Longest Labor, Biggest Baby To Date!

Now that the chaos has died down somewhat and I can sit down by myself and type for a while, I can fill you in on my last delivery before the baby-centered portion of my world becomes much, much more personal.

Last Thursday I sat at my desk at work, casually timing my contractions. They were coming at four to six minute intervals and while they were not “STFU contractions,” they were enough so that I was definitely not smiling. As I posted previously, I called the Big Hospital and was advised that it might not be a bad idea to come up and get checked out. I told them I would come in if they continued after the hour-ish drive home. They did, but I decided to try stopping at home and laying on my left side after a long drink of water. One of the tests to see if labor is real or not is to attempt this. If the contractions go away, then it's not real labor. If they don't, then it's probably time to check in. Well, they went away, but the doctors wanted me to stay close to the hospital on Friday just to make sure things didn't pick back up again.

Monday as I mentioned, we had our OB appointment and Dr. Colorful tentatively scheduled us for induction on Tuesday. I decided to go to work, since I had attended a work-related conference one town north of home on Monday anyway, and nothing had been set off. Besides, I was told that if I was to go in early on Tuesday morning, I'd get a call around 6:30 am. I didn't, so I went to work and followed the secondary protocol: Check in by 9:00 am if no one had called me. They hadn't, so I called and was told that they might be able to squeeze me in later, so I should call back around 1:00 pm. That call met with success. I was to head up to the hospital right then to be induced.

I texted Mum to let her know that she and Dad should meet me at the Big Hospital at 2:30 to begin the process. We even made it into a room and I got changed and hopped onto the bed before the nurse came in apologizing profusely, but asking us if we'd be willing to come back Wednesday, because three laboring mothers were inbound and space was still kind of tight. Disappointed, Mum and Dad agreed, so I got dressed and we headed out for the night.

At 6:45 Wednesday morning, Mum texted me to ask if I'd heard from the hospital yet. I blearily replied that the Labor & Delivery ward was only fifteen minutes late calling, but to double check I called my voicemail at work and checked to make sure they hadn't tried calling me at the wrong number. While on that call, I got a voicemail from Labor & Delivery on my cell, telling me to call them back. Of course what they meant was, “go ahead and have breakfast, get a shower and come in.” Mum and Dad were informed and I promised to text them when I headed out.

By 8:30 am, I was gown-clad and hooked up to fetal and contraction monitors, and the nurses were introducing themselves and talking us through the early stages of the induction process. Three attempts at my veins finally got an IV into my hand and saline and penicillin were on their way into my bloodstream. Can I just tell you: Penicillin BURNS. Thankfully, increasing the saline drip dilutes it so it doesn't bother, but holy mackerel! OW! Pitocin followed shortly thereafter and early labor was on its way.

At Hubs' suggestion, I asked to see an anesthesiologist early on to get an epidural started before labor got really difficult. Hubs seemed to think that doing it while I'm not bellowing and clawing at people would make it more effective. It took several hours of having our nurses pester the docs, but after two c-sections, one of them was finally free to come in and stick a needle and catheter into my back. Ladies and gentlemen: Hubs was right. Turns out that when you get the epidural after active labor begins, the medicine can't keep up with the contractions, so you wind up not getting relief.

Once the penicillin drip was complete, one of the doctors who'd delivered Tempest came in and broke my water. Not much happened, to be honest. We all kind of expected the same tsunami as before, but no one worried much that it didn't all come at once. I wasn't feeling any pain, and so I was perfectly happy to let labor progress as it would.

Except that hours and hours later, I wasn't progressing at six centimeters dilation. Nugget was tolerating labor just fine – heart rate and movement were healthy, but I was starting to get frustrated; and Mum was all but pacing from excitement and anticipation. Another cervical check showed that there was a “forebag” of amniotic fluid preventing Nugget from coming down any further. That bag was ruptured, and again some fluid came with, along with a healthy dose of bloody show, and the doctor left, content that this would encourage more progress.

