Adoption Blog

Since our adoption process officially starts with our 2 day PAC trainings tomorrow and Friday, I want to let you all know of my “new” adoption blog. I will still be updating this site, but I wanted to create a site that I could someday give to our child as a gift outlining our process while illustrating the desire we share to make them a member of our family. Both my husband and I will be updating this site and the topics will range from culture, process, to general thoughts about adoption.

It will be open to everyone I know and will not be linked to this site in any way. Please help me preserve that wish and prevent me from having to go PWP.

The site was named after ……. leave a note here if you want the site. Sorry, it had to go bu-bye since I have been giving the new site to friends and family who have google powers.

 

Egg-tastic.

I am board and waiting for Mr. Jitter’s to get home from teaching so we can eat dinner and make each other laugh.  So, you lucky ones get to be my outlet for pent up extrovert energy since I feel like I have been laughing all day in my head at funny things and have had no one to share them with. (Other than DD who I just got off the phone with  – in my best east coast Jewish accent “love her”)

For example, I need to share the fact that I just finished making a batch of Jitter’s Famous Egg Salad for dinner (to be served on toasted Pumernickel with a side of tomato soup) and I actually felt sorry for the chicken whose egg I was shelling.  Now, I a non-ashamed carnivore, often feel sorry for animals our society consumes but instead of choosing to not eat them I buy ones that were supposedly treated well before we mercilessly killed them for our capitalistic driven food market.  It is probably all a hoax, but it eases my mind as I chomp on a side of bacon.  Back to the chicken, as I was shelling the freshly boiled eggs I was making a mess of the egg.  The shells were sticking and I was destroying the eggs in the process.  As the egg fragments sat on my cutting board waiting to be chopped I noted that the poor chicken must also have “egg issues”, just like me.  Aww, the poor chicken may also be infertile.  I hope there are some little chicks she can adopt and imprint herself as mother on them.

Pathetic, huh.  Does it make more sense if I tell you that today is CD1 and I was not expecting it because I really stopped playing calendar games.   Unfortunately my lack of planning left me dealing with the crotch lava while standing at a job fair downtown all day.  I should have seen it coming when I found myself crying a few days ago as I read “How much is the puppy in the window” which I was purchasing off the discount book rack for our future child.  Or when I again cried as I drove by our striking university workers because I was just so proud of them standing up for what they believe in, even though I know the group is mostly composed of graduate students eager to jump on the bandwagon of any social justice cause.  How about that jar of frosting I spooned into my mouth and directly to my thighs last night after I polished off the caramel candy corn.

To add more excitement to my evening,  my house seems to be a place where all lost dogs come. I was just interrupted by my dear std. poodle barking in a way he only does when another dog is lurking outside our front porch. I swear, he invites them over because they always come to my house.  I got to play doggie rescue lady and call the owner who just came to pick her up wayward chocolate lab. Come on people get a fence or leash your dog.  Now the beatch side of me is coming out.

Go period – it’s your start day- go period – get it on.

Who knew CD1 could be such a riot.  Perhaps next month I will take my period shopping or to dinner and a movie. It may not work well for her to get a pedicure, huh?  She is going to be around for the rest of my middle life so I better buy that Cost-co sized box of tampons and force a friendship.

Raise your glasses (please no tomato juice) to my new monthly BFF.

 

Blogging vs. Forums

We have our first adoption meetings on Thursday & Friday of this week. The meetings are mandatory for all adoptive parents and the topics range from dealing with infertility ( grrrr…) to country specific adoption information. It is a full 16 hours and while I am looking forward to it, I am dreading it at the same time.

The agenda came in the mail and the first time slot on the very first day is devoted to small group discussion of infertility and pregnancy loss in relation to adoption. OK, let me get this straight, you want me to meet people for the very first time and then tell them my deepest emotions and feelings and then shut up when I hear them say that it was not god’s will for them to have a baby so they “just” moved on to adoption? Isn’t this a very personal item for a small group discussion with complete strangers? Although I pour my life out to you on the internet, I don’t openly discuss my feelings in public. Very few friends and family members have ever seen me cry – happy or sad. I may be free flowing with the details of our infertility, but the emotions I hold close. My grief is personal. No offense to others around me, but this is how I am comfortable dealing with it.

Now I have to let complete strangers in? We will see how that goes.

