Miss W

End of Summer Wrap-up

2011-08-29T11:35:00.000-04:00

First a couple of updates: The lowercase has had no further instances of temperature instability. We've added extra blankets to his bed to help keep him warm at night and that's helped some. It's also summer and less difficult to keep the house temperature consistent (not really a "problem" in our house in the winter, but here in the tundra, outside walls will be COLD and due to the size of his room, our choices for his bed location are along the outside wall of the house or under the window). He also seems to have gained a bit of weight, though he's also gained a bit of height...

Now for the latest in our lives. We've had a summer of highs and lows. My stepdad, the man who did all the jobs of father from the time I was 5, the man who walked me down the aisle when I married Mr. W, the man whose name was given to the lowercase, was diagnosed with stage 4 colorectal cancer. The cancer is only in two spots in his body - one colorectal tumor, and several lesions on his liver. He's got 6 months of extremely intense chemotherapy which will hopefully be followed by a liver resection and colostomy surgery. We're all a little shellshocked.

My grandparents continue to struggle with grandma's Alzheimer's. And of course my parents are their primary source of assistance - cooking for them, going with them to doctor's appointments, and just generally offering support. My stepdad is also the only one of his siblings who lives within 20 minutes of his mother - and while she is living independently and in good health, there are still a lot of times she turns to my parents for help. Like earlier this summer when she came home to find her house had been broken into. Thankfully at the time, we were visiting and were able to help out with getting my grandma to and from the police department during the investigation (and the lowercase was allowed to help the crime scene investigators with lifting fingerprints - one of the highlights of his summer!) My parents' ability to help out all of the grandparents has become much more difficult with my stepdad's diagnosis and treatment and the combination of the two caused them to make the decision to sell their restaurant.

Because my parents will need a lot of extra help and I'm the only non-employed family member (and don't have a financial need to change that status), we've decided that the lowercase will not be attending the local kindergarten as planned. I've enrolled him in an accredited online private school instead. This way we'll be able to travel as needed - all he needs is for me to remember his books and have an internet connection and he's good to go.

This decision also led us to one of the highest highs of the summer. In order to set his curriculum and make sure his needs are met, the online school does a bit of testing to see where students are at academically. At our local school, they simply test to see if the student has mastery of pre-kindergarten skills. The online school tests what they know and because it is a computerized test, it keeps going until they can't answer the questions. We then talked with a placement specialists to go over the results. She started by telling me that he tested above grade level for kindergarten and asked if that was expected. I told her that the possibility wasn't UNexpected. My son tested into second grade. Because I don't want him to be too frustrated, we decided to start the school year as a hybrid 1st/2nd grade and will adjust as needed.

I am just so proud of him. But I got a shocking jolt when I posted about it on Facebook. I had several friends tell me just how wrong I am to even consider letting him do advanced work! I was completely shocked. I'm an elementary teacher when I'm not a stay-at-home mom. Several of the women that I taught with were among the people that told me not to do it. The reasoning given by all of them: "He'll be so bored when he transfers to a regular school and being that far above grade level, the teachers won't know what to do with him." I was floored. Nobody would dare say that I shouldn't meet my child's educational needs if he were delayed, but because he's advanced there's an assumption that I shouldn't? I...don't get it. I have begun repeating to all of these people that I intend to do what it takes to meet his educational needs and that if, as they assume, the local public school can't meet those needs, we'll put him in a school that can. It's just like any other special need - you do whatever it takes to get your child the educational services they need.

With all that has gone on with those situations, plus the ever-present family dramas... I think I'm really looking forward to the start of the school year and, hopefully, a more structured new "normal."

The scars remain

2011-04-30T19:00:00.000-04:00

I’ve thought about writing this all week, but haven’t found the right words. I wasn’t sure how I could write about something so intensely personal, something that people in general just don’t talk about - mainly because it’s not something we know how to talk about. But today marks the last day of National Infertility Awareness Week, so it’s time for me to figure out how to talk about it.

As my friend Kym pointed out, infertility doesn’t end when you finally become a parent. It’s not something that has a sudden “cure.” Beyond that there are so many causes and variants that most of the well-meaning advice people give doesn’t apply. My personal infertility is due to a malformed uterus. Sure, I can GET pregnant, but I can’t STAY pregnant full term. I thank God every day that even though I delivered my son very early, my body managed to hold onto that pregnancy longer than all the others, long enough for him to be big enough and strong enough to fight for his own life in the NICU.

When we first began fighting to have a family, I thought that once we had children, I’d be able to close my eyes to where I had been – that it would become nothing more than something that “happened.” But it definitely didn’t turn out that way for me. It tested my faith in God; it tested my marriage; it changed who I am as a person and how I view the world. While watching coverage of the Royal wedding, I listened to the prayer for them to have a family and my first thought was “I hope they’re not infertile – I can’t imagine going through that with the world watching and giving “helpful” advice.” And of course infertility has changed the way the family we have looks. We always planned to have “children” in the plural. Mr. W wanted 2, I wanted 3 – but that was something I was sure we would figure out in time. But the emotional toll of infertility and the premature birth of our son coupled with the risks of subsequent pregnancies were too much for him. He doesn’t want to step back into those waters. So I’m left with an intense gratitude for the family that I have and feeling a deep loss for the family I could have had. It’s unlikely I’ll ever know what it feels like to have a daughter (a daughter I have imagined since I was a little girl playing with my dolls, a little girl whom we had already chosen to name Kathryn Grace). In the picture of our family that I’ve carried in my mind since we got married, I now have to erase the little girl with long dark hair. I have to stop dreaming of Girl Scouts and ballet classes and shopping for prom dresses.

My friend is right. Infertility isn’t over when you have a child. My issues can’t be fixed. The emotional scars remain alongside the physical ones. It hurts less most days, but those wounds are still there. I will never be exactly who I was before. I wish that I could be, that things could have been different. I’m just happy every day that I was finally able to carry a pregnancy long enough to have a son even more incredible than anything I could have imagined him to be. And while I’ll always wonder “what if” I know that being his mother is enough.

2011-03-15T14:37:00.000-04:00

Sunday night we had the scariest moment since leaving the NICU behind us more than five years ago. The lowercase came into our room at 2am saying he was cold. He got into our bed and asked to be covered up and immediately fell back asleep. When we covered him, he wasn't just cold he was cold. As cold to the touch as he was the day we had to return him to the NICU as a baby. His first temperature readings (we took one, then tested the thermometer on ourselves to be sure it was working, then him again) were 95.6 and 95.9. Mr. W called the pediatrician while I pulled the lowercase, sleeping in just a tee shirt and underwear, the same as me, up onto my body, wrapping my bar legs around his and sliding his arms inside my shirt and cocooning us both in blankets. In the 30 minute span between wrapping up like that and leaving a message for the doc on call, his temp came up only 0.5 degrees. He was still just SO cold. We were told that because of the lack of any other symptom at all and because his temp was above 95 degrees, that a trip to the ER in the cold night would be more risky than beneficial. However, we had to get that temp up NOW. So at nearly 3am, I woke my son up, got in a warm bath with him to both hold him up and hope that my body heat would help him warm up faster. Mr. W put a towel, a blanket and a pair of flannel pajamas in the dryer to warm. After 30 minutes, his temperature was finally back to normal and the doc on call said to call for an appointment in the morning. He slept with me, bundled up and snuggled close and his temp remained normal all night and throughout the day Monday. Our appointment was scheduled for 5:20 in the evening, so we just waited not knowing what had caused the temperature drop.

I don't know really anything from the appointment. His temp was a bit low there, but not something that couldn't be "normal" - roughly 97 to 97.5 degrees during the appointment. The ped was concerned about what happened Sunday night, but lacking any symptoms of anything else... there just isn't anything we can logically think of to test. He said that since this isn't something that one generally sees, he wouldn't know how to go about testing or whom to refer us to fora hypothermia workup. We discussed that he is extremely thin -- he weighs EXACTLY what he weighed in October at his 5 year physical. So was Sunday night's episode related to some asymptomatic viral or bacterial infection that he's fighting off? Or was it kind of a "perfect storm" of conditions that allowed a child with a BMI in the 3rd percentile to just ... get cold? When he had a temp plunge as a baby, it was assumed it was conditional (it was December, very cold, and he was a VERY tiny baby) and that his lack of body fat made it that much harder to raise his temperature once it had dropped. So is this the same thing? Or is it just a weird fluke...something that just happened?

Which led us to the fact that he doesn't seem to gain fat and that all weight gain seems to be in correlation to height gain (as it was in the NICU; which, again, was assumed to be the cause of his temperature instability that kept him in the isolette far longer than we had expected given how well he was otherwise doing).

We don't want to go crazy testing for anything and everything willy nilly because by all rights, he seems to be a healthy, normal THIN boy. We also don't want to ignore something that might be something just because he seems so normal and healthy. He acts fine. He's bright, engaged, active - by all appearances he's just a normal, if precocious, little boy.

As a baby one test showed him to have odd thyroid levels - the showed that he should be expected to be on the heavier end of the spectrum and yet he was the opposite. It kind of made us scratch our heads, but he was so normal, there were other things going on and we agreed with his doctors that it must have been lab error and that we just didn't want to stick him another time for no real reason.

We've battled constipation off and on with him since he was born. He came home on prune juice to keep things working. We thought that was an immature digestive system due to his prematurity. Is that related to what happened? To his size?

We left with a plan. We watch things, we live our lives and see how he does. If he has a problem, we go in right away. If things are just normal every day life, we wait and see the ped in July for a well visit to check height, weight, temp and BMI. Then we'll have his 6 year physical in October as usual. We want to watch his growth more carefully and see that he's staying on the curve (albeit a very low curve, about the 5th percentile) rather than flatlining or falling off. It still could be that he's just naturally thin. Or it could be that he's actually not. The ped said (though he doubted it) that we could be looking at a diagnosis of "failure to thrive" at which point we would start testing...something.

We also mentioned that on Monday my 9-year old nephew was given a preliminary diagnosis of celiac disease pending the results of some blood work that aren't back yet. His only symptom had been constipation that began about a year ago and progressed to some pretty severe problems rather quickly. (Though up until the apparent vomiting of fecal matter, his symptoms appeared very similar to the lowercase) Celiac disease is hereditary so our ped thinks that if his cousin does have it, there could be a chance that the lowercase does as well which could explain some of the constipation, some of the thinness due to inability to absorb nutrients. But of course, we don't want to make assumptions and jump to a (difficult at best) gluten free diet if that isn't called for. So for now, we wait, but we at least have an idea of where to start testing if we see that there is an actual need for testing.

I just don't know what to think. Our plan is very reasonable, in my opinion, and logically I know it's best and am comfortable with it. At the same time, it's killing me to hear that "failure to thrive" is even a possibility. This sounds so conceited and ridiculous but that kind of thing just doesn't happen to people like me. I followed all the rules! I have paid extreme attention to his diet from the minute he was born. We buy organic foods! We're a family of foodies for crying out loud! I just feel like, as a mother, that one phrase says more about me than about him - that I didn't do something right, that I missed something, that it's my fault. Honestly, he's always been around the 5th percentile once he reached the charts at all, so if it's now deemed failure to thrive, then he has ALWAYS been failing to thrive -- that's FIVE AND A HALF YEARS of mama failure.

Of course it could all be tiny issues, completely unrelated, he's just thin and in a world riddled with obesity, isn't it good that he doesn't have that battle to fight. For now, we wait, we watch things, and try not to worry until there's cause. Good luck on that one.

2010-06-18T15:24:00.000-04:00

I'm still here...sort of. I'm still alive.

I'm busily trying to re-envision my life. Since our match with our wonderful GS and friend ended, I feel an even greater need to find myself.

Most of the time, during the daylight hours, I don't have time to think about my life beyond the here and now. I have an incredible (and active!!) 4 year old boy and our days are full. But in the evening, after he's asleep, I have too much time to think. I find myself unable to fall asleep until 1 or 2 am every night. I don't know where my life will lead. At this point though, if I'm being honest, I have to say that I really don't see there being another child. Not now, and in all likelihood, not ever. During the day, this is enough. I'm not sad most of the time. I'm able to breathe. I wonder though, when those daytime feelings will last through the night.

A few days ago, I got fairly late into the evening still comfortable with the idea of calling it quits with one child. I decided that it was time to do some googling to see about permanent methods of birth control. As search results for tubal ligation and vasectomy popped onto my screen, my chest constricted, my breathing became shallow and I had to bite my tongue in order to not scream NO. The tears came. I don't want that. I don't want to give up. I'm trying to force myself because Mr. W, who had compromised and said we could try has since changed his mind. He's again convinced that his family is complete. So, in the end, I don't think it matters how I feel about it. It's just over. There is no chance. There is no hope. All I can do is pray that I can live with the decisions that he has made.

Disconnect

2010-05-04T17:33:00.000-04:00

Since the birth of the lowercase, I've had such a hard time knowing what to do with this blog. At first, parenting was just so all-consuming that I didn't have any spare time to write. Then I got to the point of having only one thing to say and there were only so many ways to say it. So I didn't write. Then we made our decisions, we knew what direction we were headed in. Still, there was little to say until we had made it to actually acting on that decision. So I didn't write. Progress was made, we were moving forward, I was happy and excited...but we were still waiting. Other than knowing that we were moving forward and with whom, well, there wasn't much to say.

After so long in this holding pattern, I'm just feeling a total disconnect in most areas of my life. The only area in which I don't feel that way is in my parenting of the lowercase. But I am feeling it absolutely everywhere else. I wish that I had other words for what I'm feeling. I wish I could analyze it all well and have it mean something. Instead, all I feel is a disconnect. I don't feel close to most of my friends -- we're all in such different places in our lives and families now. I don't feel I am on equal footing. I can't commiserate when they discuss their parenting dilemmas. I have one very easy 4 year old. They all have multiple children and have to juggle their needs. I feel the disconnect with Mr. W -- someone who has been my closest friend and strongest supporter for 12 years. He's been traveling a lot (in fact, we've only been home and in the same state for about 4 weeks since November). I don't feel like I'm much of a priority to him. The lowercase comes first, then his job and somewhere at a distant 3rd is me. I get the few minutes of his time during the day that aren't filled with work or the lowercase. And, more often than not, by the time that rolls around, the time I get involves sitting in the family room watching TV together. More often than not, I'll fall asleep at some point, he'll finish watching whatever show and we'll go up to bed.

So, here I am. Feeling completely disconnected from my life and having no real tether.

2010-02-16T15:54:00.000-05:00

I am having a bad day. I don't feel well. I'm battling to get my child to eat something other than his usual foods -- to add actual fruits and vegetables of some sort to his diet. This led to a LOT of yelling this morning. More than I am happy with. Enough that I ended up crying and more angry with myself than I think I may ever have been. Enough to make me question whether I really am a good parent. So, yeah. I'm having a bad day.

2.11.10

2010-02-11T18:46:00.000-05:00

I'm not usually one to be all "gushy" with people. I try to let my actions toward a person show them how much I care more than my words. But today I have to break that rule -- Kym simply isn't near enough for that to be possible.

Long before we were officially matched, I admired her in so many ways. Through her blog, her message board posts, and her e-mails, I came to realize that she is kind, intelligent, thoughtful, funny, warm... I could go on and on. I have to say that the day that she agreed to be our surrogate ranks among my happiest days.

Since that day, I can't even count the number of times that I've opened up her surrogacy profile on my browser and smiled as I read her words.

And, because I am terrible at remembering dates, I kind of didn't realize until last evening that today is her birthday (officially making us the same age...for the next 5 months at least). I felt terrible about it, but when I admitted that, she said that she's pretty bad at remembering dates, too. Which only makes me love her more -- yet another thing we have in common.

Happy birthday, Kym!! Here's hoping the coming year brings nothing but good things!

2010-02-03T16:46:00.000-05:00

My friend C is going through a difficult time in her marriage. It's become so bad that she is seriously thinking about leaving her husband. Almost daily, she tells me all of the gory details and all of the research she's done into divorce laws -- including the amount she would expect in child support, most common custody arrangements, where she would live and work... She's got it all planned out. But in the next breath, she says that she doesn't want to leave, that she doesn't want to take her children from their father.

After one of those talks, I was so frustrated with her. What was keeping her? Why was she holding on? Mr. W and I were talking about it and neither of us could come up with a logical reason.

Why, I asked him, would she possibly stay? Why, when a child doesn't even need a father...

I can't even begin to describe the look in my husband's eyes. I knew it was a mistake the minute that I said it, but how could I even begin to dig myself out of that one? How could I have said that and so firmly believed the words as they came out of my mouth? And how, exactly, could I change a belief I have held for 30 years?

I mumbled a weak, pathetic little "Oh, but not you, of course our son needs you" and changed the subject as quickly as I could. I think I actually asked him if he wanted soy sauce. Nice save, no?

Since then, I've spent a lot of time trying to figure this one out. I truthfully always have thought of fathers as unnecessary, an extra, while a mother is essential.

In large part this is because of how I grew up. My own father walked out before I was 3 years old. He was always a non-entity in my life. Sometimes he paid support, most times he didn't. He didn't show up for birthday parties, dance recitals, plays, choir concerts, honor society inductions, surgeries. At some point I just quit inviting him, though his cousin had a son in my class who sometimes mentioned things to his mom and, on occasion my dad would show up. But it was never necessary. He was never the one that I felt had to be there for me. My mom was the one who was always there. In my life, with the father that I had, he was not essential.

I had fabulous men in my life -- my stepdad came into our family when I was 5 years old. At the time he was gone during the week and only home on weekends, something that didn't change until I was in high school. So despite the love that I have for him and all that he has done and been for me? I still basically had the same experience as if I was raised in a single parent household.

I had my grandfather, a man who has proven to be more incredible as the years have progressed than I ever imagined he was. I spent 3 months of every year in their home. I went on trips with my grandparents, he helped teach me to drive (on mountain roads in New Mexico, in a freakin' suburban -- that right there? That's a brave man!). But he owned a restaurant, worked non-stop and most days in their house he was gone for the biggest part of the day. My grandma filled the same role that my mother did - a strong woman, home taking care of everything.

Somewhere along the way, I managed to define the words "father" and "dad" in a different way than most. Those roles were strictly about biology. Dads leave. They aren't needed. We do just fine without those. I remember having hand surgery in 6th grade. I woke up and the nurse asked me if I wanted my mom and dad to come back to the recovery room. I very angrily said, "What is THAT MAN doing here? WHEN did he get here? NO! NO I DO NOT WANT HIM! Just please bring me my mom!!!"

But I always knew that my stepdad loves me. That he's been an incredible father. When Mr. W and I got married, I walked down the aisle between my grandfather and my stepdad (while my father sat in the back of the church). The father-daughter dance at my reception was with my stepdad, followed by a dance with my grandpa. And when we found out that the lowercase was going to be a boy, we gave him my stepdad's name (I wanted my grandpa's name in there too, but, sadly, that is a name that Mr. W just doesn't care for).

Since the first pregnancy, the miscarriages, the birth of the lowercase, I've seen that Mr. W is not the kind of father that I had (nor the kind that he had, for that matter). He's loving, caring, involved. He changed diapers; he comforts our son when he's hurt or scared; he cuddles... He does everything that I do, often in a different way than I would do it, but sometimes even better than I could ever hope to. He is absolutely needed in our son's life -- and yet it never occurred to me how much this conflicted with my knee-jerk response that a father isn't necessary.

I still can't say that there was anything missing in my life by not having my father as a real presence in my life. If anything, my life was much better for his absence. It may have taken me the entire 30 years since my dad walked out of our lives to realize it, but maybe it isn't the role of a father that wasn't needed in my life. Maybe what wasn't needed was the man who biologically filled that role. My stepdad was and is my father. My grandpa took on a larger role than most grandfathers ever do with each of his 4 grandchildren -- keeping us for months of each year, teaching us to drive, he raised my 2 cousins for several years each. So maybe my biological father wasn't necessary. But I had two men who filled that void who are still very much needed in my life.

It's hard for me to separate the words father and dad from the man who gave me half my genes, but I think that I need to. I know now how much those words have hurt Mr. W and I'm certain that I've said those same things in front of both my stepdad and my grandpa. Now to figure out how to do it.

Disjointed Disney thoughts and major projecting

2009-12-12T10:15:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I wish that I could write what I'm really feeling. I can never seem to pull it together to give the true picture. But there are some things that I just have to put down on "paper."

We spent the last week in Disney World, celebrating Christmas (and, alternately, arguing with an over-tired 4 year old to just shut up and listen already!!). On the way there, we spent a lot of time drilling the lowercase on his home phone number, which we had conveniently forwarded to our cell phones. We talked about how, should he be unable to find us at any point, he should find someone working there and tell them his name and our phone number.

On our second day there, the lowercase and I were watching Princess Tiana singing on a riverboat while Mr. W was standing in line to buy a hat. At some point, he called us to come and join him at the counter. A "little" boy of about 12 had gotten lost and, crying, went to the woman at the counter to help find his parents. They were located quickly and without major catastrophe. The lowercase talked to the woman at the counter who showed him her name tag so he would know what the tags of people working for Disney looked like. She explained that he should find the first employee he could but should NEVER leave the area he last saw us in. She told us that all employees wear an earpiece and the instant a child is found or parents come to an employee to say their child is missing, they broadcast it parkwide and everyone is on the lookout for someone frantic for a child or a child by himself.

