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Showing posts with label IVF #3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IVF #3. Show all posts

Home Sweet Home







I got home yesterday afternoon. So nice to be in my own house, with my kids, and my own bed. Isn't it crazy how much you miss your own bed when you've been away from it for a while? I feel like I haven't slept in years. Lola has her days and nights reversed. It's awesome to balance against two well-scheduled 21 month olds. We're getting there. Thankfully she has the sweetest little disposition and she's cute as a button (if I do say so myself), so we're running on pure love since sleep seems to be a thing of the past, at least for now.





Reese and Ryan are overwhelmed and that is to be expected. Ryan's lack of expressive vocabulary has led to a lot of frustration, crying fits, hitting and throwing. He is interested in the baby and frustrated by her existence all at the same time. Reese loves the baby still, but is exhibiting some stubborness and has tried to "accidentally" kick the baby a few times or sit on her in an attempt to sit on my lap. We are working on all of it, hoping that things will smooth out over time. It's all to be expected, as we are asking so very much of our first tiny babies (who are so, so big in comparison). 





Right now, Joe and I are focused on providing them with as much love and as much kindness as possible. And if that continues to fail, next week we'll move to lots of time outs and lots of consequences. Because once I'm on my own in early November, I need to be able to wrangle them alone. No small feat. 





So, in the meantime, our house is like Lord of the Flies and Joe and I are alternating who gets to play the role of Piggy. Not quite how I had hoped it would go, but exactly how I expected it would. Our house is set to close in just under three weeks. So we're a month away from really turning everything on its ear, and hopefully a few short months away from restoring order. Hopefully. 





All good things, just a lot of things all at once. So worth it. There isn't a better kind of chaos to be part of, that is for sure. 






Better Late Than Never





Lauren Emerson arrived on October 17 at 7:57 p.m. weighing 7 pounds, 2 ounces and measuring 21" long. She is perfect. Ten tiny (long) fingers and ten tiny (long toes). A full head of light brown hair that stands up in little peaks all over her itty bitty head. She is a champion nurser already and loves to be snuggled. In fact, she loves snuggling so much that I've gotten roughly 6 hours of sleep since she was born. I'm too nervous and tired to let myself fall asleep with her in my arms, so I've been laying in my hospital bed listening to her squeak, which she does with each breath she exhales, while she's splayed out across my chest.






My appointment last week found me 2cm and 100% effaced at 39 weeks 5 days. My membranes were stripped and I was sent home. Nothing happened. No cramping, no bleeding, no pain. And definitely no labor.





On Monday I was having such significant pain with her movements -- not labor pains, just physical pain -- that I called my OB. When he found out I had been having runs of contractions that never progressed for over four days, he rescheduled my appointment for the following day.





I arrived to my Tuesday appointment and was given another internal -- this time I was 4 cm and told I was very effaced. My membranes were stripped again, although my OB said that there was nothing left to strip, they were all gone. He put an induction on the calendar for Friday, but didn't think I'd make it that far. He told me he didn't even think I'd make it to my Tuesday appointment after our conversation on Monday. And his exact words were "You're 4 sonometers dilated and completely effaced. What the hell is going on up there? This should have happened by now." Back home I went.



On Wednesday morning I woke up with the kids and by 9:30 I was having pretty consistent contractions anywhere from 3-6 minutes apart. I told Joe to get coverage for his afternoon cases and called our sitters to make sure we had extra help if we needed it. At 11 I took the kids to gymnastics. By the middle of their class my contractions were picking up in intensity and I called my OB's office. They scheduled me to come in for 1:30, but told me to go straight to labor and delivery if my water broke or if my contractions got closer together and/or more intense. Since I could still talk/walk/smile through most of my contractions I set about the afternoon with the focus on getting to my afternoon appointment.



We got to the OB's office and I was checked again around 2 p.m. This time I was 6 cm, 90% effaced and at a -2 station. My doctor told me I was on the cusp of labor and since we live 30 minutes away from the hospital it would probably be best to go across the street and get checked in, just in case my labor progressed quickly.





