Tuesday October 1, 2013
Hello darling babies,
Today marks the beginning of another Capture Your Grief, an online project started by a grieving mother. I participated last year, and thought about maybe taking each day's posts and turning them in to a book on Shutterfly or one of those other websites that allows you to design your own book. Almost one year has passed since that project ended and I have not done so. Just one more thing I put off while mired in my grief. Today's Capture Your Grief post was, of course, Sunrise. Sunrise is symbolic of the beginning of a new day. For some reason, I'm feeling a new beginning today.
I walked your canine siblings this morning. It's finally getting to that time of year where there is at least a bit of a chill in the Arizona air early in the day. I should have been walking both of you as well, or at least pushing you in your stroller. A twin stroller we never purchased. That would have been quite a feat, me managing to control the dogs on their leashes while pushing you in your stroller. That would have been very challenging, but somehow, I like to think I could have made it work.
As we were on our way over to the park, I had a flashback so real, all because of a song playing on satellite radio, Billy Idol's Cradle of Love. That song instantly took me back to my days at Baylor. I think I bought that song as a cassette single. My mind's eye produced a very vivid memory of me driving through the Baylor campus in my black Cougar that your great-grandmother Mary purchased for me, blasting that song as loud as it would go, probably driving a bit too fast, rocking out to the beat. I have always liked loud music and fast driving. Then, I had one very poignant thought......
Humility. Humility was my thought. I realized that it's been rare when I've practiced humility of any sort. There were times when I struggled with confidence, especially in the early years and the "awkward" preteen years, but I don't think I ever struggled with humility. I simply cast it aside, as it was something I felt I didn't need. I was convinced I was pretty, well-dressed, funny, financially comfortable, smart, in general, better than most others. I realize now how wrong I was to place such value in such shallow virtues. I think there is a fine line between self-confidence and hubris. I want to be quietly self-confident that I am, in fact, enough.
I want to be the best wife and mother I can be. I realize that sounds contradictory to the last paragraph, but when I say "Best" I don't mean it in an ultra-competitive way, as if I were seeking the blue ribbon for motherhood. I'm saying that being the best means I'm providing for our family, I'm careful with our resources, I'm acting in a way that produces no regrets. I want to stop being so judgmental. I feel I've taken some tiny steps toward building a better me, but I still battle so many of my old demons. I unfortunately am not mothering living children, but I'm trying to do a better job of taking care of myself, the house, your Daddy and your canine siblings.
I watched The Long Island Medium (Theresa Caputo) this morning on Live with Kelly and Michael. Theresa was giving a reading to an hysterical woman in the audience whose sister had died. Theresa was telling the woman that she needs to let go of any guilt she feels about having disappointed her sister (apparently, there was some issue where the woman was trying to raise the deceased sister's children and was unable to do so). Letting go of the guilt doesn't mean you have to let go of the person's memory.
That's what I would like to do. I would like to be able to let go of the negative guilt feelings I associate with your conception, the time we spent together during the pregnancy, and your far too-short lives. That negative energy is doing no good, neither for my reproductive health, your Daddy, our marriage nor my sanity.
Shelby and Dalton, I hope you knew how much you were loved in your days with us, and of course, how much we still and always will love you. There will never be a family holiday or a trip or an adventure when I don't think of how much you would bring to that specific event if you were here with us, but, please help me let go of the guilt.
Forever,
Momma
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Two Years Ago
Wednesday September 18, 2013
Dear Shelby and Dalton,
It's been a while since I wrote your blog. It's been a while because I was a complete idiot who forgot my password. I've been forgetful and sad and lonely and feeling incompetent and.... in short, pretty much a complete emotional wreck. I think I realized it's because we are in the midst of the two year anniversary of the far too brief period of time when I was pregnant in 2011. We found out September 6 or 7 that there were actually 2 of you (after having a successful pregnancy test confirmed on August 18). Your Daddy and I both remember with surprising clarity viewing the two tiny little heartbeats on the ultrasound monitor that day. In that instant, it dawned on me "I am going to be someone's mother." and then my next thought was probably "We won't have an only child.".
I remember keeping the secret, looking forward to October 11, when the first trimester would be over and we could begin telling more people. We were so blissfully ignorant, thinking we only had to make it through the first trimester to avoid risk of miscarriage, risk of losing you. We were so naive to think that getting through that time period would allow us to expect nothing less than a full term pregnancy. I was clueless about the dangers of pre-term labor. It's just really not talked about, until you walk in the shoes of those whose children have died because of extreme prematurity. Even after our ultrasound with the high-risk specialist, when he was detailing the risks of pre-term labor, it didn't seem like something we needed to worry about as my cervix was long and I had no high-blood pressure. Two weeks later, our world came crashing down.
The worst thing is that we continue down the road of infertility. We will never replace the two of you, we know that and we will always have part of our family missing no matter how many children we may have. I sit at home daily, stuck in a rut, when I should be mothering the two of you. I don't want to return to work in the outside world. I want my work to be as the stay at home mother to twins and the loving wife to your father. But, as Michelle said to me this weekend, I've got to make my own happiness. I can't think that I'll only be happy because I have a child. I have moments of happiness without you, without being a parent. It's just rather bizarre because before we had you I wasn't really one of those women who was being driven crazy by the thunderous clamoring of the ticking of my biological clock. But now, that you made me a mom with no daily mothering tasks, my soul is empty.
Maybe we need to return to the attitude and thoughts I had before we got pregnant. Maybe we need to say "This is it, this is the only shot, whatever happens happens, but we are not trying again.". Instead of trying to be all positive and will a positive result, maybe I just need to take on a que sera sera attitude.
Two years and nothing has happened. Two years of eating organically (ok, like 90% of the time), forgoing fast food for the most part, reducing the amount of soda I drink, trying to exercise and lose weight. Yet all around me, I observe pregnant women who drink caffeinated soda by the bucketful, consume all kinds of nasty processed fast food and low-quality frozen "chicken" nuggets by the truckload, work full time while being overweight, and their babies are born full term with no complications.
Perhaps it is time, to paraphrase one of your dear great-grandmother Betty's favorite sayings and just say "Aw, the hell with it.". Generally, I think she preferred "Aw, the hell with them.", applying it to people she deemed unworthy of her attention. But maybe we need to start saying "Aw, the hell with it.". I think I'm going to try that. The path I've been on obviously hasn't been working.
Signing off for now my sweet children, my loves.
Momma
Dear Shelby and Dalton,
It's been a while since I wrote your blog. It's been a while because I was a complete idiot who forgot my password. I've been forgetful and sad and lonely and feeling incompetent and.... in short, pretty much a complete emotional wreck. I think I realized it's because we are in the midst of the two year anniversary of the far too brief period of time when I was pregnant in 2011. We found out September 6 or 7 that there were actually 2 of you (after having a successful pregnancy test confirmed on August 18). Your Daddy and I both remember with surprising clarity viewing the two tiny little heartbeats on the ultrasound monitor that day. In that instant, it dawned on me "I am going to be someone's mother." and then my next thought was probably "We won't have an only child.".
I remember keeping the secret, looking forward to October 11, when the first trimester would be over and we could begin telling more people. We were so blissfully ignorant, thinking we only had to make it through the first trimester to avoid risk of miscarriage, risk of losing you. We were so naive to think that getting through that time period would allow us to expect nothing less than a full term pregnancy. I was clueless about the dangers of pre-term labor. It's just really not talked about, until you walk in the shoes of those whose children have died because of extreme prematurity. Even after our ultrasound with the high-risk specialist, when he was detailing the risks of pre-term labor, it didn't seem like something we needed to worry about as my cervix was long and I had no high-blood pressure. Two weeks later, our world came crashing down.
The worst thing is that we continue down the road of infertility. We will never replace the two of you, we know that and we will always have part of our family missing no matter how many children we may have. I sit at home daily, stuck in a rut, when I should be mothering the two of you. I don't want to return to work in the outside world. I want my work to be as the stay at home mother to twins and the loving wife to your father. But, as Michelle said to me this weekend, I've got to make my own happiness. I can't think that I'll only be happy because I have a child. I have moments of happiness without you, without being a parent. It's just rather bizarre because before we had you I wasn't really one of those women who was being driven crazy by the thunderous clamoring of the ticking of my biological clock. But now, that you made me a mom with no daily mothering tasks, my soul is empty.