On our last day, we were sitting near town hall on Main Street USA when a small hispanic boy - maybe about 5 years old -- walked up to a bench near us with two Disney employees. The boy was crying so much that he couldn't speak. He couldn't give them the information that they needed and a 3rd employee (this time uniformed security) came to talk to him. We sat on the bench for 15 or 20 minutes while the boy cried. I can't even begin to explain the heartbreak that I felt. I cried along with him, feeling the fear and loss that he felt. And I cried even more when I pictured his parents, frantic and more scared than they had probably ever been in their lives. And after those 15 or 20 minutes, I saw a man trembling as he walked across the square with a Disney cast member. He stopped just in front of us to look at the boy on the bench, to see if it was his son before moving closer. The boy looked up and cried even harder and the man ran to his son in tears. As he swooped him up into his arms, I was crying too. And the people on benches near me were crying -- as were the college-age employees who had sat with the boy throughout it all.

As we were walking away, Mr. W said "Did you expect a man who looked like that to be his dad?" And, in truth, I didn't. We had both expected to see a hispanic family and not a fair-skinned blond man. Maybe it's just me projecting, but I saw the many different paths to parenthood after infertility there. The families through international adoption. The much-older parents with young children (and while this could have been their choice to have children later in life, my eyes saw years of trying). I felt for those families. I wanted to tell them "me too! I understand!" Instead, I just smiled a bit more.

And I felt the pain of those still trying. A friend from college lives in the area and was going to meet us for a while during our stay. On our last day, I got a message from her on facebook apologizing for not meeting us. She said that she was sorry that it didn't work out but that her life was ruled by doctor appointments as they tried to grow their family. She had never directly said anything about wanting children -- her facebook said that she is a former teacher and had no children. I never asked because I thought there was a chance that it wasn't by choice and I know how much I hated being asked. I hate that my projecting my own feelings was, this time, right. (I, too, quit teaching. I don't know her reasons for quitting, but I did it because it was just too hard to be around what I wanted, dealing with parents who didn't always deserve what they had..) I want to tell her that some way, some how, it will work out for her. When I responded, I told her that I completely understood that... that within a few months, our lives will be at the mercy of those doctors as we begin our surrogacy journey.

My hope is that by the early 2011, if we make the Disney trip, we'll be able to meet my friend, each of us with babies in our arms.

Motherhood is glamorous!

2009-11-17T23:20:00.004-05:00

I usually don't go for the "mommy blogger" posts. Ok, honesty time here, I don't actually "usually" post at all. But today, well today was one of THOSE days.

Things started out well enough. Mr. W took the lowercase downstairs while I stayed in bed a little while longer. As I came down the stairs, I was greeted by an insistent little boy.

"Mommy, I need to get in the innernets. I'm good at the innernets. But I don't know how to get in to it."

Then in the late afternoon, the lowercase had to go to the bathroom. I was in the family room one floor down, listening for him to tell me when he needed my help. I hear the patter of little feet coming to the top of the stairs.

"Mommy, I accidentally pooped on the floor."

Yes. He did. I run upstairs as fast as I can, sliding in my socks across the kitchen floor as I attempt to turn down the hallway to the bathroom. But there's nothing on the floor. My son, is nonchalantly patting me on the arm.

"I'm very sorry I did that accident. But I picked it up and put it in the toilet."

Yes. He did. He picked it up with the same hand he is now patting me with and flushed it away. I wipe the floor down with disinfecting wipes. I break out the antibacterial soap and help him thoroughly scrub his hands.

We then get ready for dinner. I made my first ever attempt at Cornish game hens. I feared they would burn and when I didn't smell smoke, I feared it would be raw. Perfectly done, not burned and not raw. And according to the lowercase, "not good."

"Mommy, my chicken is not supposed to be slimy."

Note to self: don't attempt to pass duck off as chicken, either. He won't buy it.

After dinner, both Mr. W and I kept smelling poop when the lowercase was near us. Nothing in his pants, his skin has been scrubbed. Up to the bathtub we go. And then we realize. It was in his hair! After picking up the accident he was so sorry for -- he wiped his hands off. In his hair.

Yes. He did.

Solid Gold!

2009-11-01T16:57:00.002-05:00

Since his tooth extraction, my cat kind of looks like Madame from Solid Gold.

2009-10-29T16:37:00.003-04:00

Today has been a rough day. Our 9 year old Siamese cat had to have some dental work - a tooth fell out over the weekend, today the vet had to remove ALL of his teeth and in the process apparently broke and wired his jaw.

The lowercase has been particularly clingy and very whiny - you know the day where the 3 year old starts crying if you go into the bathroom or if you turn Elmo on 2 minutes after it's started and he can't see ALL of it.

So while he was whining and driving me nuts, I looked at him and asked if we could just toss him out with the recycling or perhaps take him back to the store for a new less whiny version.

He looked me in the eye and, in all seriousness, said, "Mommy, you can't take me back. There's no store to take me back to. I'm a gift from God."

So as I giggle and hug him and tell him he's right, it gets better.

"And, Mommy, we don't have a spaceship. I'm pretty sure we need a spaceship to get to heaven because it isn't on Earth."

So help me if this kid is a budding Scientologist... No more Tom Cruise movies for him!

2009-10-29T09:51:00.003-04:00

I can't stop giggling. I wish that I had more than that, but today? That just isn't going to happen.

This is the funniest thing that I've seen in... Ok, it's just the funniest thing that I think I've ever seen.

Called

2009-10-21T00:37:00.003-04:00

I can't believe that it has been so long, but this past weekend was my 10 year college reunion at homecoming. Mr. W was away on business and my college roommate was unable to attend having recently had surgery. So, despite the fact that I was visiting my parents less than a mile from campus, I chose not to go. I wasn't sure who would be there, if I would remember them or if any of the people who attended would be people that I would want to spend any time with.

I'm actually happy with the decision as attendance was low, it was extremely cold, and, frankly, I just don't enjoy watching football. Instead, the day of the game and my class' reunion dinner, I spent time with my parents and grandparents - something that I am now and will always be happier for having done.

By mid-day Sunday, most of the alumni had left town. Some relatives from out of town came to visit for the afternoon and in the evening, we all made our way to my parents' restaurant for dinner.

As I looked out of the kitchen, I saw a friend that I hadn't known would be in town for homecoming, nor would I have expected that he would still be there. He and I ended up having an incredibly long conversation, one that thoroughly blew my mind. He was still in town because he wanted to attend chapel on Monday morning and to take some photographs of campus in the morning light.

He talked to me about how God is moving in his life, his relationship with Christ and what he feels he is being called to do. We discussed what it is to have a calling, to know what that is. And, remarkably, I realized something that I just can't believe hasn't been clear to me before now.

Since the lowercase was born, I've spent a lot of time volunteering with the March of Dimes. I've had my name on a list at our NICU to talk to parents whose children have been diagnosed with congenital diaphragmatic hernia (a condition that I survived 32 years ago and that is still largely considered a death sentence and one that is commonly cause for a decision to terminate the pregnancy). I've reached out to friends and strangers who have had to deal with premature births on CDH diagnoses. I've stayed with friends in the hospital during their births, praying the entire time they were in the operating room, sat with them as they waited to be allowed into the NICU and went in with them on their first trips in to see their children. I've spent hours e-mailing and talking on the phone with them.

And yet I've never, not even once, wanted to do any of it. I would have nightmares each time I visited the hospital. I relived every terrifying moment of my time in the NICU with the lowercase -- all the scares, all the middle of the night frantic trips across town to the hospital for just one more look at the frail little boy that I loved so much. In my dreams, sometimes the outcomes weren't what they had been in reality. I've cried each and every time that I've left the hospital parking garage, hung up the phone, or clicked send on an email.

But in all of that, I have not once had a choice as to whether or not I would answer that email, pick up the phone, or drive to the hospital (whether it was at 3am or 1pm). I did it because those parents needed me. I continue to do it because I know that it's something that I would have wanted myself nearly 4 years ago.

My talk with my friend made me realize that, for right now, this is what God is calling me to do. I'd always thought that a calling would involve something that would make me happy, something that I would enjoy doing. At the very least, I thought it would be something that didn't involve such emotional pain. I never expected it to be this way - to be so gut wrenching at times that Mr. W asks me why I put myself through it.

Yet each and every time I do one of these things, I am reminded of what a miracle each of these children is. I remember that my lowercase, who is so wonderfully, frustratingly three (for another week and a half!), has overcome so much in such a short time. And I vow each time to be the best mother to him that I can possibly be, to raise him well, and to prepare him for whatever it is that God has planned for his life.

2009-08-05T15:03:00.003-04:00

The hardest part of this fertility nightmare by far, for me, is my reactions to other people's pregnancy and birth stories. Where I once felt pain at being around their children and babies, I now can be happy with that part. I still covet the pregnancy and birth experience.

Within the surrogacy community, it seems to be taboo for an "intended mother" to admit that. When one does make such a comment, the message boards go crazy with "not ready" and "hasn't accepted her infertility" or "jealousy issues." I have an issue with that, obviously.

I am ready -- hell, I'm here aren't I? If I had not accepted my body's inability to carry a baby to term I wouldn't be looking at surrogacy at all. I'd be right back to timing sex, putting my legs up for 20 minutes, taking my temperature every morning, charting, peeing on OPKs. I wouldn't be stashing obscene amounts of money aside to compensate someone else to do something that I would much rather do myself.

I will always have issues with how my body was formed. I will always wish that I could be pregnant. I will always long to feel my baby kicking from the inside. I will always wish that I had the option of an unmedicated "natural birth."

Those are things that I will always wish for, but know that I will never have.

I thank God that there is someone out there willing to do for me what my body can't.

One of those gushy mommy posts

2009-07-30T10:58:00.002-04:00

I always knew that I would love being a parent. As a child, I loved playing with younger kids, holding babies, reading stories. As a teenager, I loved babysitting, playing with kids in the park, making picnics for them. When my brother had kids, I couldn't wait to build forts with them, to take them out for the day, exploring things with them. So the fact that I am thoroughly loving my life as a mom isn't a surprise to me. I love so much about this. There are elements that are harder than I ever expected (potty training is NOT going as smoothly as we would have hoped) but there are other things that are above and beyond my expectations.

Despite the fact that I am a teacher and have studied child development extensively, I am amazed at the things such a little person can do. The lowercase just amazes me. My mother, however, isn't at all surprised as he is doing things at roughly the same time frame that both my brother and I did.

He isn't fully reading, but he can read several words. He delights at sounding things out to pick out the letter that each word begins with. He can spell his name and is able to write it on his own (the m's need work, but the rest of it is clear). He knows his phone number. He knows his address. He likes to type -- so much so that he now has a computer of his own (one that Mr. W needs for work occasionally but that would otherwise be sitting idle). He knows how to login, he knows how to start his games on his own (and he knows that "apple-Q" will get him out), he types his name in without assistance when the prompt comes up. He reads weather maps correctly ("It's just a green storm today mommy. It will rain, but no thunder and NO lightning!"). He has a basic understanding of how to tell time -- he doesn't understand the minutes and seconds, but he knows which hand is the hour and that if it isn't pointing directly at a number that we are half way between 6 and 7. And his memory? My goodness, we can get away with nothing! He remembers (and reminds us frequently!) of things that we said or did nearly 2 years ago. He can tell us when and where he got every single toy in his collection (including a book that, last night he informed us was an Easter gift from my biological father. It was - he was 18 months old when he got the book. Nobody has mentioned where it came from in all this time. He gave details about getting it that just completely blew us away.)

There are other things, however, that he won't do. He is very physically cautious. He won't attempt a physical task unless he knows that he can do it. I shouldn't be surprised since he wouldn't walk on his own until he was 18 months old, but I am surprised every time. For instance, he won't go down the big slide on his new swing set. It's too tall and too fast he says. He might fall at the end. Which he did the first time he tried it so I suppose that fear isn't exactly unjustified. He warns his friends, who go down it head first, to be careful and that they could get hurt.

I've said at every stage in his life that this is my favorite part of being his mommy. I doubt I'll ever stop saying that and I doubt it will ever stop being true. And now I have to go and time an hour glass that he found -- I explained to him that they were used to help measure time before there were watches and now he wants to know how long this particular hour glass will take for the sand to empty. The endless wonder and fascination right now? The constant new discoveries and understandings? This is my favorite part of being his mommy. Until we reach the next phase.

2009-07-16T00:48:00.003-04:00

It's funny how when I actually have something worth saying I can't seem to find the words. Things are finally moving in the direction that I've wanted for so long now! And it all happened rather quickly and feels so right.

The one thing that we'd been waiting for to be able to move forward with a surrogacy journey CAME THROUGH! After 18 months of waiting for it to happen, being told that it would happen -- the deal has gone through!!! Just before it went through, I got up the nerve to send an email to a truly incredible woman who was looking for new intended parents. I'd bounced a lot of questions off of her during the entire time we were looking and considering and going through all the what-ifs. I can't explain why but from the first post of hers that I read on a surrogacy message board, I liked her and trusted her. I read her blog and that made me like her even more. She's kind, funny, a bit geeky (in our house, this is considered a good thing!) We started talking and realized we have a lot in common. I absolutely feel like this is the right path. And within days of us both realizing that, things fell into place on this end. It just feels right. Meant to be.

At the same time, I do have to admit that I've been a bit sad this week. I wish I could figure that part out. I think that it's all just suddenly become very real. I'm happier than I've been in a while, but there is a lingering sadness that creeps in here and there. There is still some fear. It's so close, so possible... but what if something snatches that away? Mostly, though, these feelings are fleeting and I've spent more time focused on the happiness.

****************

Edit:

Last night after posting this, I had a dream that kind of clarified for me the feelings that I've been having. In my dream, I graduated from high school and then went through that summer between then and going to college.

That was the last time I felt like this. I was leaving everything that I had known and even though I knew that what I was doing was right, I was still a bit afraid, I felt both happy and uneasy. I wonder, if I had gone through a normal pregnancy and labor if I would have had the time to feel this way before the arrival of the lowercase.

Time to lose it!

2009-06-25T11:34:00.002-04:00

As I close in on 3 years 8 months postpartum, I think it might be time to lose the baby weight. I don't know how much I gained with my pregnancy, however I am currently about 25-30 lbs over the weight I would like to be. (In scary what was I thinking then news: I am roughly 60 lbs heavier than when I met my husband. Of course, my eating was a bit disordered at that point in my life.)

I keep saying that I'm going to do it, that I'm going to diet, that I'm going to exercise and I keep NOT doing it. I don't know why it is. I just can't seem to keep my motivation. But I may very soon have some motivation.

I'd like to have the weight gone by the time of my 10th anniversary next May. Mr. W and I have spoken about renewing our vows then and I'd like to do it looking even better than our wedding day... or at least as good.

My real motivation for losing the weight is that I want to look good when my next child is born. If I'm not the one who is pregnant, I don't think I should look like I was! (But damn, would I give anything to be that one!!) As of now, well, there's a GOOD chance that could be happening next year! There's been a lot of movement and back and forth with Scott's company that could indicate his company's largest profit ever. This could really be happening!!

Every now and then? Oprah is right!

2009-06-23T17:15:00.003-04:00

Last week while getting dressed, I noticed that one of my breasts suddenly felt different. It was softer than it had been. I looked in the mirror and knew right away what had happened. The implant in my left breast ruptured and was slowly leaking saline into my body.

I called my OB for a recommendation on a plastic surgeon. The name they gave me wasn't listed in the phone directory of the practice they told me to call. So I called the surgeon who had put the implant in in the midwest in 1994. His assistant pulled my files and called me later in the day after talking to the surgeon. He knew a surgeon who was good in my area but had recently retired, so he gave me the number of a surgeon who specializes in pediatric cranio-facial surgeries but who should be able to refer me to someone who would do a good job. Interestingly, that surgeon had removed the sebaceous nevus from the lowercase' head a few years ago, so we already knew them. His assistant said that he would be more than willing to do the surgery for me and that he could squeeze me in about 3 weeks faster than his practice was currently scheduling.

I have a pre-op consult scheduled for July 14. In the meantime, I have to live with the deflated balloon inside my body... and a chest that is DRASTICALLY lopsided. Which is kind of funny. I had the surgery shortly before my 17th birthday so that I would never be lopsided like this again -- and now I'm even MORE lopsided than I was then! (At that point I was a full B on one side, about an A on the other; my chest is now MUCH larger than that)

Now, this is why I say Oprah is right. She's had a few episodes where she talks about how American women are wearing the wrong bra size and the need to be professionally fitted. Since I have this issue right now, I decided that I needed to get a good sturdy bra, one that was structured enough to give the illusion that both sides were the same as well as some good pads/"chicken cutlets" to fill in the extra space.

About a year ago, I was measured at a Victoria's Secret. The woman there swore that I needed a 38C. Of course, it didn't fit. At all. So I just kept trying things on until something felt right. I ended up buying a lot of 34DD bras. Oh, how wrong I was on my size!! It turns out that I'm actually a 32 band -- something that shocked me to find out, though prior to pregnancy I was a 32C. Post-baby I am a 32G. I have never had a bra feel as good as this bra does. It is beyond comfortable. I look thinner, though I have no idea how that's possible. There just aren't any bulges around the bra anywhere.

I don't agree with a lot of what Oprah says, but in this instance? Listen to the woman! Get yourself fitted if you haven't already because the difference is UNREAL!

Decisions blow

2009-03-25T14:45:00.002-04:00

I can't make a decision. It's too hard. I don't know. And Mr. W doesn't know. And our family members don't know. NOBODY knows. There is no answer that is 100% right, nor is either answer 100% wrong. I just don't know what to do. I don't.

2009-03-20T21:06:00.002-04:00

Today we met with the perinatologists who delivered the lowercase three years ago. We were fully prepared for them to say it wouldn't be wise for me to get pregnant again.

The did not say this. My world feels like it has been thrown upside down. Basically, it boiled down to them thinking it would be a good idea, my risks exactly the same as they were before the lowercase, no higher, no lower. I might carry full term, I might not. I might go into labor earlier, at the same gestation, or later than I did with him. No way of knowing other than to try it.

They looked at us like we had three heads each when we said we were thinking of surrogacy.

I'll try to be coherent later when I can sort this all out in my own head.

Friday the 13

2009-02-12T21:03:00.002-05:00

I woke up that morning, happy. The bleeding that had marked most days of my pregnancy had stopped 2 weeks prior. I had reached 10 weeks. The heartbeat had been seen on ultrasound. I was finally going to my first actually scheduled OB appointment. After, I would return to my 5th grade classroom, armed with cupcakes, juice, chips, and everything else a 5th grader longs for in a Valentine's party.

Mr. W and I sat with the OB patient coordinator. She explained how the appointment scheduling would work, the rotation through multiple doctors so we could be prepared should I go into labor when my doctor was out. She talked about cord blood banking, gave samples, went over our insurance coverage and what our responsibilities were, what we needed to give to the business office, forms we needed to fill out for their records. She put a colored sticker on my file - a sticker that indicated this was an OB file and not a GYN file. She confided in me that when she had bouts of nausea with her pregnancies, Bryer's mint chip ice cream always did the trick.

We got up and went to the business office and wrote a check as our first payment toward our portion of the prenatal care and delivery.

We walked up the stairs of the beautiful old house. I'll never forget the ornate rug on the wooden stairs, the creaks with each step. At the top, I was handed a cup and ushered into a bathroom for a urine sample. I came out and was weighed, my finger stuck for a glucose check.

My name was called and I went back for my first exam. The doctor thought it all felt fine. My uterus felt like it was stretching and growing appropriately by palpation. He smiled and asked if I would like to try to hear the baby's heartbeat as he pulled out the doppler. He said it was early, but that with as long ago as the records of my emergency visits were picking up strong heartbeats, he thought there was a chance.

He placed the doppler on my stomach, moved it around. We were greeted with silence. The loudest kind of silence. It was a gut-wrenching silence. The doctor assured me that it was still early, but that, given my history, he would be happy to sneak me in for a visit with Walter, the ultrasound tech, downstairs if I would like. I nodded my head silently as he picked up the phone.

Mr. W and I walked back down the stairs and Walter was waiting for us at the base of the stairs. He took us into his room, gave me the gown to slip on, turned down the lights, adjusted his stereo (forever playing the Beatles). He stepped out and a couple of moments later, knocked 2 times and slipped back into the room with a nurse.

He was very quiet as he performed the trans-vaginal ultrasound. Mr. W standing by my head, the nurse with one hand on my knee, the other gently rubbing my leg. Walter knew us well by this point, having performed many emergency ultrasounds due to the bleeding. He knew that we knew what we were looking at by this point...that we knew where the heart had been beating just 2 weeks prior.

But now, it wasn't. It was just a quiet, unmoving little mass. I knew. I knew it in every fiber of my being before a word was spoken. I don't think I was crying then. I remember silently getting up, wiping the lubricant from my skin, pulling my clothes on. I remember walking, clinging to Mr. W, up those creaky stairs.

