Thinking Out Loud

20-week Update

drewnem — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 17:41:31 -0500

Many of you probably know by now (via Facebook) that we had our 20-week ultrasound on Friday. Baby DeBo was being very uncooperative, as has become the normal behavior with ultrasounds. People kept asking us if we planned to find out Baby's gender, and the answer was never yes, but was more like "We'll see if Baby cooperates!" I'm glad we went into Friday's ultrasound with that state of mind, not counting on being able to find out the gender, because as it progressed, it became evident Baby DeBo did NOT want to share its secrets with us. I became a bit disappointed, just because I was so looking forward to finding out, but then I started thinking that the prospect of it being a surprise could be kind of neat, too. Near the end of the ultrasound, the technician tilted the table back so that my feet were above my head and started shaking my belly to get Baby to move up and give us a better view. We got a couple preliminary peaks between the legs, and I started having a hunch about the gender, but I knew we couldn't tell anything for sure with just that. Finally, Baby gave us the money shot, and we confirmed that we are having a GIRL! The technician admitted that earlier on, like me, she began to have a hunch that it was indeed a girl, but I'm really glad she waited until she was sure to say something. We are so excited!

Baby DeBo's heartbeat is right at 145 bpm, and she is measuring right on for gestational age (approximately 10 ounces and 10 inches long). Everything continues to look good, which we are so grateful for. Because of my history of PCOS, the doctors will be having me perform the 24-hour urine test this week and will continue to keep a close eye on my blood pressure. (The PCOS predisposes me to gestational diabetes and preeclampsia, so I am glad to have them keeping such close tabs on me and the baby.)

Because Baby wasn't being the most cooperative, the take-home pictures from our ultrasound were pretty limited this time around, but here are the two 3-D shots we got of Baby DeBo's face:

And, lastly, here is my 20-week belly shot (I definitely see a difference from two weeks ago this time around!):

I can't believe we're already half-way there!

-Em

18-week Belly Shot

drewnem — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 19:47:25 -0400

Well...I'm not sure I see a huge difference in the size of my "bump" now and back at 15 weeks...but I certainly do feel a difference. I've accidentally bumped into things with my belly quite a bit this past week, especially, not realizing my girth. The "tight" feeling in my belly has also been leading me to rub lotion into it a lot, which I know is probably due to the growth spurt that the doctors told me would take place between 16 and 20 weeks. It'll be interesting to see if there is a more discernible difference to the bump in a couple more weeks.

A friend asked me earlier this week if I'm still feeling overwhelmingly blessed with this pregnancy, or if I'm starting to have complaints.

The answer is yes.

Every day, I'm definitely still in awe of the gift of life with which I've been blessed. Seeing and feeling Baby DeBo grow inside of me is the greatest experience of my life, truly. Sure, I still have my moments where I'm waiting for the hammer to fall, to receive the seemingly inevitable news of another unhappy ending, to have this wonderful blessing taken away. But luckily, these moments, these thoughts, are fewer and farther between as time goes on. And don't worry: I'm definitely not "wasting" my pregnancy by being afraid all the time. I know that whatever is meant to happen will happen, regardless of whether I'm prepared for it or not.

Even though I feel incredibly blessed, I still have my complaints: the tiredness, the lack of sleep, the having to pee all. the. time. It's funny how those "usual suspects" of typical pregnancy complaints don't take away from my thankfulness and utter happiness in continuing to have a healthy pregnancy. It actually helps me feel normal, rather than guilty, that the two can so easily co-exist.

-Em

16-week Ultrasound

drewnem — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 11:33:31 -0400

This morning we had our 16-week ultrasound at a high risk specialist in Grand Rapids. The Baby wasn't too happy about being interrupted, so it was difficult to get good pictures. The sonographer kept saying, "It's busy" again and again, as an explanation for the Baby's attempts to repeatedly evade the ultrasound device. She switched to "4-D" (a 3-D ultrasound + movement) mode for a bit, but we were only able to see the back of the head today.

The Baby is measuring right on for 16 weeks, and currently weighs 4 oz. My blood pressure is still doing well, and the doctor didn't seem at all concerned about it at this time.

The next ultrasound will be in a month, at 20 weeks, and (if Baby is feeling cooperative) we might be able to find out if it's a boy or girl at that time. And, hopefully, we'll be able to see more on the 4-D ultrasound then as well.

Here are a few pictures from today's ultrasound:

Laying face up, here is the Baby's face profile

Here, the Baby is laying face down, and you can see the head and body (the spine is VERY visible)

Admittedly, this one is a little scary-looking. The Baby is facing us in this picture, and because s/he doesn't have much body fat yet, the face looks a bit skeletal (or alien-like).

Here's the back of the Baby's head and back (you can also see his/her left arm and hand) in 3-D

-Em

15 week belly shots

drewnem — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 10:25:14 -0400

We got off on a pretty slow start with documenting this pregnancy in pictures, so I want to start remedying that now, by taking pictures of my progress every couple of weeks. A friend told me I'd be glad that I have these later on, even if I don't always feel like taking them now. I know she's right.

So, here goes...the first belly shots of this pregnancy, at 15 weeks:

Can I just tell you how scary it is posting a picture of my belly exposed? I wasn't planning on doing those, because I didn't have a particularly pretty belly to begin with, but I got over myself and my fear and just did it. (Deep breaths... )

-Em

Bonding with Baby

drewnem — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 10:01:58 -0400

A few days ago, I decided to order a fetal doppler so that we can listen to Baby DeBo's heartbeat at home. We'd considered ordering a heart monitor earlier, but most of the "standard" ones we'd seen in stores weren't able to detect a heartbeat until approximately 18 weeks, and that seemed a little late in the pregnancy to be buying such a device, especially if I might possibly start feeling fetal movements around that time. Anyway, I had sort of put the idea of purchasing one out of my mind, especially because it's just another expense when there are so many expenses looming on the horizon with a new baby on the way, but I found this one on Amazon.com for a relatively inexpensive price, and it had mostly great reviews from people who were able to detect a heartbeat as early as 11 or 12 weeks, so I just went for it.

I'm so glad I decided to go ahead and order it. I love listening to that gentle "whoosh-whoosh" of the Baby's heartbeat before bedtime: it really relaxes me and gives me some peace of mind when I start worrying about the Baby. I feel like I could just lay there forever and listen to that miraculous sound. Yesterday, as I was listening, I started hearing some of the Baby's movements. It sounded similar to a fish flipping underwater (I'm guessing), and at the exact same time that I heard one of the sounds, I felt two twinges in my lower abdomen. That's right: I think I felt the first movements of our Baby! In retrospect, I'm realizing I might have actually been feeling the Baby move earlier, but having the sounds of movement to match up with the twinges helped confirm that that is indeed what's going on!

I think this will become a daily ritual for Baby and me (with Daddy joining in sometimes, too). If you can't find me, I'll be laying in the bedroom with my headphones on, listening to the sweetest sounding music in the world.

-Em

A Miraculous Journey

drewnem — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 15:52:49 -0400

Yesterday, I turned 30 years old. Earlier on in my twenties, I remember wondering why women would get so weird about their 30th birthdays, often claiming they were perpetually 29 instead of ever legitimately entering their thirties. "What's the big deal?" I'd think, baffled. "It's only another birthday. And 30 isn't old."

I had no idea how much my perception of age (and of life) would evolve as I worked my way through my twenties...

I was 26 years old when Drew and I started trying to have a baby. I still felt pretty young then--it seemed like a great age to have a baby, in my mid-to-late twenties--and I was definitely ready to be a Mommy. That first year of trying to conceive came and went while I struggled with my "signature" irregular cycles after coming off birth control, which meant few opportunities to "try" for a baby. Around the nine month mark, I went to my OB/GYN to explain my frustrating situation, then walked out of the office with a devastating diagnosis of PCOS, a disorder that I learned, upon further research, made it difficult for women to 1) not only conceive a child, but 2) carry a child to term. A couple of months later, I also officially entered the "infertile" category, which is defined as a couple trying for a year to conceive without success. As you can imagine, I was devastated.

By this time, I was now 27 and feeling pretty bad about myself. My diagnosis and the disorder's effects on my body did little to help my self-esteem. I felt fat, ugly, and (worst of all) worthless and broken. The thing I wanted most in life--to be a Mommy--seemed so far out of reach. I had trouble reconciling with myself that this was indeed the "hand" I was dealt. And, oh yes, I asked the question, "Why me?" again and again. I'm not proud of the way I reacted to my situation at first. I wallowed. I cried. I felt extremely sorry for myself as I continued to see friends and family all around me get pregnant and have babies. I sunk deeper and deeper into my own self-deprecation. "Why do you suck so much, Ember?" I'd think, berating myself. I started thinking about romantic relationships I'd had prior to finding Drew, my soulmate, and I'd think, "Boy are they lucky they didn't end up with ME. Infertile, broken me. Did they ever dodge a bullet!" I uttered the same words to Drew and told him I understood if he wanted to leave me for someone who could give him the children he so desperately wanted. He was angered any time this sort of talk escaped my lips, of course. I did it, anyway. (I was a peach to be around, believe me).

During this time, we were referred to another OB/GYN who specialized in infertility. She ordered a full infertility work-up, including the infamous blood panels that earned me a reputation in the hospital laboratory for second highest amount of vials of blood ever taken at once. I was a rock-star, but never in the way I'd hoped I'd be. We imagine our lives so many different ways...we even seek to plan them (however rude it might be, I literally laugh now when people tell me their very specific plans for their lives...when they'll do this and that...because I know life has a way of showing us who's in charge, and it's certainly not us), but we never include the bad things in our plans and reveries about the future, do we? I soon became known as the infertile girl around my OB\GYN's office, and the nurses recognized and felt sorry for me...not really the kind of attention you want, nor the thing for which you want to be recognized.

Then, while we were in the midst of finding out more about my infertility through all of that testing, we got pregnant with our precious LJ. All of the feeling sorry for myself and attention related to being "the freak" at the doctor's office halted right there in its tracks. We rejoiced. The nurses and doctors there rejoiced with us. I was happy, truly happy, until I was nearly 12 weeks into my pregnancy. And that's when it all came crashing down. When I "came to" into the reality of the situation, to the fact that my baby was dead, I was in a worse place, mentally and emotionally, than I was before I got pregnant. I was sadder than I've ever been. I hated myself even more. And, I missed my baby so much, it hurt to breathe. At the risk of sounding over-dramatic, I wanted to die.