Maybe we need to return to the attitude and thoughts I had before we got pregnant. Maybe we need to say "This is it, this is the only shot, whatever happens happens, but we are not trying again.". Instead of trying to be all positive and will a positive result, maybe I just need to take on a que sera sera attitude.
Two years and nothing has happened. Two years of eating organically (ok, like 90% of the time), forgoing fast food for the most part, reducing the amount of soda I drink, trying to exercise and lose weight. Yet all around me, I observe pregnant women who drink caffeinated soda by the bucketful, consume all kinds of nasty processed fast food and low-quality frozen "chicken" nuggets by the truckload, work full time while being overweight, and their babies are born full term with no complications.
Perhaps it is time, to paraphrase one of your dear great-grandmother Betty's favorite sayings and just say "Aw, the hell with it.". Generally, I think she preferred "Aw, the hell with them.", applying it to people she deemed unworthy of her attention. But maybe we need to start saying "Aw, the hell with it.". I think I'm going to try that. The path I've been on obviously hasn't been working.
Signing off for now my sweet children, my loves.
Momma
Friday, July 12, 2013
A Moment in Vegas
Friday July 12 2013
Hello my darlings,
As you know, this week, I accompanied your Daddy to Las Vegas, where he worked. I say "As you know...." because I clearly felt your presence with me. Even though it is an incredibly tacky town with all kinds of interesting sights, it is a place that will always be special to me, for it is the place where your Daddy and I first met. Hard to believe that was almost 15 years ago.
This business with the ectopic pregnancy is carrying on disturbingly long. It is worrisome first and foremost because of any negative impact on my limited fertility and our attempts to bring forth a living sibling. I can't take prenatal vitamins, so that pushes back our attempts to be healthy. On a more immature and selfish level, it is bothersome because of the many additional limitations: no alcohol, limit sun exposure, limit physical activity, no adult relations with Daddy. What's a girl to do in Vegas if she can't indulge in some hedonistic pleasures? Lying poolside, sipping a vat of dirty martinis (as you know, I don't enjoy the fruity frou-frou cocktails that your Daddy and Uncle Marcus so do), working on a tan, then later retiring to the room with Daddy, napping and getting up to enjoy a bacchanalian feast with plenty of wine. None of that occurred, with the exception of a nap - so NOT woo hoo! I can't even work out and try to drop this weight that plagues me.
As funds are limited, neither of us planned to gamble, although gambling is one of the things that first intrigued me about Daddy, the way he truly understood craps and baccarat. It felt like a whirlwind that first time he toured me through all the casinos up and down the strip. He seemed so worldly. On this trip, we planned to find good happy hours and stretch our dollars.
The first night, we went to Caesar's to eat at The Palm. Your Daddy had an IPA and I had club soda. We split prime sliders, bacon and lobster fondue and creamed spinach. It was all good, but mostly, I enjoyed the atmosphere of a nearly deserted bar in an upscale steakhouse, free from the ignorant, ill-mannered hordes of sloppily attired tacky tourists trolling the main floors of the casinos.
Daddy had some restroom urges, so I sat at a slot machine with the interesting bonus game (like chutes and ladders, if you hit the bonus, you keep rolling until you either advance to the top or land on one of the "COLLECT" spaces, which ends the bonus). I love slot machines with fun bonus features, but rarely land on the combination that activates the bonus. I decided to play $20. This was a quarter machine, with 3 coins max bet. On my first spin, the bonus feature was activated. I was able to keep the bonus going until I reached the 2nd to last level, and won 252 quarters. I decided to play 4 more spins to see if I got the bonus feature again. I did not, so I cashed out with 240 quarters ($60 for the math impaired). I couldn't wait for Daddy to return to show him my $40 profit.
The next day, I planned to take the bus over to Fashion Show Mall (love that Neiman's and wanted to look for some black capris or maybe a new dress to go out on the town with Daddy, if any store had a good sale). I wanted to check with the concierge to see if they offered a shuttle, but there was a line 3 deep to speak to him, so in my terrible impatience, I decided to skip it and just take the bus, especially as there was a stop directly in front of our hotel. I researched it and found a 24 hour bus pass was $8, a bit high if you ask me, but due to my physical limitations, I had no other choice. Normally, I would have just walked. In one of my most stupid moves of all time, I completely ignored the bigger-than-Dallas signs posted all over the machine, proclaiming no change is given, and I slid a $20 in to the slot. No change.... a string of profanity spewed from my lips. I panicked and pressed the cancel button, thinking it would return my $20. No such luck. I was so angry at myself. In my attempts to economize by choosing the bus instead of the taxi, I wound up spending the same amount of money, but never got to the mall. I was so angry I felt like crying (like your Auntie Chris does when she's mad).
I just went back up to the room until Daddy returned from work. I ate Panda Express and cried and watched The Chew and cried some more. Then Daddy called to check on me, and attempted to cheer me up by listing all these things I could do. I assured him I was just going to stay in the room and I would be fine. He wanted to go to Wynn for dinner, as he had had some good luck there on his last trip and liked their buffet. The buffet was not my first choice because of cost and overeating potential so I researched other options there. Most of their restaurants are prohibitively expensive, and with Daddy's work schedule, any happy hour was ruled out as he didn't get back to our hotel until 6:30. We had mixed feelings on going to Aria, as that was the site of our wonderful celebratory birthday dinner with Aunt Manda and Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete while you were still with us (we were about 16 weeks in to the pregnancy and still blissfully ignorant). We were afraid we'd get in there and have a meltdown, so Wynn it was.
We really shouldn't have done the buffet. First, we stood in line for 30 minutes. Second, even with Daddy using his per diem toward his dinner, it still cost about $60 out of pocket for both of us with tax and gratuity. Finally, the food was subpar, save for a few selections. I've seen and tasted better sushi from the grocery store. Their seafood selection was pitiful, snow crab sections that were overcooked, dried out and flavorless and smallish shrimp, maybe 31-40 count. Thanks to massive inflation, gone are the days of King Crab legs and 12-16 count shrimp. They served a snapper with tomatoes and olives that in theory should have been quite tasty, but in application, proved dried out and overly fishy-tasting. Their prime rib was pitifully under-seasoned and tough. There were very few vegetable selections, a pity really, as much as I enjoy good vegetables. The only items I truly enjoyed were the pork/shrimp siu mai, the veal short ribs and a dulche de leche cake shooter. Your Daddy tried the pekin duck and said it was delicious. For me, other than your Daddy's company, the best part of the meal was the entertainment provided by this nasty looking customer who paraded around on 7-inch platform silver sequinned hooker shoes, sporting an overly tight black lace dress that was about an inch shy of exposing her girly bits for all to see and a permed hairstyle that was straight off a 1987 Ratt concert groupie. I left feeling crabby and unsatisfied. As much as I enjoy food and an opportunity to try many varied dishes, you would think I would love buffets, but I really don't. You have to run around gathering your food like some sort of primitive caveman, fending off the rude Neanderthals hellbent on single-handedly clearing the crab table of everything but the bed of ice and a stray lemon wedge. The only buffets I have truly enjoyed have been the seafood buffets at the Four Seasons Westlake Village and the Princeville on our honeymoon.
When we left the Wynn, I just broke out in tears, just missing you and thinking how the last time I was in Vegas, I was still pregnant with my Shelby and my Dalton. It was very emotional. On the drive back, your Daddy was trying to cheer me up, so I alternated between sobbing, laughing and screaming. I was a complete emotional wreck.
The next day, while your Daddy finished his audit, I screwed up my courage to walk over to Aria and explore there. I was determined to go by Sirio. Some might say I was being masochistic, but I just felt driven to go there.
After crossing the skybridge and dodging hucksters and other characters, I entered at the Crystals shopping center side of Aria. Most of the stores hadn't opened yet, so I had the place to myself. So many high-end boutiques, Gucci, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, a 2-story Ermenegildo Zegna. I left Crystals and noted Todd English PUB (a place your Uncle Bill and Aunt Adrienne reportedly love) had Wine Down Wednesdays, with $10 bottles of select wines. Too bad I'm not drinking. Your Daddy and I probably could have polished off one each, the mood we were in. I continued on and noted Julian Serrano had a happy hour that sounded very interesting.