I stopped at the top of the stairs not knowing what to do or where to go. Looking wildly around the small waiting area filled with visibly pregnant women happily rubbing their bellies. I couldn't move. I just stood there, shell shocked. Several nurses, I have no idea how many, swooped over, put their arms around me, circled me so that I couldn't see what was in front of me as we were escorted into an office and seated in front of a large, ornate desk.

The doctor came in. He said all the things they all say, so sorry, these things happen, nature's way, for the best... I just stared at the floor. He told me what our options were and suggested that maybe a D&C would be the best thing for my emotional state, to get it done and over with. I nodded. He called the hospital to see if they could do it right away, if there was an operating room available if we all drove there right then. They said there would be if we came now, but had I had anything to eat or drink? I had been drinking a chai latte on the way to the doctor's office (the only pregnancy in which I consumed any caffeine). The anesthesiologist said no. Despite my not having negative reactions to anesthesia, he felt that milk on my stomach was too much of a risk of illness. He wouldn't do it that day. The surgery was scheduled for Monday morning.

I remember walking out of the office, staring at the floor. I had sent Mr. W to pull the car around. I walked past those happily pregnant women alone. I listened to the creaking of the 200 year old wood floor. At the foot of the steps, I didn't know what to do. I just started to silently cry. Again, I was swarmed by caring women. The receptionists pulled me into an office directly below the one I had been in. They offered me water. They helped me to a small settee near the window where I cried.

Mr. W came in to get me, wrapped his arms around me and walked me to our car. Once inside, we agreed we needed to tell our families and that I needed to let the school know that my substitute teacher needed to stay the full day and to see if maybe the other 5th grade teachers could split my class, take them in to their valentines parties. I picked up my cell, dialed my mom's number. The second I heard her voice, I fell apart. I don't think I told her what happened. I just started crying and begging, "Mommy, I need you. Mommy please come!" I can still hear the sound of her crying in my memory. Mr. W took the phone, stepped out of the car and gave her all the details.

When we got home, there was a call. My Monday D&C was cancelled. It was President's Day and they would not do "elective" surgeries on that day. I would have to wait until Tuesday. Knowing that the baby in my body was dead, had been dead for nearly 2 weeks as the doctor had explained to us after the ultrasound. Yet my body continued to be pregnant, continued to produce the hormones, continued to feel all the symptoms of pregnancy.

It's been 5 years since the day that all of my naive beliefs about pregnancy and babies were destroyed.

Friday, February 13, 2004.

2009-02-02T12:19:00.002-05:00

So I think I hit bottom long about the time I posted last week. There was just so much going on in my life and in the lives of my family and close friends and I couldn't take it. I was having major issues with stress. And then for some reason when I woke up on Friday morning, I felt a bit lighter, better. And I was OK most of Saturday -- had a slight issue Saturday night with the tight feeling chest and the lump in my throat that made me feel like I was going to vomit and just needed a really deep breath or 12. I took my blood pressure and pulse rate -- both good -- and for whatever reason the scary feelings instantly went away and I was able to go to sleep. Sunday was good.

I'm a bit sad and feeling pity for myself today -- my friend (epilepsy, horrible comments regarding our plans for surrogacy/potential to have any more children ever) had a c-section today. Twins, at either 34 or 35 weeks, I can't remember which. I'll go this afternoon at some point to congratulate them, drop off some gifts. And while there, I'll visit with the NICU nurses who cared for the lowercase 3 years ago.

I'm just getting really tired of waiting. Everyone that I am close to has had a 2nd baby since the lowercase was born (several of them have first children who are almost 6 months younger than the lowercase). Most of them have second children who are in the 12-15 month age range. One of them has 4 month old twins. Now another set of twins today (her first was born the day before the lowercase). And another set of friends pregnant with twins (their first, due in August).

I just feel really surrounded and pathetic. So very broken...and not the kind of broken that can be fixed by getting pregnant. The kind of broken that gets WORSE if I get pregnant. Yuck.

I have an appointment, the first available, for a consult with the perinatologists who delivered the lowercase. Basically, the local fertility clinic wants everything evaluated before they will agree to see me. My regular GYN has agreed that once I "have all the information" (which, quite frankly I do, I haven't been dealing with the knowledge of my UU since 2004 for nothing!) she will be willing to perform a tubal ligation. I don't like the way my body is reacting to birth control pills, an IUD of any form is out due to the malformed uterus, and I feel that this would be the safest method of birth control for our family and for me personally. She just wants us to be 100% certain that we don't want to carry another pregnancy in my body.

(In the interest of truthfulness, I do want to carry another pregnancy. In the interest of logic, everyone's best health outcomes and quality of life, it is a thing that doesn't seem like a very good idea to actually do.)

Off to go visit two new babies.

Overwhelmed

2009-01-29T12:09:00.002-05:00

I don't have space for coherent thought. I have been feeling very sick for the last couple of weeks, more so in the last week. I have issues with indigestion. Each night as I'm laying in bed, I feel tightness in my chest. I fear that I'll vomit at every move by the time night rolls around. I feel like I'm drowning in the stress of my life, and I feel guilt for feeling that way when so many others have it so much worse.

I'm worried about the surrogacy, when we'll get the money and how. The huge deal that has been looming for my husband's company seems light years away one minute and like it will happen tomorrow the next. The large corporation the deal is with is jerking them around big time. With it, everything is good and we have money and no issues. Without it, my husband and his partner have to start laying people off in November. I worry about those people, their families, how that would affect them. I worry about how it will affect our family. The economy has hit my parents business hard -- they're in an area that will do well when things are good and will be the first area people start cutting when things are bad. And things are bad. I worry about them. My mom was in the ER overnight due to blood pressure, a panic attack ... and all tests came back normal showing it was a physical reaction to the stress she's under. That did nothing to lighten my personal stress load, and if anything increased it because now I am terrified about my mom's health.

One of my two cats has a horrible bacterial infection. We have spent more money trying to get him healthy than I care to admit (including a one week stay in the vet hospital on IVs and tube feedings). He's still not better. We brought him home, he started getting worse again. He's about to have an IV catheter inserted into one of his legs so he can get an insane and highly potent IV at home for 2-4 weeks. He's also going to get the Z-Pack during that time. Supposedly in conjunction those two things will cure the Pseudomonas. Either way, it's going to be expensive and I feel guilty for worrying about the money aspect of it when I'm also terribly worried about his health. And of course I'm also worried about the other (so far) healthy cat and whether or not he could catch this. I'm worried about how I'll explain it to the lowercase if the cat doesn't get better. I'm worried about how much (if any) pain the cat is in.

I spoke to a friend this morning. Her husband's company just did another round of cuts. His department had been told they would be insulated from them. They weren't. Several people were let go yesterday. Her husband wasn't one of them, thankfully, but he wasn't exactly spared. They cut everyone's pay by 10%. The company eliminated their dental and life insurance plans as well as decreasing the company contribution to their health insurance accounts. And there is no guarantee that there won't be another round of layoffs next week or next month or tomorrow. I'm extremely worried for and about them. They have two gorgeous little boys, the older of whom was born the day before the lowercase and was his roommate in the isolette right beside ours. I just can't bear to think of them in this situation. I just can't.

I know that we're lucky. We can still take care of our cat. We can still do all of the things we need to in our daily lives (though we can't afford to add to our family in the safest way possible yet and are trying not to lose hope that we could in 6-12 months, but there is no guarantee that we can...if those big deals don't go through...)

My relationship with the lowercase is also suffering a bit because of it. I love him, but my patience is shot. I find myself frustrated more easily than normal -- and the fact that he's in a phase of pushing his boundaries and generally just exerting his will at all costs doesn't help. (In my defense, Mr. W is also having greater difficulty dealing with him right now.) I worry that it's not the lowercase sometimes but me, when clearly that isn't always the case. So we've resorted to a lot of movies (Lightning McQueen is a lifesaver today!), lots of time outs, and as many activities as I can handle to keep him active and less likely to drive me over the edge.

Any ideas on reducing my worry and stress? I just can't seem to separate out all of my worries for my future, for the people that I love so much and all that they are going through, and my guilt over being in a better financial position (at least right now) than they are. I am making myself physically ill over it all. Writing it down, talking about it with others...it just gets worse. I can feel the tightness creeping into my chest even as I write this. (One of my best qualities and biggest character flaws has always been caring more than is strictly healthy about others and intense empathy. Usually it's a good thing. Currently, it's just ripping me apart) Suggestions (other than medicating it...I'm not comfortable with that and don't think I'm quite there...yet) are welcome and desperately needed!

Friend or Stranger?

2009-01-15T16:22:00.002-05:00

Things are looking up slightly around here. I'm trying to not let myself get too optimistic and too far ahead of myself. Mr. W tends to refer to me as a "chicken counter." I view myself more as someone who likes to be as prepared as possible for any eventuality. My mind is like a series of "if-then" statements. I need to work out as early as possible in every situation "If I do x, then y is likely to occur." And I have to have as many variables as possible in mind. Each week that I was pregnant with the lowercase, I would read a chapter of Your Pregnancy Week-by-Week to see where he was developmentally. Once we reached 24 weeks, I added to my weekly reading by searching for health and survival rates of babies born at that level of prematurity -- my goal, since we knew it was very possible (and ended up being reality) that I would deliver early, was to deliver at the point where survival rates were around 99% (the same as full-term) with >90% of surviving babies deemed to be in the normal range for long-term health/abilities.

Looking down the barrel of a surrogacy, I find that it's a total unknown for me. It involves so much more than just my child's health. I have to make a judgement on the person carrying before getting to that point. I have to trust that they are going to be able to handle this very unusual situation.

In that vein, I find myself wanting to have a friendship with the person, have it be someone that I know and know that I can trust. But not entirely. There is a part of me that is very frightened to have someone that is already a friend carry for me. In doing so, I would be taking them out of the box of just a friend. I am asking them to make healthy decisions, to do things that I feel would be in my child's best interest. And some of it is craziness. For instance - I have had 3 miscarriages. I have spent hours with Dr. Google searching for studies about nutritional and environmental causes. I've spoken to multiple doctors, from OBs to REs to fetal pathologists. I don't consume caffeine during my pregnancies -- it isn't 100% proven to be a causal factor, but there are some interesting connections drawn between caffeine, miscarriage, and newborn weight. Most OBs say that some caffeine is safe. Is it fair to tell a friend "I know you like coffee, I know you have healthy children and drank coffee the whole time. Don't do it." And is it possible for me to back off from that request? I know in other countries, small amounts of alcohol during pregnancy are considered safe -- I don't think any alcohol of any kind is safe. Would I feel comfortable asking a friend to please, not go on that vacation because of my own fears and neuroses?

And my biggest fear is that the whole pregnancy would alter the friendship in ways that could never be corrected. If we disagree on something, is that going to break a friendship? If at the birth, I am so enthralled with the baby that I temporarily forget to show massive amounts of gratitude (I am very guilty of not always remembering to say thank you immediately, no matter how grateful and thankful I actually am) -- is that going to hurt a friend's feelings more than someone that I only know because they know I want that child? And is there a chance that the friend could have too much involvement -- for example, viewing herself as the child's "other mom" and questioning your parenting decisions throughout the rest of that child's life? And even if she doesn't do that, will I always feel like she is judging me?

I have a couple of things going on right now that I haven't posted about here...M's match may not be happening right now and we've been talking quite a bit over IM -- she'd still like for us to "win the lottery and work with" her...a friend talked to her husband and they have agreed that as long as she could be approved and we could work out some terms (life insurance, some financial compensation, other legalities) she would like to carry for us...And we should know in a couple of days if Mr. W's company is going to start work on one of the really big deals before mid-year (if so, then we could potentially get the money for surrogacy by the end of June/beginning of July, or be guaranteed that we would have it by this time next year).

So, what would you choose...your friend or someone you know only through the surrogacy world?

Dilemma: Resolved

2009-01-09T12:47:00.002-05:00

I e-mailed M. this morning. I told her that I would feel too guilty to ask her to be in pain/stay off her medications and wait for me -- a wait that could be 5 or 6 more months, or even another year. We're not cutting off communication by any stretch -- I really do like her and enjoy her e-mails. But she's going to keep looking. If she doesn't find anyone before she gets to be in too much pain, she'll go back on her medicine. If she's available and able when we're ready, she'll wean off her meds and we'll go from there.

It's not the resolution that I wanted, but it's the only one that's fair to her.

I'm just waiting for the day that somehow something in all of this gets to be fair to me.

Dilemma

2009-01-08T17:12:00.002-05:00

I don't know what to do right now. Mr. W's business seems to be picking back up and this year has the potential to be the most financially profitable in the company's history. THREE major newspaper chains (2 in the US, another in New Zealand...or Australia, I don't remember which right now) are on the verge of each signing contracts with dollar values attached that have 7 digits BEFORE the decimal point. In addition, they have another venture that they are working on in a whole other industry that has the potential to be extremely profitable. I'm still very nervous about it all because of the fact that 2008 was also supposed to be the most profitable year ever -- you know, before the economy tanked and the companies who were going to sign those deals last year (the 2 US deals) postponed them to 2009 to save their financial bacon. And, of course, being the pessimist that I am, I fear that this will continue to happen. Though, as my husband, a former IT guy at one of the US companies, attests -- they NEED this product if they want to remain in the black -- his product actually allows the industry to SAVE money and has a fairly quick ROI.

But that isn't what this post is about. At least not entirely. After the surrogate debacle in the fall, we kind of floundered for a while. Mr. W became very anti-surrogacy, but I knew he would come around again. He's now at a point where he again agrees that we will be doing it, but doesn't want to talk about the when of it all until we have all the money for it in our account and ready to go. He doesn't want us to add any debt load of any kind, especially with the current state of things. And while, logically, this does make sense...I AM NOT LOGICAL WHEN IT COMES TO THIS!

I've been talking to a surrogate that Kym recommended to me. She seems really wonderful, but I can't give her a time frame. Potentially June if Mr. W's business partner agrees to withdrawing profits twice in the year rather than at the end of the year as he has traditionally done. Otherwise, we're looking at January 2010 as the earliest we could do this. So...this could be a problem.

The potential surrogate, M, has rheumatoid arthritis. She goes into remission when pregnant but is in pain without her medications when she isn't. Her medication is category x. It causes birth defects. It's bad. (She hasn't said which it is, but just in my looking, it's very likely methotrexate) She isn't on it right now because she's still nursing her youngest who is almost 1. But she feels the time running out before she either needs to get pregnant again or go back on the medication. She e-mailed me yesterday saying that she didn't know what to do. She would rather wait for me to be ready, to do this with us. But we don't know our time frame and I can't ask her to stay off her medication for, potentially, another year. She would have to be off the medications for 3-6 months prior to becoming pregnant per her doctors' orders.

So, now I have a dilemma. Do I ask her to wait for us? To go back on her medications but then go off for us later? And knowing that she's on a category X medication (but one she doesn't need during pregnancy), would it be easy to find an RE who would approve her as a gestational surrogate? Her own pregnancies were not considered high risk, full term vaginal births (though she did conceive her 2nd while on her medications and there were a lot of doctors weighing in during her first 8 weeks or so of that pregnancy; in the end, they deemed that she found out soon enough that it was likely not going to be a problem if she hadn't miscarried at that point; her daughter is healthy and normal). So...what do I do? How do I respond?

Feeling down

2008-12-21T10:42:00.002-05:00

I've been feeling pretty down lately and it's affecting so much of my life. It seems to all be baby related.

In November, we had a contraception failure and 2 days later I felt the recognizable pangs of ovulation. When my usual PMS symptoms started kicking in, I became convinced that I was pregnant. I finally tested when my period was about 5 days late. Of course it was negative. And a couple of days later, my period came heavier than usual. I was pretty upset, but also in some aspects, a bit relieved -- after all, my body and pregnancy don't go well together. Still, it had felt to me like some kind of divine intervention -- like maybe despite our best efforts it was meant to be and would all be alright. Obviously I was just looking for signs.
My new ob/gyn was supposed to be in touch with me this week after discussing my file with all of the specialists. I haven't heard from her yet. Of course, when she said she would call this week, I was a bit surprised as I didn't think she'd be able to get all of the information she was looking for in one week's time.
I started birth control last week for the first time since 2003. I am experiencing some of the common side effects, despite the fact that this is the same pill that I took then with no side effects whatsoever. It's also tough for me to take that I'm on the pill at all when what I want is another baby.
The lowercase has turned into a very typical 3 year old. Or maybe it's my overall level of frustration with my situation bleeding over into it. In any event, I've found him more annoying than endearing the last couple of days. And of course, every time he annoys me, I feel guilty for that, feel like I'm bad at mothering the child that I have and that I don't deserve another child anyway. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm a SAHM and don't ever have a break from him. If I'm in the bathroom, he joins me. If I go to take a bath, he's in at least 17 times to tell me something and reach in and splash the water. At night, he sleeps in his own bed (FINALLY!!!), but it's in my room, right beside my bed. Frequently when he's restless, he reaches up and holds my hand. It's actually really sweet, but...well...when do I get a break? I'm so excited for Christmas with my family this week -- I trust my parents to keep him and have every intention of leaving him for several hours one day just to get a few moments to breathe and hopefully pull myself together.
This morning I looked at the surrogacy message board I frequent. The woman who I had talked to for months and thought I was close to something with matched with someone else when she told me that I lived too far away (someone who does live in the same state she does, so her reason was valid despite her not being 100% open and telling me that part). They transferred this month. She got a positive pregnancy test this weekend. I can't help but feel really saddened by that...knowing that potentially, that could have been us -- we could have transferred this month (or next) and I could be the one having a really great Christmas. But, well...not this time.
And, even if it was me, that wouldn't have happened, because we would have had to back out or go into massive debt. Mr. W's company made enough money that we could have had a large profit check. But, well, the economy being what it is, he and his partner decided to take only the minimum that they had to by law and re-invest the rest back into his company. Our portion ended up being enough to buy a new pair of Uggs, a new macbook, and pay the taxes on the income. (I'm sure there's a bit left, but not a significant amount to actually do anything with) So, yeah, I'm upset as all hell because we won't have the chance of another large cash influx for 12 more months.

Yeah, I'm kind of down right now. Need to turn that around soon. I will NOT have a 2nd year where all I want to do all Christmas is cry because of my fertility issues. Christmas 2004, a month and a half after miscarriage #3 was bad -- I simply refuse to repeat that kind of Christmas. I'm living on the concept of "faking it" until it's real. So, once I get in the car for the drive to my parents, I will be smiling and happy on the outside regardless of how I feel inside. If for no other reason than that my son deserves to have a happy Christmas with smiling happy parents.

Feeling good

2008-12-13T22:28:00.001-05:00

During my pregnancy with the lowercase, we moved from the NYC suburbs to the western part of the state. Shortly after moving here full-time, I walked into the bathroom to discover my pants had become a grisly blood soaked mess.

I called my perinatologist's on-call number and quietly scrubbed my pants while waiting. I still don't know what possessed me to remove every last vestige of blood rather than leaving for the hospital immediately, but I just knew that if I really was having my fourth miscarriage I could not come home to that sight.

When the doctor called me back, it was a 3rd year resident from labor and delivery. We were new in town and hadn't yet found the hospital -- the place we were frantic to get to and learn our fate. She couldn't tell us. She drove there every day but didn't know how to get there, couldn't even say how she herself had gotten there. She didn't know road names or even the names of landmarks to give us any type of guidance. Mr. W yelled at her in a way that I don't think I've ever heard him do.

She met us in the ER that night. She apologized for not knowing, told us that she really was all of the things my husband had called her in his anger...that she had called her husband in the lull between our call and our arrival and told him what had been said and that Mr. W was right about her. She did an ultrasound that night and the baby was fine, the bleeding was already slowing. Everything looked good. I was put on precautionary bed rest, told to call the peri the following day.

We saw her several more times throughout the pregnancy on late night trips to labor and delivery (and, oh, there were many of those!). She did a rotation through our perinatologists' office and saw us there. We developed a bond in that time. When my son was born, I stopped at L&D on my way to the NICU to tell her about him and show her pictures. We wrote a letter to her one day while sitting in NICU and dropped it at the triage desk in L&D -- we apologized for the anger at our first meeting and thanked her for always being concerned, for always making sure she was the doctor who saw us if we were in the hospital for any reason.

And then we didn't see her for some time. I went to a GYN that was recommended to me by the lactation consultant I saw while trying to make nursing work with the lowercase. And while the woman was probably a wonderful doctor, I did not like her. So when the time came for my yearly exam...I just never called. And I didn't call the next year. Or this year.

A couple of times, I googled the name of the poor resident who had been there through my pregnancy only to come up empty. Until about 2 months ago. I found her. She had decided to stay in our town after her residency was over. She was practicing with a gynecology office based in the local university hospital. And she was accepting new patients.