In preparation for this portion of the meeting, I have been scanning the national adoption forum our agency manages. The threads are managed by country or domestic and are open to any one across the country or in the world for that matter. I have been trying to “get into this” aspect of adoption, but as with infertility I am just not a forum gal.

The forum seems to be a great place to share specific information about hair care, dossiers, referrals, and process or information related items, but the true aspects of blogging that I enjoy are not present. I appreciate bloggers for their writing and point of view that is usually (always in the blogs I read) explained in an eloquent nature with an absence of emoticons.    With blogging, I can avoid those who I usually do not agree with, or choose the read them when I can handle the emotions that their comments may stir up.  For example, if you tell me you are sprinkling me with baby dust, I am not ever returning to your site. Period. That crap does not do anything but annoy me.  I do not believe there was immaculate conception in the case of Jesus or the package of the baby dust that arrives with those internet HPTs.  Sorry for the heathen comparison, but my practical brain just cannot grasp it. It also leads me to another reason I can not read the forums.  So many of the authors have a biblical verse below their “stats”.  I am sorry, but I am not OK with GOD and I could not swallow a comment made if it was sprinkled with baby dust or holy water.  I am entirely OK with others having a belief in God, Jesus, Allah, Amum, Zeus/Hera, or who ever, but I do not and having it forced on me will not change my mind, just aggravate me.  The other complaint I have about forums, is that there seems to be the forum master poster who can either make the experience good for all or just be a playground bully and know it all.

I may end up eating my words and will probably check out the forum through this process to either work myself up or calm my nerves, but for the reasons stated above and many others, I do not think forum posting is my “thing.”  We started an adoption specific blog which will be shared with family, friends, & you (if you promise to NEVER link to this site from it) and I plan on keeping this site going in addition.

What are your thoughts?  Do you post on blogs & forums?  If so or not, what are your reasons?

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BTW: spell check is not working so please excuse the spelling errors on my recent posts…

 

Over & done with…

We met with Dr. Bowtie for the very last time today.  I am relieved.  I am sad.  I am grateful.

Relieved that this is over.

Sad that we did not get what we tried to.  Sad that this wonderful doctor & staff has also felt our failure.  Sad that I will never have a biological child. 

I could go on about our sadness, but I am going to focus on how grateful we are…. (what, me a normally sarcastic and harsh person has other emotions?)

When we started fertility treatments 3 years ago, I dreaded this place.  I could not imagine dealing with the emotions I assumed I would be feeling right now, at the end.  I feel that sadness and shock – it stings and it numbs at the same time, but what helps me work through it is a strong sense of “it could be worse.”  Mr. Jitter’s and I have suffered through this process.  We have had to realize things about ourselves, our relationship, and life that two 30 year olds normally do not encounter.  Or, I should clarify, two 3o year olds of an educated, upper-middle class background in the US.  Generally speaking, life has been good to us and our desire to have a child was partially out of a feeling of wanting to share that feeling with another human being.  I have not always been able to feel this way about life and I will not be surprised if you are puking in your trash can right now with my overload of cheesy introspective emotion.

Don’t worry, I will not be sporting all that “Life is Good” wear, but general, Life is Good, for us.  I have been reading Melissa Faye Greene’s book, There is No Me Without You, and I am certain that we are moving in the correct direction with Ethiopian Adoption.  I will share more about my sobbing page flipping at 2:30 in the morning in a later post, but if any of you are familiar with this book I am sure you have the same reaction.

Am I grateful our IVF did not work?  Absolutely not, I do not believe that everything happens for a reason.  I am grateful that through this entire spirit challenging process, my love for my child continued to grow.  Things do not happen for a reason, sometimes we have enough strength left after being beating down to see a silver lining and sometimes there are coincidences.  

I am grateful that although my body may not be able to bear a child, my heart can still produce enough love to compensate. 

 

What happened to summer?

And, well, my desire to post more…..  In my defense, I am in the process of drafting many posts for our adoption blog, training for a marathon (in 23 days), and working our busy season.  I do owe you all a little love though.

I heard on the radio that Labor Day is the official end of summer, and although I agree with the idea, the use of official is incorrect.  The official end of summer is with the start of fall, which is not synced with Labor Day.  Yes, it feels like fall, but it is technically still summer.

Don’t even get me started on the misuse of ironic & literally.