By 3 p.m. I was checked in, gowned up and my IV had been placed. I was checked again and I was found to be 6-7 cm. But I was still laughing and smiling, so they had me walk around the hospital for 90 minutes and then come back to sit on the fetal and contraction monitor. My contractions were consistently 4-5 minutes apart, but they were not increasing in number or intensity. So they sent me back out to walk again. I walked for over an hour and came back to be checked again around 6:30 p.m. I was getting frustrated and pissy. I hadn't eaten since 9 a.m., I was starving. And I felt like I was about to be sent home until my "labor was real" (not something you want to hear at 40 weeks, 3 days).



I had them recheck me and I was stuck at a 6 cm, although the baby had descended to a 0 station. I was given the option of leaving and coming back when labor started or having them break my water. I was striving to have as little medical intervention as possible, but felt like breaking my bag was the best option given my lack of progress. My water was broken and within 10 minutes my labor had become incredibly intense with pain wrapping around my back. I knew then that I did not want to go med-free and in between tears of frustration and pain, I sat and weighed my options with Joe. He went to get my labor and delivery nurse to have her order an epidural. She came back in and told me we just needed to a cervical check before the anesthesiologist was called. At this point it was thirty minutes after my water had been broken...and I had progressed to 9.5 cm and a +1 station. It was at this point that I found out that I was about to have a baby and that there was no time left for an epidural. And I freaked the freak out.



The pain was intense and my contractions were coming on fast and I did not want to do it without drugs. I begged them to call anethesia anyway, I told them a hundred times that I did not want to feel the pain that I was feeling and when all else failed, I cried. And they let me carry on like this for roughly 5 minutes. I never really experienced that "urge to push" but my nurse convinced me that the only way to manage my pain was to push through it and make the baby go away. And so when the contractions came, as much as I didn't want to feel them and I didn't want to hurt, I brought my legs back and I pushed as hard as I could. And it hurt like hell. And I was scared to death.




I kept asking them to tell me how much longer I would need to feel this for, to put a time stamp or a number of contractions on it. I kept hearing "you're so close" and after the fourth time someone said that I told them to "stop bullshitting me and tell me the truth". And that's about the point in my labor where I transitioned from fear to determination. I wanted her out. NOW.



I snipped at the nursing student holding my foot for me, telling her she needed to actually be useful and push my foot back hard. I was pushing for so long that they had to check the baby's fetal heart rate with those annoying hockey puck things in between each contraction. So during my breaks from the pain, they were pushing down on my belly making me hurt and I got so mad. I distinctly remember telling my nurse to stop putting the hockey puck on me. And when she did it for what felt like the seven hundreth time, I said "what is with you and the fucking hockey puck, Fran?" I yelled at my OB for pushing down on the lip of my cervix that hadn't fully opened and then I yelled at him for not pushing on it. I begged him to make it end, to reach in and pull her out. And when all else failed I screamed on the top of my lungs, wild sounds that I didn't even know my body could make.



I'm pretty sure everyone else in labor and delivery called for the anesthesiologist after hearing my birth through the walls. It's too bad I can't make a commission on the increase in epidural sales I helped to affect that night.



After roughly 40 minutes of pushing and what felt like twice as many contractions, I could feel an intense pressure and the unmistakable feel of a body pass through me. But labor had lasted so long that I was sure I had pooped instead and she was still firmly inside me. They kept telling me to open my eyes and look at her, and I didn't believe that it was really over and she was really out and I had really given birth to my baby girl.















I never felt the ring of fire that others talk about, but the pain of her labor was unreal. I didn't think I could do it and I wanted to quit so many times. I would have quit if, at any point in time, I had the choice to do so. As it turns out, Miss Lola was "sunny side up" (head down, face up) which is why I was overdue and my labor kept stalling. I was told afterward that 90% of babies who are sunny side up will turn during labor. I was just in the lucky 10% of deliveries where this did not happen. Had she been head down, face down her head would have created pressure in my cervix as she dropped forcing me into labor. Instead her head acted like a cork that kept me from progressing altogether.















They told me had she presented face down, I would have gone into labor at least a week earlier and I would have only pushed for 10-15 minutes. Face up took me roughly 4 times as long. I broke several hundred blood vessels in my face and neck from bearing down. My lady bits are swollen and angry, but thankfully I didn't tear at all. I did, however, create the world's largest hemorrhoid in the process. A fact that I am deeply disturbed by each time I use the facilities.