I turned 28 years old a couple of months after my miscarriage, and, for the first time, I truly started to understand the panic and despair some women feel about approaching 30. I felt the big three-oh looming there in front of me--a reminder of the years and heartbreak we'd already spent on our quest to expand our family as well as a loud ticking biological clock, quickening my pulse and making me worry about how long we'd be fighting this battle for a child of our own. I began hearing those stories from friends of friends who knew someone who tried for 10 years to have a baby before giving up. And I'd start to see myself there, as one of those random couples...the ones that nobody never quite knew why they didn't end up having kids. I was scared of becoming those people. We'd wanted a baby for so long, and then, once we finally became pregnant, it was all ripped away from us in the blink of an eye. I started seeing how possible it could be that we'd try for and lose a baby (continuing this horrific cycle) again and again, while months and years of our lives passed us by.

We were cleared for trying again a couple of months after I finished miscarrying, only to find, soon after, that I had an enormous, grapefruit-sized cyst on my left fallopian tube (at first they thought it was on my left ovary). My doctor kept an eye on the cyst through ultrasounds, but finally determined that I'd need laparoscopic surgery to have it removed. A couple of months later, I went under the knife. The surgery was a success, and the doctor was able to do several more invasive procedures while I was anesthetized to further investigate my infertility. They found nothing conclusive, and a month or so after I healed from surgery, we were cleared for trying again.

We stuck mostly to a Clomid and HCG trigger shot regimen for months and months without conceiving. During this period of time, I turned 29 years old. I took on the strategy of trying to largely ignore my birthdays at this point in time, as they all seemed to depress me further. "Another year down," I'd think. "And still no baby. Another year of poking and prodding and drugs that made me feel consistently sick and irrational and just...not myself." What a life! A couple of months after my birthday, the doctor wanted to try something different, and so I went back on some of the medication for PCOS I'd been on a couple of years earlier, in addition to the Clomid/shot regimen each month. The month after I went back on those meds, we found out we were pregnant for a second time. And, then, no more than two weeks later, I miscarried. It all went so fast: Thanksgiving = yay, happy, I'm pregnant. Beginning of December = oops, nevermind, I take it back, this will be one HELL of a shitty Christmas for you folks, SORRY! After it happened, it seemed unreal that we had conceived and lost again. "Why does this keep happening to me?" I kept thinking...pleading. "Please, God, tell me what you need me to do/learn to be granted the blessing of a child." I racked my brain, trying to understand what made me such a lesser person than everyone else I knew. That had to be it, right? All of my friends and family members were allowed to have children because they were better people. I didn't deserve children. I must admit, I still struggle with these irrational thoughts from time to time, but, for the most part, I feel good that I've been able to turn much of my fears and rantings over to a God who is patient and understanding...who loves me in spite of my shortcomings.

A couple of months after being cleared to try again after my second miscarriage, my OB/GYN referred us to a reproductive endocrinologist (RE) in Grand Rapids. As I've written here before, we were a bit overwhelmed at our first appointment (okay, more than that, I DID use the description of "Dr. Soup-Nazi"), but after getting back a bunch of test results and meeting with the doctor a second time, we had really begun to like the take-charge, get-things-done style of our RE. We spent a lot of time talking and praying about this next turn in the road to having a baby, and we finally came to a feeling of peace and agreement in following the doctor's orders for us for a couple of cycles (which was about all we could afford). We went on faith and started our first cycle of Follistim and Ovidrel injectables right before we left for vacation at the beginning of July. Then, wonder of all wonders, on July 19, 2009, we learned we were pregnant for the third time!

Unlike our first two pregnancies, we were slow to get overly excited. We were both truly happy and grateful, of course, when we first saw that positive home pregnancy test, but (as cynical as it may sound) our previous losses had so heavily colored our perceptions that we were no longer naive enough to think that things would probably turn out all right for us. Luckily, that first week brought with it awesome news: the initial HCG quant was high, and 48 hours later, it was confirmed that the HCG levels were more than doubling, indicating a strong and healthy pregnancy. After those initial results, the waiting game began in earnest. We were lucky enough to be brought in for an early ultrasound at six weeks, and as nervous as we both were going in that day, we left the office on cloud nine after seeing and hearing that tiny, strong heartbeat. There is no better feeling in this world than seeing, for yourself, that the child you created with the person you love is alive and well and growing inside of you. There are no words to describe the elation we both felt that day.

Our next ultrasound wasn't for another two weeks, and it's amazing what can happen to a person's psyche during the seemingly insignificant time of 14 days. The elation of that first ultrasound, though still there inside of me, was pushed aside by those old feelings of doubt and anxiety by the end of that first week. I thought about all that could happen between ultrasounds, and waited anxiously for the eight-week ultrasound to come. I prayed, imploring that the precious little life inside of me would continue to flourish. And I prayed for peace of mind to not let the worry overtake me and cause harm to the pregnancy.

Our second ultrasound was much of the same: the baby was healthy and growing furiously, and the heartbeat was as strong as could be. The RE had no concerns whatsoever, besides keeping me on progesterone and baby aspirin to help sustain the pregnancy. He was ready to "graduate" us back to my OB/GYN at that appointment, but we asked if he'd be willing to schedule us for one more ultrasound at 10 weeks, just to ease our minds in the interim while I contacted my OB/GYN office and scheduled my first appointment. We both knew that the first appointment there wouldn't include an ultrasound, and so having one more ultrasound with the RE would enable us to stay with our "two week check-up" schedule we'd become so used to. He agreed, of course, because of our history of losses, and much to our relief, everything looked wonderful at the 10-week ultrasound as well. In fact, that ultrasound ended up being the most exciting one yet! The baby had grown a ton, looking more and more like an actual baby (rather than bean) each day, and we even got to see its little arms and legs move (the Doctor thinks we woke him/her up when he went in with the "wand" -- remember, it's still a transvaginal ultrasound at this point).

I called to make the appointment with my OB/GYN, and when I told the nurse that we were pregnant, she literally whooped and hollered in excitement for us! On the day we went in for my appointment, a couple of the nurses met us at the door and hugged us and congratulated us. (I guess word had spread that we'd be in that day, and the whole office was excited for us.) I started thinking back to the days I'd walk into the office in the midst of glowing, pregnant women--those days when I was well-known as the "infertile girl"--and, in retrospect, I'm okay with the attention I got from being the "odd one out" in those days...especially if it resulted in so many sharing with us in our joy now!

The appointment went fine for the most part, with the only concern being that my blood pressure reading was a bit high. The doctor is going to be really cautious with me during this pregnancy, so she decided to put me on a low dosage of hypertension meds, and I have to monitor my blood pressure on my own at home a couple of times per day.

Then, last Friday, we had a little bit of a scare. I was having quite a bit of cramping, and even though no spotting accompanied it, I was nervous enough to call my doctor's office to get their opinion. The triage nurse collected a bit of additional information about the pain I was having, then called me back and told me that the doctor on call that day (my usual OB was out of town for the weekend) wanted me to go straight to the hospital for an ultrasound. Immediately, as you can imagine, I became a nervous wreck. I don't even remember driving myself to the hospital. How did I see the road through that torrent of tears? I arrived alone and went to the x-ray department. They got me in very quickly, which I was very grateful for, since it was difficult holding in my emotion there in the waiting room. A few moments after the technician began the ultrasound, a call came over the intercom in the room, and Drew popped his head into the ultrasound room a few seconds later. Turns out he drove (way too fast) all the way from work to be there. Luckily, we were able to see right away that the baby was fine. It was actually moving around quite a lot, trying to squirm away from the probing ultrasound (I can't really blame ya, baby, it was uncomfortable for Mama, too, because of the tenderness from the cramping areas). We were able to laugh and ease some of the tension while the technician took a look at my ovaries and measured blood flow there to determine if that is where the pain was coming from. The technician saw a cyst on my left tube (another damn fallopian tube cyst again!) that my RE noticed several weeks back. When it was first seen, the RE said that they were pretty common during pregnancy and usually go down on their own, but this one hadn't seemed to reduce in size at all. Though there is no immediate concern with the cyst, it is something that they'll have to keep a close eye on. It makes my left side pretty tender, and because of the pressure, it is already difficult to lay on my left side for more than several minutes at a time.

We know all too well that the road ahead of us is still a long one, but we are breathing a sigh of relief at having made it through the most risky first trimester. Please continue to keep us in your prayers...that this pregnancy will continue successfully...that this latest cyst will not cause us complications...and, most important of all, that the baby will be healthy.

So, um, would you like to see pictures?

Here is the latest picture of our little miracle from our 12-week ultrasound last Friday:

I also just have to share this second image from our 12-week ultrasound. The baby was moving around like crazy, and the ultrasound technician just happened to catch this one of the baby all sprawled out at just the right time. Every time I look at it, I just laugh! (Also, look closely...do you see anything else interesting in this picture?)

My second trimester (13th week) of pregnancy began this week, and our precious little one is due at the end of March. I can't think of a better 30th birthday present! I feel beyond blessed that this milestone birthday brought with it an abundance of joy, rather than more dread and heartache. Turns out, for us, the third time was a charm!

Thank you, all, for coming along with us on this miraculous, nearly four-year long, journey. I know the road was often dark and difficult to traverse, but we appreciate you sticking it out with us, and rooting and praying for us all along.

Cheers!

Em, Drew, and Our Little Lucky Charm

Miss Mikayla Turns Nine Years Old

drewnem — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 17:56:36 -0400

Last Sunday, we drove down to K'Zoo for our niece Mikayla's 9th birthday. I remember when Drew and I first started dating and Miss M. was just a toddler babbling away...it is amazing how fast all of our nieces and nephews are sprouting up right before our eyes!

We had a great time with the family, as always. Oh, by the way, I mentioned a few weeks ago that Drew's older sister, Luanne, is pregnant with their second child, but I haven't yet mentioned here that Drew's younger sister, Brianne, is pregnant with their fourth child. Looks like we'll have even more nieces and nephews to love very soon! With these two new additions, that should bring us up to a whopping 8 total!

Here are a few pictures from Mikayla's birthday:

Kaitlyn and Uncle "Knucklehead"...two peas in a pod.

Miss Mikayla, opening presents (with Kaitlyn's help).

Uncle Drew and Kiya.

Lucas no longer hides from cameras, he poses and says "Cheese."

It's blurry, but here's Mikayla trying not to laugh in front of her cake while being told (in song) that
she looks like a monkey and smells like one, too.

I swear, every time we're down at Drew's family's, he is enlisted to fix someone's computer or the
myriad other electronics and toys. Here, Lucas admits he didn't know what he was doing with that
screw driver.

-Em

The Strong One

drewnem — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 20:42:25 -0400

“I’m so sorry,” I wrote, though the words, even as they materialized in front of me, seemed paltry…insignificant. I stopped there, trying to pick out the right combination of words to say to her, words that would adequately describe my sorrow for her own personal loss and anguish.