The reason why I am so seasonally focused is because I keep telling people we will most likely have a baby in the spring or summer. There are no guarantees and things can “happen”,  but I have been scouring the Ethiopian adoption forums & blogs and that seems to be the typical time frame.  Not to mention, Mr. Jitter’s is on overdrive and is already starting to lay out documents for me to sign on the coffee table. If things go his way, our dossier will be completed before the home study is finished. Like most other adoptive parents, I want the time to pass as quickly as possible and you always seem to hope for the best.

Hope for the best – Ha – that is a new one. Unlike in infertility, where I despised child related items and detoured around Target so I could avoid that section at all costs, I am now starting to embrace parenthood.

Yes, I am still am infertile and I will always be, but for this first time in my life I feel like I can buy children’s items because there is more of a guarantee that there will actually be a child at the end of this long process.  I have ramped up the child’s book collection, am finishing all my child related knitting projects, and my mother has started clipping me articles about how bad plastic bottles are.  She also is offering to buy us a crib and changing table (yes I picked one out already, but I am too freaked out to even go look at them in person much less have her order it for us).  She even managed to finagle my Grandmother’s rocking chair, which belonged to my namesake Great-Grandmother.   I am 1 of 17 grandchildren on my mother’s side, so you can imagine how special that makes me feel.

I am new to this whole adopting thing, but is there a official, or even unofficial name for what I am going through???

excitedreliefnervapation is all I can come up with.

It is entirely out of my comfort zone to feel more excitement than fear.  I am even starting to not loathe pregnant people.  Note: I said starting – that emotion will never disappear entirely – those knocked up hoars still piss me off..  The baby items I have acquired over the years are starting to creep out of storage and have even appeared on our dining room table.  Wow – there may actually be a child in this house in a few seasons.

Now, I just hope my excitement is not shattered at our 2 day adoption meeting next week.  I cannot help but make the comparison of myself at my current stage and a first time clomider.  Yes, I was that first time clomider years ago and I learned my lesson, a harsh lesson at that.

I hope that does not happen again.

 

Fertile Fashionista

Going around the lake with Mr. Jitters we just witnessed the ultimate fashion faux-paux. I am not talking plumbers butt or muffin tops but really a really bad, state fair bad, t-shirt.

This bad…..

Really, because even if she was 9 months pregnant with quintuplets she was clearly still fat. I am not talking a little extra pudge fat, but really fat.  So pregnancy was an excuse for her to blame her fatness on?

What can she blamer her stupidity on?

She needed this t-shirt……

 

Could I have a better Mr.?

Here is a note the Mr. e-mailed to our friends who are writing reference letters.  He is just so damn sweet.  Try not to puke as you read ahead.  (I changed our names in case you are wondering)….

K…, K…., and K…. (and the significant others that are helping in the process),

As you all know “Jitters” and I are a bit overwhelmed recently with baby issues, which results in us being a bit scattered in our thoughts and probably lacking in the appreciation department. So, I want to at least say thank you via email for your friendship, kindness, and help in moving us forward in the adoption process. Also, thank you so very much for agreeing to write reference letters on our behalf. The exciting news is that we got into the September round of adoption training, a two day training for potential adoptive parents which we have to take. The original date was not until the end of October, so moving to the September dates, decreases our wait time between the different phases of the process. We will of course keep you posted as we move through the adoption process, most likely not through email, but in person.

Love to all of you,

Mr. Jitters

 

Out with the old, in with the….

As I was rummaging through the bathroom closet this morning frantically looking for my travel size shampoo, I pulled out a OV predictor test.  I pleasantly chuckled to myself and then chucked that bad boy in the trash.

No, it was not used.  Ahhh…. a fresh foil package.

No, I will never need it again.  Ever.  Seriously.  We are done trying to get pg that way.

Then, someone tell me why I dug through the snotty tissues, drain hair, and waxy q-tips to rescue it so it could again safely reside in the closet till I find it again and repeat this sick act.

Why do we not throw these things away?  We are done trying to birth children and I should have a ceremony to purge my house of needles, 1/2 filled vials of progesterone, unused tests, and, well, the occassional positive pregnancy test that dear Mr. Jitters got sick of looking at on the dining room buffet but realized would crush me if he threw it away so he stuck it in my sunglasses drawer.  It has been sitting there for 2 weeks and will most likely stay there till that piece of furniture goes bye-bye. Yup, seriously, just ask DD who so graciously touched it and confirmed that it was positive when she came up to visit from NE.  Come to think of it, did she wash her hands after touching my pee stained stick?  I guess she felt she owed me for tasting her as* flavored BC pill.