I feel like I was hit by a Mac truck, but I think it's just a combination of drained adrenaline, lack of sleep and standard delivery aches and pains. If given the power of hindsight I would have asked for the epidural before I let them break my water. And if I ever deliver another child, which I sincerely doubt will happen, I would personally not elect to go without meds again. I realize every delivery is different and that my experience may have been much more pleasant had she been face down. But that pain and fear is still very palpable for me. Ask me again in a few weeks, and maybe I'll feel more empowered by the experience.











Reese and Ryan came down to meet their baby sister today. And it was everything I thought it would be. Ryan kept pointing to Lola and saying "ba-by" in his silly, grunting voice. He stroked her feet and wrapped his tiny hand, that suddenly looked huge by comparison, around her legs. He patted her head and touched her fingers. And then, like any nearly two year old boy would, he lost interest and began touching every button on every electronic device in my room.











Reese, on the other hand, was completely smitten with this tiny creature that immediately became "my baby". She sat on the bed and happily held her sister. Smiling and laughing and kissing her the whole time. At one point I took Lola out of Reese's arms to sit with both girls on my lap for a picture when I felt the baby being ripped out of my arms. Reese tugged her into her own lap and proceeded to hug her a dozen times, planting kisses all over Lola's little face. She melted my heart today. That little human is amazing.








My tiny peanut and I are discharging in the morning. I thought this stay in the hospital would be a vacation from my normal life. But instead I've found that I'm really tired and I miss my family and the chaos they provide so very much. I'm ready to go home and for us to start our new lives together. We are beyond blessed and I'm so very thankful to have these three beauties in my life.

40 Weeks 2 Days




{ 40 week, 2 day belly monster }



After a pretty painful evening, I called my OB and they had me come in again today (instead of Thursday) for another check. I'm now 4 cm and 100% effaced. My OB looked at me and said "what the hell I going on up there? This should have happened by now". They stripped my membranes again.



Should Miss Lola decide to stay put for good, my induction is scheduled for Friday morning. They don't think I'll make it to Friday. But given my progress last week no one thought I'd make it this far either. I love it when my vagina astounds doctors. Makes me feel...special.



In other who-ha related news, I mailed my stock of OPK's and pee sticks to a friend this week. But before I could send off the package, I peed on one last stick. Clearly I'm pregnant. Very, very pregnant. But I knew it would likely be the last time I saw two pink lines. Call it closure. Or mental illness. It's probably some combination of both. I can't believe my journey on this roller coaster (that I never asked to be on in the first place) is coming to a close. I don't think the full impact of that has hit me yet. I'm so very thankful -- for the blessings we have and for the ride to be over.





Running Through the Tape

I must credit my friend Amy, who went 8 days overdue, with that blog title as it was how she much more delicately phrased the fact that her child was stubbornly staying put long past her 40 week welcome. So this is me running through the tape. And I'm not happy about it either.



The worst part is, I'm not even uncomfortable (38 weeks pregnant with twins is uncomfortable, 40 weeks with a singleton is laughable in comparison). I feel eerily normal. I'm just not in labor. And my excitement and anticipation is giving way to frustration. Thankfully my mother-in-law has come to stay with us to help me take care of my rugrats and to be here in case we need to make a mad middle of the night dash to the hospital. This has taken a HUGE chunk of stress and worry off my shoulders. People who have family available to them on the regular are so very lucky. And I'm thanking my lucky stars that Joe's Momma is able to take time out of her own life to be here right now.



My next appointment is Thursday (40w4d), at which point they will discuss induction. I hope they check Lola's fluid (and maybe even her size) then too, but I doubt I'll sneak in for a last second ultrasound. I'm anxious. I'd like to avoid another induction, for selfish reasons about my preference for delivery and non-selfish reasons regarding fears of it turning into a c-section. But, as Joe so tactfully says, my cervix is a bear trap -- "nothing gets in, nothing gets out".



And now we wait.