“There’s really not a whole lot to say, is there?” she replied, gracious as always, and more conscious of my own feelings than she should be.

I racked my brain again. My almost-30 years of life experiences brought up nothing appropriate in the cerebral database to use as a condolence. Yes, cancer has touched my life before. Relatives and family friends have struggled and won…or lost. I’ve seen first-hand its unrelenting, ravaging grasp.

But her Mom just died. Her Mom. Died. She fought hard…for five years. On Sunday night, she lost the fight.

And I have no words for her. I can cry for her. I can wish to be there for her. Mostly, though, I am in awe of her. She has been the strong one for her family through all of this. She has held it together so many times, allowing the others to fall apart.

“She’s at peace now,” are the only words that come to mind besides “I’m sorry.” My hope is that one day she will be, too.

Dear BB

drewnem — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 14:40:28 -0400

Dear BB,

Tomorrow--August 10, 2009--was your due date. It's amazing how clearly I can remember these important dates for my lost babies--and how hard they seem to hit me when they finally arrive. Like your sister LJ, your Daddy and I will be forever saddened that we were unable to meet you. We regret that we missed seeing you grow inside my belly week by week. We know that you are now safe and happy and whole in heaven, being taken care of by other family members we also love and miss deeply, but...we still miss you, just the same.

I remember those very first feelings of wonder and thankfulness knowing you were there inside me; I remember the dates and events and emotions so clearly from last November. It had been another year and a half since we'd lost LJ, and we were beginning to think another pregnancy was out of reach. When we saw our miraculous positive home pregnancy test, neither your Daddy nor I could hold back the tears of joy.

We were immediately filled with both utter happiness and absolute trepidation, all at once. For us, we realize now, a positive pregnancy test will always be accompanied by a complex set of emotions. For every life we create, we feel hopeful and grateful, but we also fear another loss of life so strongly that that singular joy will always be somewhat muddled. I wish it didn't have to be that way, but our circumstances sort of determine our thoughts and actions in life, don't they?

I remember the pure elation I felt at the confirmation of your existence when the doctor called with your HCG quantatative blood test results, and I remember that fateful, hesitantly worried call several days later when your HCG levels did not continue to rise as they should. We knew right then that we would lose you, and the only thing left to do was wait...and say good-bye. The tears of joy we had cried days before were overtaken then by a torrent of heart-break that flooded our entire consciousness.

Little One, you were a part of our lives for such a short time, but you will always be a huge part of our family...taking up a huge spot in our hearts.

We'll miss you and love you forever,

Mommy and Daddy

But, At Least He's MY Geek :)

drewnem — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 22:11:23 -0400

So, um, yeah...just the usual Saturday night activities around here...

Drew taking laptops apart just for giggles and putting them back together...

Living with a Computer Engineer: it's always a party!

-Em

Our Whirlwind "Out West" Vacation, Part 3

drewnem — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 19:04:16 -0400

After the reunion on Sunday, we (including some of the cousins, second cousins, and an aunt and uncle) all went back to the hotel and went swimming in the pool. The kids (and most of the adults, too) stayed in the water until pooped, then we went our own ways for dinner, depending on what sounded good. My parents retired rather early that night, and then Blaise/Nicole, Phil/Abbi, and Drew/me stayed up outside of Blaise and Nicole's room (where the boys were sleeping) talking.

Monday morning was Drew's 30th Birthday. We said good-bye to Phil and Abbi that day, as they weren't accompanying us to Colorado, then after breakfast and checking out of the hotel, the rest of us got back on the road. We stopped about an hour into the drive in Kearney, Nebraska, where we lived for three years before moving to Earlville, Illinois. I went to 6th, 7th, and 8th grades in Kearney. We drive by our old house, schools, and church before splitting up. Dad and Mom wanted to take the back roads from there to my Grandma's grave site. Drew and I decided to continue to caravan with Blaise and Nicole and the boys, saying that we'd visit the grave on our trip home from Colorado a couple days later.

It was another pretty long day in the car, but once we were a ways into Colorado, it was pretty cool to see the mountains off in the distance. We checked into our hotel rooms in Brighton, Colorado (right outside of Denver), then waited for my parents to show up before going to dinner. The boys swam in the hotel pool again that night before we all retired.

The sky after dinner that night

We met for breakfast the next morning, then said our good-byes to my parents and brother's family. They were heading further west into Colorado to see some of my Dad's side of the family that day after stopping in Breckenridge. Drew and I decided we wanted to spend the rest of the brief time we had in that area, heading up to Estes Park and seeing a bit more of the Rocky Mountains. It was sad to say good-bye to everyone.

After going our separate ways, we took the scenic drive up to Estes Park, a touristy town near the foot of Rocky Mountain National Park. Here are a few pictures from that day:

The Rocky Mountains

A statue on the road leading to Estes Park

From the car, heading toward the mountains (obviously )

On the windy mountain road

Just outside Estes Park

Mmmm...our very own cupful of roasted garlic for lunch in Estes Park. Potent!

After spending the day being tourists, we headed back to our hotel room in Brighton and had a low-key evening. We had a sushi dinner and fell asleep watching re-runs of NCIS.

The next morning we started the two day drive back home. We stopped in Haxtun, Colorado that morning at my Grandma Sullivan's grave site, and my Grandpa Sullivan (who died before I was born) and their only daughter Lorraine Jodell (who was born on my birthday 48 years before me and died at only six months old) are buried there, too. It was very emotional to re-visit the grave site, which I hadn't been to since my Grandma's funeral when I was nine years old. I introduced them to Drew, and even he couldn't hold back his tears. We thanked them for looking after our precious angel babies there in heaven. It was a beautifully clear, sunny day, and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace just being there, talking to my Grandma especially, who I was very close to. Another "coincidence" I didn't notice until just recently: Lorraine Jodell...LJ. Both my Grandma and I lost babies with the same initials.

After saying our good-byes at the cemetery, we drove all the way through Nebraska and as far as Des Moines, Iowa, before stopping for the night. I was mesmerized by the hundreds of wind turbines an hour or so outside of Des Moines.

After checking into our hotel, we went to the restaurant attached to it for dinner, and we saw a classic car show taking place outside. After eating, we went and took a look at all of the restored cars. I didn't take any pictures, but it was really cool. There were more Corvettes represented there than any other vehicle, so Drew wasn't one bit disappointed.

The next day we finished the drive through the rest of Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, and home to Michigan. We picked up the girls at the vet's office (where we board them), and both Molly and Sammy earned excellent "report cards" during their stay. Despite winning over their caretakers in our absence, I think they were both pretty happy to see us...that is, until we got them home and they realized it was bath time!

-Em

Our Whirlwind "Out West" Vacation, Part 2

drewnem — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 20:55:01 -0400

Saturday morning (the 4th of July), we all met for breakfast at the hotel in KC, then checked out and got back on the road to pay a visit to my Grandma and Grandpa in Concordia, KS. During our drive, we stopped in Salina, KS, the first place my family lived that I actually have memories of, and while we were there, we took a peek at our old house. When we moved from KS to NY, my parents sold our house there to people who planned to turn it into a daycare center, and it's still a daycare to this day. I was five years old when we moved away. The house seemed much bigger to me back then; it was interesting to see it now, from an adult's perspective. Blaise and I joked about how the walk with Mom down to the gas station on the corner for candy used to seem like quite a long trek when we were just tots. Really, it was just a couple houses down from us!

After lunch in Salina, we finished the drive to my grandparents' apartment. The 10 of us all squeezed into their tiny place and visited for about an hour. I was pretty impressed that my Grandpa Leo remembered Drew's name after only having met him once three or four years ago. Unfortunately, my Grandma (who has Alzheimer's) didn't seem to know who any of us were. We were all prepared for this, but it is still difficult to witness. My Mom sat next to her the whole time holding her hand as she interjected bits of conversation that had nothing to do with the actual conversation taking place. Her only moments of clarity seem to be centered on their little dog, Angel, and when Alex and Conor would do something that caught her attention. She seemed tickled by the "one in yellow" (Conor) who started getting a little feisty with his brother toward the end of the visit. She would just chuckle and make comments about his antics. That was kinda cute.

After our short visit, we hopped back into the cars and completed the drive to Grand Island, NE (the town my Mom grew up in, parents met in, and the majority of my Mom's side of the family still lives in). The reunion with them was scheduled for the next day, so once we arrived at the hotel, we had the rest of the night to relax. We had dinner at the hotel restaurant and ventured outside eventually as it appeared that pretty much all of the guests at the hotel had brought along an impressive array of fireworks to set off. We watched the amateur show, caught a good portion of the professional show above the treetops, and watched Conor do his "fireworks dance."

The next morning, several of us went to breakfast with my parents, then I came back to the hotel to fit in a work-out with Nicole. It was great spending a little one-on-one time with Nicole, and it reminded me how much I miss having a work-out partner. I also wish we lived closer to Blaise and Nicole. As far as sisters in law go, she's pretty darn cool.

After showering and getting ready, we all caravaned over to the family reunion further into town. I saw aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins I haven't seen in many, many years. My Grandma and Grandpa also made the trip up from Kansas for the day, so we were able to spend a bit more time with them. I sat next to Grandma and held her hand this time, and though I know she probably still didn't realize who I am, I sensed her becoming comfortable with my presence next to to her, and she started telling me "secrets" as they popped into her head.

Here are a few pictures from the reunion (we also celebrated my Grandma and Grandpa's 25th Wedding Anniversary...for those of you who don't know, my Grandpa Leo isn't my biological Grandpa--he and my Mom's Mom were married when I was 5--but he is the only grandpa I've ever known).

My Mom and Grandma

Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa Leo

My Cousin Amy, Mom, and Grandma

Sister-in-law Nicole, Phil's girlfriend Abbi, and Brother Phil

Drew

All the second cousins

The cousins (I think only my sister Becky was missing)

The third and final installment of our trip will be coming soon...

-Em

Our Whirlwind "Out West" Vacation, Part 1

drewnem — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 13:50:55 -0400

Right before the 4th of July, we left for a week-long vacation to Kansas, Nebraska, and Colorado. As you already know, we had to pack up all of my injections to take with us, so I must admit I was a little nervous about how I'd feel during our trip. Luckily, the injections away from home went smoothly, and I felt mostly fine for the trip. Phew!