I had my appointment on Friday. While I was checking in with the receptionist, she was smiling and waving at me. As soon as she came into the exam room, she washed her hands and hugged me. She told me that she was so excited when she saw my name on her schedule...that she had called her husband to tell him that a patient she had once seen had requested to see her again. She told me that my husband and I were the patients that changed her professionally -- the ones, apparently, who reaffirmed for her that she is doing the right thing and made her better. Just...wow. And she is wonderful.

She is researching my UU, and wanted me to know that the average gestation according to the most recent studies she has seen is 28-35 weeks. That she wants to make sure that we have everything lined up if I should decide to do it myself. To that end, she is consulting with the local fertility clinic and my former perinatologists -- all of whom are based out of the same hospital and therefore have access to all of my files in the computer system. She also told me that she has a relative who is a 2 time surrogate -- once for a singleton, once for twins.

We'll get some more answers based on both the research and my body. I highly doubt that the answers will be anything other than to do a surrogacy -- my doctor seemed to think that would be the safest and best idea for all of us, but we'll take this step, see where this leads. For the first time since things fell apart with the surrogate we were talking to all summer, I really feel like we're moving in the right direction. It's no longer just us against this -- we've got someone in the hospital on our side. And I just couldn't be happier.

Naps

2008-11-12T15:08:00.001-05:00

Nap time is one of my favorite times of the day. And not solely because I get a break from the constant chatter (seriously -- do all 3 year olds talk non-stop? Because this kid just does not let a single silent second go by -- each and every moment he is awake is filled with his voice). I love that I can take the time to really look at my son. I love the innocence of his face, his long lashes resting on the apples of his cheeks. I love hearing the occasional snore -- it makes me giggle every time.

But it's so bittersweet for me. I love every minute of being this little boy's mother. And I want more of this. Each minute that I spend with him I'm both happier than I ever imagined possible and saddened that there is a very real chance that I may not get another child to go through these stages with. But, still, I'm hoping and praying that I will.

My body has gone haywire

2008-11-08T00:02:00.001-05:00

I can't believe I've become one of those people who couldn't tell you when my last period was. I know that, roughly, my period should be this week. I have a GYN appointment scheduled for next Friday. I'd hoped to discuss all of my options for having another child -- get one last medical professional's opinion before moving on with our surrogacy plans (though at the moment those are kind of in the toilet).

Monday I started feeling massively nauseated. The nausea hasn't gone away. I've had slightly tender and sore boobs, but not all the time -- it's bad some days, then not at all. Right now there's none, but this morning there was. So, whatever that means.

Monday night Mr. W went out and bought a box of 3 FRER. I took one before bed and it was negative. Despite our worries about what would happen if it hadn't been, we were both disappointed.

My period decided to make a visit on Tuesday. Kind of. Brown spotting, no real flow. By evening there was a bit of red blood, I thought that was it. But then it stopped. I've had such minor bleeding every so often -- so minor that really I haven't had to use anything to protect my clothing. Seriously. Nothing.

I took another test either Wednesday or Thursday morning. Still completely negative. Still no real period. Still such incredible nausea.

I don't know what the hell is going on with my body, but I am so damned glad that I'm going to the doctor on Friday. And hopefully either there will be a birth control prescription in my hand when I leave her office or statistics and information such that I've got the go-ahead to try to conceive a child on my own. I'm ready to move forward in one way or another. It's time.

Just as I suspected!

2008-10-29T14:45:00.001-04:00

I was just looking through the message board at signature blocks that a user was making for others. M asked for one of them...except she wanted it to say GSx3 for (another couple's initials).

Now, why would she tell me she didn't want to work with us because of the distance? Why wasn't she completely honest and tell us that she chose another couple over us? And maybe the distance was the deciding factor between the two, but, come on. Be honest with me. TELL me that you've selected someone else!

Grrrr!

The depths

2008-10-15T11:18:00.001-04:00

Am in hell today. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the number of people that I know who are either pregnant, having a baby very soon (one of them today), have already had the baby...just UGH!

And here I sit, perfectly capable of conceiving. I've done it in 1-2 months EVERY TIME. I wanted to be logical and safe and not go through the bed rest and the fear and the NICU. I don't want to go back there. I really, really don't.

But I so desperately want another baby and, frankly, that may be the only way it can happen. And, you know, if I'm to be brutally honest, I really REALLY want to be pregnant again. I want to be the one to feel that baby moving inside me. I want him to know my heartbeat, my voice, my body from the instant of his birth. I want that so badly.

Life just isn't fair. If I do it that way, I'm sentencing my child to all the potential pitfalls of prematurity -- all the things that my poor lowercase had to fight through (and with flying colors!). Except this time I would have to do it with a toddler...a perfect, wonderful little man that I would have to miss terribly while in the hospital for myself and to be with a sibling...a sibling that I would not be able to just drop everything and go sit with for hours and days at a clip as I did with the lowercase.

I'm such a joy right now, all alone in my fucking pity party.

Over before it began

2008-10-14T16:07:00.001-04:00

I just got an email from M. We won't be going through a surrogacy with them. She lives in the Texas. We live in New York. We had been talking about meeting...but just figuring out the scheduling for that has been difficult between her having kids in school, me having the lowercase... She and her husband have been talking and it's just something that they think would be prohibitive to the kind of closeness that they (and we) want.

I don't know how I feel. I understand. And I guess I kind of expected it all along. I mean, come on...she was too perfect for it...NICU nurse, a Christian, someone I felt comfortable trusting. But...

Where do I go from here? How do I move on?

Random Catch-Up Tidbits

2008-10-06T12:38:00.001-04:00

We bought the lowercase a second Marathon. It's comfortable, he likes it and it's not so heavy that it can't be easily moved by a weakling (that would be me). And in his desire for a cupholder? The new car doesn't have latches in the middle of the first row of back seats (or if it does, I didn't find then in my quick looking) which I think is because of the 60/40 seats for access to the third row. Regardless, he now sits behind the passengers seat and in his Marathon has perfect access to the cupholder in the door. He also has access to the door handle and the window button -- discovered at a rather inopportune time. We now have the child safety locks turned on for both doors and windows.
The lowercase is turning three in just 25 short days! He wants a camera. Any opinions on the Fisher Price Kid Tough vs. the other digital cameras marketed for kids?
No further in the quest toward surrogacy. However, I'm not sure how good a fit the closest clinic to us that handles surrogacies will be. They e-mail me the doctor's "intention of the day" every day. They host bonding nature walks and bonfires for patients to spend time with one another. They're very big on alternative therapies...accupuncture and massage etc. In fact, the RE who runs the place has two separate deals going out of his office -- the **** Healing Arts and **** Fertility. I don't know...I like my high-tech medical procedures to be a bit more science-y if you know what I'm saying. I'm sure it's wonderful for some, but it's just not something I'm feeling. If after the first appointment I don't like it, I'll check out a clinic in Connecticut that seems more like me (just much further from home).
Potty training sucks. My little man woke from his nap on Friday dry (as always, he also wakes up dry in the mornings and has for over a year and a half). I took him to the potty, but he didn't pee. So, I put him in a pull-up and took him for a snack and some juice. I promised him something special if he would still be dry when I took him to the potty after watching an episode of Max & Ruby. He was dry, but didn't pee. He said he needed more juice. So, another juice box, another deal to watch a show (this time Charlie & Lola -- he's got a thing about brother & sister shows). He was completely dry. We rushed to the potty because after 2 juice boxes in an hour, I knew the floodgates would open. We got into the bathroom -- still dry. As I'm opening his potty, the boy starts grinning as the pattern that shows he's wet emerges on the front of the pull-up. The kicker? Once he started going? HE LAUGHED IN MY FACE! I asked him what was funny and he said "NOW can I just wear my Sesame Street diaper? That's what I really want!" So...I'm taking a couple of weeks off. At least one, but maybe two. I put the potties away in a closet. I took away the M&Ms and Skittles that were his potty prizes. (For the record, he's got excellent control. He can stay dry. He can pee in the potty. At my mom's house, he said he wanted a skittle and since those are only for the potty he said we should take him. He sat down, squeezed one tiny drop of urine into the potty and promptly demanded his skittle.)
This kid slays me. He is so smart and so funny. Maybe it says something about our eating habits and computer usage, but he's playing with my iPhone right now and telling me "M-O-E-S, that spells Moe's. I like Moe's. I get a taco and chips and milk and a cookie!" And now he tells me that it says "Please press enter dot com. That's what it says. Dot com!"
After loaning his pirate costume from last year to his little girlfriend (too cute, they hug and tell each other "I love you" and she calls him Honey), he has now decided that he wants to be a pirate again this year. Yikes! Do I really have to get another pirate costume??? Though it is much better than the hamburger costume he'd picked out earlier this month.

Hash and rehash

2008-09-18T17:31:00.001-04:00

Our potential surrogate, M, e-mailed us the contract from her last surrogacy. We've been reading through it and it looks pretty good. There are a couple of areas that we have questions, though I think it's less about something being wrong and more a question of the legalese in which it is written allowing for some doubt on interpretation. For instance, in one paragraph it states that decisions to abort or reduce a multiples pregnancy will be left to the intended parents. The paragraph that follows details how no contract can legally state that a woman does not have the right to abort or in any way reduce a pregnancy in her own body and that she CAN do so at any time without consultation. I think it's got something to do with the state laws there (it repeatedly states "per *state name* family code some.numbers" in that section).

And I continue with the moral dilemma of what would become of any unused embryos and how I feel about that. I've talked to M about it as well -- she thinks in my position she would want to eventually use all embryos or let them be adopted by someone who would give them their chance to be born. I just don't know. I feel like there isn't a clear answer in this. I know enough about the scientific portion of reproduction, but there is no way of knowing clearly at what point each fertilized egg becomes a person with a soul -- is it the instant of fertilization? Is it at the point of implantation? I just don't know. I do, however, know that I can't handle the thought of giving up even one child that is genetically mine. I'm selfish like that -- if given the chance, I could easily be the mom of a brood to rival the Duggars. I just love parenting that much and have such an intense love of the son that I do have that there just doesn't exist in me even one cell that could do it.

I am such a hypocrite in that respect. I could adopt, I could not give up for adoption. I could ask someone to be a surrogate for me, I do not think that I could (if circumstances were different) be a surrogate for someone else.

And I'm rehashing all the same things because right now, those are the things that are on my mind a large portion of every day. Hopefully at some point, I will come to some sort of conclusion on all of it and can begin posting on the actual journey toward siblings for the lowercase.

Lots of news!

2008-09-11T20:15:00.001-04:00

It seems, somehow, that no matter how good my intentions, I simply never get around to posting here when there are things worth posting about. And, as the lowercase's bed time is fast approaching, it's going to have to be a rather quick post today. (I will admit that I'm much better at keeping up on Twitter, though mostly that's where I complain about the battles to get the lowercase to sleep at night)

There is much afoot around here. Our potential surrogate sent us a list of what her fees are -- in the beginning neither of us really wanted to get into it as we felt it was more important to get to know one another, what we wanted out of surrogacy (you know, besides the baby), if our philosophies on life, child-bearing, etc. all lined up. And the more we've talked, the more that we see they do. So, she told me what she's looking for financially and, shockingly, it's in the lower end of things. Her compensation request is actually at the upper end for a first time surrogate, but not really in the range for what most people who are 2nd (or, as she is) 3rd time surrogates. This is a very good thing! (Seriously -- she's asking about $5,000 LESS than I had expected!) I e-mailed another experienced surrogate to ask if there was anything missing so that I could continue to figure out whether we can truly afford this and she mentioned a few things that I didn't think of and that weren't in the list our potential surrogate sent to us. Since she offered to send us a copy of her most recent contract, we did request she send us that to look over and make sure that all financial matters are discussed soon.

We've sent her a copy of our schedule through the end of the year and have asked her to let us know which dates that we are available when she would be, too. Then we'll figure out a way to meet. I've had several friends who feel that I should be careful with the whole "meeting someone on the internet" thing and that we should meet her the first time in a neutral, public place. Now, to me, that seems a bit much since we're meeting her for the purpose of getting her pregnant, but, I suppose in theory I can understand the thought process. After all, just because she's been a surrogate before doesn't mean she or her husband couldn't be batshit crazy -- God knows Mr. W and I are ;) Other friends have said that they think we should go to her home to meet because we should see how and where she lives, meet her family and people who could have an influence on our unborn child. And of course there are others who have said "If I were to carry a baby for someone, I'd want to go to their home first so I could see how the environment the child would be going to and if I felt they were the type of family I would want to help." So...since I can understand the thoughts behind each of those and I honestly don't care much one way or the other for a first meeting, I told her that I would let her decide what she is most comfortable with. I'm guessing that we will go to her the first time since we're most likely using a clinic about an hour from our home and she'll have to come out here for some screening and the transfer.

And finally, we have an appointment with the clinic that's an hour away. We'll know more about how that will work, what our insurance will or won't cover (which could answer the question of whether we can really do this or not because without insurance coverage for the majority of the IVF procedure? NO DICE), etc. after the appointment on November 18.

Car seat help needed!

2008-09-08T12:10:00.001-04:00

Alright ladies -- I need some help here. My new Acadia is finally about to be here! I want to buy a new car seat for the lowercase to go with it. So...what do I buy?

In Mr. W's car, he has a Britax Marathon that we LOVE. In my car, he has an older Evenflo that I do NOT like (it was my nephews and since we don't often drive the Beetle, it wasn't an issue). It's a safe seat, I wasn't ever worried about that (and in a small car, it's smaller profile was the only thing that fit well and offered a good harness) -- but it's a PAIN IN THE BUTT to adjust the straps! It's just not as good, overall, as the Britax.

We had considered just buying a second Marathon, but then I started thinking -- the lowercase is only getting older and bigger. Am I really going to get the full worth of that seat over time? Will he outgrow it too soon? Or will he get old enough that he no longer wants to be in a "baby" seat and want more of a traditional style booster seat? Obviously, I want him to have a seat with a five point harness -- but I do want it to be something that he can grow with.

That being said, the lowercase is fairly small. He's 36-37" tall, he weighs around 27/28 lbs, and has a seated torso height (butt to shoulder) of 12/13" (Don't you love how you can't get an exact measurement on a kid this age? Seriously! He does not sit still for a minute!)

Right now the main contenders are the Marathon and possibly the Britax Frontier (or other booster...maybe the Regent?)

The final consideration is that while our Acadia will be quite large, with an 8 person seating capacity, we would like to keep all children in the front row of the back seat. So -- we kind of want his seat to be able to fit with 1-2 other seats depending on how things go. (Once all current and future kids are in non-infant-carrier seats, we will, I am certain, have to reassess the situation!)

So. Tell me. Seats. Size. What you like about them, what you don't. If there is a Britax you hate, tell me that, too.

Agreement

2008-08-21T16:52:00.001-04:00

It turns out that Mr. W and I were looking at things from a different perspective. He didn't want to schedule an appointment with the potential RE because we don't yet know exactly how our cash situation is going to shake out by the end of the year. He was afraid we would get started and not have the money to follow through.

Conversely, I wanted to have the appointment to discuss the situation, what our treatment needs would be and have them evaluate our insurance policy so that we could know what our cost for the medical portion would be.

Mr. W is supposed to be combining his work schedule, his personal schedule, and the lowercase/my schedules over the weekend and supplying me with a printout next week. Once that's in my hands...well, I guess I'll be calling the doc at the clinic closest to our home that is willing to handle surrogacies!

Frustration

2008-08-20T19:18:00.001-04:00

I swear, I just do not always get Mr. W! Much as I try, the man just does not always make sense to me. The conversation that we had on the way home from our vacation is a perfect example of this. (Aside: It was a full week. WITH HIS MOTHER. Dear God!)

We were discussing surrogacy, as we frequently do. I was bored and was reading blogs and message board posts on the topic on my iPhone. I commented that more and more I'm reading about 6-month quarantines on sperm and said that if we wanted to do this in the winter and if either of the clinics that I've found that have said they would work with us required that, it would mean that we should get our records to them and start the ball rolling with the doctors now.

He doesn't want to. He says that he's got enough stuff going on with work, obligations, etc. and with it being a new job that he has to establish himself with and the fact that his company is extremely close to landing a huge deal (the deal that makes it a definite that we have the money to pursue the surrogacy in the first place) he just can't be certain of a time that he's available to even go to appointments this fall. Plus, if for some reason we don't have the money to go through with it, he doesn't want to get it started only to have to stop.

I can sort of see that, except that, well, if we are going to have the money to do it in the winter, we kind of have to have our ducks in a row to do it this winter. My point on it all is that we need to meet with the clinic, be certain that they do want to work with us (surrogacy laws in NYS being what they are, clinics who will transfer to a surrogate are few and far between!), determine if we are comfortable with the doctors there, and have them examine our insurance to give us a real-life estimate of the costs we will incur for the RE's portion of the surrogacy.

Just frustrated with that and deep in the baby lust after spending a day with the mothers of two of Timmy's friends and their 8-10 month old second children. I swear, there is nothing like holding a beautiful bouncy baby in your lap to kick the ovaries into hyperdrive.

Reason number 857,000,000 why you should not smoke

2008-08-18T19:11:00.001-04:00

We had a large gathering of Mr. W's former co-workers on our patio for lunch today. Two of the smokers stepped off the patio into the grass to smoke. One of them was near the driveway and has said that he stamped his cigarette out on the pavement, picked it up when it cooled and took it with him to dispose. (Very considerate since we are not smokers and don't allow it in our home) The other was smoking near the edge of the patio...the patio that is lined with shrubs, cedar mulch and a container garden of tomatoes and peppers.

As we were making the decision to cook dinner at home rather than going out, Mr. W looked out the window. At 6 pm, the mulch surrounding our patio was smoking heavily, blackened and the rising wind was causing small flames to lick up closer and closer to our home.

New house rule: Don't smoke inside, don't smoke outside. You want to do it? Go stand in the street!

Uneasy

2008-08-18T11:11:00.001-04:00

I have too many thoughts swirling for a coherent post right now. I'm feeling quite uneasy on so many fronts right now. The best explanation is that I have a general feeling of upset without one clear cause to point to and say, "Yes, this is my issue."

As always, I'm feeling that my willingness to go to extreme measures for another child somehow informs a dissatisfaction, at worst, or an ungratefulness, at best, for what I have in my family of three. Except that I am happy with my family just as it is. Still, I can't shake the feeling that this desire will be perceived as such when it's simply not how I feel. And, as always, I'm feeling angry with both myself for worrying about the perceptions of others in this and the situation for making me have to have the concerns at all.

I've been re-evaluating my views on life, trying to find some sort of biblical reference for guidance, and coming up short as this is a rather brave new world of medicine (Note to self: Dig out copy of Brave New World; re-read. Such a good book!) This is strictly my issue and one that I don't expect everyone (or for that matter anyone) to agree with me on. I've always been, for the most part, what I would describe as "pro life." This does not mean just the life of unborn babies; this also includes the life of the mother. I cannot presume to know the difficulties of making decisions that women are forced to make on that issue every day nor how I would feel if I were to have to make those decisions. I hold these beliefs because I feel that God allows pregnancy when he wants to create a life -- that it is a life from the moment of conception and should be treated the same as any other life. (This is also why I will never be on a jury where the death penalty is an option. I guarantee that I will hang a jury on that one because regardless of crime, I can never be responsible for making a decision that the life of another should be taken.) So, to bring this around to my original point, I don't know how I feel about using ART. This all started with the horrible woman who wrote about Tertia as an "IVF Monster." I strongly disagree with her on that front. I am angered as a woman, a Christian, and a mother that anyone could say such a thing! But it got me thinking about my own beliefs. If I believe life begins at conception, at the meeting of sperm and egg, and if I know that I am only going to do this a maximum of 2 transfers or 1 successful pregnancy, whichever comes first, then what of the other lives that we don't allow to live? What of any remaining embryos? Am I essentially destroying life if I don't use them?

I can't quite figure out what I feel about that. Having used birth control, I am not so naive as to think that I have never had a fertilized egg that failed to implant that I had no knowledge of -- nor do I think of those as deaths (not the case with early miscarriages or known chemical pregnancies). I've never viewed an IUD as a method of destroying life despite the fact that their sole purpose is to prevent the implantation of fertilized eggs. I'm leaning toward life beginning a conception where conception means "fertilization AND implantation in the womb." But I question my change to this belief (from "sperm meets egg") as merely my way of justifying what I want to do in order to have another child.

So...uneasy. What is your opinion on the matter? Only answer if you can do so politely without saying that any other opinion is wrong -- simply tell me what you believe for YOU and why. If your opinion, as mine is, is based in your religious beliefs, I'd be interested in knowing how that plays in -- Christians with biblical references would be appreciated, as well as other religions and teachings on life that would influence such decisions.

If you don't have any thoughts about any of the above...what about donor gametes? In searching for others' opinions on the topic of surrogacy and ART, I've come across many that view traditional surrogacy and donor gametes as being essentially "cheating" on one's spouse (I don't see that one, but...ok). I also talked with a friend who said that she would go all or none -- either genetically the child of both herself and her husband or have a child through adoption with no genetic tie to either parent.

Give me some opinions. Give me something to think about.