It has been a serious shame that I have been so incredibly sick that I have not been able to post about DD’s visit and our lunch with Alexa.  Those two fabu-ladies beat me to the punch and told their sides of the story, but they left out a huge detail.

They were both there for me when I needed them most.  Yes, we all have our own IF problems to deal with, but both of them were willing to put their stuff aside and support me.  A year ago, before I was even part of this online family, I felt so alone.  I have friends, very loving and dear friends, but no one I knew was having the same heartache we were experiencing.  These two ladies, and many more of you, have helped me in a way no others could.  For that huge feat, I am grateful.

I am lucky enough that the wicked smart Alexa lives under 10 miles from me and she has been a huge support.  I can see her for random IF visits, but also for cocktails, med swaps, knitting events, and now book club! Plus, as DD posted, she is really WICKED SMART.  I have never met anyone who can whip out a reference, creative or factual, faster than I can even send a signal to my brain to start to think of something somewhat related.  Plus, she is just so kind.  Witty, kind, smart – a lethal combination perhaps?  Oh, no, it is the supertalented Alexa!  I need to make up some elaborate story about how we met, becasue when I tell people online they cock their head and judge me.  Sad, but true.  Story plots welcome….

An then there is the hottest girl outta Nebraska – the temperature in that state must have dropped 20 degrees when she crossed the state line.  Will was not buying drinks for me, but for her – I saw him oogling her at the bar.  She is absolutely Fabulous in every way possible and incredibly non-Nebraska like (that is a compliment….).  Don’t be putting any small town midwest stereotypes on this lady, cause she will blow them all away.    I am still in awe that she endured constipation and drove across states of corn fields to see me.  Granted, she did come to see a new baby also, but also ME.  I am so grateful that she actually came to visit me – it was DD who “invited” me into the blogging world at a time when I needed a ton of support and she then proved to be a very dear and selfless friend again by coming to see me in a time of complete dispair.  Not only is she the hottest gal outta NE, but she is the uber-Blogger, and for that matter, the uber-friend.

I am ending the era of IVF not with a baby, but with new friends.  It was not the new relationship I expected to take out of this whole ordeal, but at least I do not have change their diapers!

 

Fried & Friends

Here in MN the State Fair is huge.  Yes, the people are also huge, but the fair is bigger.  Tomorrow morning I will rise at 5 am and get my 11 mile training run in before I embark to deep fried goodness.

I will eat these……..

and these…….

and a few of these…….

and these…….

and these……..

and at least one of these….

and then I will be lucky enough to spend time with my favorite person from a few states south/west of here and my favorite person from across the river.  We are going to beat the shit out of infertility and laugh & point at random pregnant people.

Tomorrow is going to be a grand day!

 

Check out my Browridge

I have been a bit of a cave-woman lately.  Don’t be offended if you have not heard from me.  Up until a little while ago I was not even taking calls.  I didn’t want to talk about “it”.  I still don’t.  I don’t want anyone to make me sad (I can handle that myself).  People tell me they are sorry and then I cry and then I am sad all over again after I just got out of that place.  Plus, I have nothing to say. It is kind of funny how I could so quickly recess into social oblivion.  I know my old self will return, it is already starting to this evening, but it will take a while to be back to normal.   If normal even exists after 4 years of dedicating yourself to a failed cause.

Seriously though, this last failure hit me pretty hard.  I have been crying on and off for the past few days.  It is like my eyes have the tears on call and ready for service. I need to get away from the point where just thinking about something sad makes me cry. Up until this point I have been too sad to even post.  The nights are the worst since I have been waking up with mini panic attacks and I feel like I cannot breathe and then I start thinking.  Last night I took some perc0set so I could sleep through the night and go figure, I woke up at midnight with massive itching – if it is not one thing it seems to be another.  The thinking is the worst. I cannot turn off my thoughts.  They seem to be sabotaging me.  It all seems so final.  We are done.  It is over.  I am finding myself yearning for more, even though it will never work and I know that.  I miss the hope that comes along with each cycle.  The knowing that pricking myself with 3 needles a day in the belly and having a wand shoved up my hoo-ha may actually make me suffer enough that some baby will take pity on me and choose to reside in my uterus.  I miss my doctors and clinic staff.  The thought of not seeing these people that I have come to appreciate over the past few years saddens me. I feel like they really care about me as a person.  They have given me so much support and since we just failed they are now gone.  I am not ready to leave them yet. I don’t get to leave their clinic as a success story, but rather as a file that eventually gets filed away in the FAILED category.  Don’t worry. I am not taking the failure personally, with a feeling that we did something wrong or that we are imperfect, but I just wanted to leave there with a baby.