I proceeded to the casino, and I think your Tonta Jayne was in my head, as I decided I should look around on the floor for dropped money. I took about 5 steps and there on the floor by the cash machine were 2 pennies, one for each of you. I noticed there was another penny between the two machines, but I couldn't really get to that one.
As I made my way through the casino and up the escalator toward Sirio, the hotel alarm started going off. It was an awful noise, accompanied by flashing lights and an announcement advising everyone that it was just their early warning system, no immediate need for evacuation, they were investigating the cause and would make announcements if evacuation was necessary. I smiled to myself, for I knew the cause! It was my little pranksters, saying hi to their Momma! Saying "Hey Momma, we remember the last time we were all here together. Hi! Momma, we want to eat at Sirio, are you going to eat at Sirio?" I walked right past American Fish (by Michael Mina, the creator of the now-closed Nob Hill Tavern, where we dined with Aunt Manda and Uncle Kevin our first night in town), Jean Georges Steakhouse (we had dined at J & G at the Phoenician in the very beginning stages of our journey together), and finally Sirio. They were just prepping for lunch, but I stood off to the side and remembered our happy time there. The wonderful food, delightful atmosphere and special time with our best friends. The braised rabbit sugo and handmade pasta, the delightful limoncellos Uncle Kevin bought for the table (I sipped the berry one before passing the rest to Daddy and Uncle Kevin). How we laughed that up until that weekend, you had been sending me running to the sink almost daily, but then, with upscale treats, I did not experience nausea once the entire weekend. We joked that Daddy would have to take on a second job to feed his little gourmands in training. Sadly, one more daydream that will not be coming to fruition.
I just felt so comforted by the signs you were sending me. I'm very glad I screwed up my courage and chose to walk through Aria, so I could receive the messages from you. We later returned that night to enjoy happy hour at Julian Serrano, and it was a wonderful meal which I know you would have enjoyed. We then took the tram to Bellagio so we could visit the sight of our "first date" (which Aunt Manda chaperoned back in '98), attending Cirque du Soleil's O. Waiting for the tram, I noticed there were ads for 3 restaurants, Julian Serrano (where we just finished a great meal), Jean Georges (as I mentioned earlier our early-pregnancy meal at his J & G Steakhouse) and finally, Sirio, our last great meal as a family. Another sign.
We miss you babies. We love receiving signs from you and hope you send us more. We know that you're being good for Tonta Jayne.
Love and kisses,
Momma
Hello my darlings,
As you know, this week, I accompanied your Daddy to Las Vegas, where he worked. I say "As you know...." because I clearly felt your presence with me. Even though it is an incredibly tacky town with all kinds of interesting sights, it is a place that will always be special to me, for it is the place where your Daddy and I first met. Hard to believe that was almost 15 years ago.
This business with the ectopic pregnancy is carrying on disturbingly long. It is worrisome first and foremost because of any negative impact on my limited fertility and our attempts to bring forth a living sibling. I can't take prenatal vitamins, so that pushes back our attempts to be healthy. On a more immature and selfish level, it is bothersome because of the many additional limitations: no alcohol, limit sun exposure, limit physical activity, no adult relations with Daddy. What's a girl to do in Vegas if she can't indulge in some hedonistic pleasures? Lying poolside, sipping a vat of dirty martinis (as you know, I don't enjoy the fruity frou-frou cocktails that your Daddy and Uncle Marcus so do), working on a tan, then later retiring to the room with Daddy, napping and getting up to enjoy a bacchanalian feast with plenty of wine. None of that occurred, with the exception of a nap - so NOT woo hoo! I can't even work out and try to drop this weight that plagues me.
As funds are limited, neither of us planned to gamble, although gambling is one of the things that first intrigued me about Daddy, the way he truly understood craps and baccarat. It felt like a whirlwind that first time he toured me through all the casinos up and down the strip. He seemed so worldly. On this trip, we planned to find good happy hours and stretch our dollars.
The first night, we went to Caesar's to eat at The Palm. Your Daddy had an IPA and I had club soda. We split prime sliders, bacon and lobster fondue and creamed spinach. It was all good, but mostly, I enjoyed the atmosphere of a nearly deserted bar in an upscale steakhouse, free from the ignorant, ill-mannered hordes of sloppily attired tacky tourists trolling the main floors of the casinos.
Daddy had some restroom urges, so I sat at a slot machine with the interesting bonus game (like chutes and ladders, if you hit the bonus, you keep rolling until you either advance to the top or land on one of the "COLLECT" spaces, which ends the bonus). I love slot machines with fun bonus features, but rarely land on the combination that activates the bonus. I decided to play $20. This was a quarter machine, with 3 coins max bet. On my first spin, the bonus feature was activated. I was able to keep the bonus going until I reached the 2nd to last level, and won 252 quarters. I decided to play 4 more spins to see if I got the bonus feature again. I did not, so I cashed out with 240 quarters ($60 for the math impaired). I couldn't wait for Daddy to return to show him my $40 profit.
The next day, I planned to take the bus over to Fashion Show Mall (love that Neiman's and wanted to look for some black capris or maybe a new dress to go out on the town with Daddy, if any store had a good sale). I wanted to check with the concierge to see if they offered a shuttle, but there was a line 3 deep to speak to him, so in my terrible impatience, I decided to skip it and just take the bus, especially as there was a stop directly in front of our hotel. I researched it and found a 24 hour bus pass was $8, a bit high if you ask me, but due to my physical limitations, I had no other choice. Normally, I would have just walked. In one of my most stupid moves of all time, I completely ignored the bigger-than-Dallas signs posted all over the machine, proclaiming no change is given, and I slid a $20 in to the slot. No change.... a string of profanity spewed from my lips. I panicked and pressed the cancel button, thinking it would return my $20. No such luck. I was so angry at myself. In my attempts to economize by choosing the bus instead of the taxi, I wound up spending the same amount of money, but never got to the mall. I was so angry I felt like crying (like your Auntie Chris does when she's mad).
I just went back up to the room until Daddy returned from work. I ate Panda Express and cried and watched The Chew and cried some more. Then Daddy called to check on me, and attempted to cheer me up by listing all these things I could do. I assured him I was just going to stay in the room and I would be fine. He wanted to go to Wynn for dinner, as he had had some good luck there on his last trip and liked their buffet. The buffet was not my first choice because of cost and overeating potential so I researched other options there. Most of their restaurants are prohibitively expensive, and with Daddy's work schedule, any happy hour was ruled out as he didn't get back to our hotel until 6:30. We had mixed feelings on going to Aria, as that was the site of our wonderful celebratory birthday dinner with Aunt Manda and Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete while you were still with us (we were about 16 weeks in to the pregnancy and still blissfully ignorant). We were afraid we'd get in there and have a meltdown, so Wynn it was.
We really shouldn't have done the buffet. First, we stood in line for 30 minutes. Second, even with Daddy using his per diem toward his dinner, it still cost about $60 out of pocket for both of us with tax and gratuity. Finally, the food was subpar, save for a few selections. I've seen and tasted better sushi from the grocery store. Their seafood selection was pitiful, snow crab sections that were overcooked, dried out and flavorless and smallish shrimp, maybe 31-40 count. Thanks to massive inflation, gone are the days of King Crab legs and 12-16 count shrimp. They served a snapper with tomatoes and olives that in theory should have been quite tasty, but in application, proved dried out and overly fishy-tasting. Their prime rib was pitifully under-seasoned and tough. There were very few vegetable selections, a pity really, as much as I enjoy good vegetables. The only items I truly enjoyed were the pork/shrimp siu mai, the veal short ribs and a dulche de leche cake shooter. Your Daddy tried the pekin duck and said it was delicious. For me, other than your Daddy's company, the best part of the meal was the entertainment provided by this nasty looking customer who paraded around on 7-inch platform silver sequinned hooker shoes, sporting an overly tight black lace dress that was about an inch shy of exposing her girly bits for all to see and a permed hairstyle that was straight off a 1987 Ratt concert groupie. I left feeling crabby and unsatisfied. As much as I enjoy food and an opportunity to try many varied dishes, you would think I would love buffets, but I really don't. You have to run around gathering your food like some sort of primitive caveman, fending off the rude Neanderthals hellbent on single-handedly clearing the crab table of everything but the bed of ice and a stray lemon wedge. The only buffets I have truly enjoyed have been the seafood buffets at the Four Seasons Westlake Village and the Princeville on our honeymoon.