(Don't for a minute think that I'm totally second-guessing our decision to go forward with this. This is just one thing for me to obsess about during the not-totally-matched-with-a-surrogate-but-moving-that-way and therefore not able to move forward with anything else phase.)

A low place

2008-08-03T22:16:00.001-04:00

I'm feeling a bit down today. Partially because I'm realizing that a friend really isn't much of one. Yesterday we were at a party and there were several things that happened, some that I didn't know about until later, thankfully.

The friend I've written about several times -- the one with the autistic son -- was there with her family. As soon as they walked in, I noticed that her son was hitting and kicking my son, but his mom was right there and I thought she was doing something about it so I said nothing then.

The hosts of the party have a cat -- now, we have 2 cats in our home so my son doesn't understand that not all cats are interested in the love and attention of a 2 year old (not that our cats actually enjoy it much themselves). Both boys climbed on the couch and, as 2 year old boys are, were extremely wiggly and giggly as they jockeyed for position towards the cat. The lowercase was closer and reached toward the cat. Mind you, the other boy obviously wanted to do the same thing -- the lowercase was just closer. The cat wanted nothing to do with either of them and swatted at the lowercase leaving a tiny scratch. Our host moved her cat away in order to protect both the boys and her cat. Immediately, the other boy smacked my son in the head. Repeatedly. When they got down, he pushed him. His mother's only answer, "He's mad at your son for making HIS kitty go away." This went on for the entire 4 hours at the party. Her son hitting, kicking or shoving mine and neither she nor her husband would do anything about it but point out it was my son's fault he was doing it.

That alone is frustrating, but there was more. I've written about her current pregnancy and the fact that her medication is a known teratogen. At her first ultrasound, she found out she is having twins. She made several totally boneheaded comments about this that, frankly, I found revolting. She knows my situation. Further, she knows that the hosts of the party are currently undergoing testing for their infertility. She talked about her sickness, how she can't be around strange animals, how she couldn't eat any of the cheeses on the platter since they were soft cheeses, and how she's certain both babies are still alive because she "feels movement on both sides." She is 9 weeks along. I somehow don't think that she is feeling any movement, let alone movements that would be distinctly coming from one versus the other. She talked about names for her kids. She joked that "if they are conjoined I'll call it..." And, finally, she said to the hosts that they could "just lease one of ours because 3 kids..." I only wish I was joking. She offered to lease them one of her children.

In the car on the way home, Mr. W told me one last thing that was said in another room where he was talking to her and her husband. We ordered our new car back in June. Unfortunately, GM has delayed production of new SUVs, so we're still waiting. She asked if we really did buy one since it wasn't here yet. He explained the reasons. She then said, "Yeah...because you need something that large -- what with all the babies you're going to have." Now, we have many reasons for buying an SUV that seats 8, one of them being the potential that if the surrogacy plan works out, there is a chance we could have twins and I will not buy a new car that I need now only to have to trade it in for a larger car (though the fact that we travel by car multiple times a year to visit family and are tired of having NO SPARE ROOM in the car is the primary reason). Mr. W gave her a look, at which point she said, "Well, I know this whole fairy tale she has about having a surrogate is just a pipe dream and is never going to happen. It's ridiculous, but I listen when she talks about it because that's the nice thing to do." Thank God for Mr. W -- He looked her in the eye and said, "Actually, it is. You know she's talking to someone now and while it might not be her and it might not be right away, it almost definitely IS going to happen."

If you add up all the boneheaded and insensitive things she has said to me over the years, the constancy of her son hitting, kicking, pushing, choking, and otherwise abusing my son with her either blaming my son directly or saying that my son just needs to act differently around her son because of his autism and he wouldn't do those things, the cavalier things she said to and in front of our other friends who are dealing with some serious emotions in terms of their own family building...well, I've just had it. I'm so done. There is only so much that you can excuse and put aside as someone being clueless. I'm at the point where, frankly, she should be held accountable for those things. It's time for me to take a break from her...to just...remove her from my life for quite a while. Because I'm all in.

The Call

2008-07-22T00:29:00.001-04:00

All of us in the W household are finally (mostly) healthy again and we actually have no company. So, I worked up my courage and placed a call to Texas.

Now, luckily for me, she wasn't there so I was able to leave a message on her voice mail.

Of course, I did get to sound like a total dork when she called me back about an hour later. I honestly haven't been that nervous in...well, I can't remember being that nervous in years -- I've quite possibly never been that nervous about something.

But...I think she still likes me (she said she would have her new insurance plan figured out by the time it would be needed) and I definitely still feel comfortable with her. So...this is a step forward?

What should I say???

2008-07-17T15:23:00.001-04:00

We're planning to call the surrogate by the end of this week. Which I suppose means tomorrow since I just realized that it is actually already Thursday (where did this week go????)

I am beyond nervous about this call. Through email, she and I have already discussed what we each want out of this -- how we envision our interactions, the level of contact we'd like during and after, how I feel about her desire for a VBAC (totally on board). So um...the only thing we haven't really talked about is money. And I am sooo uncomfortable talking about money. To me, money (in every situation) is a necessary evil.

This is where you come in...and I need you to come in full-force. What should I talk about/ask/say in this call??? Kym -- you've been through this call before -- what did you want your IPs to say or ask? I just feel like we're really close on this (assuming we're in sync on the whole filthy lucre aspect).

*****Update: Just received an email from a clinic around an hour away. The doctor there will also work with us! And the local clinic (13 minutes from my front door) is willing to do local monitoring while cycling! This could maybe really happen!

2008-07-11T19:25:00.001-04:00

The W family has been incredibly busy over the last several weeks. We've thrown a party, hosted 7 house guests (including our kindergarten nephew and 1 year old niece), prepared dinner for Mr. W's dad and sister, AND all come down with one hell of a summer virus!

The lowercase has had temperatures as high as 102 since Thursday night (I don't remember what day it is, so I have no idea how long we've been this sick!) -- thankfully it does come down with motrin, fluids and naps...unfortunately it's gone back up several times.

Somehow during all of that, I had Mr. W read through several of the e-mails from the surrogate that I've mentioned a few times. We talked about the fact that her description of what she's looking for is almost word for word how we would describe what we're looking for. And, I'm not going to lie, we both love love love that she is a NICU nurse. It's funny because if she didn't think the way we do it wouldn't matter, but since she does that's like the cherry on the sundae. NICU nurses are a (well) known commodity for us -- we've depended on them, entrusted them with the lowercase when they could do for him what we could not... For us, that is something that says "will do anything to make sure this baby is healthy." (I know that people in other fields would as well; I myself would do anything I had to for *any* child regardless of who his/her parents were)

I emailed her and told her how we felt -- basically exactly what I just wrote here. She sent me back a message saying that she really likes us and feels the same way. She gave me her phone numbers and asked me to call or said that she would be willing to call us if we didn't want to pay for the call as she has free long distance (we do, too, thank you Vonage -- but I just thought that was incredibly sweet for her to offer!).

Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to call her anytime soon. The virus in me has manifested as an incredibly sore throat. I kind of sound like a 47 year old chain smoking auto mechanic named Bud. I'd joked about that earlier in the day...and then a short while ago, I answered a phone call from a friend who asked "Is Miss W there?" "Um...C...it's me" "Oh. Um. Wow. I thought your dad was still there."

We have guests arriving Sunday night (one of Mr. W's friends, his wife, their 3 kids and possibly his brother and his wife's mother). Here's hoping that I'm well enough to deal with it.

In the depths

2008-07-02T15:34:00.001-04:00

It's funny how I had convinced myself that I'm OK. I am most definitely not.

This past weekend we had a barbecue and invited the moms that I've become friends with over the last two years of mommy and me classes. We invited another couple we're friends with who are dealing with primary infertility and I was so worried about them dealing with FIVE 2 year olds running around that it didn't hit me how hard it was going to be on me.

At one point, the men were out in the yard playing with the 2 year olds while all the women sat on the patio. That's when it hit me -- EVERY OTHER WOMAN HAD A BABY IN HER LAP. They all had children the same age as the lowercase and a second child between 7 and 10 months old. Another family came later with their 2 year old -- she is currently 26 weeks with twins. A friend we met when our first children were in the NICU together couldn't come because her OB has her activity levels reduced to try to prevent her 2nd daughter from being born prematurely, too.

And then I find out that my epileptic friend (the one with the recently diagnosed autistic son, the one who has been told that her medications are being linked to autism in the offspring of mothers taking it during pregnancy) is 5 weeks pregnant.

It's official. I am the last one. The only one that I know. Hell, even the bloggers that delivered in the same time frame that I did are either pregnant with or already have had a second child.

And it hit me this morning. I am still angry at my body. I am still upset with what it can't do. I look at the lowercase and I am beyond grateful...yet I still feel that my body did fail him. That it did cause him to suffer in his early days in a way that he never should have had to. It's caused my husband to be very reticent to do this again -- he lived through the miscarriages and the NICU just as I did and he's so afraid that any attempt to have another child (regardless of method) is just opening us up to greater pain.

It has caused me to hate my body. I still haven't lost all of the weight that I gained with the lowercase. I'm actually a bit more than 20 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight (which was 10 pounds over my pre-3-miscarriages weight). I feel fat and unattractive, but despite saying I want to lose the weight (and knowing that I, in fact, do) I've done nothing. I counted up some points for a few weeks, lost about 8 lbs...and am slowly gaining it back. I just don't have the desire to actually do the work to get what I want. I think in part it's because my body has let me down so mightily that I just don't think it's worth it. (Why yes, yes I would cut off my nose to spite my face, apparently)

I was reading Zoot's blog today and saw that she was doing this 100 pushups thing -- so I thought, "Huh...wonder if I can do any at all." I impressed myself by doing 8 (girl style). Mr. W came upstairs and I told him that I could, so very proud of myself. He laughed and said he didn't think he could do any anymore and, disbelieving, asked me to do one. So, I did. And then he said, "Yeah. Kind of. But um...isn't your back supposed to be perfectly straight? Haven't you seen real people do them?"

I locked myself in the bathroom and cried for about 20 minutes. I didn't speak to him for even longer -- we got in the car to go get lunch at a Mexican place I like. I told him that I wasn't actually mad at him but very hurt -- here I am trying to find something that my body can do and that I can be proud of it for and he trashed that in one breath -- further proof that my body can do nothing.

I'd like to say that I'm in a better place and that I'm on my way out of the low place. I'm not yet. I ate taco salad and guacamole and lots of habanero salsa. I'm still crying as I think about it.

I want to put myself back together...but I just haven't figured out how to do it yet. Am I always going to feel this disgust and distrust of my own body?

Prayers for Blue

2008-06-29T16:20:00.003-04:00

I just got an email from Blue. I don't want to say anything that she might not want out there at large, but please, join me in praying for Blue, Azure and their family.

Worst. Mother. Ever.

2008-06-27T09:19:00.002-04:00

When I take the lowercase anywhere in the car and need to get something out after I've gotten him out of his seat, I always tell him to stand with both hands touching the car. It keeps him where I need him to be and away from moving cars.

It's been a perfect system. Until last night.

Last night, in our own driveway, we were unloading the car while he wandered around. We pulled his new picnic table out of the back and started toward the back yard to unpack it. The lowercase started to follow. I looked to be sure it was clear and SLAMMED the hatch of our small SUV/crossover type car. And then came the scream.

It seriously felt like slow motion when I know it was no more than 5 seconds. I saw my son's right hand INSIDE the closed door. I opened the door, Mr. W swooped the lowercase up in his arms while I ran inside for an ice pack. We called a nurse friend to see if she thought he would need an X-ray -- his hand was in the normal position but extremely red and swollen. She suggested we have him examined at the Urgent Care facility that is just a couple of blocks away. So within about 5 minutes of the accident, we were in the exam room. They thought it looked fine, and by that point he was giggling and playing with a basket of stickers. Still, they thought we should have an X-ray at the hospital just to be sure that there was no real damage that anyone was missing.

Which is why at 10:00 last night I was sitting with the radiologist listening to the fact that, yes, my son was indeed fine with no broken bones. As we carried him back to the car, he looked at me and said "Mommy you slammed the car door on my hand." It was all I could do not to cry or throw up.

When we got home, the lowercase kept asking me why I looked sad. I told him that I was scared. "You were scared of the lady?" "No, baby, I was scared you were hurt. I was worried about you." "And I was worried about YOU, Mommy."

2008-06-21T15:59:00.001-04:00

Why is it that most of the time I can be completely ok with where we are in our family but not always? Why can I be ok with hearing about other people's pregnancies only to feel that quick stab of pain when I see a picture of a college friend holding her first child (much younger than mine) with a big pregnant belly?

And why have I spent a large part of yesterday and today wondering what the little girl I miscarried in November 2004 would look like and who she would be now?

And why do I still feel a bit disloyal to the lowercase for even admitting that I wish that my body had held on to my daughter longer than the 8 weeks it did? Why do I feel bad for him at the thought that there will one day be another? And why do I sometimes feel like maybe I should just stop the journey into surrogacy and go on as we are so that things don't change for him?

My favorite new author

2008-06-17T11:42:00.001-04:00

Last week while coloring at the kitchen table as I read a book beside him, the lowercase announced something that made my nerdy little heart giddy!

w: I will write my story now.

W: Ok sweetie.

w: Let's see. Once upon a time... *humming contentedly while coloring*

w: Mommy, YOU do the letters part. On the paper. With the pen.

W: Ok. *grabs pen*

w: Once upon a time there was an ooooooold man...

And now, without further ado, my son's first story!

Once upon a time, there was an old man. He looked like a guy. He liked to work on his computer. He sang a song. He was happy. The End.

Seriously, I think my heart could explode from the cuteness! Especially when he told us later that "actually, it's quite finished." (I really wonder, do Mr. W and I talk like that? Because our child tends to speak as though he's the host of masterpiece theater!)

Growing up

2008-06-11T09:57:00.001-04:00

Over the last couple of days, I've become much more calm and Zen about everything. To be sure, there is still a lot to learn and things could work out or not with the surrogate that we're talking to.

And I'm ok with that.

Mr. W is still in procrastination mode...sort of. For him, if we're not planning to do something until AFTER December, he doesn't see the need to start looking until December. However, he does understand that I need a bit more than that. More time, a more developed relationship with the woman who would carry my baby. So, as in most things related to our family (from conception of children to developmental milestones and when and what are issues to parenting techniques and discipline) I do the research, I make an informed decision and then tell him about it and why it's a good decision. I don't know...it works for us. I'm the one with the degree in elementary education with an extensive background in child development. I also have a more thorough understanding of human reproduction (he knows how it works, I know a bit more about the hormones involved, beta levels, and on and on...the things all women who have had reproductive issues are well-versed in...the things I thought all women were until I actually started talking to my fertile friends about their pregnancies). So those are my responsibilities. He has an innate understanding of all things technological. Anything computer related, TVs, DVDs, GPSs, cell phones, cars (beyond body style, color and interior fabrics/colors) are all his domain. He does the research there and he sets everything in motion -- I just come in at the last minute and say things like "That SUV has a cuter butt than that one. Let's get it in red. With light gray leather interior...and 8 passenger instead of 7." But he's already done the research and knows it's a good car before I come into the picture.

I guess that's the clearest picture of where we are. I'm trying to relax, realizing that we have a bit over 6 months before we plan to start making decisions, and quite frankly, if it isn't right at that point, we don't have to take the best available...we can wait for the very best situation. We just can't do it sooner than that. And Mr. W is focusing on the areas of our lives together that he's best at (like ordering my new car, replacing our cell phones with the 2nd generation iPhones...)

Am I in Junior High here?

2008-06-04T15:16:00.001-04:00

I swear, I never expected this aspect of the surrogacy process! I'm still talking to someone. But I get that feeling of "Ohmygod! I hope she likes me!" way more often than I would care to admit. Each time I send her an email, I find myself worrying 6-12 hours later that maybe the fact that I have no new e-mail is because she's decided that she doesn't like me. Completely illogical, I know. I mean, come on, this is a woman who has FIVE children (three older, two about a decade younger), she has a job (she's a NICU nurse), and just generally a lot going on with the graduation of one child and the rest getting out of school for the summer. It's not like she's spending all of her time waiting for e-mail!

Of course, surrogacy isn't an entirely logic driven endeavor. There are issues of the heart, trust, and love involved in all of it in ways that are much more complicated than I had anticipated. I think the best way to describe this part of the process would be to compare it to a romantic relationship in fast forward. You meet someone, you start to get to know them, you talk about things like birthing processes (natural? vaginal? c-section? vbac?) and philosophies of life (abortion? selective reduction?). You talk about your health, your families' health, your financial situation, all leading up to getting someone pregnant and delivering your child. For me, this is someone who will always have to be a part of my life and of the life of my child. This is someone that I have to be certain is worthy of being introduced to and involved in the life of the lowercase as well as my future child (or children). I want her to be someone who we'd enjoy meeting somewhere for a vacation together...essentially like adding another aunt to the family.

So when I find someone who, to this point seems like someone who could fill that role? I worry that she might find someone else that she thinks would fill that role better for her. It's something that she could very well do (I don't know how many intended parents she's talking to and have been too chickenshit to ask). And of course, we've been talking less than a month and neither of us are looking to move forward until winter (she wants a VBAC but isn't cleared to do so until then; we don't have the money to do so until then) so there are still a lot of things that could change about the way we both feel as we get closer to that point. Still, right now? I'm a ball of nerves!

The video speaks for itself.

2008-05-30T11:24:00.001-04:00

Talking

2008-05-20T21:13:00.001-04:00

I posted on a message board asking some surrogacy related questions.

Long story very short (I'm out of state, it's our 8th anniversary and we're hoping the lowercase will go to sleep ASAP!), I'm unofficially talking to someone.

She has been a surrogate two times before. There have only been a few emails so far, but at this point, I like her. We'll see where this leads us.

It's Potty Time!

2008-05-17T12:38:00.001-04:00

Last evening the lowercase looked at us and said, "I want a potty."

I asked him what he would do with a potty if he had one. He replied, "I would go pee pee in it."

So, off to the store we went. We came home with a potty for his bathroom and one for the downstairs bathroom (I didn't want to have to carry it between locations and I certainly didn't want to have to rush from, say, the basement to the 2nd floor with a child who might pee on me at any second -- trust me, I got enough of that in the first month or so!).

This morning, I was telling my grandmother about it all when he looked at his daddy and said, "I need to go pee pee on my potty!" They were getting ready to go upstairs for a bath, so they rushed up the stairs and peeled his clothes off.

Apparently the lowercase made the realization mid-poopy diaper. But...and this is exciting folks: He finished going poopy in the potty! (No pee pee yet, but as he announced loudly to all the expectant parents in babies'r'us the night before: Big boys go poopy in the potty!)

I'm not expecting this whole potty training thing to go easily, but we're off to a much better start than I had expected! (On a sad note, this really is the end of the "baby" phase...I now have to admit that I'm the mother of a little boy)

The one that became about something different than I intended

2008-05-17T09:14:00.001-04:00

It's kind of strange that now, when I finally have things to talk about again, I'm having a hard time figuring out how to say them. I'm kind of embarrassed, actually.

For a while I was posting and thinking about how we could afford a surrogacy. Yesterday we had a discussion about it and I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that, by the end of the year, we can. I mean, I grew up poor. My parents didn't buy their home until I was in college (same house, we'd been renting it from my grandparents since I was 10). My brother and his wife are currently in a bad place financially. So I am very uncomfortable with the thought that I don't have those concerns. I actually forget that at times. Seriously. I clip coupons. I can't bring myself to buy new clothes often (despite the fact that I am not as small as I was pre-lowercase but markedly smaller than last year at this time). I constantly worry that things are too expensive, even when they really aren't. I worry about every penny we spend, fearing that it's just too much.

Assuming that all continues to go well with his company, we will get a very large check at the end of the year with his share of the profits for the year. A check that could pay off the rest of my student loans, pay off the car that we plan to buy in July, pay for a surrogacy AND put some in savings. My mind is completely boggled. It just makes no sense to me. A check above a yearly salary that already has me woozy.

Earlier this week, the lowercase spent the afternoon with his friend M and his mommy (M was in the isolette next to the lowercase, born the day before him at 30 weeks gestation) while Mr. W and I went to get our wills done. It was disturbing to say the least. Our attorney really focused on how lopsided our balance of finances is. Me: bringer of debt via student loans, no income, extremely tiny retirement due to only 3 years of teaching. Him: no student debt (no loans at the time and then he didn't finish college), owns a company worth quite a lot, huge life insurance policies.

We were worried about the custody of our child should anything happen to us, and her primary concern was figuring out our estate and trust funds and avoiding estate taxes. All done in a way that made it clear she didn't see the worth of what I was contributing to our family. Though it did make me realize something about myself that I'm actually kind of proud of:

I DON'T ACTUALLY VALUE MONEY.

It's a necessity and something that I will continue to worry about while I'm alive...something that I need to have to care for those I love.

But I would take every last dollar I have and run it through a shredder before I would be separated from the people that I love. I would rather have a house falling down around me and be with my family than have all the money in the world but a family who are distant. And when I die, while I would like to give my family money to make things easier for them, that isn't my primary concern. I want to give them love. That's it.