It just feels so weird to be done.  I am not ready to mourn the loss of being pregnant and giving birth.  I am not certain that desire will ever go away.  The Mister keeps telling me it will take time.  I know he is right, but it just is so overwhelming right now.  I am tinkering with the thought of actually seeing “someone” to talk this all through with.  I know it will pass, but right now I just feel so claustrophobic and these sudden intense feelings of sadness just come out of no where when I am doing so well.  I have never really been to a counselor consistently before and I don’t know where to start.  I guess I could call the nurses at our clinic and get some suggestions, but I have never been someone to get my support in that way.  I would have to establish rapport with them and then I hate the fact they are using some form of  psychology on me so I would try to outsmart them.  I know this defeats the purpose and it is kind of strange, but it is just who I am.  Throughout this whole process I have gotten my support from my doctors and the nurses. Remember the conversation I had with that kind embryologist I spoke of on Monday, I need that right now.  I want to sit down with them and work through this. They know me and my situation. They have given me the kind of counseling I have needed.  The kind that works for me.  Now, since we are not pursuing anymore treatment, they are out of my life and so is my medical support / counseling.  It is just so scary to do this alone and the thought of bringing someone else into the mix now just seems useless.

Now, since I am starting to get myself down again, I am going to drastically change directions and write about something happy. I cannot get myself all worked up before I go to bed. I just changed itunes to a more upbeat song.  I need to end on a high note.

The Mister and I have been making strides with our adoption paperwork.  In fact we turned it in yesterday.  It was kind of surreal.  He is so incredibly excited and he keeps reading me passages from ancient Greek literature regarding references to the Ethiopian people, their customs, and their beauty.  Today he told me if we get a boy referral he is going to buy the boy a Poseidon token for his neck because of the historical references between Poseidon and the Ethiopian people.  I suppose that story would make more sense if I told you The Mister wears an old coin with Athena on his neck that he got when he lived in Greece. When he bikes he puts his wedding band on the chain. I have always loved it in a mushy, girly kind of way, although mentioning it to him would ruin it and he may stop wearing it altogether – he is funny that way.  Later, he was picking out girl names based on ancient Greek mythology.  It was weird for me to hear him say that Cassiopeia or Andromeda would be good girl names.  I can’t say I agree with him exactly, but he is just so giddy and excited that I would not want to disagree at this moment. I have never seen him have this much of himself emotionally vested in the process of having a child.  He already loves this baby that we do not yet have.  It is quite sweet and it makes me know it will all work out.  For once I feel like we are really in this together.  We set up an adoption blog already. – together.  He is planning out posts and researched a bunch of historical and cultural information for links.

I guess it will be alright after all, I just need to get through the next little while.

Some valium would help a bit, is that so bad?

 

The word

The nice things about rainy days, is that they give you an excuse for smudged mascara.

The tears started on Saturday evening and continued up until a little while ago. They may return, but I need to rehydrate first. Last night, after fighting with my dear husband all day, he came into the bathroom where I was hunched over in bathwater lukewarm and half filled with tears. He decided to be the bigger person and told me how hard it is to see me suffer, wanting to pick me up and hold me as I cry, but was just so angry for attacking him with words all day. He was right. I was entirely out of line. I was ruthless. I said many things I never should have. Things that I want to erase. I was upset to say the least, but he is with me, not against me. He was the bigger person and for that I am grateful. I can not get through this without him.

The call came in at 1:34. It was just 34 minutes into my afternoon presentation. My phone buzzed. I glanced down and saw the call was from UNKNOWN and I knew. I took a deep breath and continued. It buzzed again to let me know I had a new VM. I apologized to the audience and used humor to bring them back. They did not know it was graveyard humor, that was my secret.

I didn’t need to answer the call. I didn’t need to call back the clinic. I already knew. I stopped my PIO shots earlier this weekend and drank alcohol at a friends house at dinner last night. There are just some things you know about your body and I know that I will never give birth to a biological child. My body is fighting it. I tried to fight back. It won.