On Thursday, after work, we drove part-way to Kansas City, Missouri. Friday, we completed the trip to KC, and checked into our hotel there about an hour before my Dad and Mom; Blaise, Nicole, Alex, and Conor; and Phil and Abbi arrived in their caravan from North Dakota. Then, we all drove the few miles down the road to Kauffman Stadium for a KC Royals vs. White Sox baseball game. Unfortunately, the Royals lost that night, but I think we all enjoyed the game, walking around the stadium, and the fireworks afterward. Dollar hotdogs and pop didn't hurt, either.

Alex and Drew

Conor swinging his souvenir bat

Alex and Conor (Conor sat next to a couple Sox fans and kept calling their team the "Stinky Sox" ha!)

The fam: Phil (didn't make it in the pic), Abbi, Mom, Dad, Alex, Nicole, Blaise, and Conor. We were
definitely in the "nose-bleed" section, but at least we got our exercise going up and down the stairs!

Abbi and Nicole

Blaise and Conor

Alex and Conor playing "Ring Around Uncle Drew"

Fountains lit up at night

Fireworks after the game

Stayed tuned for more about the rest of the trip...

-Em

Two Years Later

drewnem — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 20:26:02 -0400

It's hard to believe that tomorrow it's been two years since that horrible day: Friday, July 13, 2007. I've never been fond of Fridays that land on the 13th day of the month, but, of course, our first ultrasound for our first baby would fall on that date. I tried not to be superstitious, but that morning I felt scared and subdued as your Daddy touched my belly and talked about seeing you. I wanted so much to share his excitement, but something inside me held back a bit. I can remember that day so clearly--it has played back in my head like a movie more times than I care to recall. In fact, I've tried to push the vivid images out of my mind when they come back to haunt me, perhaps not as often as they once did, popping into my stream of consciousness (usually at inopportune times), or awakening me at night--the worst type of nightmare...one that came true. I remember the silence, the sobs, the screams, the stares. I remember it all as if it were yesterday, and the punch in the gut still takes the breath right out of my lungs.

I don't know that a mother ever gets over the loss of a child. Naturally, the rawness of the emotions have subsided with time, though some days will transport me right back to my personal hell. I am forever changed from having had you for a brief time, LJ, and for having loved you so deeply and purely. And I am forever changed from having lost you, for experiencing that particular kind of unfathomable anguish.

Today, LJ, I want to say thank you for the way in which you've changed me. Two years later, and I see some of my changes more clearly. I know that some might argue that the change in me is not all for the better, and that is okay. I don't really expect everyone to understand it, to understand me. It's so hard to put yourself in another's place, isn't it? We're all different, have different experiences, trials, and triumphs, and each minute detail helps shape the people we become. In many ways, I've become more introverted. I have noticed that I am more careful with my heart. Although I like to believe that every time a heart is broken, it grows back stronger, larger, it is never easy to open it back up for the pain associated with heartbreak. I keep to myself a bit more. I'm sure I'm a bit guarded. I do try to be open and honest with what I write here, but I try to be careful, too. I've felt how much the words of another can hurt, and so I find myself sharing less than I once did. It's hard to explain how I've changed. I'm just different. But, in many ways, I feel like I've become more "me" than I have been in many years...that I've reverted back to the essence of who I once was and perhaps strayed from for a time.

I never would've chosen this path for myself--to struggle to conceive a child in the first place, then lose the two precious babies we were blessed with. No one would choose that pain. But again, with time, I am beginning to see what living through such losses has done for me. Perhaps I wasn't as compassionate or empathetic as I needed to be to others. Perhaps someone who reads my blog has learned something from my experiences and will know how to better approach a friend or family member who experiences a similar horror. These thoughts are just a couple of ideas that have stuck with me during my time spent in self-reflection.

You see, although I keep myself pretty busy with work, I have a lot of time on my hands to do just that: think...reflect. Work is surface activity, and it can only take you so far. Even when you're completely caught up with work (which I never seem to be), you don't feel the satisfaction I'd imagine you'd feel by just being surrounded by the presence of your children. The feeling catches up with me easily; I keep myself busy, but behind all the busyness, I still feel empty. I miss my LJ and BB. I think about the 18-month old toddler LJ would now be. I think about how much messier yet full of life our house would be. I think about how frazzled and sleep-deprived I'd be. And I'd trade all of the "peace" and "couple time" and bit of extra spending money in our pockets in a second if I could see LJ now, read her a story at bedtime, play the piano and sing to her, even wipe the sticky strawberry juice from her chubby cheeks and fingers. And BB, who would've been due to join us outside the womb in less than a month, we'd talk to BB in my belly and await with anticipation LJ's brother's or sister's arrival. I'd give anything to be able to have these moments with my babies.

If I had to guess, I would admit that the lesson that I needed to learn most of all was to let go of my "sense" of being in control. Perhaps I merely needed to learn to plan less, to realize that this life is really out of my hands, and that I can only do the best I can with what I'm given. As I've written before, my life leading up to this point did little to help teach me this lesson. I became accustomed to thinking that planning, hard work, and dedication will produce the intended or desired results. I was used to achieving what I set out to do, and I'm sure I probably became a little self-righteous when I got what I wanted "all on my own": the grades, the job, the guy, the house, the cars...all of the things in life that I once imagined proved to the world that I was successful. Little did I know that true success is measured via an entirely different system. And that nothing that I've received in life was achieved "on my own." It is only by grace that I've been given the blessings in my life. And success isn't what you do for a living, or how much money you make, or what house you live in, or what "toys" you have. We've been richly blessed in these particular areas, but I would give any and all of it up in a second for another day with the babies I lost. Success is happiness. Success is family. Success is the simple things in life. Success is sticky fingers making a mess on your newly painted walls...because those little sticky fingers are a miracle.

LJ and BB, I visited your Great-Grandmother Beatrice's grave site while we were in Colorado last week, and as I talked to her through my tears, I thanked her for taking care of you both for me. Give her a big kiss for me, okay?

Oh my beautiful babies, I miss you every day. Thank you for the lessons you have helped teach me and I'm sure will continue to teach me, just by being a part of my life.

Love Always,
Mama

Another Ultrasound and Leaving on Vacation

drewnem — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 13:16:22 -0400

This morning we had a follow-up ultrasound to Monday's.On Monday, my largest (dominant) follicle was at 10 mm; today, after three days of increased dosages of my Follistim injections, that same follicle was at 12 mm (and the other ones that were seen were small enough for the nurse to speculate that there isn't much of a chance for any of them to fully develop). I have to admit, I was a little disappointed with the dominant follicle's growth since Monday. A follicle is considered "mature" once it's reached a minimum of 15-16 mm, so this one little egg has a bit to go before we'll be ready for our Ovidrel "trigger" shot to help it release. The nurse who performed the ultrasound told me not to be too discouraged, however, because, oftentimes, slow-growing eggs are of higher quality. So, I'm putting a lot of hope into this one little egg (trying to remember that it only takes one!) and hoping that slow and steady wins the race!

The nurse and doctor know we'll be on vacation next week, so they're going to call me this afternoon with our plan of attack for the next several days. Obviously, since we'll be out of town, we won't be able to go in for another ultrasound to monitor our progress (in some ways, though, that is a relief, as we've already spent $500 on ultrasounds ALONE this week...that's not including the cost of meds). So, the doctor is going to recommend the dosage of Follistim for the next few days and when (his guesstimate) we need to inject the Ovidrel trigger shot. We have all of the shots packed up in a cooler, with alcohol wipes and our sharps container for needle disposal, along with us for the trip "out west." You really have to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, us traveling with all these needles, otherwise you'll just cry at how pathetic it seems!

Again, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. We're still hoping that we have a chance for this cycle, but I'm trying to remember that if this one doesn't work out, we'll be better prepared for dosages, etc. next time around. It'll all be okay one way or another, right?

Now, we're just a few hours away from getting on the road to head out to Kansas. Tomorrow, we meet my parents, Blaise/Nicole/Alex/Conor, and Phil and Abbi in Kansas City for a KC Royals vs. Chicago White Sox baseball game that night. It's been years since I've been to Kauffman Stadium, so that should be fun. I'm mostly just really excited to see my family, since a year (or more) can easily go by without seeing one another (one of the drawbacks of all of us being spread out around the country). Saturday, the 4th, we drive up through Kansas to visit my Grandma and Grandpa, then continue on to Grand Island, NE for a family reunion with my Mom's side on Sunday. Monday is Drew's 30th birthday, and (gasp!) we haven't quite decided what we're doing with the rest of our week from there. I am a planner by nature, so I have to admit, the uncertainty is driving me nuts! We had originally planned to go on to Colorado to visit Rocky Mountain National Park and Estes Park, at least, but we'll have to see. With the recent medical expenses, our vacation fund as dwindled a little. Still, I'm hoping to convince Drew to go for at least a couple of days. I'm dying to make good use of the 70-300mm lens for my Nikon D50 that Becky sold to me a few weeks ago!

Hope everyone has a great 4th of July and fun holiday weekend,

-Em

On the Fertility Front...

drewnem — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 22:50:10 -0400

It's been a while since I posted an update on what's going on with us, fertility-wise. Last I mentioned, we were waiting on the final set of results from the tests ordered by our Reproductive Endocrinologist to determine if there is a discernible cause for my recurrent miscarriages.

The chromosomal tests both Drew and I took were the last piece of the puzzle, and after waiting several weeks for the results, those too came back normal. What great news!

We had a follow-up appointment with the doctor last week to discuss the results and whether or not we would like to move forward with any assisted reproductive therapy, and it was a much different experience from the first time around. I wonder if he could sense that we were pretty much ready to throw in the towel on all of the testing, meds, and invasive rigmarole. I wonder if early morning appointments are just bound to be more productive, because everyone is fresh and less frazzled than they are by late afternoon. I wonder if he could see that, with every word I spoke, I tried not to let the tears spill over from exhaustion, frustration, and sadness. Whatever the reason, the doctor was patient with us. He explained that although they couldn't find any particular reason that I continue to miscarry in their testing, his hunch is that my PCOS and the resultant hormonal craziness and erratic cycles makes for eggs that are, in general, of poorer quality. That's not to say that I'm not capable of producing decent eggs. It just sounds like, when the hormones aren't working together in just the right way (it's such a fragile system that if one thing is "off," it affects a whole slew of other things down the line), an egg might not mature quite as much as it could have, and even if the egg becomes fertilized, it has less of a chance of being a viable pregnancy because the conditions weren't quite right. It also leads to the lower progesterone levels both of my doctors have noted, which have also been shown to lead to miscarriages.