Figuring out the finances

2008-05-06T10:59:00.001-04:00

Nothing much has changed in our day-to-day lives since we've made our decision to look for a gestational surrogate. Honestly, for my husband, nothing has changed. I'm, perhaps, a bit more hopeful...most of the time.

If a friend or family member would volunteer, this might be a lot easier. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet. Several people have said that they would if they could...which is extremely nice of them. Of course the fact remains that for various reasons, I don't think any of them will be able to help us out. Some of them live in states where it would be too difficult. Some have had pregnancy or other medical issues that would preclude them. (For example, my friend with the autistic son has said that she would do it if she could...however since her child's autism is probably the result of in utero exposure to the epilepsy medication that she takes, not so much)

Mr. W still really wants it to work out this way, and if I'm being honest, so do I. I don't want to have to seek someone out. Not really. I have trust issues in general and I would just find it so much more comforting to not have to establish that level of trust with someone that I don't already know. As a mother of a 2 year old who has never left her child with a babysitter or in the church nursery...well, I just don't know how to make myself alright with letting someone in on something so very delicate.

I'm trying to be a realist. It likely isn't going to work out that way. If we are going to do this, we are going to have to seek someone out. I've looked at agencies, I've looked at ads on surrogate websites. I've read through countless threads on message boards. Mr. W and I understand that this is going to be an expensive undertaking (even if we were to work with a friend we would be paying all of the medical expenses in addition to financial compensation for our friend). I do, however, have some problems with what I'm finding.

First, I'm being turned off to a lot of people rather quickly. Call me a snob, say what you will -- I simply cannot handle reading ads that begin "Thank you for reading my add." It is an ad, not an add. Incorrect spelling is a big deal for me, apparently. (Compleat? Seriously? NO!) I don't know why I'm so disturbed by ads and message board posts with bad spelling and grammar, but I am. I find myself not taking these women seriously.

I know that's not the way to look at things. Knowing the correct spelling of a word or how to use it properly has nothing to do with the ability to gestate a human being. It says nothing about the love and caring that a person could have in their heart. And yet I have such a hard time getting past it.

My next big problem is the expense. I found a woman who is looking to be a first time GS who had posted several times and I just liked the way her posts read. She had linked to her web site in one post and I read her blog. I still liked her. Then I read her list of what she expects in compensation.

I'm completely fine with a lot of it. Perhaps most of it. But then I just hit a mental roadblock. I'm not naming names or posting links, and from what I'm reading she isn't asking for more than what others are asking for, so I feel alright listing her fees and where I'm at in my thinking.

As her base compensation she wants $20,000 paid out over 10 months. If a multiple pregnancy occurs, that becomes $25,000. So far I'm completely ok with this. It's a lot of money, but it's well within the norm as I'm reading things. Quite honestly, it's much less than what I would be paying if I went through an agency. I don't like that there is an additional fee for multiples and hadn't really planned to offer that to a friend -- maybe because I'm looking at the compensation as a number that would be agreed upon with the understanding that a resulting pregnancy could be a singleton or twins. Further, I think that if you're saying you would not undergo a selective reduction, you shouldn't really say "but I will want more money from you for carrying more babies." I'm not saying that I would want to reduce from twins to a single baby -- I absolutely wouldn't. I'm just saying that if a carrier is saying that they would not reduce that it's a bit unfair to say that the intended parents should then pay them more for something they may not want to have happen in the first place. (I know, I know...if that's a problem for an intended parent, find another carrier). Honestly, this isn't even a problem for me, it's just the general feeling of it being unfair that I find unsettling. I can't help it. I'm one of those people -- I get all fired up over perceived injustices that have nothing to do with me. I can't help it. It's just who I am.

Ok. So I don't like that the compensation changes, but I get that it has to -- seriously, you can't expect to gestate higher order multiples and have the same easy pregnancy as with a singleton. Maybe my problem is that the extra money kicks in with twins which is not on the same scale of issues as triplets or quads or *my head just exploded thinking of larger numbers of newborns than that*.

I expect to give a couple hundred dollars for maternity clothes. In my ideal world, I'd go skipping through the maternity section hand in hand with my surrogate trying on clothes and just buy them for her. So the fact that she's asking for a $500 clothing allowance is no big deal to me. Not at all. She needs to wear clothing. I get it. In a perfect world, it wouldn't be a dollar amount. In my perfect world, we'd just go shopping together and we would buy the clothes that she needs. It might be more, it might be less. It really wouldn't matter. Since that wouldn't be likely to happen, a set amount of money for her to use on clothing is fine. (I would, however, have a problem with paying that money if I found out that she used it for anything other than maternity clothing. Perhaps I'd be more comfortable with giving her a gift card to a maternity store in that amount.)

Now come the expenses that I'm really not sure that I agree with. A $250 mock cycle fee. A $750 transfer fee. $250 for any dropped or cancelled cycles. $750 for "invasive procedures." $225 monthly expenses allowance (which is supposed to include insurance premiums). $3,000 c-section fee.

I don't understand those extras. I just don't. I don't see how you can agree to carry a child for someone else, knowing that IVF is required to do so...and still expect they will give you extra money for the actual transfer? Isn't that part of what you were agreeing to do in the outset? Why is that an "extra"??? It's kind of the most important part and the reason I'm willing to compensate so much for carrying my child is that it is my child being transferred! And while I haven't personally undergone an IVF cycle, I do understand that a mock cycle is pretty common, so again -- why the extra money there?

Can someone explain to me why those extras are extras? I'm fully aware that I'm going to be paying all of the medical expenses. I don't know that I should be responsible for paying her monthly insurance payments (why am I responsible for keeping her insured -- I understand I'm responsible for the expenses incurred as a result of the pregnancy, but she would be paying to have insurance whether she was carrying my baby or not!).

What are your thoughts on all of this?

This is all so hard!

2008-04-17T20:27:00.001-04:00

As much as it bothered me when Mr. W and I weren't on the same page, it's killing me now that we are.

Even leading up to the birth of the lowercase, I was always the one responsible for doing all of the research involved. Or rather, he wasn't going to do any research, so if I wanted information, I had to be the one to go after it. What can I say, that arrangement generally works for us. I'm the type who needs to be doing something, so looking for useful information (anecdotal or scientific) is right up my alley. And since Mr. W is the type who won't make a decision without being briefed on all the pertinent information (such a manager, that one!), we make a good team.

But now...well...now it's actually kind of painful for me. I didn't think it would be like this. Granted it's nothing compared to the pain of 2004 and early 2005. Still, I didn't expect this since we have the lowercase.

I guess what makes it worse is that I do feel like by wanting another child, I'm saying that the lowercase isn't enough. That he is in some way lacking. That couldn't be further from the truth of how I feel about him, yet somehow it does feel ungrateful to want more.

I dunno. Maybe the reason I'm so down today is that I took an Acadia out for a test drive and Mr. W and I were looking at it in terms of fitting in more car seats and strollers should we need them some time in the next five years. Maybe it's because a fellow preemie mom said to me that she would gladly carry for us if her first baby hadn't come early for reasons nobody can quite figure out. Maybe it's because later in the afternoon, my epileptic friend said that if her in utero exposure to her medication wasn't the likely culprit of her son's autism that she would carry for us. And maybe it's because all of it today just makes me so damned mad at my body. My body that just can't do this one thing that is all I've ever really wanted -- to be a mom with a large family. A house overflowing with children and love.

What is wrong with me???

2008-04-16T15:26:00.001-04:00

Lately I've caught myself doing some really stupid things. Things like looking at twin strollers. And then thinking things like "If we find a GS and if she carries twins, and if that happens before the lowercase is capable of walking everywhere..." Next thing I know? I'm looking at freaking huge-ass triple strollers and double strollers with platforms for the older child to stand on. And, uh, I'm planning to sell my Beetle, the car I've loved for the last 6.5 years, in order to buy an Acadia (come on...7 passengers capability? Not a van? I'm all over that!).

All that and I still haven't figured out how this would all work -- especially the financial aspect of it. I don't know exactly how much of our side of the treatment our health insurance will cover. I know that it's covered, but is it 80%? Or is it entirely covered minus co-pays? Without first having an appointment with an RE, am I able to get that dollar figure? Because my cost with insurance shouldn't be in the same range as what they list as the cost of the procedure. Also, why do they not list the portions of the IVF procedure a la carte when they list their charges? I'd like to know what the transfer itself would cost since that portion wouldn't be covered by insurance. I'm just saying.

So...yeah...it would be nice to know some of that stuff so that I could give any friends who say they could be interested the full picture. (Including what compensation we could afford to give should we go forward with it) I just hate how hard this all is. And how much thought and effort I have to be able to give it!

Static

2008-04-08T19:29:00.001-04:00

It's hard to believe that it's already been a week and a half since we decided we would pursue a surrogacy.

A week and a half in which nothing has happened. I've told a few people what we are considering doing, but that's as far as it's gone.

This may be even harder on me than I had expected. I can't stand knowing that we've made a decision and yet being able to do nothing to set the wheels in motion yet. I'm just ready to get moving with this all already!

2008-04-02T14:41:00.001-04:00

I don't know if it's common or not, but Mr. W and I tend to have more serious conversations when we're away from home. I don't know if it's the neutral territory or if it's simply that we are removed from the distractions of our everyday life that allows this, only that I am grateful for those conversations. I can actually understand better where he's coming from (and let's face it -- I just love talking!).

Over the last two days, I think I might actually understand his hesitation on having more children and the limitations he's placed on our search for a surrogate.

Mr. W is not an overly religious man. He grew up in a Jewish family -- a family who will readily tell you that they don't view their Judaism as a religion so much as an ethnicity. After Mr. W's bar mitzvah, they entirely stopped going to temple. They didn't celebrate holidays in their own home and had stopped going to holidays at the homes of other family members (except for Christmas which they celebrated with his maternal grandmother...no prayers, no discussion of the religious nature of that holiday, simply a family meal and presents opened near a tree).

He is a Christian now and has been for just over 10 years. He does believe, but because of his upbringing has a hard time getting the personal relationship with God thing. His faith basically is such that he believes what the Bible says, accepts that Christ died for him, and as a result he goes to church with me on Sundays. The end. It's no more personal than that for him.

Which is why I was kind of taken aback by what he told me regarding the future of our family.

When I lost each of the first three babies, he prayed every day that this time would be the time it all worked out ok. And then came the fourth pregnancy and things seemed to be going in the right direction. When the lowercase was born so early, his prayer became that our son would make it. He bargained with God. He asked for just this one miracle, just this one little boy to be alright. And he was.

So now Mr. W feels that maybe we've gotten all that God is willing for us to have. He's afraid to try to push further and go beyond what God wants.

Of course, I can understand where he's coming from. However, I have a different relationship with God. A relationship where I understand that He knows my heart...He knows my human nature will lead me to say "just this once...just this..." and, like any parent, He knows that I can't truly never ask for anything again (just as I know that my own son will ask me for another cookie after he finishes the "I just want one moooooore!" cookie I already gave him). I think that God knows what we want and makes decisions based on what is best for us, not what we say when we're begging.

I suppose that is why Mr. W has said that he wants us to find a surrogate that we know who will volunteer. This way it isn't us going above and beyond to add to our family. He feels like if someone volunteers, then it's God saying to him "It's ok...Look, I've made it easy for you."

I don't know. I think he's wrong about tempting God by going back on what we said while begging for a child and later the life of our tiny son. But I suppose that I can't argue against the thought that if it is truly meant to be, that God will find a way to make it happen for us.

(Which isn't to say that I'm not a firm believer in God helping those who are willing to help themselves. Consider this me helping myself: Do we know you? Do you want to help us out? Any takers?)

Words can't express

2008-04-01T21:56:00.001-04:00

Tonight I'm sitting in a hotel room in Hartford. My son and husband are using the other laptop to video conference with my parents. The lowercase, having decided a few moments ago that he is, in fact, a cat and not a boy, is doing nothing but crawling around the bed meowing.

And I can't help but feel grateful. My friend took her son for his appointment with the developmental pediatrician. Since we aren't home, I only got the briefest of details. Her son was officially diagnosed as autistic. Her husband, who had been sure that the only thing wrong with their son was a slight speech delay (at 29 months, he has yet to speak a single clear, correctly pronounced word -- his closest is that when pointing at a car he will say "kuh"), is having a really hard time with the diagnosis. And they finally had a doctor tell them that her epilepsy medication is almost definitely the culprit. She cited recent research linking the drug to increased rates of autism when compared to the general population. They won't definitely say it since both my friend and her husband each have a cousin with an autistic child and the research on the connection between her medications and autism is still based on a sample size that isn't large enough to draw that conclusion.

My heart is breaking for them. They had begun trying to have another child, but she hasn't yet gotten pregnant. Now that they know that her medication has likely caused their son's autism, they've decided that maybe they shouldn't do that yet, if at all. And my friend is devastated at the thought that she caused this.

We're doing it. Sort of. Maybe.

2008-03-28T15:32:00.001-04:00

We've reached a new agreement in the the W household. We are, potentially, going to try to have another baby.

That's right...Mr. W has agreed. Sort of.

As of now, we are going to consider using a gestational surrogate to have another child. Of course, we each had to compromise on this.

Mr. W has insisted that our GS has to be someone that we know -- we will not use an agency or classified ads to find someone. In theory I agree with this, however I also know that this is likely going to be the sticking point that prevents the whole thing from working. Primarily because I just don't know how to ask someone out of the blue if they would let us knock them up. But, assuming that this can be done, Mr. W is on board.

He is content to have just one child, so for him it isn't a big deal if a transfer were to be unsuccessful. He wanted to do just one transfer, but I felt like if we were going to do one, we had to do two. Basically, I think we've agreed to one fresh and one frozen cycle. However, that's not a guarantee. If the first cycle were to be successful, we would not do the second cycle. If the first and second were unsuccessful, we would be done -- there will be no third try.

Mr. W also decided that he does not want to donate any unused embryos -- he couldn't handle the thought of someone else with our genetic child. He also has qualms with donating them for research (it's complicated but boils down to something about a slippery slope of creating embryos specifically for research and how far those develop before being tested, etc...I don't get it, I just agreed since this was a sticking point).

In that same vein, he wants to transfer no more than 2 embryos per cycle since we really don't want to parent higher order multiples should all of them implant.

Now...any ideas as to how to find someone that we already know who has already had a child, is under the age of 35, has no history of pregnancy complications, and who would be willing to carry a baby (or possibly 2) for me?

How would all of you handle that type of situation? How would you approach someone? It's funny...it's sort of like we're moving forward on this one, but with the first limitation...it really might not be. I've got the benefit of being both hopeful and hopeless.

Oh! My! Damn!

2008-03-14T23:28:00.003-04:00

Wow...just...wow.

So, you all know that the mister and I have been on different pages in regards to ever having more children. Last week, while in Connecticut, he said to a co-worker who complimented our beautiful and well-behaved child (hahahahaha -- she caught us on a good day!) that he didn't think we'd have another one any time soon but that he was sure we would at some point. He smiled and said, "I'm sure she'll talk me into it."

Later that evening he said that if it weren't for the fact that our families would never speak to us again if we put them through the whole high-risk pregnancy followed by serious NICU time another time that maybe the discussion would be different.

So...I kind of sent a message to an RE with the general history of my four pregnancies, the outcomes, the vertical incision c-section. And today he answered my questions. He said that while he wouldn't tell me I couldn't have another successful pregnancy nor that I wouldn't carry as far or farther than I did with the lowercase, he also felt that a gestational carrier would be a very viable option and one that would present the lowest risk for all involved.

And of course we have insurance now that covers IVF procedures and meds. The only thing it wouldn't cover is the fee to pay a carrier -- that's some serious cash that we just don't have -- and her medical expenses.

But assuming we can find a volunteer and her insurance would cover the bills on her side without any surrogacy exclusions...

Then maybe, just maybe, we could have another baby (or two).

How is this possible?

2008-03-12T13:34:00.001-04:00

I know that I am much heavier than I was before the lowercase was born. The scale regularly tells me that I am 35 lbs above my normal weight. None of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit me. I get that I'm heavier.

What I don't get is how the new jeans I bought last week can be a size 6 and yet I still have a BMI that is considered "overweight." According to the lovely BMI chart at Weight Watchers, I need to lose 10 more pounds just to hit the top end of the healthy range.

Mind you, these are pounds I want to lose. Hell, I want to lose all 35 of the pounds I've put on since I got pregnant nearly 3 years ago!

My problem is that a body wearing a size 6 shouldn't be overweight. Growing up, a size 6 was THIN. I distinctly remember envying the girls who were a natural size 5 or 6 all through high school.*

Has vanity sizing really gotten so bad? What gives? And if it isn't in the sizing of the clothes, is the concept of body mass index the culprit? Because something is seriously wrong with this picture.

*I was a size 10 in 8th grade. And then came the disordered eating leading to a weight range of 82 to 98 lbs. It continued through college -- I weighed 88 lbs the day I met my husband 10 years ago. I finally got healthy, stayed around 110-115 and wore a size 4 instead of the size 2 jeans that were too big for me on that day in 1998. Obviously, I have a lot of issues with body image, weight and clothing sizes...hell...numbers in general as they relate to my body.

Better late than never

2008-03-12T10:34:00.001-04:00

The last few weeks of our lives have been nothing short of crazy. I started this post 2 weeks ago and completely forgot about it until I sat down to write about our trip to Connecticut last week. That post will come tomorrow. Or, if this week is anything like the last 2...next month ;)

Mr. W had his last day of work.

The lowercase and I joined him for the afternoon. And, of course, since we were going to work, he had to take his laptop -- just like his daddy.

Congratulations, Daddy!

Changes

2008-02-04T18:57:00.001-05:00

It's official. Mr. W accepted the job. Last week the contracts were signed and delivered back to the company's lawyers. This morning, Mr. W turned in his letter of resignation. He'll be doing both jobs through the end of the month.

I am, of course, having serious anxiety over all of it -- I don't do well with change, especially those that affect our financial situation, whether those changes are good or bad. For me, any change in that arena is terrifying because I'm always afraid that the bottom will fall out.

Logically, I know this was a good move and in the end will make us happy. Further, if it doesn't work out for whatever reason, Mr. W is on good terms with the company he's leaving and the head of corporate HR told him that she will continue to call him and let him know about any openings that would be of interest in his career path. So...the safety net is still there.

Less of a Heel

2008-01-25T09:34:00.001-05:00

My friend and her son took us up on our offer to go to the children's museum earlier this week. The lowercase had a good time, my friend got out of the house and to be around other adults.

Their situation is considerably worse than I had thought. By the time we left, I was holding back tears. I don't know how she can deal with this. I don't know how her husband can continue to deny that anything is wrong (he works for Mr. W and in conversation yesterday said that maybe he has a speech delay but that it just seems worse around us because the lowercase is such a talker).

At the entrance of the museum, there are huge salt water aquariums full of fish -- the lowercase says they are "Nemos and Dory's and Sharks and STARS!" In the short time it took my friend to get his halter/leash thing out of the bag and untangled, he ran away three times. Far away. I told the lowercase to stay by my friend and chased her son down.

We went in to the first exhibit room and he almost immediately began to lose it. He cried as we looked at the air cannon (really cool...there's a sparkly target near the ceiling that shimmers when it's hit). The lowercase played and giggled trying to figure out how it worked. We sat down at an activity table and her son was fine for a bit but got restless and wanted to run. So we tried to go in this exhibit about perspective -- the floors are sharply slanted but the walls are straight. It's difficult to stand up in and generally makes people laugh because of the tendency to stumble towards the back (lower) wall. Her son went in of his own accord but then wanted to be DONE. She cuddled him in her arms and rolled against the wall to calm him. The lowercase then began dancing with the bigger kids at a dance exhibit (complete with dance dance revolution -- oh how I wanted to shove the 4 year olds off and dance like a fiend!)...her son cried again. He did enjoy playing with the toy cars on a ramp but did not want to sit in the big cars and pretend to drive.

At that point, I suggested we go to one of the more quiet rooms. He was alright in the train room, playing with the brio set. And then he ran off so we all followed. He went up a ramp and into the helicopter cockpit mock-up. And fell apart because you can hear the sounds of the rotors and air traffic control on the radio.

The only place that he didn't get frustrated, upset, or run away was in a "sand" box (filled with some kind of small plastic beads instead of sand). He made snow angels. He found a sand mold in the shape of an airplane and pushed it around for a while.

But in all that, he didn't talk. He didn't laugh. He didn't really ever smile. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for my friend. At one point there was a secret tunnel (in a display about mysteries in the reading section) and the kids and I entered it one way -- my friend wanted to go in from the other side and get some pictures of her boy. Except that he started to crawl back out the way we had come in. The lowercase was also with me and I didn't know quite what to do...at first I told her son to stop...and then remembered that he doesn't follow instructions. And, I felt horrible doing this because he's a PERSON...but I grabbed the end of his leash (is that the right term?) and just held it so he couldn't run away regardless of his pulling as hard as he could against me. All the while the lowercase is telling me something and pulling my other hand the other way. And I think that's when my already broken heart just shattered.