When we left the Wynn, I just broke out in tears, just missing you and thinking how the last time I was in Vegas, I was still pregnant with my Shelby and my Dalton. It was very emotional. On the drive back, your Daddy was trying to cheer me up, so I alternated between sobbing, laughing and screaming. I was a complete emotional wreck.
The next day, while your Daddy finished his audit, I screwed up my courage to walk over to Aria and explore there. I was determined to go by Sirio. Some might say I was being masochistic, but I just felt driven to go there.
After crossing the skybridge and dodging hucksters and other characters, I entered at the Crystals shopping center side of Aria. Most of the stores hadn't opened yet, so I had the place to myself. So many high-end boutiques, Gucci, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, a 2-story Ermenegildo Zegna. I left Crystals and noted Todd English PUB (a place your Uncle Bill and Aunt Adrienne reportedly love) had Wine Down Wednesdays, with $10 bottles of select wines. Too bad I'm not drinking. Your Daddy and I probably could have polished off one each, the mood we were in. I continued on and noted Julian Serrano had a happy hour that sounded very interesting.
I proceeded to the casino, and I think your Tonta Jayne was in my head, as I decided I should look around on the floor for dropped money. I took about 5 steps and there on the floor by the cash machine were 2 pennies, one for each of you. I noticed there was another penny between the two machines, but I couldn't really get to that one.
As I made my way through the casino and up the escalator toward Sirio, the hotel alarm started going off. It was an awful noise, accompanied by flashing lights and an announcement advising everyone that it was just their early warning system, no immediate need for evacuation, they were investigating the cause and would make announcements if evacuation was necessary. I smiled to myself, for I knew the cause! It was my little pranksters, saying hi to their Momma! Saying "Hey Momma, we remember the last time we were all here together. Hi! Momma, we want to eat at Sirio, are you going to eat at Sirio?" I walked right past American Fish (by Michael Mina, the creator of the now-closed Nob Hill Tavern, where we dined with Aunt Manda and Uncle Kevin our first night in town), Jean Georges Steakhouse (we had dined at J & G at the Phoenician in the very beginning stages of our journey together), and finally Sirio. They were just prepping for lunch, but I stood off to the side and remembered our happy time there. The wonderful food, delightful atmosphere and special time with our best friends. The braised rabbit sugo and handmade pasta, the delightful limoncellos Uncle Kevin bought for the table (I sipped the berry one before passing the rest to Daddy and Uncle Kevin). How we laughed that up until that weekend, you had been sending me running to the sink almost daily, but then, with upscale treats, I did not experience nausea once the entire weekend. We joked that Daddy would have to take on a second job to feed his little gourmands in training. Sadly, one more daydream that will not be coming to fruition.
I just felt so comforted by the signs you were sending me. I'm very glad I screwed up my courage and chose to walk through Aria, so I could receive the messages from you. We later returned that night to enjoy happy hour at Julian Serrano, and it was a wonderful meal which I know you would have enjoyed. We then took the tram to Bellagio so we could visit the sight of our "first date" (which Aunt Manda chaperoned back in '98), attending Cirque du Soleil's O. Waiting for the tram, I noticed there were ads for 3 restaurants, Julian Serrano (where we just finished a great meal), Jean Georges (as I mentioned earlier our early-pregnancy meal at his J & G Steakhouse) and finally, Sirio, our last great meal as a family. Another sign.
We miss you babies. We love receiving signs from you and hope you send us more. We know that you're being good for Tonta Jayne.
Love and kisses,
Momma
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Roller Coaster From Terrified to Enraged
Thursday June 6, 2013,
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Well the last 10 days have been quite the roller coaster. We had blood work done on May 29, the coordinator called with "mixed results". Yes, contrary to the saying "there's no such thing as being a little bit pregnant", apparently there is and apparently, I am. The mixed results were that my hcg levels were low at 16.8. She said at that point, they liked to see around 50. After doing some independent research, I found that anything less than 5 is definitely not pregnant, but you need at least 25 to be "officially" pregnant. So, we would retest on May 31, as hcg levels should double every 48 hours, but again they hoped to see above 100 at that point. More mixed results.... hcg levels did double, to 33.8, they "did exactly what we asked them to do", according to the coordinator, but still not where they wanted them to be. So, another test scheduled for Thursday June 6. Being kind of anal and definitely type A, I did the math. Perfect doubling three times from May 31 to June 6 would be at least 270.4, but the coordinator said by then they want to see 500.
Fast forward to June 6. I had the blood work at 9AM (done by the lazy, lackadaisical slacker who I have grown to despise). I waited and waited and waited. No one called, so by 3:45, I was calling to speak with the coordinator. She asked "Did they say anything to you when they drew the blood?". I informed her that the slacker barely said anything at all and that I really have issues with her. Apparently, their typical policy is to not put rush orders on repeat tests, and slacker SHOULD have told me that, but she failed to do so. What's even worse is supposedly the coordinator put a rush order on my test because of all we've been through, but the slacker failed to notice the rush order. So, the coordinator called the lab, left a message to get the results "STAT", and promised to call me tonight.
So finally, at 6:44PM, I received the call from the coordinator. I am still technically pregnant, because my levels were 241, but they should have been 500. So, the coordinator talked with both the doctors, who want me to come back for another test on Monday June 10. I'm done. I have officially decided to not give a fig about the results on Monday, that I am still pregnant until either the levels drop to zero or an ultrasound confirms any lack of a viable pregnancy.
It's been very stressful these past few days my babies, probably made even more so by the horrific events we experienced during your very short lives. I have gone from being terrified about the results to just purely enraged at the incompetence of the slacker. I am pregnant, trying not to focus on the negative what-ifs and just be positive and know that in hopefully about 35 weeks, we are meeting your little brother or sister for the first time.
All my love darlings.
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Well the last 10 days have been quite the roller coaster. We had blood work done on May 29, the coordinator called with "mixed results". Yes, contrary to the saying "there's no such thing as being a little bit pregnant", apparently there is and apparently, I am. The mixed results were that my hcg levels were low at 16.8. She said at that point, they liked to see around 50. After doing some independent research, I found that anything less than 5 is definitely not pregnant, but you need at least 25 to be "officially" pregnant. So, we would retest on May 31, as hcg levels should double every 48 hours, but again they hoped to see above 100 at that point. More mixed results.... hcg levels did double, to 33.8, they "did exactly what we asked them to do", according to the coordinator, but still not where they wanted them to be. So, another test scheduled for Thursday June 6. Being kind of anal and definitely type A, I did the math. Perfect doubling three times from May 31 to June 6 would be at least 270.4, but the coordinator said by then they want to see 500.
Fast forward to June 6. I had the blood work at 9AM (done by the lazy, lackadaisical slacker who I have grown to despise). I waited and waited and waited. No one called, so by 3:45, I was calling to speak with the coordinator. She asked "Did they say anything to you when they drew the blood?". I informed her that the slacker barely said anything at all and that I really have issues with her. Apparently, their typical policy is to not put rush orders on repeat tests, and slacker SHOULD have told me that, but she failed to do so. What's even worse is supposedly the coordinator put a rush order on my test because of all we've been through, but the slacker failed to notice the rush order. So, the coordinator called the lab, left a message to get the results "STAT", and promised to call me tonight.
So finally, at 6:44PM, I received the call from the coordinator. I am still technically pregnant, because my levels were 241, but they should have been 500. So, the coordinator talked with both the doctors, who want me to come back for another test on Monday June 10. I'm done. I have officially decided to not give a fig about the results on Monday, that I am still pregnant until either the levels drop to zero or an ultrasound confirms any lack of a viable pregnancy.