With those things in mind, the doctor's recommendation was for us to move forward with the Follistim (FSH) injectables cycle we discussed during our first consultation. I shared my reservations about starting down this path a while back, but I must say that after learning more about this particular practice's philosophies and policies (our doctor himself wrote an article for the clinic's newsletter that addressed the controversy over the "Octo-Mom" situation and explained how and why that situation would never occur there, partly because of his own affiliation with a Christian fertility organization), he really set us at ease.

After hours of discussion and praying for direction, the decision seemed to almost make itself as we sat and spoke with the doctor. After hearing his recommendation, I felt very strongly in my heart (much to my surprise) that moving forward with his suggested regimen was the right thing to do. I was instantly nervous, however, as Drew and I had not gone into the appointment with this potential shift in directions having been discussed ahead of time. But when I looked over at Drew to try to gauge his reaction and thoughts, he was already five steps ahead of me. While he was the one completely overwhelmed during our first appointment with the fertility specialist (formerly known as, and unfairly named "Dr. Soup-Nazi" by me), this time, he was the one barreling forward. He was already discussing dosages of the medication and planning things out in his head.

A smile crept onto my lips. I felt like I could burst with happiness! We were both on the same page, and we both wanted to do everything in our power to give this a shot! It was going to cost us a lot of money, sure, but now was the time. We may only be able to afford a couple cycles, but we had to give this a try...

And, so, here we are. We started the Follistim injections last week, Wednesday. Drew has done a great job giving me a shot in the stomach every night, and I have even gotten used to the shots themselves (if not so much the bloating, headaches, and hot flashes). I had a follow-up ultrasound this morning, and though I don't have any follicles that are yet considered "mature," we increased the injection dosage for the next three days, and I'll go back in for another ultrasound Thursday morning to see if any of the follicles have made progress. Once we have at least one that looks promising, we'll do an Ovidrel (HCG) "trigger" shot to finish the final maturation of the follicle and "encourage" the egg(s) to release.

Please, keep us in your thoughts and prayers over the next few weeks. Despite the intense regimen, we are both feeling hopeful right now. It feels good to truly feel like we're doing all we can to help our chances of conceiving and having it be a successful (viable) pregnancy. At least, if we get to the end of what we can afford and haven't been successful, we won't have to wonder "What if?...."

-Em

Drew's Surprise

drewnem — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 23:04:45 -0400

Today, Drew got a big surprise. My Baby turns 30 on July 6th, but we'll be on vacation with my family at that time, so Drew's family came up from K'Zoo to celebrate with us today. But Drew didn't know about it. You see, Drew's Dad had decided a while ago that he wanted to give Drew his 1969 Stingray Corvette for his 30th Birthday. So, Drew's Mom called me, and we set up a little surprise. What makes the gift even more special is that Drew's Dad first became the owner of the car on his own 30th Birthday. How neat is that?

So today, he passed on the only "toy" he's had for more than 30 years to his (soon-to-be) 30-year-old son. *tear* Drew was really moved by the gesture and absolutely thrilled. The car is in drivable shape right now, but it will need quite a bit of work in the not-so-distant future. Good thing Drew likes projects!

We had a great time today celebrating with Drew's parents, sisters, and their families. The nieces and nephew kept us entertained as always (they even performed their own rendition of the Cupid Shuffle for us...I have a video that I'll need to post, so check back). Drew also gave the four young'uns a ride in the Jeep, and they all loved it...squealing the whole way. We had a yummy lunch, ate cake and ice cream, and Drew also opened his "other" presents: a Corvette hat and shirt, a couple manuals (which will be helpful once the restoration begins), new floor mats, and a personalized keychain that says "Drew's Dream."

I hope you had the best Birthday ever, Baby (even if it was celebrated a little early)! Love you!

Here's a bunch more pictures from today.

--

***And here's that video of the little ones dancing, as promised. Soon, we'll have a 5th niece or nephew on Drew's side to add to the clan...congrats Luanne and Tim on your baby-to-be and Lucas on your brother- or sister-to-be!

-Em

To My Husband, the Daddy

drewnem — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 10:37:45 -0400

Afterwards, I went back to bed…too scared to sit and wait for the result myself. He checked the test for me. Negative, again. He broke the bad news to me gently, held me, said he was sorry. Inside, all I could think was, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve failed again at making you a Father. I so wanted to have a special present for you this Father’s Day.”

He responded to my thoughts before I could even utter them aloud.

“As far as I'm concerned, we've got two beautiful children waiting for us in heaven, and in my mind, they are the best kids ever. They may not be with us physically, but I'm still fortunate to have had even the few weeks we did with each of them. So, I am a Daddy and you are a Mommy to our two beautiful kids, and we are good parents because we still love them, always will…”

He had to stop then, as the tears came.

This weekend, I want to wish you a Happy Father’s Day, Drew. Even on this day when it feels impossible to be happy.

Thank you for loving us so deeply,

Mama, LJ, and BB (and Molly and Sammy, too)

Passing It On

drewnem — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 22:10:53 -0400

My good friend Kate at My Merlot nominated me for a Kreativ Blogger award. Thanks, Kate! I appreciate you passing on the blogosphere "love" to me.

Here are the rules of the Kreativ Blogger award:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award. (Check!)

2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog. (Check!)

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award. (Check!)

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting. (See below.)

5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers. (See even further below.)

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate. (Also, um, below.)

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they have been nominated. (Will do as soon as I hit "Publish.")

So, um, on to 7 things you may or may not find interesting about me:

1. I've lived in six different states: Kansas, New York, Massachusetts, Nebraska, Illinois, and Michigan. And I don't have a southern-ish drawl, East Coast lack-of-R's accent (think: "Boston Gah-den"), or Yooper (U.P. of Michigan) intonation. Go figure.

2. Confession time! I am currently way into the Twilight series. I'm actually done reading all of the books and have watched the movie (um, a few times), but the whole hunky-vampire-dangerous-love story line has stuck with me. I feel like a 14-year-old girl. Seriously. (It's sad, really.)

3. My degrees are in Technical Communication. Whenever I tell people that, they're like, "Huh? What's that?" and I try to explain my education in a way that does it some justice. I never quite accomplish that, however. The most easily understood description I tend to resort to? "So, you know all those instruction manuals that you never read? Um, yeah, that was me, in a previous life..."

4. For my undergraduate degree, I went to Michigan Technological University in the U.P. of Michigan, which (at least at the time, I'm told) was home to a local store that sold the most alcohol per capita of any store in the U.S. (according to the Guinness Book of World Records). Now THERE'S something to be proud of one's alma mater for. Go Huskies!

5. I'm currently working on a personal writing project that both excites me beyond belief and scares me shitless. Ah, duplicity...

6. Telemarketers sometimes ask me if I'm sure if my name is Ember (rather than Amber). "Um, no, random person who annoys people for a living. I DON'T KNOW WHAT MY OWN NAME IS. Thanks for checking to make sure I'm not a dumb ass." Seriously.

7. I'm currently re-teaching myself Clair de Lune on the piano. Yeah. It's pretty much just as difficult the second time around.

Finally, here are my own nominations of 7 Kreativ Bloggers I admire:

1. Becky at Brilliantly Bitter. Becky is a great friend of mine, and I really enjoy reading her deep thoughts and perusing her latest photographic masterpieces. Though her day job is highly technical, she is an inherently creative person (and I miss her bunches since she left us and moved to D.C.!)

2. Theresa at Blarg. Theresa is infinitely creative in her day job (I'm lucky enough to work very closely with this talented graphic designer), and she can always be counted on to speak her mind. I dig that.

3. Kelli at Doting Over Drew. I love how Kelli includes photos of her darling little boy, Drew, in every post. The love she has for her family comes through in every picture she takes and word she writes. She's also given her blog a cute look with snazzy background and musical selections. Keep up the good work, Kelli!

4. Jilli at All About Mia. I stumbled onto Jilli's blog from Kelli's. Jilli's blog is an inspiring celebration of her daughter, Mia, the little miracle that she and her husband, Marty, prayed and hoped for after a devastating loss. I was blown away and reduced to tears by the story of faith she shares (click on the "Right Side Up" link at the top of her blog) in waiting for her precious daughter. I strive every day to have one ounce of the faith this remarkable woman has...thank you for your words of encouragement, Jilli!

5. Ryan at BJohnson's in the Square. I believe Ryan's was the first blog I ever read that posted a poopy diaper picture without any qualms (or, really, much warning). He never ceases to make me laugh, as he always did as a great buddy in high school, and I dig the commentary he provides as I have the privilege of watching his beautiful family grow from afar. Keep it coming, Johnco!

6. Kira (and Justin) at Life in the Fast Lane. Kira has impressed me with the different types of posts she's tackled on her blog since its inception. From updates and touching tributes of her beautiful baby boy, Jackson, to product reviews for Mommies and Mommies to be, she has taken to the blogging world with a bang! Not only is her blog design creative and cute, but her hubbie, Justin, has also contributed some memorable posts. I'd encourage you to go back and read the "play-by-play" he provided on their blog while Kira was in labor with their son in the hospital. Hilarious! And touching. We're still waiting for a weekly "Daddy" post from you, Justin. I look forward to reading more of you guys!

7. Leslie at the Kole Chronicles. I really admire Leslie's versatility as a blogger. Of course, a lot of her posts include great pictures of her little cutie pie, Owen, but she also does a superb job of re-inventing the overall design of her blog again and again. And I always love reading about her money-saving excursions. That, in itself, is worth an award...how to creatively get the most bang for your buck...Leslie is the Queen of the bargain shoppers!

Thanks, everyone!

-Em

Exhaling

drewnem — Tue, 26 May 2009 15:56:22 -0400

May has been such a busy month, and now, with my first year of college teaching behind me, I feel like I can finally breathe. Those last few weeks of class and grading and submitting final grades pretty much put everything else in a backseat position. And it didn't help that this is also a really busy time for my marketing communications/PR job in K-12 education, either.

Luckily, I've now had a few days of rest and relaxation, and I feel like I'm ready to tackle some "other" projects that I haven't had time for in many months. I have a lot of reading (school- and non-school-related) that I want to make a priority this summer, as well as some (non-blog-related) writing projects. It might also seem a bit weird, but I want to concentrate on music a bit this summer as well. Many of you know that I've played piano for many years and also love to sing. I really haven't spent a lot of time practicing either of these skills in many years, and I really miss them both. When I sat down at my piano to play the other day, I felt like I was suddenly my true self. Getting caught up in everyday responsibilities easily keeps me from taking the time to fully appreciate and play music myself, but I want to re-capture that brief feeling of completeness that consumes me when I'm making music. An added bonus is that music tends to be a natural "feeder" into any type of creative writing I've undertaken, so I'm hoping the two will work together in my favor over the next couple of months.