It didn't. Two hours later, I was still at six centimeters and guess what? Yet another forebag presented itself. This one ruptured but-good, and the aforementioned tsunami emerged and then some. By this point the epidural wasn't giving me 100% relief, but it was still taking a lot of the edge off. At this point, I had figured out that I had yet to really relax my pelvic muscles – a major no-no in birthing. In previous experiences, I'd felt the contractions, so it reminded me to breathe, keep my jaw loose and my “bottom” relaxed. Now I was able to hum through the contractions while Mum, Dad and our third nurse (we had gone through two other shifts by that point) fiddled around with a birthing ball, then a birthing ball trying to help me find a position I liked. My idea was that if I sat up as I had with Tempest, we could try to use gravity and the pressure of my upper body to encourage Nugget to come down more and faster; thus dilating me better. I soaked through a practical regiment of “chux pads” (the ones that are quilted on one side, and plastic on the other, to protect sheets from bodily fluids) as amniotic fluid continued to surge out with every contraction. This did work. At my next cervical check, I was at nine centimeters.

Except I stayed there through three more checks. We turned me over – yes, I had enough epidural going to make fine motor control in my left leg all but impossible - and I knelt on the bed, leaning against the head, which had been raised up fully. The intent here was to keep my pelvic muscles relaxed and encourage Nugget's head to push that last little lip of cervix out of the way. It didn't work; it just made my legs tired and wobbly. It was then decided that I might have better luck laying on my right side. At least that way we could maybe encourage the epidural to do more work on the side that was no longer getting the same relief as my left.

This didn't have quite the effect we intended it to, at first. Over the course of the second and third trimesters this pregnancy, if I ate within three hours of bedtime, Nugget would protest and make me throw up whatever I had eaten and then some. These last few weeks, I wasn't able to eat much past 2:00 pm most days. I had eaten a few bites of fruit and granola parfait from a local breakfast shop, and had a few sips of orange juice as my breakfast. Lunch and dinner were long over, but I'd swallowed a decent amount of water, apple juice and gingerale; and had been allowed a grape popsicle, which I couldn't finish. I'd thrown up a little bit, earlier, but apparently not enough. I let it all go.

The next thing I knew, I felt Nugget's head slip past my cervix and begin the journey down my birth canal. I had been warned earlier that Dr. Colorful, who was now on duty, was slow to arrive for deliveries, so I tried to give as much notice as I could. I told my nurse, “The baby just made its way down past my cervix. Pushing is imminent. You'll want to get the doctor now.”

The residents, pediatrician and other nurses made their way into the room and suited up, as they had already prepared a cart for delivery.

By the time the medical staff's gloves were on, I was actually trying to hold Nugget back. No pushing was necessary. In fact, one of the residents had to put her hand between my lefts to STOP Nugget from just sliding out. I kid you not folks, I did not push AT ALL to get Nugget to this point.

I was told several times that we all really needed to wait for Dr. Colorful to arrive, but frankly it's not comfortable having a baby's head crowning and just sitting there. I asked several times if we could please just deliver the baby. Both residents were properly trained, and I'm fairly certain that both had attended Tempest's birth as well. Finally, they assented, as Colorful was nowhere to be found.

Two grunts later – I say grunts because they really weren't pushes, Nugget's head and shoulders were out and the doctors were declaring the baby a boy. I wish I had a camera to show you Mum and Dad's faces – Mum's jaw was on the floor, but the rest of her face was awash with emotion. Dad's face, however, was just a mask of flabbergast. It was downright hilarious. On top of that, Colorful showed up after Mum and Dad cut the baby's umbilical cord and the nurses helped wrap Mum and baby up, skin-to-skin. I laughed at him and declared, “You're late! You totally missed the whole thing!”

Folks, we had all expected a bellowing, screaming, clawing, chaotic mess, but through seventeen hours of labor, all anyone got was a little humming, a lot of breathing and a few grunts. We had four fantastic nurses, five great doctors and a top-notch anesthesiologist. I couldn't have asked for better.

I'm sure by now plenty of you magnificent readers are looking for all the stats on baby Nugget. I shall now therefore oblige. Nugget's real name (with Mum's permission) is Hudson. He was born at 2:28 am on Thursday, October 2, 2014. He weighed in at 9 pounds, 6 ounces and measured 21 inches long. As soon as the doctors set him on the bed between my legs for cord-cutting, he let out a good, strong bellow and apparently I missed that all of the attending nurses were in tears, right along with Mum. I'm told this is very rare. And yes, I am pumping breast milk for Hudson for at least three months.

As for me, I'm sore. Incredibly sore. I guess it comes with the territory if an almost nine and a half pound baby is going to just slide out of me. I also probably shouldn't have agreed to a flu shot, twelve hours postpartum, but I figured that the maternity nurses wouldn't have offered it to me if it were going to cause problems, right? Oh well. That's what ibuprofen, ice packs and hot packs are for.

