrees of awesome, but awesome nonetheless.  The logistics of the trip, however, I was not looking forward to in the slightest.  The red eye, the college dorms, the middle of nowhere small town.  Yup.  The ideal 14-weeks-pregnant vacation. 😛  Boy do I love my husband.  Oh, and PS, of his friends group I asked if there were any other spouses expected to tag along, he said one or two, but they had also attended the same school.  (Which, of course, I did not).

Anyway, long story short, I did as a whole have fun.  The two of us went out for a fancy dinner Friday night, and that helped, I think.  But yes, his friends were great.  Much fun was had, and many drinks were consumed (not by me, of course, though I did live on the edge one day and have a second caffeinated soda!).

Speaking of, Saturday night Andrew drank, a lot.  I’d kind of anticipated at least one night of awful drunkenness, and he was catching up with old buddies, so I wasn’t going to object too much.  Early in the weekend we found out one of his friends is newly expecting #2.  🙂  At some point on Saturday, I think, he asked another friend about having kids (which I guess even my husband doesn’t realize it’s a touchy thing to ask, but then these are like his closest friends ever, so…) and, as the friend put it, they’d had a few “false starts.”  Two miscarriages and a stillbirth. 😦  I just feel so bad for anyone that’s experienced that sort of thing.  It’s so unfair.  And then I felt mildly like an ass for pointing out that I’m pregnant every 5 minutes.  (Ok, nowhere near that often, but you get my point).

To my point.  In A’s drunkenness, (and he got *really* drunk) he got weepy (that’s the polite way of saying I think it’s the only time I’ve ever seen him cry).  He was talking about how he loves his friends, and he wants them all to be happy, and have little babies (if they want them).  And he was really sad about what that friend has been through, and even admitted that our miscarriage was like the worst year of his life. 😦  I mean, I kinda could’ve figured that, I guess, but it’s the first time he’s said anything quite like that.  He’s way better than he used to be, but he’s not exactly the most open about his feelings and such–until he’s drunk.

So, anyway.  That was my weekend.  Long, exhausting, less-than-ideal accommodations, and especially food… A turned me into a foodie and then drags me to the middle of nowhere, ugh!  But, ultimately a good weekend, and I’m glad I went. 🙂

P.S. Doctor’s appointment in about an hour.  It was supposed to be this morning, but got rescheduled because my doctor had to go in for a delivery.  We’re supposed to hear the heartbeat for the first time. 😀  Update on that later.