It's been very stressful these past few days my babies, probably made even more so by the horrific events we experienced during your very short lives. I have gone from being terrified about the results to just purely enraged at the incompetence of the slacker. I am pregnant, trying not to focus on the negative what-ifs and just be positive and know that in hopefully about 35 weeks, we are meeting your little brother or sister for the first time.
All my love darlings.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Terrified, Part 2
Tuesday May 28, 2013
Hello Shelby and Dalton,
Today seems terribly long, for tomorrow is the day we find out if our latest attempts at IVF were successful, resulting in me being pregnant again. I am trying to practice patience, something at which I'm horrible, and something I feel you understand, as you were so very impatient with your Week 24 arrival.... Of course, as Daddy is fond of saying, we have forever lost our blissful ignorance, so even if we get a positive report, we are far removed from any giant celebrations, as there will be such a long road ahead. We know so many things could go wrong, obviously. I will try not to dwell on those things right now, because I am trying to do like your Daddy says and be positive. Unfortunately, I am a natural pessimist and my mind always wanders to the worst scenarios. This trait was made even more prominent because during your far too short lives with us, each time we heard something positive, within 24 hours, our worlds ended.
Terrified is again the theme of the day. I'm terrified that I will start bleeding, I'm terrified that the headache and the cramps I've been feeling today are indicative of the start of my period. I'm terrified with each cough that I am tearing something asunder within my uterus. I'm terrified that we are not pregnant. I'm terrified that we are pregnant, again with multiples, which increases our risks of pre-term labor even further.
It's so different from when we first underwent IVF. Back then, we fell in to the blissfully ignorant category. I vowed that I would never be one of those women who obsessed over getting pregnant, who charted body temperatures, overanalyzed every minute measurement and freaked out if not pregnant. Oh, no, I was above all of that nonsense. To paraphrase one of my childhood idols, Suzanne Sugarbaker "If I ever did decide to have children, I would do it with a minimum of fuss and muss." - yes indeed, that was MY attitude. Well, the general concept of IVF ensures that conception will not be achieved with a minimum of fuss and muss. But, even in the waiting period prior to finding out we were pregnant with you, I was rather cavalier, thinking "Well, either this works or it doesn't." I had it in my head that we would give it one shot, and que sera sera..... Then, IT WORKED! I was shocked, as I'd heard many horror stories of women or couples having to try IVF 5, 6, 7 times or more to achieve a successful pregnancy. With us, one attempt and bam, we were pregnant. Then, we found out we were pregnant with twins, even better! I would break the long line of only children, but only have 1 pregnancy. I figured I wouldn't be one of those cute pregnant women who looks adorable in maternity clothes and grows the cutest little basketball bump. But, I feel like I kind of carried on the que sera sera attitude, like "OK, I'm pregnant, I'm going to be a mother, OK then, let's embrace this." And, for 22 weeks and 4 days, I think I did. I didn't complain when I experienced almost daily bouts of nausea well into the 15 week territory. I didn't suffer blood pressure issues, my ankles remained relatively unswollen.
But, now we are part of the terrible club that is all too familiar with pre-term labor, children dying in cord accidents, children dying of SIDS, children dying, dying, dying. And, we also know IVF can fail, as we experienced at the end of January, when we tried IVF the 2nd time. So, I sit here on the eve of the blood test that will reveal if our 3rd attempt was successful, and I am terrified.
I am also very very angry. The anger comes from watching women who get to be mothers to living children and don't appreciate what a precious gift they have. We went to the baseball game yesterday. While walking to our seats, I observed this overweight blond in a black knit dress, allowing her toddler (probably about your age) wander about the concourse. It has always been a pet peeve to observe parents allowing toddlers to run loose in crowded public spaces, sporting events, malls, airports. Not only is there the risk of kidnapping, but there is the more likely risk that a large man will not see the toddler and trip over the toddler, causing both to fall. Guess what you DA mother, if a 200 lb man falls on your 20 lb toddler, there is going to be serious collateral damage to said child. It's like a motorcycle colliding with an F-350.... the guy on the motorcycle is not walking away uninjured. So, finally, Tubbo Blondie, hikes the little girl (who sadly also was already obese) up under her arm like a football, and the child was just dangling there, getting bounced and jostled. I carry groceries more carefully. When we were seated, this couple came in and sat in front of us with a blond boy toddler, (again, probably about your age0. The mom was pregnant again, probably about 7 or 8 months along (far larger than I ever got with you). We proceeded to watch her ingest a corn dog (on the value menu, guaranteed to be all "lips and assholes" as your Daddy says), several pieces of taffy, a large soda and popcorn. Yet, here I am, not even sure if I'm pregnant, but avoiding even an all beef hot-dog and eschewing soda for water, and trying to be dedicated to eating healthful, organic, non-GMO foods (even my prenatal vitamins are organic and non-GMO for God's sake!!). But, my body could not sustain a healthy pregnancy. A perfect example of life's cruel irony.
My darlings, thank you for listening to your momma's rants, nervous ramblings, fears and idiosyncrasies. Please ask God for good news for us tomorrow. We are missing you today and always.
All my love,
Momma
Hello Shelby and Dalton,
Today seems terribly long, for tomorrow is the day we find out if our latest attempts at IVF were successful, resulting in me being pregnant again. I am trying to practice patience, something at which I'm horrible, and something I feel you understand, as you were so very impatient with your Week 24 arrival.... Of course, as Daddy is fond of saying, we have forever lost our blissful ignorance, so even if we get a positive report, we are far removed from any giant celebrations, as there will be such a long road ahead. We know so many things could go wrong, obviously. I will try not to dwell on those things right now, because I am trying to do like your Daddy says and be positive. Unfortunately, I am a natural pessimist and my mind always wanders to the worst scenarios. This trait was made even more prominent because during your far too short lives with us, each time we heard something positive, within 24 hours, our worlds ended.
Terrified is again the theme of the day. I'm terrified that I will start bleeding, I'm terrified that the headache and the cramps I've been feeling today are indicative of the start of my period. I'm terrified with each cough that I am tearing something asunder within my uterus. I'm terrified that we are not pregnant. I'm terrified that we are pregnant, again with multiples, which increases our risks of pre-term labor even further.
It's so different from when we first underwent IVF. Back then, we fell in to the blissfully ignorant category. I vowed that I would never be one of those women who obsessed over getting pregnant, who charted body temperatures, overanalyzed every minute measurement and freaked out if not pregnant. Oh, no, I was above all of that nonsense. To paraphrase one of my childhood idols, Suzanne Sugarbaker "If I ever did decide to have children, I would do it with a minimum of fuss and muss." - yes indeed, that was MY attitude. Well, the general concept of IVF ensures that conception will not be achieved with a minimum of fuss and muss. But, even in the waiting period prior to finding out we were pregnant with you, I was rather cavalier, thinking "Well, either this works or it doesn't." I had it in my head that we would give it one shot, and que sera sera..... Then, IT WORKED! I was shocked, as I'd heard many horror stories of women or couples having to try IVF 5, 6, 7 times or more to achieve a successful pregnancy. With us, one attempt and bam, we were pregnant. Then, we found out we were pregnant with twins, even better! I would break the long line of only children, but only have 1 pregnancy. I figured I wouldn't be one of those cute pregnant women who looks adorable in maternity clothes and grows the cutest little basketball bump. But, I feel like I kind of carried on the que sera sera attitude, like "OK, I'm pregnant, I'm going to be a mother, OK then, let's embrace this." And, for 22 weeks and 4 days, I think I did. I didn't complain when I experienced almost daily bouts of nausea well into the 15 week territory. I didn't suffer blood pressure issues, my ankles remained relatively unswollen.
But, now we are part of the terrible club that is all too familiar with pre-term labor, children dying in cord accidents, children dying of SIDS, children dying, dying, dying. And, we also know IVF can fail, as we experienced at the end of January, when we tried IVF the 2nd time. So, I sit here on the eve of the blood test that will reveal if our 3rd attempt was successful, and I am terrified.