We'd been there about an hour and a half, it was almost 11:30, so we decided to get some lunch and leave. Her son lost it then when he grabbed food from her plate and put it in his mouth -- poor kid thought he was getting a pickle (he loves) but actually got a jalapeno (his first...he hates. So much that it was evening before he would let food pass his lips again).

And that was our day. I think up to that point, I just saw his rough play and the inability to stop him from playing that way as a problem. (And it is. Don't get me wrong on that account -- it's something that bothers my son and that, when he plays rough with anyone, I remove him from the situation immediately) We tend to do "adult" things when we go out together with the kids...meals out or walking through the mall with the boys in their strollers. So all I saw was the rough play at our house and the extreme lack of talking (there are only occasional "baby" noises...the initial buh and muh type of vocalizing). And I thought just those were bad and would take them a while to deal with. But it is so much worse.

Questions of Faith

2008-01-24T14:58:00.001-05:00

I was raised in a fairly typical midwestern family. My parents divorced when I was young and my mom left the Catholic church as a result -- not so much because her beliefs changed. Her leaving the church had more to do with her request for counseling from the parish priest being denied. Her husband had physically abused her and was leaving her with two young children. And the priest told her that his friendship with her husband (my dad) prevented him from being objective and from fully believing her account of things.

I was baptized Catholic, but never received first communion. And I'm fine with that. I went to protestant churches but felt most at home in those that were non-denominational. I attended an evangelical Christian college. My religious beliefs are something very personal and very dearly held.

Mr. W came from an interesting family. His mom was raised Catholic. And then she met his father, a Jewish man. His family required that she convert in order to marry their son. Since she didn't really feel strongly about her own faith, she saw no problem in this. Mr. W's Jewish grandparents also insisted that he go to Hebrew school and have a bar mitzvah. They celebrated Jewish holidays in the homes of his grandparents, aunts and uncles (rarely their own) and Christian holidays with his maternal grandparents.

Mr. W always believed in the existence of Christ as more than just a man. Of course, he also thought that in order to be of any faith major classes were required. And then we started dating and he asked about my beliefs and how it worked. I told him what I believed -- remarkably similar to what he, himself believed -- and explained the sinner's prayer.

We've finally found a church we both like. We celebrate only Christian holidays.

But, as I've been accused of by his family (maybe because of), I do feel like there is an element of Mr. W's culture and that of my son, that is lacking. I feel that we do need to address their Jewish heritage in some way.

Specifically, I feel that my son should be raised with some Jewish traditions. That we should be celebrating some of the holidays as they are the foundation that our faith springs from. I don't quite understand why Christians have stopped celebrating some of the holidays and haven't been able to find an adequate answer in any of the things that I've read. Of course, some of the holidays are not things that one can celebrate as a Christian (Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah come to mind as Christ's death is the atonement for our sins and therefore negates the need for us to atone).

Wondering if anyone can give me any input as to how this can be done in a Christian family -- the recognition of both the familial Jewish heritage as well as the Jewish heritage of our faith. Even if we decide not to celebrate the Jewish holidays as a family, I'd like input on how I can teach my son about them and about how they differ from our faith as Christians. This is extremely important to me as I do not want my son to be completely confused at family functions. I also want him to have a more complete understanding of his (much hoped-for) faith in Christ than I did prior to attending college. Thoughts?

Feeling like a heel

2008-01-22T18:05:00.001-05:00

This morning a friend was IM'ing me wanting to get our kids together to play. Her son is one day older than the lowercase. But I sort of ignored her plea to get together today. (In my defense, I did offer to take them to the children's museum tomorrow morning)

And there is a reason for it. A reason that I'm rather ashamed of. Her son is...off. I thought it when they were babies. There was just something about him, but of course all his mother saw was her baby -- the child who she loved more than anything and who was, to her, nothing short of perfection. Pretty much the way we all view our babies. But I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Mr. W asked if this boy was alright...my parents thought something was off...another NICU mom friend met them and asked if he was ok...her mother asked. It was pretty obvious, yet nobody could really figure it out. We all just said it was something about his eyes and the way that he reacted to other people, to sounds, etc. I was always concerned that he didn't care who was holding him...that in his mother's arms in a room full of strangers he would reach out to complete strangers. (It wasn't that accidental reaching out to a stranger and then realizing it isn't someone you know, either)

When they turned 2 in the fall, her son still wasn't talking. She kept saying that it was normal for some kids not to talk until they were three and that she wasn't worried. And every time she brought that up, I told her that it doesn't have to mean something bad but that it is NOT normal. I offered her the number for our county's early intervention office every time. And then one day she took it. And called.

Her son has had a speech and special ed evaluation and they have determined that he is in need of both services. However, they didn't do a full-scale evaluation at that time -- some case workers have changed and she's still waiting for the OT and PT evals. They stopped short of labeling him autistic; he is, in their opinion, definitely on the spectrum. They are on a waiting list to see a doctor for an official diagnosis.

And so I tend to avoid them somewhat. Not because I'm afraid of being around them or of saying the wrong thing. My lowercase is very verbally advanced. He gets frustrated with my friend's son because he can't answer his questions. Her son also has different sensitivities to touch (most markedly, he doesn't process pain correctly) and so his play is much different than the lowercase. Her friend is sort of the proverbial bull in the china shop. He just rolls right over everything in his path. And that disturbs the lowercase. He tells me he doesn't like that boy after they leave our house. He doesn't like to have him play with his toys.

And I just don't know what to say and how to handle that part...how do I explain to a two year old who is still discovering his own environment, what he can do on his own and how he can influence the world around him that he needs to be sensitive to another child? And how do I deal with the fact that her child is more than 10 pounds heavier than my little boy...that his version of hugging looks (and feels) like strangulation? And that the rest of his play is just as rough? Lately it's been that her son does whatever he wants and my child has to just suck it up and be the one to be upset. (Her son's issues are such that he is, as yet, unable to follow verbal commands.)

I know on some level I should talk to her about it, but I don't know what to say. She's a bit of a flake, and always has been. Generally, our friends (and even her husband has admitted to feeling this way) view her as a small doses person. So I'm sure that has something to do with it. She's not someone that I feel I could easily have a discussion with about this -- at least not to any real resolution.

And of course she told me today that I'm one of the only people she can really vent to about her son's issues. Her husband refuses to believe that there is anything wrong at all. Others tell her he's just too strong-willed and that she should have stronger discipline tactics with him. And I do get that when your child veers from the norm, others see fit to tell you that you are doing something wrong. I felt that keenly with a lot of things that I did in the first year of life with a preemie. (I was told that I was overly neurotic for asking people to wash hands before touching him, for not going out in public, that I was being too caught up in his feedings and worrying too much despite his tiny stature) So I understand that side of it. And I want to be there for her. I just don't know how to do it for all of the reasons that I've mentioned.

What would you do?

Yum!

2008-01-20T18:33:00.001-05:00

I've mentioned several times that I'm not the world's greatest housewife. I hate to clean. I don't like to cook on a regular basis -- I love to cook, I just don't like cooking the types of foods you would eat daily. Or maybe it's that I can't plan more than a day ahead what I would like to eat the next day and therefore rarely have the ingredients to make what I want. So we go to the grocery store several evenings a week and usually eat dinner there that evening.

Over the last year, our local grocery store installed various bars throughout the store. Near the fish counter, they have a seafood bar. Chefs work the counter and freshly prepare your food while you sit (at a granite bar...in the middle of the store...it seemed so odd until we started eating there). They explain to you what they put in each dish and will tell you in what aisles you can get the ingredients they are using. Near the butcher's counter, they have a meat counter and in the middle of the produce is my favorite: the vegetarian bar.

The vegetarian bar takes a macrobiotic approach and fully labels everything to let you know if it is vegan or if it contains dairy. The recipes are all from Julie Jordan and are truly excellent. They freely give out recipes and sell one of her cookbooks (A Taste of Julie Jordan: 100 Vegetarian Classics) so that you can make any of it at home.

And since I don't have anything of importance to say just yet, I give you my favorite salad dressing. At the grocery store, they call it "tofu tahini" but Julie's book titles it Steve's Tofu dressing. Regardless of title, it's incredibly creamy, slightly nutty and salty and contains the best of the Asian flavors as far as I'm concerned. Enjoy!

1/2 c crumbled tofu
1/4 c water
2 Tbsp tahini
2 Tbsp light vegetable oil
2 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp tamari or soy sauce
1 tsp dried dill weed (or 1 Tbsp finely chopped fresh dill)
1 tsp dark sesame oil
1 clove garlic, finely chopped

Toss it all in the blender and blend until smooth.

(This goes great on Julie Jordan's Wings of Life Salad -- recipe to follow shortly.)

The In-laws are Coming!

2008-01-10T19:33:00.001-05:00

I wonder if a steady diet of chocolate will be able to make this weekend more pleasant.

My in-laws are arriving tomorrow (Friday) and will be here through Sunday. This could make for a really interesting weekend.

Under the Sea

2008-01-04T19:34:00.001-05:00

The lowercase and I were home this week, alone and sick. I saw a lot of this room and realized that I never followed through and showed the pictures of the lowercase's bathroom after I finished painting.

Initially, I was going to stencil seaweed on the wall but found that the stencils didn't work as well as I had hoped. It was, obviously, a large stencil that just didn't work well. I transferred it to poster board, used a razor to cut out the stencil and then just loosely held it against the wall and traced it with a pencil. However, I didn't like the look the stencil gave on it's own, so when I got out the artist brushes, I sort of painted them freehand -- the stencils became nothing more than a very rough guideline for size and placement.

The curtain was just a remnant I bought at the fabric store and ironed a seam in with fusable tape. All in all, I think it turned out to be rather fabulous. At any rate, I am impressed with myself.

And one last thing -- I still haven't been able to frame the painting I did in college for over the towel bar. Anyone have any clue where I can find a cheap 12x18 frame, preferably in the same color range as the frames on the Rainbow Fish prints I bought at Target?

View from the hallway

Looking out

The vanity. Note the stuffed turtle from Finding Nemo beside the kleenex -- The lowercase insists that it be in the bathroom.

My dirty little secret

2008-01-03T00:52:00.001-05:00

I am 30 and I am obsessed with Degrassi: The Next Generation.

I could try to excuse it by explaining that I watched the original series (in both its junior high and high school series). But I won't.

Because damn it, that's good TV!

Whew!

2007-12-29T10:48:00.001-05:00

Wow! The Christmas whirlwind...but before I can get to anything, I need to send a hearty congratulations to Jen and Cait. And of course, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for my dear friend Amy.

We began our Christmas vacation by piling into the car on Thursday. Somehow a drive that normally takes us 10-12 hours took only 9 hours! INCREDIBLE! We got out only ONCE during the ride to eat, use the bathroom, and change a diaper. The lowercase was extremely agreeable and happy the whole way. Although he would NOT allow us to turn the radio on, and we did have to put in a Thomas DVD for the entire time we spent on the Ohio Turnpike (about 3 hours). Interestingly, he didn't watch it most of that time, but sang along to the songs and told us stories about the trains that he made up. (One morning, Thomas saw Daddy! And mommy! He went to Mimi and Poppa's house.)

The holidays were lovely, if a bit different from our usual madhouse. My grandmother isn't healing quite as nicely as she should, but she is healing. Part of the problem is that her sugar levels aren't staying where they should consistently. This could stem from the fact that there was no dissuading her from baking an extra dessert and eating at least one serving of each dessert present at EVERY meal. I don't know what the numbers all mean, only that on 12/27, the visiting nurse tested her and it was 258. Apparently to heal quickly and well it needs to be more than 100 points lower. Huh. And yet she is an adult woman and we can't just tell her no. We can't stop her from doing things and making her own decisions about food. And, as she said to the nurse, she still doesn't really believe that she is diabetic...despite the multiple insulin injections per day and the numbers that prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Grandma's memory is also very bad. And she knows that she is forgetting things and it bothers her greatly. So there is that. But things are so much better than they were a few short weeks ago and for that I am extremely grateful.

Mr. W's phone call went well. Extremely well. So well in fact that he will be traveling to the company's headquarters with accountants in tow Thursday to examine the books. And then we make our final decision and go through all the legal maneuverings. Nobody expects there to be any problems -- the company owner is so confident of that fact that his health insurance plan is already sitting on my kitchen counter.

And holy shit am I in love with that insurance plan! Our current insurance plan is a good plan...if you are a normal person with normal reproductive abilities. But the plan sitting on my counter for us to peruse? Covers everything. It covers IUIs....injectibles...GIFT...ZIFT...IVF...ICSI. Granted it's not unlimited in its scope (up to 3 IUIs maximum and 2 IVFs -- with transfer of 2 embryos max per procedure), but it's a damn sight more than most insurance plans in the US! I haven't read it myself since we've been home less than 12 hours and I had a cranky toddler to try to get to go back to sleep, but it looks good. It kind of looks like I could maybe possibly use that...and I've got 10 years to decide since the infertility benefits expire at age 40.

Other things going on...I almost thought that this job coming back on the table was some kind of foreshadowing. Mr. W has said the only way he could see me personally being pregnant again was if he worked from home...and then for the last two weeks I had severe nausea. I didn't think much of it but he pointed out that it was almost like I was pregnant it was so bad. And then the sore boobs happened. And my period didn't come. And I waited. And waited. And waited. Until finally, 7 days late, it showed up. And the soreness went away. I had some pretty intense cramping that I usually don't -- all while driving home yesterday. Maybe it was something, maybe it wasn't. Regardless, it's time to get my body back to normal. I'm quite a bit heavier after the lowercase's birth than before -- I went from a size 4 to a size 8. Maybe that has something to do with things. Maybe not. I don't want to go back on birth control -- I prefer to not take medications when avoidable (which includes all over-the-counter products as well). I'd rather try to handle my body naturally. And so I think it might be time to break out the ol' bbt and start temping and charting. Not to try to become pregnant necessarily, but to start to understand my own body again...to give myself more of a clue when things are happening and why.

(And for those of you wondering...the 7 days late and my thoughts that maybe...I would have been happy if it had been something, but I think I just am not ready for that at this point in time. I want to go on vacation in the spring that I wouldn't be able to if I were pregnant. I want to drop the rest of this extra weight first. I want things to be a bit more definite with Mr. W's job and not feel pressured to do something because we need him to be home for the lowercase while I'm stuck in bed. In short -- BAD TIMING. So I'm not exactly sad that it wasn't meant to be right now.)

Oh my damn!

2007-12-18T18:35:00.001-05:00

The job offer is back on the table.

Yes....this one.

Phone call tonight at 8pm EDT. And so...we wait.

Happiness is...

2007-12-18T17:40:00.001-05:00

...watching your two year old "read" C.S. Lewis' Out of the Silent Planet.

(Sadly, he wouldn't sit still for me to run downstairs and get the camera. Next time. For there will surely be a next time.)

At last!

2007-12-10T15:34:00.001-05:00

I'd like to thank each of you who have emailed, messaged or asked how we're all doing. There is finally good news!

My grandma was re-admitted to the hospital last week. She was hallucinating. She was in a really bad place -- at one point she was "crocheting a hat" for her new baby...her first baby....my mom. But at least she was sort of timely on that one as she probably was making that hat exactly 55 years ago in preparation for my mom's birth (her birthday is shortly before Christmas).

She was a mess for quite a while. And then she woke up on Saturday...and she was my grandma again. She's once again fastidious about her appearance. She is prim and very, very proper. She is beyond embarrassed that she hasn't been to the salon in three weeks to get her hair done. She is horrified that the surgery affected the nerves that control bladder functioning and that she has accidents and a bladder that doesn't fully empty without catheterization every few hours.

But she sounds stronger than she has in quite some time -- months...maybe years. She is ready to come home and get her Christmas shopping done and her house decorated. If all goes well and they get all the family members living nearby trained to help her put in the catheter two or three times a day, she can come home Wednesday afternoon.

When do things get easy?

2007-12-04T11:05:00.001-05:00

Grandma is back in the hospital after being home for 4 days. She was (is?) hallucinating. She is very confused and can't remember that she's taken her medication last even though that was less than 10 minutes ago. She starts eating and then even though she hasn't finished a single slice of pizza is just sure she's eaten enough. She's in intense pain (to remove the cyst, they had to kind of scrape around the spinal cord and so of course her nerves have abrasions -- at least, that's the best way that I can describe all the neurological blah blah blah from the surgeon). Because of the nerve/spinal cord issues she doesn't have perfect control of her bladder. She thinks she needs to pee very badly when she doesn't...sometimes when she does she doesn't know it until she's starting to go and stops herself.

They took her off of the medications she was on as they feel certain it is the medication causing all the (I can't bring myself to use the "dementia" word) forgetfulness, confusion and hallucinations. She's been catheterized. They are doing intense physical therapy -- her back problem started in June/July, so she hasn't been doing much and by November the "not much" was nothing.

Grandpa will now have to have hip surgery from pulling her up to stand and taking care of her. He broke his hip 12 years ago and had a pin put in but is having severe pain in that area now and will likely need to have that repaired once grandma is better.

I spoke to Grandma this morning for the first time since the night before her surgery. She doesn't like being confused and generally doesn't want to talk to people when she's like this -- instead she makes Grandpa handle all of the phone duties and then tell her repeatedly after what is going on. She doesn't sound well at all. She's very obviously drugged -- sounds very tired and weak. But she does know some things. She knows that it is nearing Christmas and that we will be coming home then. But she doesn't know if she feels better today than yesterday but she said she thinks she is getting better and will definitely be up and around by Christmas.

The doctors are still of the opinion that her mental status is due to the medications and that she will come back to us. I'm terrified of the alternative, so for now I'm (repeatedly) making the conscious decision to believe that that is the case. And with therapy and time, her back will be better -- she already walks better than she has in six months. So...we wait. And we cry. And we worry. And we hope. And we pray. Maybe some of you can do the same?

2007-11-27T16:14:00.001-05:00

I was doing so well at this whole housewife thing. Ok, so I'm still not cleaning around here. (Honestly, the only time I ever did was when I followed the flylady plan, but I haven't done that since the first of our many summer vacations)

But then this week...the cooking. Oh, the shame! I can apparently only cook the most basic simple things. For instance I make a mean stirfry and any Italian dish requiring a red sauce (pasta, baked pastas...um...pretty much just the pastas) I can whip up without a problem.

Since I am now what my husband refers to as a "broken vegetarian" (I eat both fish and poultry but still stay away from all other meats) I decided to make chicken and rice for dinner tonight. I thought it would be easiest to do it in the crock pot.

This is a mistake. I had a recipe that I did NOT follow but took the cooking times from. I just went in to stir it as it should have another hour. All the liquid? Soaked in. The rice? Sticky and gooey. I took a small bite...NO FLAVOR. I mean, granted I put zero seasoning of any kind (not even salt) because it couldn't be tasted until the raw ingredients were cooked and I didn't want to overdo it. But...yuck.

Not sure how or if it can be salvaged. Things were so much easier before my husband broke my eating habits. Dinner tonight would have been basmati rice with steamed veggies. And, if I was feeling really adventurous, I might have diced up some tofu and tossed it all in the wok.

Anyone have any good crock pot recipes? That are toddler friendly? And don't contain any of the meats I hate?

2007-11-26T17:08:00.001-05:00

Surgery is over. It went well. Grandma is in recovery right now so I don't really know any more than that. If all goes well, she'll be home Wednesday.

2007-11-23T21:42:00.001-05:00

So not looking forward to tomorrow. Long drive back home. My grandma's in worse shape than I even imagined. Surgery Monday. Feel guilty about leaving but am unable to stay...circumstances being what they are I wouldn't make it home until the weekend before Christmas -- just long enough to re-pack my bags and head back here for the holidays. Which wouldn't leave me time to get anything at all done in terms of holiday gifts...or celebrating the holidays with Mr. W's family. And there is the matter of my dental appointments that I've now had to cancel two other times...and I do eventually need to have those appointments as all 4 wisdom teeth MUST come out and I haven't yet made the consult with the oral surgeon.

Fun times, I tell ya...real fun times.

We survived

2007-11-21T18:01:00.001-05:00

I needed to get my glasses adjusted...the lowercase didn't want to be in the car after all day yesterday. So he stayed with my mom. For about 3 hours -- the longest that I have ever been away from him.

And they all had fun...and I didn't feel guilty or angsty like I have the (very few) other times I've left him with someone else (my parents). I'm glad he was comfortable, but a little surprised that he wasn't a little upset to be away from me.

But, you know, maybe we're all growing up a bit.

Home

2007-11-20T22:30:00.001-05:00

No matter how old I am or how long I have lived on my own, it always feels like home when my feet hit my parents' driveway. And I get several more days. Yay!

Crisis of conscience

2007-11-19T14:12:00.001-05:00

Several weeks ago, our neighbors rang the doorbell. They have a son and a daughter. The daughter was selling girl scout cookies, the son was selling boy scout popcorn. As a former girl scout and lover of their fine cookies, I had to buy. But I didn't feel that I could buy from one and not the other, so I ordered some caramel corn that I didn't even really want.