I hope that each of you is also able to take some time doing the things you are passionate about during the summer. Here's to some deep breathing, all around...

-Em

To my wife

drewnem — Sun, 10 May 2009 06:50:56 -0400

Tiny Footprints on a Mother's Heart

When a baby arrives,
be it for a day, a month, a year or more,
or perhaps only a sweet flickering moment-
the fragile spark of a tender soul
the secret swell of a new pregnancy
the goldfish flutter known to only you-
you are unmistakably changed...
the tiny footprints left behind on your heart
bespeak your name as mother.

I love you more than anything.

- Drew

Apparently, we've been going about this baby-making thing all wrong...

drewnem — Fri, 08 May 2009 13:56:06 -0400

Who knew it was this easy?

Wish someone would've told us sooner!

-Em

Two Down, One to Go...

drewnem — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 13:56:46 -0400

I have some test results!

Our chromosomal testing is still pending. (The nurse told me today, for the first time, that the results for these particular tests take 4-6 weeks! Would've been nice to know earlier!)

The sperm antibody test was negative (which is good!). And my endometrial biopsy was normal.

Good news so far! It is a bit of a mixed blessing not knowing what has contributed to our miscarriages, but I'd much rather have good results like these than have them find something else wrong as well. Let's just hope everything comes back okay with our chromosomal testing. For me, that test is the scariest, because if either Drew or I have chromosomal abnormalities, there really isn't anything we can do about it. At least with the sperm antibody and abnormalities with my endometrial lining, there are medications I could be put on to help the conditions.

In any event, I feel very grateful for the positive results thus far. Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers!

-Em

I've Never Been a Good Test Taker...

drewnem — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 10:48:30 -0400

Since my last post two weeks ago, we've prayed and talked, prayed some more, talked some more, and made some decisions. Neither one of us could shake the unsettling feeling of jumping right into the Follistim (FSH shots) regimen without having test results back from my endometrial biopsy and our chromosomal and sperm antibody tests. We are still awaiting the results of those tests, but we feel somewhat at peace right now taking things one step at a time--slowing down and making decisions on our own terms, not according to the pressure of doctors. I'll update you as soon as we receive results from the three different tests and keep you updated on our decision about whether or not we'll be moving forward with FSH shots regimen, but for now, I thought I'd give you a bit of a picture of what our last couple of weeks have been like...

First, I had my biopsy on that same Friday, the 10th, and I wasn't quite prepared for it. When the nurse who performed the procedure entered the examination room, I was a little confused. "The doctor isn't doing the biopsy?" I thought. Drew also was surprised. Next, she asked me if I'd taken Motrin. I looked at her, confused, and said, "No, no one told me I was supposed to..." She said that a lot of cramping can occur, but sort of shrugged off the fact that I hadn't taken any and said she'd get me some after the procedure if I needed it. Now, I knew this procedure wouldn't be pleasant, but I don't think I really had any idea how unpleasant it would be. Think: yearly pap smear type of uncomfortableness times 100. Yeah. Awful. I assumed the all-too-familiar stirrup position and she proceeded to try to clamp my cervix to keep it "out of the way" for the procedure. Oh, but my cervix was being tricky, you see. She called it "frightened" and "uncooperative." "Well, yeah," I thought. "My cervix knows the drill...it wants to run away right now, get as far away from those clamps at possible...do you really blame it?" She continued to struggle, and I felt myself getting more and more tense, which I'm sure, in turn, made the situation worse. She finally got up and went to find another nurse. The other nurse walked in and was terribly nice, asking me how I was doing, and apologizing for the obstacles they were encountering. She directed the first nurse a bit on what to try, but Nurse #1 was still having problems getting cooperation out of my silly cervix. Finally, Nurse #2 walked to the edge of the examination table, and I felt wholly exposed as two strange people peered into my nether regions while pondering the behavior of my cervix. Nurse #2 tried a few things, Nurse #1 kept apologizing profusely, and Drew stood next to me squeezing my hand. Finally, I could tell Nurse #2 was switching gears. Both nurses were frustrated at not being able to get things to work, and I could feel them switch into "gotta get this done" mode. This mode feels like man-handling, I'll tell you that right now. No more gentle touch or trying to keep me from undue pain. I winced, and winced, then gasped and felt hot tears tumble down my face. Oh my goodness. Nothing prepared for the pain...nothing. I can say without hesitation that it was the second worst pain of my life, second only to the contractions and labor pains I felt during the worst of my miscarriage with LJ. Once they'd obtained their specimen of my endometrial lining, both nurses apologized several more times, then Nurse #1 went to grab some Motrin. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day pretty much out of commission. I continued to cramp and spent the rest of the day on the couch. Thank goodness I didn't have to work that day.

Earlier that day, Drew and I went to a laboratory in Grand Rapids to get our chromosomal testing done. In the lab, one of the technicians informed us that these particular tests are only performed Monday-Thursdays. Great. Would've been nice to know before. We left, planning to try again the following week. When we asked Nurse #1 at the fertility clinic about that, she said she didn't realize the tests were only performed on those days...well, at least they didn't just forget to tell us that important detail! The following Thursday we went to a different branch of that same laboratory and finally got our blood drawn for the tests. I must say it never ceases to amaze me how charismatic my husband is with strangers we encounter. He had all the ladies in the office laughing and telling me how funny he is by the end of our time there. I like him and think I'll keep him.

Finally, this past Tuesday morning, we had to do the sperm antibody test. That involved Drew providing a "specimen" before he left for work, and me driving like a bat out of hell to Grand Rapids to drop off his specimen and get my own blood drawn again. Now, anyone who has had to do any sort of semen analysis testing before knows that, if you don't provide the sample on-site, you need to get it to the lab quick, and it needs to remain as warm as possible during its transport. I was wondering where the best place would be to "store" the specimen vial during my drive to the lab, and the most convenient and comfortable place ended up being under my shirt, right in the middle of my bra! (I apologize for TMI.) Seriously, there was a perfect little opening there, and it sat quite comfortably. When I arrived at the lab, I also realized how crazy-warm that "compartment" kept the specimen...score! Good work, "girls."

-Em

Head vs. Heart

drewnem — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 06:46:28 -0400

I received an e-mail from a friend yesterday that made me realize I didn't do a very good job of expressing my feelings in my last post. Sure, I mentioned being overwhelmed a few times and delved a bit into my unending feelings of failure as a woman for not being able to conceive (easily) or carry a child to term, but I don't think I adequately described the real feeling behind this new direction we've been thrust into: fear.

Yes, I'm absolutely scared shitless about these next steps. And it's not just because of the extra 45 minute drive, in addition to our commutes. It's not just because it will cost us our savings. It's not just that this doctor wasn't overly welcoming or explanatory, setting us at ease with the whole process. Rather, it's because the decisions we're making now are absolutely, without a doubt, the most difficult and heart-wrending decisions we've ever had to make.

I guess I should start by explaining that this ovulation induction method--using the Follistim I described in my last post--involves a whole lot more than giving myself daily shots and being monitored by ultrasound/blood tests. Before we are even allowed to embark on our first cycle of "FSH madness," we have to sign a whole bunch of release forms. I've read through the forms several times now, each time walking away and almost hoping I'll have a different reaction the next time I come back to read them. I have to tell you...the first time I read them? I bawled uncontrollably. In them, they reiterate all of the risks of undergoing FSH treatment (the ovarian hyperstimulation and higher risk of multiple gestations I mentioned before), but they also delve into the risks to the child for being conceived in this "unnatural" way (congential abnormalities that they don't yet understand), and, worst of all, they discuss selective reduction. The first time I read through this particular section, I lost it. I know that I'm getting the cart before the horse here, but I am not okay with selective reduction. To me, it is just another way of saying, "you will pick which of your conceived children will live and which will die." And I'm not okay with that.

It feels crazy to write those words here so frankly. On purpose, I've mostly stayed away from discussions on abortion or, say, the Octo-Mom here. I don't really crave being all political and controversial on my blog, but I guess there comes a time when I just have to lay it all out there, unapologetically, if I'm ever going to truly convey my trepidation and feelings of unease.

I'd call myself a moderately liberal person, so I don't characterize myself as a fanatical right-to-life person, though in general, if you care to know, I do believe that "life" begins with the formation of an embryo. I know that my beliefs are biased by my own experiences. With each of our children (our angel babies), we bonded so completely with each of them the moment we knew they existed. Some people have minimized (not with malice, but without tact or true empathy) our losses as "just" miscarriages, because they did indeed occur within the first trimesters. However, for us, the fact that our babies died at that time vs. 20 weeks or 32 weeks or being stillborn full-term, doesn't make any difference. They were little lives who meant everything to us. Seeing my two babies being ripped from my body has given me an appreciation for the miracle and fragility of life more than I ever thought possible.

So, to read those words about choosing which fetuses to "reduce" (if it comes to that) brought me immediately to inconsolable tears. There's no other way to describe this: we are just entering extremely scary territory. I do realize that, from the outside, this is probably hard to relate to, or even an easy statement to disagree with. "Wow, way to get worked up over something that may or may not happen," I can almost hear people thinking. But, you see, that's just it. These difficult decisions need to be discussed and decided NOW, before we find ourselves in a place where the decision is right there in front of us, and we have choose what we'll do. I don't want to get to that place not knowing, not having considered the ramifications of our decision to just barrel forward with the next steps.

I know many of you have expressed hope and optimism for us embarking on this next leg of the infertility journey...that perhaps this is just what we need. I understand those feelings and do admit that I waver back and forth between my feelings of fear described above, and the feelings of "OK, let's just do it; this is it."

Part of me wants to just jump right in, screw the feelings of unease that seem to have settled so heavily in my heart. Part of me DOES think that making these difficult decisions and taking these risks is what needs to be done (and, of course, will be well worth it if we achieve the desired outcome of a healthy child).

But part of me, like I mentioned, is heavy-hearted. Why am I hesitating so much on this? Is it Someone trying to speak to me and tell me that this is not his will for our lives, or the life of our child? Is it just the fear of the unknown overtaking me and making me irrational? Why can't I shake these feeling of unease with the whole situation?

I suppose I should also explain where I'm at spirtitually right now, which might give you some insight into the situation. Most of you know that I grew up in a religious household, and although I don't know if I can call it "falling away" from God or religion in college or the years directly follwing college, I can say that I, rather unknowingly, put a personal relationship with God on the shelf during most of those years. I was expanding my mind, studying other religions, and trying to understand where the beliefs I was raised with fit into the overall picture. Though I wouldn't call myself religious these days, because I keep finding so much that makes me uneasy and, frankly, rather ill within the structured ideologies that people cling to moreso than truly having a personal relationship with God, I would say that my relationship with God has been restored, and I feel that my faith has been renewed.