After I left work, I called the clinic. They were empathetic and caring. The nurse was surprised that I was so matter of fact and she kept telling me it was OK to cry. I had to reassure her that I had been and will. but now I need information. She obviously must not have talked to our clinics embryologist, who approached me while my blood was being draw and asked how I was holding up. Poor guy, he sits in the lab all day and had a patient crying in the hallway…not exactly his domain. He was caring and sincere and helped me more than he may know. I guess when you are normally a bubbly and happy person turn beaten down and sad it is noticeable. I am sure that person will come back before my appointment with the doctor on the 17th (of freakin September that is).

After I got off the phone with the nurse and started on my way home I decided to do something absolutely crazy. I stopped at the natural baby boutique. I had been there once before and was driven crazy by new parents picking out cloth diapers and rationalizing with their newborns. Asking the baby why they are crying is stupid. You don’t have many options and a little common sense tells you the difference between hunger, diaper change, sick, tired. They cannot talk so why would they answer??? Stop asking and start doing something so we do not have to listen them. Needless to say, my last visit left me agitated. So why would I go there, especially at a moment like this?

I needed to conquer those new parents and pregnant people. I was not going to hide and bash them inside. I parked outside the store and sat in the car for a few minutes before I got the courage to go in. As soon as I touched the door handle, I heard it. Babies crying, excited parents, annoying & fretting pregnant people. I heard it. I accepted it. I swallowed. I found my internal strength. The past 4 years have beaten me to the ground. I have been surrounded with people living my dream. I have been excited, crushed, hopeful and devastated. Standing in the doorway I felt all those emotions rush back at once. I fought back the tears and they obeyed. My mind came to peace with what my body will not perform.

The organic cotton baby clothes called me until a pregnant mom approached and held up outfits to her belly. I sought refuge in the children’s books and picked one up titled Mama & Papa and read it as I batted my eyes and refused to cry. “You cry it, you buy it” I told myself and chuckled at how clever I can be, even in moments of extreme distress. When I got it together I tried to approach the cloth diapers, but it was full of THEM, so I looked at the wooden flapper toys. Nothing very special. Nothing worth the 50 buck price tag. So I started to leave. At least I looked at baby stuff without crying I told myself. I was proud. As I made my way toward the door I noticed the CD’s. One in particular caught my attention because of the replicated African fabric on the cover. African Dreams: Lullabies and Cradle Songs from the Motherland was the title. I picked it up and hugged it. There was something for me at the baby store after all. I flipped it over and noticed that #13 is a traditional african lullaby titled “Es.hu.ru.ru”, which I believe (don’t quote me) translates into “my child”.

I went into the store with a purpose, even though I did not know it. I am ready to move on. I have losses to mourn. I will never forget the pain I have suffered these past 4 years, but if I am going to be a mom to a beautiful adopted baby from Ethiopia I need to manage my pain and make room for love.

 

Rainy Saturday

I love rainy summer Saturdays. LOVE THEM.  I can wear my pj’s all day, don’t need to shower, drink coffee all day, read, bake, knit, listen to music, putz on the computer with no guilt that I should be outside because it will soon be winter.

Today I have already pulled out a few knitting projects, bought the relatively new Feist album (which rocks), made a rub for the chicken I am roasting for dinner and drank 4 cups of coffee.

Perhaps I should get to that book for book club next week.  I can’t seem to get into it and may have to fake it or read the first few pages of every chapter.

I think we will get to adoption application stuff instead….

So I was inspired by the darling Beagle to get knitting again. Knowing that our child will be adopted an anywhere between the ages of 3 months – 1 year, I am perplexed by what to make for them.  I have plenty of projects waiting to be finished – I seemed to think I would be pg and then have an incredibly urge to finish all of them because they would be for a baby, my baby.  Mostly, I just lost interest or gave them away.  I don’t think it is suitable to just pick up one of those projects when we are starting a new route.  I want to make something new, for my baby that I know is coming this spring/summer.

Perhaps I will start with a blanket – it is pretty age neutral.  Or, I have an absolutely adorable hooded cableknit sweater pattern that fits a child at 1 year of age.  Any thoughts?

 

After beta plans

My first beta is tomorrow and even though my veins have not yet been pierced, I already know the outcome.  My clinic does not tell you the results until after the second beta, so I will have to wait until Monday for medical confirmation.

I don’t need it though, I already know the results.  C’mon on gals (and any random infertile men other than my husband who I am guessing occasionaly looks at my blog) this is something you just know.  The other times I have been pregnant, even though they ended in miscarriage, I knew I was pg prior to the positive pee stick.  I am not playing any “I know it’s negative and then I’ll be surprised” games with myself this time. 