I am also very very angry. The anger comes from watching women who get to be mothers to living children and don't appreciate what a precious gift they have. We went to the baseball game yesterday. While walking to our seats, I observed this overweight blond in a black knit dress, allowing her toddler (probably about your age) wander about the concourse. It has always been a pet peeve to observe parents allowing toddlers to run loose in crowded public spaces, sporting events, malls, airports. Not only is there the risk of kidnapping, but there is the more likely risk that a large man will not see the toddler and trip over the toddler, causing both to fall. Guess what you DA mother, if a 200 lb man falls on your 20 lb toddler, there is going to be serious collateral damage to said child. It's like a motorcycle colliding with an F-350.... the guy on the motorcycle is not walking away uninjured. So, finally, Tubbo Blondie, hikes the little girl (who sadly also was already obese) up under her arm like a football, and the child was just dangling there, getting bounced and jostled. I carry groceries more carefully. When we were seated, this couple came in and sat in front of us with a blond boy toddler, (again, probably about your age0. The mom was pregnant again, probably about 7 or 8 months along (far larger than I ever got with you). We proceeded to watch her ingest a corn dog (on the value menu, guaranteed to be all "lips and assholes" as your Daddy says), several pieces of taffy, a large soda and popcorn. Yet, here I am, not even sure if I'm pregnant, but avoiding even an all beef hot-dog and eschewing soda for water, and trying to be dedicated to eating healthful, organic, non-GMO foods (even my prenatal vitamins are organic and non-GMO for God's sake!!). But, my body could not sustain a healthy pregnancy. A perfect example of life's cruel irony.
My darlings, thank you for listening to your momma's rants, nervous ramblings, fears and idiosyncrasies. Please ask God for good news for us tomorrow. We are missing you today and always.
All my love,
Momma
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Terrified
Wednesday May 22, 2013
Hello darlings,
It's been a while since I've written. There's not a day goes by that you're not on my minds, but I've just been in an extra big funk lately. Fitting that I would write to you again on a Wednesday, the day you were born. You would be almost 17 months old today. Every picture I see of other toddlers around that age makes me die a little bit inside. I get so sad thinking about what you would have looked like, and which one of you would have been the first to take those first steps. How much you would have been babbling by now. Working on your swimming skills.
Yesterday marked the 6th anniversary of your great-great Aunt Jayne's death. I know she's got you and is taking good care of you. I hope you were extra sweet to her yesterday and didn't act too fussy.
As you probably know, we are trying to bring forth a sibling. We started a fresh IVF cycle, with the egg retrieval on Tuesday, May 14. They retrieved 18 eggs, which was a remarkable number, 2 more than the cycle which gave us you two. We were blessed with fortunate news that of those 18, 16 were mature and ready for the ICSI process, and of those 16, 14 normally fertilized and embryos were developing. There was much debate whether the implantation would be on cycle day 3, Friday May 17 (your Uncle Pete's birthday) or cycle day 5, Sunday May 19 (the MISS walk and Phoenix Bereaved Parents' Day). The coordinator called me Thursday afternoon with this glowing report that our embryos were developing beautifully, that I was her star pupil of the week, and that there was excellent cell division, which was remarkable for a woman of my age. She said she would call the next day to let me know if the transfer would take place that morning or Sunday. So, she calls Friday morning and tells me to come in at 10:30 with a full bladder. We arrive. Daddy notices the car in parked in front of us has a Sewell sticker on it (a car dealership in Dallas), then, we get out of the Tahoe and Daddy notices the manhole cover says Waco Drilling. We go inside, Daddy selects the latest issue of Phoenix magazine. He flips it open and there is a picture of Waylon in an article on musicians with Phoenix ties. We're excited to see all these things from Texas, we take 3 things as a good sign. We go in to talk with the doctor. He now thinks it would be best to wait until Sunday, ok fine, you're the expert, we'll wait until Sunday. He said he debated it, because we got pregnant the first time with a fresh cycle and 3 day embryos, but by waiting until day 5, we should be giving them a better chance to further develop. We leave feeling a bit dejected, but hopeful, because he too commented on how wonderful my eggs looked, especially for a woman of my age. We had 8 8-cell grade A embryo's, with the remaining 6 embryos graded nothing lower than a B. I was ecstatic, but scared to feel too cocky, as sometimes I worry my cockiness is punished (the whole pride goeth before the fall and all). So, we planned to go back Sunday. We decided on a sushi lunch, as once they did the implantation, I hopefully will not eat sushi for several months. On a side note, I am totally torn on all the things they tell pregnant women to avoid, how they freak out over things such as sushi (when millions of pregnant Japanese women probably eat sushi daily) and limited amounts of wine (thousands of Mediterranean women probably drink a daily glass of wine with dinner). But, we are no longer innocent, and if able to become pregnant, will be over-the-top paranoid.
So, we are told to come back Sunday morning. No one sets an appointment time, so I ask. The receptionist says "The coordinator will call you later today with a time.". Ok, so after sushi, I go off to MISS to help finalize things for the walk. At about 3:45, I realize no one called with an appointment time for Sunday. I text Daddy and ask him to call. By the time he got my text, it was 4:30 and the office was closed for the day. NOOOOOOOOOO! So, we had to call their emergency service on Saturday and then wait for a call back. Finally, we had our appointment time, 7:45 arrival, 8AM procedure. We show up on time (very important to your type A momma). The doctor is LATE! Like 45 minutes LATE. Intolerable! And then, to top it off, another couple comes in for some procedure. I was feeling so upset by this point, and my bladder was overly full. Finally, she arrives, and we go in her office for the mini-consult, where they review the embryo quality and discuss how many embryos will be implanted and give us little pictures. This doctor again congratulates me on the quality of embryos, she says it is almost unheard of for a woman of my age. All 14 look fantastic, and they chose the best 3 blastocysts. She highlights one in particular and tells me that that blastocyst is picture perfect and even compares ours to the one on her little chart. I am feeling extremely hopeful, but at the same time, completely terrified because if they all look so good, what if we have 3 babies? I'm terrified because I know how having just the two of you went so horribly wrong with my body failing you at 24 weeks. I try to remain calm, but of course, being all jacked up on these various hormones, I start crying as she's showing me on the ultrasound monitor the details of the procedure and showing us the surge from when the embryos are pushed through the catheter and deposited in my uterus. She comments on how my uterine lining looks nice and thick too. The process is done in a few minutes and they leave Daddy and me alone in the room for about 45 minutes, me with a full bladder and Daddy reading aloud from Travel & Leisure, trying to keep me calm and keep my mind off my full bladder. We decide that the nurse on duty that day doesn't want to empty the bedpan, as it is never offered to me (whereas both in your cycle and the failed frozen transfer, I was provided a bedpan).
So, we leave there and are driving home. Daddy is complaining about a terrible smell, and we both mistakenly think it is some residue leftover from the recent detail. Wrong...... It turns out to be the new box of muriatic acid I purchased on Thursday, but couldn't remove from the car due to the lifting restriction I had. Your Daddy forgot to take the chemicals out of the car, so the box tipped over and was leaking on the carpet. It leaked through the peach blanket that I keep in the back of the car for the dogs, and ate right through the carpet, even though probably only about 1 cup of acid actually leaked out of the containers (both still seem quite full). Unfortunately, Daddy leaves the pool chemicals in there until today. There is a film on the windshield. I feel almost asphyxiated from the fumes. I start having a full on panic attack, freaking out that the fumes will harm the embryos we've had implanted. Daddy and Grandpa Joe take the chemicals out for me, but I am terrified that I have somehow once again failed any unborn children that might be trying to develop in my uterus right now. So, after speaking with a dealership service department, we may have a complete and total fouled up mess, in the words of momma's Boston friend, "It's a CLUSTAH....", or in military terms, it's FUBAR. The acid may have corroded the metal and corroded wires in the floorboards of my truck. The fumes need to be fully aired out. I can't do anything for 2 reasons - I am terrified to go near the car right now in its present condition and also, your Grandpa took the car so he could go to his job at the stadium. When Daddy comes home, he is going to try flushing out the area really well, as the dealership parts guy advised. We may have to file an insurance claim. I was just beside myself. I made Daddy call the doctor, they said it should all be OK, the danger would be from ingesting the acid, which I obviously did not do, just breathed in the chemical smells. Either way, again, in continuing the theme of this post, I AM TERRIFIED. And, while Daddy had the coordinator on the phone, he asked how many blastocysts they were able to freeze. Apparently, my super high quality eggs that produced wonderful and perfect embryos failed somewhere along the way, as she reported they were only able to freeze 4 blastocysts..... So, 7 of them failed, 7!!! My heart broke a little more at that news. I can't help but think, we got pregnant when we did a fresh cycle with day 3 embryos and we didn't get pregnant in a frozen cycle when we used 5 day old blastocysts, so what if we don't get pregnant now using fresh 5 day blastocysts, as they should have been returned to their natural environment, my uterus, earlier rather than later?!?!??!!