Even a couple of years ago, I didn't really believe that this was possible. My faith was really tested during those horribly dark and difficult days of the demise of my first marriage and subsequent divorce. And I'm ashamed to say I could not find the comfort and strength in God during those days to help get me through. Instead, I felt bitter towards him for allowing me to go through what I did. I was astonished by how hatefully I was treated during a time when all that I already felt inside was shame and utter sadness for not being able to save a marriage that was horribly broken and probably never right in the first place. Then, during our first years of infertility and losing our first child, LJ, I also became very angry with God. I still felt so relatively young to be tackling such HUGE life disappoints in such a short period of time. I kept asking God, "Haven't I been through enough?" I'd look at friends or family around me who'd had perfect marriages the first time around, supportive families, and only limited (if any) difficulties in having children of their own, and I'll admit it: I became very bitter. When going through crises, many people will utter the words "Why me?" and I was the worst offender during those dark days.

I spent a lot of time wondering why I was considered, by God, to be a much worse person than everyone I knew. "Am I really that horrible, God? Because you must be punishing me." I must admit, I still have days when I think "Why me?" or, I sincerely wonder why the hell it isn't God's will for us to be parents yet. I don't know that we're necessarily supposed to make any sense out of it. People often say, "When it happens, you'll realize the timing is perfect." Eh, sorry. I don't really buy it, and I honestly don't believe I'll feel that way. We've been ready for years, and anytime now would be "perfect." But, I do know that there are things about our life and our relationship that God understands better than us, and that if it's supposed to happen, it will happen in his time. I understand that and do accept that better now.

Since our first pregnancy loss, slowly but surely, I've felt myself turning to God again. I'm still trying to discern if I needed to hit rock bottom, emotionally, before I surrendered to him and let him take control of my life. I do think that that's probably what happened. I was at such a low place in my life, where I literally felt like what I held most dear had been stripped away from me, and I gave in. "Fine, then, God," I said. "YOU tell ME how this is supposed to go." And that is where I continue to be right now. Every day, I ask God to tell me where this is supposed to go. I don't need the ultimate answer, crystal-ball-style, from him, but I'm mostly just asking for wisdom and guidance as we go about our days. I talk to God a lot more than I ever used to. Prayer, for me, used to be something I thought needed to be done "just so" to be worth doing at all, but now my prayers are often as simple (or possibly as irrevent) as "Help me!" or "Seriously, God?" or "Please just be with me today; I need someone by my side, otherwise I know I won't have the strength to make it through." It has been so comforting coming to this sort of relationship with God. I feel comforted and at peace with my spirituality.

So, I guess what I'm wondering is...is this current discomfort and fear that won't go away happening for a reason? Should I follow my heart, and hold off making any hasty decisions until I find some clarity? Or should I follow the logicality of my head, and delve into the medical intervention to help us conceive a child?

I guess I keep coming back to the "magical" month when I got pregnant with LJ. We were taking a break from all the testing and drugs, and we became pregnant for the first time. I want to believe that, if we got pregnant once without all the medical intervention, it can happen again. So then the question just is...do we sit tight and wait around for that to happen, or do we jump into hyper-space mode with Dr. Soup-Nazi?

Thanks for letting me get my feelings down. I think I'm going to try to get back to bed now.

-Em

Breaking the Habit

drewnem — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 20:05:32 -0400

Habitual aborter without current pregnancy.

Hello, my name is Ember, and according to my Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE), I have a habit of aborting my children--the knife twist in the gut to it being that I am also currently "without child." Nice to meet you, too, Doc.

This tear-inducing diagnosis was received last week at our first consultation with a fertility center that specializes in in vitro-fertilization (IVF). I guess I should be happy that I am not technically considered "infertile." I just like to kill my babies is all. That's not so bad, right?

If only for the sake of being more than just a little bit overwhelmed and confused, I've put off writing about this appointment, and--even before that--the events led us in this particular direction. I guess I have some catching up to do, and I might as well spew it all out now, while the wounds (and tears) are still fresh. You might as well grab a snack or cup of tea, folks. This is a long one...

First, remember when I told you our last cycle was unsuccessful? I also mentioned then that we would probably continue the same course for a couple more cycles...that is, until my body would require a break from the fertility drug Clomid. Well, I was wrong. Shortly after we learned of the failed cycle, I received a call from the nurse of the doctor we'd been working with saying that she would no longer be prescribing me the fertility drug and that she wanted to refer me to a different doctor, a fertility specialist (reproductive endocrinologist) that she had worked with closely in the past.

"OK...," you say. "So what?" Well, for us, you see, this turn of events was all completely abrupt and without warning. Just two weeks before, we'd both been sitting in the examining room with her during my mid-cycle ultrasound. We laughed and joked as usual. We really liked our doctor and had formed a great relationship with her. A month before that, we'd sat in the office with her discussing how we planned to move forward after my second miscarriage in December, and she seemed touched that we wanted to stay the course with her to keep trying. We completed a whole new round of blood tests (an infertility panel) and added some additional drug regimens to our repertoire--experimental drugs that we hoped might work toward preventing future miscarriages. We were all set to try again. But then, one failed cycle and we were done. We were left reeling, wondering what had changed on her end...why she no longer wanted to work with us.

Basically, we felt dissed.

Even though Drew, I'd say, was the one who was even more attached to the doctor than I was, I have to admit that I took this news very hard. As with everything that has happened during these three years and three months of trying to conceive, I feel responsible for everything happens. I am the one who has bounced from doctor to doctor, trying to find one who can help us. I'm the one whose body is broken. I am the one who couldn't keep her children alive. I'm the one who keeps the best man ALIVE from being the best FATHER alive. It is my fault. (You might notice that I'm a teensy-weensy bit ATTACHED to this whole process.) So, anyway, as soon as we got the news, as you might imagine, I felt like I was a failure. She was willing to work with us, she said, but (in hindsight), she was only willing to work with us if we turned around and succeeded in getting pregnant again right away. But I couldn't make it work. My body failed me again. It's MY fault that my doctor "dumped" us.

After spending some time feeling that way, my feelings of failure morphed into feelings of anger. "What a DAMN MINUTE," I thought. "She promised to help us. Then, she dumps us, in essence, through her nurse, without WARNING? She doesn't even call us in to tell us she's DONE with us in PERSON?"

Ugh, conflicting emotions. And this is just the beginning of the conflicting feelings we've experienced over the past few weeks, folks. After we were dissed by my doctor, we took a few days to talk, research the fertility clinics in Grand Rapids, and decide whether or not we felt ready to set up consultations. We decided, in the end, that we needed to at least go and see what they had to say about our particular situation. If we didn't try, we'd never know, right? And I, for one, couldn't live without knowing if there was something more that could be done for us. I'm not ready to give up. Yet.

Through friends, friends-of-friends, and colleagues of our own, we had heard, on the whole, good things about the fertility clinic we'd decided to go to. Good enough, we thought. <Deep breath.> Let's do this.

On Thursday, we both took most of the afternoon off to drive the 45 minutes to Grand Rapids for our consultation. The office itself looked welcoming and comforting when we entered. An older couple and younger couple were both sitting in the waiting room when we walked in--nice to see the couples there together, and definitely a far cry from my shameful waits among protruding bellies and babies at by OB/GYN clinic. We filled out many forms, answered even more questions from the nurse, then proceeded to wait in the tiny, hot examining room for 45 minutes. The doctor finally burst in and told us to follow him as he seemingly jetted to his office down the hall. Once in his office, we exchanged a few (very few) pleasantries before he jumped into the slew of questions. Prior to the visit, I had filled out no less than five pages worth of my medical history including family history, menstrual history, cyst history/emergency room visits, prior pregnancies, prior diagnoses, prior surgeries/procedures, all of my infertility/hormone blood panels, and all of the current medications I'm on, including all dosages and length of time I've taken each. During his line of questioning, I was asked to recall the past 3+ years of my history of trying to conceive, much more specifically than I was prepared to do from memory. I kept thinking, "Dude, you're the one holding the five pages it took me hours to complete prior to the visit, YOU tell ME the answers!" My OB/GYN clinic hadn't sent over my medical records in time for the consultation, either, so I remembered as best I could, but felt a bit miffed that all that work and calling my old clinic several times to remind them seemed to have been for naught.

After the questions seemed to lessen, he said, "OK, so it seems our main task at this point is figuring out how to keep you pregnant."

Agreed.

He went on to mention that both Drew and I needed to be tested for the lupus anticoagulant (sperm antibody) as well as any chromosomal defects, either (or both) of which can contribute to my "habitual tendency to abort." In addition, he wanted to schedule me for an endometrial biopsy to see if my endometrial lining is capable of supporting a pregnancy. I told him I was almost positive my doctor had performed this procedure along with my laparoscopy, hysterosalpingogram, and hysteroscopy last February (so, yes, we'd established my lining was A-OK), but he said that he'd like to repeat the procedure to see if "conditions have changed" at all.

After he discussed the tests we need to undergo, he delved right into "the plan" for our next cycle. He recommended Follistim, which are daily, self-injectable Follicle Stimulating Hormone (FSH) shots that he said are a "more natural," yet potentially riskier (risks = ovary hyperstimulation and higher risk of conceiving multiples) and more potent way of inducing ovulation (basically, a substitute for the fertility drug Clomid I'm so intimately familiar with). My doctor and I had discussed Follistim several times before, but had decided against it, in the long run, because of the tremendous cost difference per cycle (think: less than $100 for Clomid vs. more than $1000 for Follistim...and that's just for ONE MONTH).

At that point, he led us into yet another private waiting room, shook our hands, and said that if we have any questions, the nurses are very knowledgeable and should be able to answer them. Then, he was gone in a flash...just as quickly as he came. In the "holding cell," Drew turned to me, eyes wide. "I am NOT happy right now," he said. And I immediately knew that would be true for him. The doctor himself was rather cold, clinical, and (obviously) rushed. From seeing other specialists for different reasons, we both know that the lack of bed-side manner is a common trait in specialists, but we were taken aback by how much the consultation was...well...not really a consultation. Besides answering his direct questions, we didn't really have much of a chance to get a word in edge-wise. We hadn't necessarily given him any indication that we wanted to leave the office that day with a plan of attack, but we got one, like it or not. We felt (still do feel) completely overwhelmed by what was discussed, the price list we were given showing the costs for all of these tests/procedures/medications (which, have I mentioned?, aren't covered by insurance), and the time commitment involved in driving back and forth to Grand Rapids several times per week during a cycle (for blood tests, ultrasound monitoring, etc.)