Hubs and I are definitely, DEFINITELY going to try to get pregnant for ourselves next, and then if the timing works out for Mum and Dad, we'll work with them again to give them a second child. I learned from several of the nurses, during labor, that my hope of having a home birth for my next baby is not a great idea. Because I have a tendency to hemorrhage and clot quickly after delivery, and because I'm technically considered to be of advanced maternal age, home birth is not optimal. Now, we did discuss the possibility that these nurses might simply have a bias against home birth, but they were able to say and prove, through knowing and having worked as backups for a few local home birth midwives, that this wasn't the case. I may still have an honest chat with one or two of these midwives to see what they have to say about my bleeding issues, but I have a suspicion that they'll also declare me to be a poor candidate for home birth. I think I can live with this. The nurse-midwives at The Big Hospital have a good reputation, and to be honest I have enjoyed my experiences with the doctors at that hospital anyway.

I think that's all for now, folks. Stay tuned – I'll keep you posted on my own progress with my next baby, I promise!

Another Late One

Well ladies and gents, yesterday was my due date and Nugget was a no-show. We also had our 40-week OB appointment. I brought the little blanket that I finished for Nugget over the weekend. It was just a panel that I found at the fabric store. I could have simply finished the edges and been done, but the backing was so ugly I just had to find something else to use. The panel itself is a collection of cute little jungle animals all gathered together as if posing for a photo. It’s edged in blue, then giraffe print. I found a soft flannel giraffe print and backed it with that, instead. Looks much better, and Mum seemed pleased with the blanket altogether. I therefore call the project a success.

While waiting to be called in, Mum mentioned that she was going to “beg” Dr. Colorful to strip my membranes. We discussed the possibility that this might not work, but that I was certain we didn’t need to beg – he’s pretty willing to do whatever we ask, within reason.

The appointment went the same as always – everything looked good. I didn’t gain any weight between last week and this week, my blood pressure was well within the normal healthy range, Nugget’s heartbeat was great, s/he’s measuring right on for dates, etc.

Toward the end of the appointment, Mum and Dad asked about non-pharmaceutical or “at home” ways to induce labor. Dr. Colorful said the only good, safe way to do that is the good, old-fashioned way. This has been tried but I don’t wanna push Hubs too far, given that he’s laid up from foot surgery and even a strong jiggle of his foot causes discomfort for him. So Mum went out on a limb and asked if Dr. Colorful would be willing to try to push our induction date up a few days.

As I predicted, he went out to the nurse’s station and asked if they could contact Labor & Delivery to see if they had a bed open for me that very day. They were 80% full at that point, so yesterday was a no. They therefore scheduled me for today, with the understanding that if someone else came in who was already in labor, I’d likely get bumped to tomorrow. But either way, I’ll have Nugget today or tomorrow.

Needless to say that after years of hard work and heartbreak, Mum and Dad are beside themselves with excitement. As for me, I think I’ll have a chat with an anesthesiologist early on in the process to see if maybe Hubs is right, and an epidural might be more successful if not initiated during hard labor. If not, oh well. If so, cool!

STFU Contractions

Everyone’s predicting delivery dates and labor times for Nugget. So far no one, not even the doctors, have hit it. To be fair I’m not due until Monday, but I’m still not holding out hope that I’ll have the baby without being induced.

I AM fairly certain that Nugget has finally engaged. Last night Mama and I went out to dinner and I had an appetizer-sized bowl of macaroni and cheese, followed by a flat iron steak, shrimp, asparagus and fingerling potatoes, smothered in a delicious red curry sauce. By the end of the bowl of macaroni and cheese, I should have been overfull and ready to puke my guts up, but even after the entrée I was still fine. Laying down after a big meal has been the bane of my existence for months, but even after I got home and flopped on the soft living room carpet (to be near Hubs, who’s relegated to the couch after his foot surgery), my gorge didn’t rise and I needed no antacids. The only explanation I can think of to explain this phenomenon is that Nugget engaged. That, and there’s a ton of pressure on my pelvis, so I absolutely cannot walk straight at this point; I can only waddle.