Oh my babies, it's been a rough rough morning for your momma. As Daddy said, why can't anything go right for this family? Please please please help us and ask God to bless us with a healthy living child or children. I can't even have a drink to take the edge off (not that I'm advocating that or endorsing raging alcoholism, it's just sometimes a small amount of spirits can be medicinal). Somewhere up there, go see your great grandpa Stan and have him mix y'all a highball and put it in to those Steuben crystal coupes emblazoned with "Baby's First Cocktail" that I first saw in a magazine when we were getting pregnant with you.
Momma loves you my darlings.
Hello darlings,
It's been a while since I've written. There's not a day goes by that you're not on my minds, but I've just been in an extra big funk lately. Fitting that I would write to you again on a Wednesday, the day you were born. You would be almost 17 months old today. Every picture I see of other toddlers around that age makes me die a little bit inside. I get so sad thinking about what you would have looked like, and which one of you would have been the first to take those first steps. How much you would have been babbling by now. Working on your swimming skills.
Yesterday marked the 6th anniversary of your great-great Aunt Jayne's death. I know she's got you and is taking good care of you. I hope you were extra sweet to her yesterday and didn't act too fussy.
As you probably know, we are trying to bring forth a sibling. We started a fresh IVF cycle, with the egg retrieval on Tuesday, May 14. They retrieved 18 eggs, which was a remarkable number, 2 more than the cycle which gave us you two. We were blessed with fortunate news that of those 18, 16 were mature and ready for the ICSI process, and of those 16, 14 normally fertilized and embryos were developing. There was much debate whether the implantation would be on cycle day 3, Friday May 17 (your Uncle Pete's birthday) or cycle day 5, Sunday May 19 (the MISS walk and Phoenix Bereaved Parents' Day). The coordinator called me Thursday afternoon with this glowing report that our embryos were developing beautifully, that I was her star pupil of the week, and that there was excellent cell division, which was remarkable for a woman of my age. She said she would call the next day to let me know if the transfer would take place that morning or Sunday. So, she calls Friday morning and tells me to come in at 10:30 with a full bladder. We arrive. Daddy notices the car in parked in front of us has a Sewell sticker on it (a car dealership in Dallas), then, we get out of the Tahoe and Daddy notices the manhole cover says Waco Drilling. We go inside, Daddy selects the latest issue of Phoenix magazine. He flips it open and there is a picture of Waylon in an article on musicians with Phoenix ties. We're excited to see all these things from Texas, we take 3 things as a good sign. We go in to talk with the doctor. He now thinks it would be best to wait until Sunday, ok fine, you're the expert, we'll wait until Sunday. He said he debated it, because we got pregnant the first time with a fresh cycle and 3 day embryos, but by waiting until day 5, we should be giving them a better chance to further develop. We leave feeling a bit dejected, but hopeful, because he too commented on how wonderful my eggs looked, especially for a woman of my age. We had 8 8-cell grade A embryo's, with the remaining 6 embryos graded nothing lower than a B. I was ecstatic, but scared to feel too cocky, as sometimes I worry my cockiness is punished (the whole pride goeth before the fall and all). So, we planned to go back Sunday. We decided on a sushi lunch, as once they did the implantation, I hopefully will not eat sushi for several months. On a side note, I am totally torn on all the things they tell pregnant women to avoid, how they freak out over things such as sushi (when millions of pregnant Japanese women probably eat sushi daily) and limited amounts of wine (thousands of Mediterranean women probably drink a daily glass of wine with dinner). But, we are no longer innocent, and if able to become pregnant, will be over-the-top paranoid.
So, we are told to come back Sunday morning. No one sets an appointment time, so I ask. The receptionist says "The coordinator will call you later today with a time.". Ok, so after sushi, I go off to MISS to help finalize things for the walk. At about 3:45, I realize no one called with an appointment time for Sunday. I text Daddy and ask him to call. By the time he got my text, it was 4:30 and the office was closed for the day. NOOOOOOOOOO! So, we had to call their emergency service on Saturday and then wait for a call back. Finally, we had our appointment time, 7:45 arrival, 8AM procedure. We show up on time (very important to your type A momma). The doctor is LATE! Like 45 minutes LATE. Intolerable! And then, to top it off, another couple comes in for some procedure. I was feeling so upset by this point, and my bladder was overly full. Finally, she arrives, and we go in her office for the mini-consult, where they review the embryo quality and discuss how many embryos will be implanted and give us little pictures. This doctor again congratulates me on the quality of embryos, she says it is almost unheard of for a woman of my age. All 14 look fantastic, and they chose the best 3 blastocysts. She highlights one in particular and tells me that that blastocyst is picture perfect and even compares ours to the one on her little chart. I am feeling extremely hopeful, but at the same time, completely terrified because if they all look so good, what if we have 3 babies? I'm terrified because I know how having just the two of you went so horribly wrong with my body failing you at 24 weeks. I try to remain calm, but of course, being all jacked up on these various hormones, I start crying as she's showing me on the ultrasound monitor the details of the procedure and showing us the surge from when the embryos are pushed through the catheter and deposited in my uterus. She comments on how my uterine lining looks nice and thick too. The process is done in a few minutes and they leave Daddy and me alone in the room for about 45 minutes, me with a full bladder and Daddy reading aloud from Travel & Leisure, trying to keep me calm and keep my mind off my full bladder. We decide that the nurse on duty that day doesn't want to empty the bedpan, as it is never offered to me (whereas both in your cycle and the failed frozen transfer, I was provided a bedpan).
So, we leave there and are driving home. Daddy is complaining about a terrible smell, and we both mistakenly think it is some residue leftover from the recent detail. Wrong...... It turns out to be the new box of muriatic acid I purchased on Thursday, but couldn't remove from the car due to the lifting restriction I had. Your Daddy forgot to take the chemicals out of the car, so the box tipped over and was leaking on the carpet. It leaked through the peach blanket that I keep in the back of the car for the dogs, and ate right through the carpet, even though probably only about 1 cup of acid actually leaked out of the containers (both still seem quite full). Unfortunately, Daddy leaves the pool chemicals in there until today. There is a film on the windshield. I feel almost asphyxiated from the fumes. I start having a full on panic attack, freaking out that the fumes will harm the embryos we've had implanted. Daddy and Grandpa Joe take the chemicals out for me, but I am terrified that I have somehow once again failed any unborn children that might be trying to develop in my uterus right now. So, after speaking with a dealership service department, we may have a complete and total fouled up mess, in the words of momma's Boston friend, "It's a CLUSTAH....", or in military terms, it's FUBAR. The acid may have corroded the metal and corroded wires in the floorboards of my truck. The fumes need to be fully aired out. I can't do anything for 2 reasons - I am terrified to go near the car right now in its present condition and also, your Grandpa took the car so he could go to his job at the stadium. When Daddy comes home, he is going to try flushing out the area really well, as the dealership parts guy advised. We may have to file an insurance claim. I was just beside myself. I made Daddy call the doctor, they said it should all be OK, the danger would be from ingesting the acid, which I obviously did not do, just breathed in the chemical smells. Either way, again, in continuing the theme of this post, I AM TERRIFIED. And, while Daddy had the coordinator on the phone, he asked how many blastocysts they were able to freeze. Apparently, my super high quality eggs that produced wonderful and perfect embryos failed somewhere along the way, as she reported they were only able to freeze 4 blastocysts..... So, 7 of them failed, 7!!! My heart broke a little more at that news. I can't help but think, we got pregnant when we did a fresh cycle with day 3 embryos and we didn't get pregnant in a frozen cycle when we used 5 day old blastocysts, so what if we don't get pregnant now using fresh 5 day blastocysts, as they should have been returned to their natural environment, my uterus, earlier rather than later?!?!??!!