The good part is that the clinic had some "extra" Follistim injectibles sitting around (left-overs from a cycle in which another patient conceived and no longer needed it), which means that for our first cycle on injectibles, we only have to pay a portion of the cost. And...I have a feeling this place gets results. It's what they do, after all. I have read through the success rates for IVF on the clinic's web site, and although the doctor agreed that we're not in the category that needs to consider IVF (yet, at least), it was somewhat comforting to see that they pride themselves on getting the job done. Before he walked us to our "holding cell," he did say to me, quite definitively, "We're going to get you there, young lady." I'm not sure if that's something he says to all the girls (hehe) or not, but I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that this rather aloof, yet uber-intelligent fertility specialist MEANT it when he said it to me. Not based on trying to inflate my hopes or optimism, but because, from looking at the data before him, he logically thinks it's possible.

This week, I will have my endometrial biopsy done on Friday, and Drew and I will complete our chromosomal tests that day as well. Next week, we plan to do the lupus anticoagulant testing. I'll try to keep you posted on test results, when this next cycle is set to begin, and any hilarity that ensues as I try to learn how to give myself a shot in the stomach every day (just kill me now!). Though we are still feeling a bit overwhelmed from being dumped by my old doctor, bombarded by the new doctor, and having a mountain (literally, you should see our kitchen counter) of information thrown at us in such a short period of time, I still want to believe that this Soup-Nazi-of-an-RE is going to get us there.

Please, God, help get us one step closer to kicking this disgusting habit of mine.

-Em

Picture Dump

drewnem — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 21:27:39 -0400

I have an infertility-related post to sit down and write soon, but I just haven't been up to it these past couple of weeks. I have some new information to share about the direction in which we'll be headed on the baby-making front, so, stay tuned for that post at a later date.

Meanwhile, I've had some photos sitting on both the Nikon and Canon for the past few weeks, so I decided to finally upload them, dump them into a photo album, and write a few words.

In the latest photo album, here, I've uploaded pictures from:

Our nephew Lucas' second birthday party (it's hard to believe he's already two years old, and he's grown out of his shyness into a little, gregarious goofball),

Another trip we recently made down to Kalamazoo to visit the Air Zoo and our nieces (who recently moved back to Michigan from Kentucky--unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of the girls ),

And yesterday when we stopped at the beach before heading to a surprise birthday party for a friend/co-worker. It felt wonderful being out in the fresh lake air and sun. Thank goodness spring is here (knock on wood). Lake Michigan was beautiful yesterday, but I only had the point-and-shoot, so the picture doesn't do it justice (it probably wouldn't have, anyway, as we all know I'm not much of a photographer! ).

Besides the party last night, we also visited our good friends Ed and Shawn and their 8-week-old daughter, Amalia, Friday night. Yet another baby to snuggle with and coo over--she's just adorable!

Also, Drew brought me home some pretty orangey-red roses. I played around with the DSLR and took a few shots of them. They're on Flickr.

Today I've been trying to catch up on grading papers and doing laundry while gearing up for a busy week as classes resume after spring break. I've also been LOVING the Kindle 2 Drew gifted me, and I'll have to write a post soon about the interface, some of its features, and what I've been reading on it. If you can believe it, I actually forget I'm reading on a screen sometimes, it is just THAT close to reading from paper. Maybe I'll even include some photos for those of you who have expressed curiosity/interest in it.

-Em

A Different Color Uniform

drewnem — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 18:29:57 -0400

The sliding doors automatically open, and I step into the lobby. The smell of sickness and antiseptic fill my nostrils, and I nod to the Candy Striper volunteers at the front desk. They recognize me now. I walk down the hall to the laboratory, then up to the receptionist. "Oh...you again." They recognize me now. I nod, fake a smile, and say, "Needles are my life!" I shrug and go find a seat to wait my turn. It's just me and one other woman in the waiting room. The lab closes in less than a half hour; I hurried here right after work. The woman is at least six months pregnant, happily reading a pregnancy magazine. For a second, I hate her. Then, in the next second, I am jealous of her. Two seconds later, I am filled to the brim with emotion--actual happiness--for her. "You must be so excited," I think to myself. "What a blessing--look at the human curled up right there inside of you."

I look away. She probably thinks, "Why is this woman staring at me?" I look down at my feet, blinking away the tears. I listen for my name, and it is finally called. The actual blood draws are also routine now. I barely wince. I watch the whole time--don't need to look away as the needle punctures my skin. I don't get light-headed anymore. I don't have that luxury. I need to go and get these tests done alone, sometimes several days a week, and I've had to build up my tolerance. Wham, bam. It's done. Time to go.

I walk out toward the front of the lab and the ladies wave good-bye. "How sad is it that most of them know my name?" I think to myself. I walk down the hallway and back toward the teenage Candy Stripers. They have textbooks open in front of them, but they're not doing their homework. They whisper and giggle. They look so young to me. "Did I look that young at sixteen?" I wonder. The young girls nod, and I think back to that time in my life. I must look so old to those girls. Thirty this year. I'm one of the women I never thought I'd be--nearly 30, the antithesis of sexy, fertile youth in my uniform of different colors. I long for their red and white stripes--so fresh, so cheerful. My uniform is made up of black and blue--bruises line the inside of my arms. I keep them covered, put my head down, and fight back the tears again as the sliding doors automatically open for me to leave.

Catch-Up/Catch-All

drewnem — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 10:44:05 -0400

I don't have anything very exciting to write about this morning, but I feel compelled to take a break from working to organize a few thoughts and catch everyone up on what's been going on with us.

First, we found out this weekend that the cycle discussed here and here was unsuccessful. The incessant rain this weekend felt like an appropriate depiction of the sadness we felt. We spent a lot of time cuddling and crying and truly letting ourselves feel the pain, which although it may sound pretty depressing, was probably good for us. For those of you wondering, "Wow, another failed attempt at conceiving. How long are these two going to keep at this?"-- I don't have an answer for you. For now, we will probably try two more cycles before my doctor will need to force my body to take a break from all of the fertility drugs. If we aren't successful by then, we will need to re-evaluate our situation at that time, the same as we have been doing these past few years as we've reached other milestones. We appreciate everyone's thoughts and prayers as we continue to work through this difficult time. That you are all out there rooting for us and wishing us well means more than you'll ever know.

In other news, I am now past the half-way point in my second semester of teaching two university-level classes: business writing and technical writing. I learned a lot last semester that I've been trying to immediately apply this semester, and I'm learning a whole slew of new lessons this semester as well. Basically, I'm pretty convinced that I'm learning more than the students are at this point. I have joined two other professors this semester to work on a translation project between the U.S. and another university in Italy. Although the final outcome has yet to be seen, I am hoping that my technical writing students will gain some experience in working within an international team, as such skills are so integral in today's workplace, and also with preparing instructional texts for the translation process (definitely not as easy a task as you'd think).

In my other job, I'm keeping very busy as well (thank goodness). As with most other people right now, I am worried about my job. K-12 educational funding in our state has been recently cut, and we are still waiting to see how it will impact my regional educational services organization. I am still loving the variety of projects I get to work on, the creative writing I get to do, and seeing how the publications we produce make a difference in the school districts and community, so for now I will just continue to be thankful for the job I have and hope that I'll be able to keep it.

Last night, we went out to dinner with a colleague of Drew's who is visiting from Germany. We had a great time at the Japanese steakhouse talking about the differences between languages, dialects, and cultures. We haven't mentioned the possibility much to people up until this point, but ever since Drew spent time in Germany and France last fall for work, we've been discussing the possibility of someday becoming ex-pats. Of course, right now wouldn't be a great time for it to happen. With owning a house, three cars, two dogs, and me being on so much medication to control my PCOS, we are not exactly in a flexible enough state to pick up and move overseas. But, it is exciting to discuss the possibility. And, if adding to our family does not work out the way we'd like it to, the five bedroom house with the big yard starts to seem a little unnecessary to keep. Drew's boss has told him that if he ever gets serious about the prospect, just let him know. I think the opportunity might be there, if we find ourselves in the position that we can take it.

Finally, my dear husband generously bought me a new toy this past weekend. I have been "following" this electronic reading device since it was introduced in 2007. At first, I had mixed feelings about it. As an avid reader and someone who has always been emotionally attached to the physicality of books, the device, at first, seemed like "the beginning of the end." Now, however, my feelings have changed slightly, though I must admit that a small part of me feels like a traitor who has joined the "dark side." "What will become of the publishing industry and libraries if I support the development of these devices by purchasing one?" I used to think. But, as with anything else, if you can't resist change, you must embrace it. So, I guess I am choosing to embrace it now, as we have seen the "writing on the wall" for publishing of late with the consolidation and closings of so many newspapers and other media outlets who are also going "paperless."

Also, when we calculate out how much we'd spent to buy additional bookshelves (ours are currently beyond capacity), as well as how much I spend on my Barnes & Noble membership and books each year, the numbers spoke for themselves. Once the device pays for itself, we can also feel good about the fact that we'll be killing fewer trees. And, the "techie" features such as text-to-speech, bookmarks/annotations, a search function, and a dictionary look-up aren't half-bad, either. I'm excited to give it a try, though I know I probably wouldn't have bought it for myself. (So, thanks, sweetie. )

Have a great week,
Em

Keaton's Baptism

drewnem — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 20:25:28 -0500

Last weekend, we flew to Wisconsin to meet Keaton, the first child of our good friends, Kate and Collin. It was his baptism weekend, so we were able to be there and offer a helping hand for those festivities as well. Drew and I were both more than smitten with little Keaton. He is an absolute doll, and we both eagerly held him often over the few days that Kate and Collin put up with us us up.

Kate and Collin are already wonderful, caring, and doting parents to Keaton. It was so fun to watch them with him, and to see him respond to his Mommy and Daddy. Even at only eight weeks old, the little peanut certainly knows the difference and responds preciously when he hears their voices, sees their faces, or feels their touch. It brought me to near-tears several times to witness these two, who so desperately wanted a child, interacting with their perfectly sweet little one.

Here are a few pictures of this weekend (mostly from the baptism). I wanted to take more pictures around the house of all of us (including Amanda, who we also enjoyed seeing...hi, Amanda!) with the baby, but wouldn't you know it? My camera battery was dead almost immediately after I took my first picture. Luckily, before the baptism on Sunday, Kate and I figured out we basically have the exact same Canon point-and-shoot, so I was able to use her battery charger. (Phew!)

Thank you for letting us come meet our pseudo-nephew, you guys. We enjoyed every minute of it, and we can't wait until we get to see all of you again! We miss you!

-Em and Drew