Yesterday, both were delivered. Perfect timing since tomorrow we are taking a long car trip and they'll make excellent snacks while driving.

But as that popcorn sits on my kitchen table waiting to be loaded into the car tomorrow, it's making me think about difficult issues. Now, as a former girl scout, I know the benefits of that organization but quite honestly don't know their policies on many issues; the boy scouts' policies however have been very highly publicized over the last several years.

I am a Christian and I do believe that some things are sinful and wrong -- primarily the judging of other's beliefs. I believe that we are called to love one another, to care for one another, to forgive others when they sin and to leave the judgement to God. I try to live a life in which I show others love. I believe that it is the responsibility of Christians to hold other Christians accountable for their actions, but what that means is lovingly praying for and with them, asking them about their relationship with God and being there to listen and talk with them about what God would want them to do and be. For me, it's not a life of forcing my opinion and beliefs on others; rather, it is a life of loving service to my fellow man regardless of how they choose to live their lives.

Through high school, I was friends with M. He was kind, generous, intelligent, always willing to help others, hard-working, a gifted student -- basically I could go on and on describing the kind of teenager that I can only hope my lowercase will grow up to become. M was an Eagle Scout. He went on to college and we lost touch. I found him through myspace sometime this past winter and sent him a message asking how he had been since I last saw him in the early 90s.

He told me about finishing college in 3 years and going to work for the boy scouts organization. He seemed to really love it in the way he wrote. But then he realized he couldn't continue working there. He was gay and had finally decided that he couldn't live with the dishonesty of hiding that any longer. So he resigned and began living his life as an openly gay man.

And as that popcorn sits on my table, all I can think about is my friend M. How can I support an organization that thinks that M isn't good enough? An organization that purports to be all about morality, service, and general Judeo-Christian values yet fails on the most important (from the Christian standpoint): to live a life that is Christ-like, to love one another, to refrain from judgement.

I'd like to say that I won't buy their popcorn anymore. That I won't let boy scouts who are raising money wash my car. However I don't think I can honestly say that. I don't like that they are judging my friend and other men who may be just as wonderful as he is on the basis of their sexuality. But I also know that for many kids, scouting is one of the only positive areas of their lives. I've seen it in the inner-city kids I've taught -- their scout time each week was the highlight of their lives exposing them to far more than they would ever have the opportunity to see and do and learn otherwise. They are taught about community service, which was a concept that had never been taught to those city kids. I also know that there are other organizations that fill those same roles for children, however the fact is that in many areas those other organizations aren't available. In a city neighborhood rife with poverty, where parents have no cars, the kids are lucky to have a boy scout troop (pack? den?) in their neighborhood. The kids that I taught didn't live within walking distance of any other programs -- no boys and girls club, nothing. Just one cub scout pack and one girl scout troop. That was it.

And while I can be clear on some issues of groups I will support financially (schools are almost always in the yes column; church groups with doctrine I believe...absolutely. I won't donate to churches with which I disagree fundamentally, just as I would expect their members to refuse to support fundraising efforts from my church)...this seems to fall into a gray area.

The obvious issue in this particular purchase was that the children were standing at my door side by side each selling something. How can I say no to one and yes to the other? And while I could explain my moral dilemma to the mother of these kids, you simply can't say that to (or in front of) a 6 year old and a 7 year old. The kids themselves have nothing to do with it.

And what do I do when the lowercase is older and he wants to be a boy scout? Do I let him join while explaining to him my issues with the organization? Do I just say no?

Or am I analyzing this all far more than is warranted? Maybe I should just shut up and eat my popcorn.

2007-11-18T22:29:00.001-05:00

What a weekend! The lowercase is still a bit sick, but thankfully it's now just a scratchy sounding throat, a minor cough and an occasionally runny nose. He's been fever-free since Saturday night.

I'm rather exhausted from this one. Maybe it's because I've got so much more to do -- laundry, packing, decorating for Christmas, getting my glasses adjusted, cleaning so I can come home to a non-disgusting home. And it all has to be done by Monday night as we are leaving bright and early Tuesday morning for the 10 hour drive to my family.

(Completely random bit...I tivo'd a discovery channel special about the "first test tube baby: louise brown" a week or so ago and have it playing now -- having been around the infertile blogosphere long enough, I am completely annoyed by the fact that they keep saying that they have to "implant the embryos back in the womb" This special is dated 2007 -- surely the narrator could get the terminology correct? Am I wrong?)

2007-11-17T04:51:00.001-05:00

The lowercase is still feverish. His temperature came down in the evening and was around 99 at bed. We gave him some motrin anyway since he'd been fluctuating all day and hoped to help keep it down by doing so.

It didn't work. At 3:15 I woke up and he was awake. I thought he had been pushing me and I was trying to get him to relax and go to sleep. And then I realized -- he was shivering. Hard. Mr. W jumped up and got the ear thermometer for a fast check -- it read 100 in one ear and 101 in the other. But he would. not. stop. shaking.

We rushed into his bedroom, put him on the changing table and used a digital thermometer to get an under-arm temperature (this was the preferred method when he was in the NICU since they did it every 3 hours around the clock). This gave us a reading between 101 and 102. But still he couldn't stop shivering. He was alert and talking to us, but his nail beds were bluish and he was just...shivering rather violently. I had called the doctor's office while we were temping, so as we waited for their return call, we decided to do a rectal temp (with a different digital thermometer -- if you ever visit us? Do NOT use the spongebob thermometer!) He was shivering and whimpering and after some time there was still no definitive beep telling us it was done, but it stayed at 99.5 so we gave up.

I called my mom and asked her if she thought I should just take him to the hospital and skip the nurse's call back. He was still shivering. Hard. And his temperature raised to 104 (ear).

The nurse told us that shivering is the body's way of raising the temperature and that while his temperature was high, it wasn't dangerous. She told us to wipe his head with cool cloths, give him fluids, dose him up with motrin again and wait an hour. If at that point it was still under 105 (even if it hadn't gone down) there wasn't a problem and we should continue at home. If it went above 105, she wanted a call back.

It's now been an hour since his medicine. He has drunk 2 sippy cups of cold water. He's periodically letting me wipe his forehead and neck with a cool cloth. He is no longer shivering. He's still alert -- as alert as can be expected at this ungodly hour. Essentially he's lounging quietly on the couch beside me and will answer questions if I ask them, continually shifts from leaning on the arm of the couch to leaning on me to laying down with either his feet or head in my lap. His temperature is hanging in right around 104 with the most recent reading being 103.3 so maybe it's going down?

Mr. W finally went back to bed after sitting up with us for an hour. I plan to stay up the rest of the night and will go to sleep when Mr. W gets up (I had only just fallen asleep at 1am!) and he'll take care of the lowercase who may or may not sleep. I really have no clue.

Tomorrow will be day 3 of the fever and that, to me, is reason enough to try to get in to the doctor for a Saturday visit. We'll be calling first thing in the morning...er...um...in a couple of hours when they start seeing appointments for the day.

The hits just keep coming

2007-11-16T16:40:00.001-05:00

The lowercase is sick. He had a slightly runny nose yesterday afternoon, but nothing that was really concerning to me. He said he wanted to go for a walk, so we got out the coats and shoes and socks. As he sat in my lap to get his shoes put on, I started sweating from the heat of his body. I took his temperature -- 103. Shit.

Of course, I'd promised him the walk and he was NOT giving up, so he took a hit of motrin, finished getting bundled and out we went for 20 minutes of fresh air. As we walked out the door, we saw a bag hanging on our mailbox. Inside the bag were two packages that were the highlight of our day: some incredible cookies from some awesome bloggers and a plaque from the March of Dimes thanking our team for the amount of money we raised this year.

The lowercase's temperature finally dropped to 99 shortly before bedtime, after a second dose of motrin. This morning he woke up at 5:00am. At 5:30, we realized that there was no way the boy would go back to sleep and by then the parents were wide awake, so we all got up for breakfast (THREE HOURS EARLIER THAN USUAL!).

Today he's got a horrible runny nose, a bit of a cough, decreased appetite and a temperature that has ranged from 100 to 102 all day (a couple of times it dropped to 99, but didn't stay there long).

I'm going a bit stir-crazy being in the house. I would give anything to go outside...to just drive around in my car and see real people doing real things. Instead, we're sitting around the house with the little man refusing to play with his toys, getting frustrated 2 seconds into a book, and generally clinging to my body quietly zoning out. I've resorted to the all-day-PBS-and-Noggin brain rot. Mostly episodes of Thomas until I'm ready to gouge my eyes out. But at least those have made the lowercase somewhat interact with me -- he's repeatedly told me what color each train is, that James is "doooowty. James sad. James go washdown. James happy!" and that "Emily [and] Whif shunt garbage." Can cold and flu season be over now? Please? I don't know if my sanity can take an entire winter like this!

***Edited: 5:30 pm, temperature up to 104. Hoping like hell that the motrin brings it down.

Pile it on

2007-11-15T20:47:00.000-05:00

So...we now know the cause of my grandmother's infection. Apparently in diabetics, extreme swelling can cause infection. For several years my grandma has been battling the edema in her legs, even before her diabetes diagnosis. It turns out that the swelling was caused by her blood pressure medication.

Now, edema in the legs is worsened by lack of movement. Enter the cyst in her spinal column. She *can't* walk and has had to spend much of her time in a chair or in bed. So the swelling got really bad. The severe swelling caused the infection, the infection prevented the surgery that would allow her to walk and thus relieve the swelling. Rather vicious circle, no?

Her regular doctor said he didn't want her to have the surgery next week -- that he didn't feel she would be ready until 2 days after it was scheduled. She saw the surgeon today (the surgeon who rolled his eyes at a lot of things he has heard that her regular doctor has said over the course of time he's been treating her). The surgeon said that he would have gone ahead with the surgery on Monday if he were making the decision entirely on his own, but didn't want to upset the treatment that her regular doctor had started (legs wrapped tightly like mummies, removal of antibiotic, change of diuretic, addition of potassium supplement, removal of blood pressure meds). So her surgery is now scheduled for the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Which sucks ass. Mr. W can't take time off to be there, I don't want to drive 10 hours with the lowercase on my own if it can be avoided. I haven't started getting anything ready for the holidays and had planned to do so that week. My parents offered to get me back home except they have obligations the weekend after the surgery so that would have me staying 2 weeks or driving myself (seriously. NOT an option. I know exactly how to get there, but don't want to drive through Cleveland -- an interstate should NOT make a right angle turn like it does right in the middle of downtown!). So...we don't know how we're going to handle this.

The news is not good

2007-11-14T18:11:00.001-05:00

Just got off the phone with my grandparents. While the infection in my grandma's legs is clearing up, it isn't doing so fast enough. There is still too much swelling and too much infection. Her regular doctor (not the surgeon) put some kind of wrap on her legs and told her to leave it for a week in order to decrease the swelling further. She's scheduled to see the surgeon tomorrow so we could still get lucky and he could hospitalize her to really focus on the infection and maybe have a chance of still doing the surgery on Monday. The pain from the cyst is getting much worse and my grandma is now almost completely unable to walk.

We will still be going to my family for Thanksgiving but will now do it on Tuesday instead of Saturday -- less time off work for Mr. W now means more time off at Christmas. And it also means that the lowercase and I could be staying with my parents for a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving in order to help out when the surgery actually does take place (and before since grandma is so incapacitated). Or not. I really don't know with all the crap that must be done in a lead up to Christmas. Grrrrrrrrrrrr!

Becoming a housewife?

2007-11-13T12:55:00.001-05:00

Over the last several months I've begun to discover a new side of myself. A very domestic side. A side that anyone who has ever known me in the real world would assure you they didn't think existed. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised myself.

In the last month I have painted the lowercase's bathroom so that it resembles a scene from Finding Nemo. I even went so far as to make a valence for the window! (For those of you with actual domestic skills, don't laugh! I don't own a sewing machine so I did it all with my iron and some fusible web tape.)

I was unsatisfied with the selection of curtains available in multiple stores (seriously -- from Target to Bed Bath & Beyond...K-Mart, Wal-Mart, even Lowe's -- NOTHING that would look good in his room!). So I went to the fabric store and picked a nice fabric, got some more iron-on tape and went to town. And I've never been so proud of myself!

And then there's the baking. I can't stop. Seriously. Can. Not. Stop. I've sent beer biscuits to the Mr's office. I have an apple bread in the oven now for a friend with a new baby. I just can't stop.

Of course, I still hate to clean or wash dishes or fold laundry. Some things will never change!

And because I'm all about spreading the love, why not try your hand at my great-grandmother's apple bread. It's divine!

1 c sugar

1 T butter

1 egg

1 1/2 c flour

1 t baking powder

1 t cinnamon

1/4 t salt

1/4 c milk

2 c diced apples

1/2 c nuts (optional; I *never* use them)

Cream the butter and sugar together. Add egg and stir until smooth and creamy. Sift together the flour baking powder, cinnamon and salt, then add to the sugar and egg mixture. Stir in milk, apples and nuts. Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes.

Sleep issues

2007-11-12T23:05:00.001-05:00

Alright folks. I need some advice here. I've mentioned the lowercase's attachment issues.

It's kind of at the break point right now. He can not sleep without touching me. It's been this way for the last two or three weeks. When he wants a nap, he curls up beside me and lays his head in my lap or on my shoulder.

At bed time, he curls up in my lap and drinks some milk while rubbing my arms, talking or singing to me, or asking me to sing to him. I kind of like that part of the routine -- ok, I love it.

But once he is asleep, he wants the touch to continue. I can't just put him in his bed. Right now, as is the case most nights, he is laying on one end of the couch and I am sitting on the other. I have to keep at least one leg stretched out alongside him. And before we make it to bed, he will stir and whimper until I hug him. If I don't hug him in my arms he will wake fully in a screaming tantrum that could last for a LONG time.

So how do we get the little guy to sleep away from me for just a couple of hours so that we could do what couples like to do? I mean, if there's a chance that I could ever talk Mr. W into another go at TTC, I'd hate to miss my opportunity because the firstborn doesn't want to lose physical contact. Suggestions? Books? Techniques? Ideas?

I surrender....all?

2007-11-11T19:45:00.001-05:00

This morning I decided to take the lowercase to church on my own. Normally, if the Mr. and I can't both go, we skip it. I had no idea how difficult it would be to keep him in check on my own. Of course, there is the whole church nursery thing and in theory that would be a good option. But in practice? Not so much. So he sits with us during the service.

The topic of today's sermon was surrendering to God. It's something that I struggle with. I just can't ever bring myself to fully turn things over to Him. The easiest way to describe it is that I ask for help but then say screw it and try to do it myself. Obviously, this isn't a healthy way to live.

For those of you who aren't Christians, that might not seem like a big deal -- the inability to rely on something that isn't there*. But it's not a problem that is exclusive to my relationship with Jesus.

It's something that I've struggled with all my life -- trusting someone else enough to surrender control to them. I could never do it in my entire academic career. Group projects literally made me ill. I would panic at the mere mention that I might have to work in conjunction with someone else. In one of my college science courses we were assigned to groups for paper writing. Since I write a mean term paper (really -- I do -- my writings here wouldn't show it but research papers, grants, etc. -- that's my forte!), I volunteered to write every paper. My group members simply had to collect the research, become an expert on whatever portion of the topic they were assigned to and teach it to me so that I could write our papers.

In personal relationships I tend to be the same way. I need to be in control of so much. I can't surrender control to anyone unless I absolutely have to. I have to be in charge, I have to surmount obstacles and WIN at all costs.

I think this is my biggest flaw, my Achilles heel. Admitting it is difficult. Unfortunately, in order to overcome this, I'd need help...which I can't bring myself to ask for because I MUST CONQUER this. Vicious cycle, no? My need to control and succeed on my own prevents me from working on that flawed area of my person.

*In the opinion of the non-Christian; obviously I would disagree with that statement.

Can we do it? Yes we can!

2007-11-10T23:16:00.001-05:00

It's late, I'm tired. I can't think. Here. Look at some pictures of the lowercase at our local children's museum this afternoon.

Update on Grandma

2007-11-09T19:05:00.001-05:00

The medication appears to be working. Her swelling is going down and the color of her skin is also returning to normal.

Here's hoping and praying things continue to improve.

And the decision has been made -- the W family will be spending Thanksgiving with my family instead of the Mr.'s.

This makes me physically ill

2007-11-08T17:23:00.001-05:00

My grandma has been in quite a bit of pain lately. It started in her lower back but extended down her legs. The doc first thought it was a pinched nerve and she had physical therapy for a couple of weeks. The pain got worse.

They did an MRI, but it was a closed MRI and she had a panic attack leading to massive anxiety issues for several weeks and time spent finding the right medication for the anxiety. Once that was taken care of, she was given valium before an open MRI.

The MRI showed a cyst (synovial cyst I think?) on her spine -- kind of inside the spinal column and it was irritating the spinal cord and causing the pain. The cyst is about 1/3 inch. It requires a neurosurgeon to remove and clean up the bone surrounding the cyst. Major pain, intense surgery.

But now comes the real problem. My grandma was diagnosed Type II diabetic several years ago. She's had some issues with swelling in her legs/feet in the past. Apparently those issues aren't so much "in the past."

Tuesday night her legs swelled to the point that, as my grandpa said, "they don't exactly look like legs." Swollen to the point that they were reddish purple. And then water actually started seeping from her legs. She saw the doctor first thing Wednesday for that. He put her on an antibiotic and some intense diuretic for the swelling that is either the cause of or is going to cause or is a side-effect of* some sort of infection in her legs. And she's diabetic. So...yeah.

Her back surgery that was going to happen immediately is now tentatively scheduled for 11/19. This is presuming that the infection in her legs is cleared up. And I don't even want to think about what it means if it isn't. I just can't think about that happening to my grandma.

*By that point in the conversation, I was upset enough that I wasn't exactly clear on that point.

**One small silver lining...at least I won't be spending Thanksgiving with my in-laws.

Beer!

2007-11-07T22:38:00.001-05:00

Mr. W and I both hate beer. But we love a good Cheddar Beer soup. So, Sunday we put a pot on the stove and lo, it was incredible.

But since we couldn't be 1 cup of beer, we have quite a bit left over. Today I used 12 oz to make a really incredible beer biscuit. Thank you foodnetwork.com!

4 c Bisquick (I know!)

2 T melted butter

1/4 to 1/2 c sugar

12 oz beer

Stir it together, drop it in a greased muffin tin, 15 minutes in a 400 degree oven. (Time varies -- one of my muffin tins is larger so those took 20 minutes while a tin that makes smaller muffins was done in much less)

How easy is that? And oh! So tasty!

You mean glasses shouldn't fold?

2007-11-06T20:26:00.000-05:00

I have a headache. The lowercase was being helpful yesterday. I took my glasses off while I changed shirts. He picked them up and asked me to put them on.

Except he had managed to fold them in half. They were bent so badly they wouldn't go on my face. Mr. W bent them into a shape that would fit on my head, but it's a bit painful and horribly crooked.

I was going to go get them fixed today but by the time we were able to go, I had a blazing headache and had to take some drugs. Of course, I am one of those people who is pretty sensitive to medications -- two extra strength tylenol will knock me out, but when the ache is as bad as it was, it was needed.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day and I can get them taken care of.

(Also, I wrote a post about a friend's child but then decided to delete it. I don't think she knows of my blog's existence but I somehow felt uncomfortable with the idea that she might find it and I don't know -- I wouldn't want someone else talking about my lowercase. But at some point I do want to have a discussion of autism, PDD and other issues including teratogenic medications and/or medical conditions in a parent known to cause problems with offspring and the ethics involved. Someone hold me to it -- say next week or the week after? When I can, hopefully, write it in a way that doesn't come across as judgemental for individual decisions when things are intended more globally.)

I got nothin

2007-11-05T19:48:00.001-05:00

I'm processing a lot of thoughts but am nowhere near a coherent post on any of them. So um...bullets?

I've read some posts recently about the whole Dumbledore is gay thing. Some positive, some negative. My question is -- does it really make a difference? I personally wouldn't care if the man preferred merpeople. But does it matter? And further, should it matter? There's been a lot of talk about how it would help the gay community blah blah blah... I personally don't think that teachers should be discussing their sexual orientation with students (note that I teach elementary school, which, you know...it is extremely appropriate to NOT discuss those things). And since my third- through fifth-grade students were reading these books -- I don't think that was the place for a discussion of sexual orientation. And, quite honestly, I think it goes over their heads anyway -- the only reason we knew the orientation of any of the wizarding world was due to the mention of marriages or the gender of a student's parents.
On the Harry Potter vein...now knowing that Dumbledore was gay (something that I actually thought was kind of obvious in my reading of the final book without it ever being said): Will that make a difference in how the character is played in the remaining movies since there are several more yet to film? Should Dumbledore be portrayed differently than he has been? And if he is portrayed differently, doesn't that actually say more about the general homophobic views of our society than to NOT change his portrayal? Does he have to act differently than he has in previous movies to be gay?

Wow...um...ok...so maybe I had more than I thought and maybe I should go back and get rid of the whole bullets thing, but, frankly, if I do that, it's unlikely that I'm going to finish and click publish. So...there it is.