Oh my babies, it's been a rough rough morning for your momma. As Daddy said, why can't anything go right for this family? Please please please help us and ask God to bless us with a healthy living child or children. I can't even have a drink to take the edge off (not that I'm advocating that or endorsing raging alcoholism, it's just sometimes a small amount of spirits can be medicinal). Somewhere up there, go see your great grandpa Stan and have him mix y'all a highball and put it in to those Steuben crystal coupes emblazoned with "Baby's First Cocktail" that I first saw in a magazine when we were getting pregnant with you.
Momma loves you my darlings.
Monday, March 4, 2013
14 Months
Monday March 4, 2013
Dear baby children Shelby and Dalton,
Today would have been y'all's 14 month old birthday. It was a rough weekend, maybe because this next milestone was weighing on our subconscious and making us miserable. It's Abram's momma's birthday today. And also the 10-month anniversary of when he died. It's also your great-grandmother Philomena's birthday. She would have been 95 (I think). I can't remember if she was born in 1918 or 1919. She and your great-grandmother Betty were very close in age. Betty's 95th birthday is later this month. If these ladies are around you right now, wish them happy birthday for us.
I dropped your Daddy off at the airport this morning, bound for San Francisco. I wish I could have gone with him, but we are trying to save money and no trip is in the budget right now. In 2 weeks, he has another great trip, this time to the Gulf Coast; Orange Beach, Alabama to be specific. His new boss asked him to help train one of my old counterparts (manager) who was laid off and opted to become an auditor like Daddy. Daddy's boss said he wanted Daddy to be with this guy as he thought Daddy had a lot of expertise to offer. That made me very proud of your Daddy. But, I'm sad I can't go with him. Prices to fly in to Mobile (closest airport) were $500+, so I thought about flying to New Orleans (either early or staying on extra, to see your Aunt Kelli), but those prices were about $700. I did find one option that might have worked on Southwest, for about $400, but Daddy said we can't spend that money. I really wanted to go because I find the beach so healing, and of course, it would have given me a new place to write your names in the sand (so far, we've got Gulfport, MS, Paracas, Peru, Santa Barbara, CA, and somewhere in New Zealand, thanks to Jack's mom. We should have asked your Uncle Bill to write your names on Maui when he and Aunt Adrienne were there last year. I don't know if they'd have done it or not). Plus, looking on the map, just west of Orange Beach is Shelby Lakes. You know I would have had to drive there. There's also a Dalton, GA, but I don't think Daddy would have to go there, he doesn't usually go that far east for work.
I re-read the last post I made, about 3 weeks ago. I asked for some signs. I think just after that, we went to dinner with your Grandpa Larry, Grandma Kay and cousin Emily. Leaving the restaurant, we stood near the cars in this little landscape area. Emily was playing with the plants and rocks and then she turned around (away from the 4 of us) and said "What? What?", into the night sky. I like to think that means y'all were there with us and Emily could see you. Then, Abram's mom texted me and said the host at a restaurant where they went was named Dalton. However, there's still a dark cloud hanging over me. I had a good time at the zoo with Olivia's mommy, and we met up again last week to walk. It is probably the single farthest distance I have walked in some time, if not ever. We walked about 4.8 miles around the Scottsdale green belt. Then, the next day, she texted to tell me she is pregnant again. They have been trying and I'm very happy for them, but so saddened that our attempts did not work and we have to keep trying. And, we have no guarantee that everything will work again as easily as it did when you came in to our lives. Then of course, there is the added worry and paranoia that the same result will happen again. It's not just getting pregnant, it's keeping me pregnant, and then, even at full term, the worries of cord accidents, infectious diseases or SIDS.
My darkness is making me very passive aggressive, according to your Daddy. I don't want this blog to become an ugly place of hatred, vitriol and rage, so forgive me for venting. In my mind, I resort to passive aggressive behavior and anger as means of self-protection. That probably is ridiculous, but for some reason, I guess I'm thinking if I wall myself off and don't let people in (including your Daddy), then I won't get hurt again. I find myself expecting the worst of everyone. Yet, I crave companionship and contact with people. I initiated a GNO with Auntie Leah for Tuesday and a walk with Olivia's mom again on Thursday. This dichotomy in my personality is very bizarre.
I'm going to sign off for now my darlings, I'm working on putting a bunch of old pictures in to albums and organize them, just in general trying to declutter the house.
My love on your 14-month birthday, I wish I was cooking some special dish for you and following you around the house. Momma
Dear baby children Shelby and Dalton,
Today would have been y'all's 14 month old birthday. It was a rough weekend, maybe because this next milestone was weighing on our subconscious and making us miserable. It's Abram's momma's birthday today. And also the 10-month anniversary of when he died. It's also your great-grandmother Philomena's birthday. She would have been 95 (I think). I can't remember if she was born in 1918 or 1919. She and your great-grandmother Betty were very close in age. Betty's 95th birthday is later this month. If these ladies are around you right now, wish them happy birthday for us.
I dropped your Daddy off at the airport this morning, bound for San Francisco. I wish I could have gone with him, but we are trying to save money and no trip is in the budget right now. In 2 weeks, he has another great trip, this time to the Gulf Coast; Orange Beach, Alabama to be specific. His new boss asked him to help train one of my old counterparts (manager) who was laid off and opted to become an auditor like Daddy. Daddy's boss said he wanted Daddy to be with this guy as he thought Daddy had a lot of expertise to offer. That made me very proud of your Daddy. But, I'm sad I can't go with him. Prices to fly in to Mobile (closest airport) were $500+, so I thought about flying to New Orleans (either early or staying on extra, to see your Aunt Kelli), but those prices were about $700. I did find one option that might have worked on Southwest, for about $400, but Daddy said we can't spend that money. I really wanted to go because I find the beach so healing, and of course, it would have given me a new place to write your names in the sand (so far, we've got Gulfport, MS, Paracas, Peru, Santa Barbara, CA, and somewhere in New Zealand, thanks to Jack's mom. We should have asked your Uncle Bill to write your names on Maui when he and Aunt Adrienne were there last year. I don't know if they'd have done it or not). Plus, looking on the map, just west of Orange Beach is Shelby Lakes. You know I would have had to drive there. There's also a Dalton, GA, but I don't think Daddy would have to go there, he doesn't usually go that far east for work.
I re-read the last post I made, about 3 weeks ago. I asked for some signs. I think just after that, we went to dinner with your Grandpa Larry, Grandma Kay and cousin Emily. Leaving the restaurant, we stood near the cars in this little landscape area. Emily was playing with the plants and rocks and then she turned around (away from the 4 of us) and said "What? What?", into the night sky. I like to think that means y'all were there with us and Emily could see you. Then, Abram's mom texted me and said the host at a restaurant where they went was named Dalton. However, there's still a dark cloud hanging over me. I had a good time at the zoo with Olivia's mommy, and we met up again last week to walk. It is probably the single farthest distance I have walked in some time, if not ever. We walked about 4.8 miles around the Scottsdale green belt. Then, the next day, she texted to tell me she is pregnant again. They have been trying and I'm very happy for them, but so saddened that our attempts did not work and we have to keep trying. And, we have no guarantee that everything will work again as easily as it did when you came in to our lives. Then of course, there is the added worry and paranoia that the same result will happen again. It's not just getting pregnant, it's keeping me pregnant, and then, even at full term, the worries of cord accidents, infectious diseases or SIDS.
My darkness is making me very passive aggressive, according to your Daddy. I don't want this blog to become an ugly place of hatred, vitriol and rage, so forgive me for venting. In my mind, I resort to passive aggressive behavior and anger as means of self-protection. That probably is ridiculous, but for some reason, I guess I'm thinking if I wall myself off and don't let people in (including your Daddy), then I won't get hurt again. I find myself expecting the worst of everyone. Yet, I crave companionship and contact with people. I initiated a GNO with Auntie Leah for Tuesday and a walk with Olivia's mom again on Thursday. This dichotomy in my personality is very bizarre.
I'm going to sign off for now my darlings, I'm working on putting a bunch of old pictures in to albums and organize them, just in general trying to declutter the house.
My love on your 14-month birthday, I wish I was cooking some special dish for you and following you around the house. Momma
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