Darling girl, if you can read my thoughts (and I think you can, because we're literally connected right now) I love you, I'm ready to meet you, I can't wait to see your little angel face. Now please, move toward the exit.

Lola's Maternity and Family Pictures


Our photographer, whom I love dearly, sent me the DVD of images twice in the last month and both times the DVD was blank. I was dying from anticipation, seriously dying. The third disc finally got here yesterday. She outdid herself. Again. Five more days (or less)!


















































































18 Days!

Where is Friday? Ever have one of those weeks? Both kids are sicky sick again. Husband is sick. I'm getting sick. Our builder didn't order our kitchen sink (what the what?!) and I ended up calling thirteen stores in a 150 mile radius to find one in stock and then driving to Massachusetts to purchase it so we wouldn't be delayed in closing. Did I mention that the sink weighs like 300 pounds? Then I got stuck at the house at a vendor meeting, making me cut picking up the kids from preschool very close. And I got into my car and my KEYS WERE NOT THERE. So I ran back into the house, except that I can't see my feet and I tripped over the stairs in our garage and landed hands first, belly second on our stone mudroom floor. So...I picked up the kids, got them home, fed them lunch, put them down for naps and then called my OB in hysterics. One NST and three hours later, Miss Lola is fine.







And then there was today. Which was calm in comparison to Monday and Tuesday. I had my weight and fluid scan for LB and she is measuring right on track. My not-so-little peanut weighed in at about 7 pounds. I am a little intimidated by that number since she's clearly not done growing. But since they were pretty off with the twins' final scan (helloooo, induction for no reason) I'm holding onto hope that she is smaller than predicted. The thought of delivering a very large infant without meds scares the bejeezus out of me. The one upside is that I've gained 28 pounds so far, so delivering a 7+ pound baby will guarantee I walk out of the hospital at least 10 pounds lighter. This is the best optimism I can procure to keep myself from rocking in a closet in fear of the ring of fire.






{ those cheeks look an awful lot like Reese's at 33 weeks }



My darling husband joined me for my appointment since we were going to get to see the bean and he stuck around for the OB portion as well. He got one laugh out of my doctor and my appointment turned into the Joe show, wherein he and my OB discussed birthday beers and pub crawls. To say I have several unanswered questions would be an understatement. I warned him that he is not allowed to be charming or story-telling on the day that I deliver or he will be exiled to the waiting room. The focus will be on my uterus and my uterus alone. Ha!






{ I think she kind of looks like Biggie Smalls here }




Just for fun I had Joe help me take some belly comparison pics. When I was 37 weeks pregnant with the twins we made a cast of my belly, it was fun to fit myself back inside the cast at the same stage of pregnancy and see the difference. No wonder I still feel great. I'm half the size I was with the kiddos.






{ twin belly in the back, singleton in the front }






{ The space between my current belly and my twin belly at 37 weeks. Amazing. }




So here we are at 37 +3 weeks. And now we wait. Approximately 18 days, to be exact. Perhaps longer, since my cervix seems to be a steel trap. Joe and I discussed membrane sweeps and other such natural labor progressors, and he thinks I should just let Lola decide when she's ready to come out. I'm starting to agree with him.

35/35


Before I say another word, I just want to say THANK YOU to all of the mommas out there who commented, emailed, texted or messaged me with advice, pearls of wisdom, anecdotes of camaraderie and general hugs. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Sometimes in motherhood it is easy to feel like a giant clusterf*ck failure who's surely the only one getting it wrong. It's good to know that my kids are (somewhat) normal and I'm not (entirely) a hot mess. It's also nice to not feel so freaking alone. So THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. 





And now onto my buddah belly. As of today I am 35/35. Hellooooo final stretch (and ninth month)! 







{ at 34 weeks my ass decided it too was pregnant }



Crazy to think I'm thisclose to meeting LB. I feel like I've been pregnant forever, she's seriously going to come out and be a sixth grader. Singleton pregnancies are about 9 years longer than a multiples pregnancy. And I'm now convinced that an IVF pregnancy adds another two years. Seriously. Because no one is ever supposed to know that they are 3 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Most people find out when they are almost done with the hellish first trimester. Or at least at a respectable week, like 6 or 8. Only crazy people (like me) buy pregnancy sticks in bulk and pee on them 7 times a day until colors change or they are hospitalized for dehydration.