Really, I am certain it is negative.

I will be grateful to end the PIO or better known as PIA shots because my poor bottom is so lumpy, bruised, and pricked that sleeping, sitting, standing all hurt.  Since I have not yet figured out levitation, I am pretty much gonna have to deal with the pain until I can end the shots.  They cannot end soon enough.

When they do end, what will we be doing to acquire a child has been the million dollar question at our house.  There has been debate, tears, yelling, arguing, pleading, and basically the plot for a Lifetime movie happening unfolding.  How will the overly dramatic made for TV movie end? 

Drum roll please……

We will be proceeding with infant adoption from Ethiopia. 

Our application will be ready to go in the mail as soon as the negative beta call comes in.  Ahhhh, it feels good to know that my next route to a child will be needle free.  Unless, of course, I need any shots for the travel part, but I can handle a tetnus booster because it is not delivered to my arse in sesame oil.

At about the same time we will be putting together our dossier for the Ethiopia, we will be making additional copies for Embryo Adoption.  For those of you not too familiar with the Embryo Adoption option, it is similar to domestic adoption and you go in a book (well kind of)  and wait to be selected or matched.  Since we have no idea about the time frame for this second option and a better idea about the first adoption we decided to proceed in that order, knowing we would end up doing both anyway.

More about the method behind our madness will unfold later this week, but for now, I am just tired of explaining it and ready to get going with the process.  I won’t yell at you though, if you decide to hit me with questions or “have you thought of’s”, but we are looking forward to traveling to pick up our child (hopefully) this spring or next summer – right around when this last IVF child would be born.

Hmm….just think, our baby could be in utero somewhere right now, or even in an orphanage. 

 

Dream on.

I awoke this morning eager to get out of bed.  It is interesting how playing the POAS game will do that to do.  Most mornings I hit snooze repeatedly till the dog even gets annoyed.

When I woke up it took me a few moments to realize that the dream I just had was unfortunately NOT reality.  Normally that is a good thing  when I have my recurrent dream about starting the first day of school and not having my class schedule or books or anything.  For some reason I am in a panic and rather than just rationalizing that no one does any work on the first day of school anyway I freak.  I usually wake up with an eye twitch and a sweat from this one.

Last nights dream was about this morning.  I got up and went to the bathroom and POAS and it was positive.   I woke up Mr. Jitters and we lived happily ever after.

This morning I got up and POAS and it was negative.   And, now I have to shower and go to work and be not pregnant.

Arghhh.  I want my dream life instead, I wish going back to sleep would bring it back.

The funny thing is that I am not even sad.  Honestly.  I am just annoyed.  The waiting is killing me because I want to know the “now” next step that will hopefully bring me closer to a baby.  Just because I have not been posting about it, doesn’t mean it isn’t being discussed.  In fact, at our household, it seems to be the ONLY thing being discussed and debated.

 

Ah, duh.

I work at a hospital.  Babies are born at hospitals.   Conclusion: I see many pregnant people and occasionally new babies.

At first this was really annoying, but now it is just work.  Even the baby chime that plays for each child’s birth annoys me only on bad days.  Most of the time I can tune it out successfully.

The thing I can not tune out is the stupidity of pregnant people and their mates.  I use the term mates intentionally because some of these folks are two opposable digits and some brain space away from animals.

For example, while walking through the lobby today a gentleman approached me.  He informed me his wife was in labor.  I asked if his wife was able to make and he said yes, so I told him he needs to go to Birthplace.  I showed him that way and even pushed the button on the elevator for him.  He then said, “so is the birthplace where the babies are born?”

Ah, that would be why it is called the birthplace, sir.  I am sorry, I should make that clearer…BIRTH PLACE.

Or last week, while walking through one of  the attached clinic buildings a man approached me to ask where the girl clinic was.  I asked him to clarify what he meant by “girl clinic” and he said, you know where they check out the babies.  Just to make sure I asked if it was babies before or after birth.  And he said “before, you know in the bellies”.  I directed him to where he needed to go and told him that if he gets lost again to ask for so and so Gynecology.  Repeating the directions to me to make sure he got it right, well most of it right, he said:”and if I get lost again, just ask at the desk for so and so va-gyn-o-cology.

It was so hard not to laugh.