And with multiples (especially high risk ones) you see your OB/MFM/chach doctor with another acronym every 2 weeks. With this kid I went every six, then every four, then every two and I'm almost graduating to weekly appointments. I seriously forget I'm pregnant sometimes. Well...that's a lot harder now (for obvious reasons) but it was easy to forget early on.



So here I am, running the final .2 miles of this marathon. I feel pretty great. This is so much easier. I definitely think my perspective on pregnancy has shifted since I carried twins the first time around, and I know that not everyone has an easy singleton pregnancy. But by 35 weeks with the twins I couldn't walk for more than ten minutes at a time because the weight of my belly was so great. I used the motorized shopping cart at the grocery store (how embarrassing). I had outgrown all of my maternity clothes and most of Joe's regular clothes too and had to buy a few shirts to get me through to the end. I remember thinking I would surely die before I delivered.



With this kid I feel like I could run a 10K as long as I was wearing adult diapers. I'm still spinning twice a week and most days keeping up with the twinados. I've been lucky - no morning sickness, no aversions, no preterm labor scares or SCH's - this time around. My only issue was another unexplained bleed (I seem to like those when pregnant) and thankfully Lola was 100% healthy. And, as an added bonus, I found out that she had a full head of hair during that emergency ultrasound. Joe and I keep joking that she's going to come out looking like Rapunzel if her hair was that obvious so early on.







I took the kids to the beach today. We got there and it was closed for the season. So we walked to another beach about a quarter mile up from the first. When I finally unpacked all of our necessities and undressed the kids and sat down, it started to pour. I was too tired to care, so we played in the rain. Eventually it stopped raining and by then we had the whole beach to ourselves. Just me and the first loves of my life.



They chased ducks and seagulls. Ran from the loud sounds of boats. Cried at the sight of parasails. Pointed to planes in the air. We made sandcastles, they threw sand, we dunked our toes in the water and splashed. There were snacks. They bit my fingers on purpose. I got about two thousand hugs.



We have five more weeks as a family of four and then our lives will change, once again, forever. This weekend was rough, but I'm soaking it all in. Thinking about ways to make room in my heart and my lap for another tiny human. Wondering how our dynamic will change. How everything will change. I'm scared. But even more than that, I'm excited.



See you in thirty five days (or less), peanut. We can't wait to meet you.

Life is Beautiful

We had our anatomy scan today and I got my first real glimpse at our little girl. I'm smitten. With the move and the twins on the loose, Lola doesn't get a lot of my undivided attention. Girlfriend has no furniture or place to come home to (yet) and the only things that are hers and hers alone are three pairs of jammies I bought her for the hospital. Having a sitter today and getting to focus on just her was wonderful. Seeing her inside my belly rolling around and sucking her thumb. I just cried the whole time. This is real. She is ours. And we're so darn close to meeting her. I've been living in a cloud of puppies and rainbows since 8:30 this morning. Just call me Lisa Frank ;)









Our little Lola is a mover and a shaker. I didn't eat before the ultrasound and she was flipping and flopping all over the place. The ultrasound tech kept saying, "I can't believe she's this active and you haven't eaten anything!" Her placenta is anterior, which explains why I feel odd sensations and strong kicks, but not a ton of movement overall. My NP said it also explains why I can still sleep on my stomach at nearly 21 weeks (I'm not complaining about that!).









It has been a joy to be pregnant with this little muffin. Not a day of sickness or pain. No second trimester fears, no unexplained bleeding scares, no low betas, no SCH's and today our last fears have been put to rest. All of her first trimester genetic screenings came out negative and she looked perfect in every way at today's visit. Just wonderful.






{ 20w5d inside baby }




{ 20w5d outside baby }



We think she looks nothing like her brother or sister, at least not based on their ultrasounds. I seriously can't wait to meet her and snuggle her on the outside. I love her so much already.







We have so, so much to be thankful for and I don't forget that a single day of my life. To think there was once a time, not so long ago, when we thought we'd never be parents and now we're welcoming our third child. What a gift.
 

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