Tuesday I had regular, strong (but not painful) contractions about every 8-10 minutes, all day. By bedtime they had tapered off and gone away. Mum was disappointed, as was I, but it just wasn’t to be. I told her that if my water broke or if I started having regular “STFU contractions” STFU stands for "Shut the F*** Up, if you're not familiar with the slang. These contractions, in other words, are contractions so strong that I have to stop talking and just breathe. If they happened every five minutes or so, lasting a minute or longer – then she should jump in the car and come up. Otherwise, I thought it best for her and Dad to sit tight.

Today I decided to take a long walk to get lunch and wound up coming back and sitting down just in time for a good, long STFU contraction. I’m still having strong ones, but I’m hesitant to start timing anything until it’s at least another STFU. I don’t want to get Mum’s or my hopes up only to find out that it’s nothing. I did tell her that I had one, but that I’m going to wait and see if they persist.

I was thinking earlier that it might be neat if I could say that I gave birth to two late babies, one early baby and one genuinely punctual munchkin. But again, I’m not holding out hope.

Eviction Date: Set

Hoo boy, have I been slacking! Okay, so last Monday – September 15 my appointment was done solo – Mum and Dad are understandably saving up their respective leave times for when Nugget actually gets here. Nothing to report at that appointment; Dr. Colorful didn’t want to do a lot of cervical checks because it could cause early membrane rupture and expose Nugget to Group B strep. While it’s not a giant issue, waiting until baby has reached FULL, full term, decreases the risk of the baby being affected even a little bit by GBS. After my appointment, I scurried downtown and picked up the best falafel ever for a late lunch. I don’t often get to Ahli Baba’s Kebab Shop because of scheduling, traffic, etc., so when I do it’s a real treat.

Friday of last week, Hubs had surgery to repair some bone issues in his right foot. A triangular piece of one bone in each foot never grew together in utero or after birth. He had his left foot repaired a couple years ago, and just recently the right one started to bother him so we opted for surgery sooner rather than later. This involved a synthetic bone graft that requires a bit of the recipient’s bone marrow in order to activate it. Or at least, that’s what the doctor said.

Hubs was doing fairly well until this past Saturday night, when he reported a severe burning sensation in the top of his foot. A five-hour visit to the ER Sunday morning (into the afternoon) revealed that something about the cast the podiatrist had put on him had compressed a pressure point, which affected blood flow and caused a nasty raw spot across the top of Hubs’ foot. The ensuing podiatrist appointment Monday morning has him in a splint with petroleum jelly and antibiotic ointment pads on the sore spot as well as the incision and marrow-draw sites. As soon as the patch was put on the sore spot, Hubs said it felt better. It still pains him to put his foot down, but he is reporting each day that the pain isn’t as bad as it was the previous day, so that’s progress.

Yesterday afternoon Mum, Dad and I had our 39-week OB appointment. I got lots of belly rubs in the waiting room. I love belly rubs, especially when my belly is Buddha-sized. And Mum scolded Nugget a little, telling him/her to “GET OUT!”

Dr. Colorful brought a student in with him, and agreed to schedule us for induction “just in case” I haven’t gone into spontaneous labor before Monday. Our induction date is October 6. So at least if Nugget doesn’t make his/her appearance before then, we DO have a decisive end-date. Mum and Dad weren’t too excited about the date just because it feels like forever to them, but agreed that at least by that point there won’t be any more guessing or hoping; we’ll KNOW that that’s it.

I did get a cervical check this week, and I’m a definitive three centimeters dilated and am still hovering at a healthy 50% effacement. Nugget still isn’t engaged, but Dr. Colorful says that this is normal for someone who’s had three babies already, and that full dilation, effacement and engagement can all happen very quickly during labor. In short: everything looks good and he’s not worried.

He did repeat that he doesn’t think I’ll make it to my due date before going into labor. I told him that he’s been saying that since 36 weeks, and nothing has changed. He also gave me a fairly rough exam, which could theoretically, possibly, “accidentally” encourage membrane rupture and therefore labor. We’ll see. I’ve lost two noticeable pieces of mucus plug this morning, some of it streaked with blood (which is normal and good), so perhaps Pooka was right on Friday when she said I wouldn’t finish another four full days before I went into labor.

Still Not There Yet.

So let’s see… What’s happened since last Tuesday? OH! On the way out of our appointment with Dr. Loud last Tuesday, I noticed that under “GBS” on the little slip that gets paper-clipped to my chart, there was a plus sign with a big old circle around it. The medical assistant who checked us into the room had handed us a pamphlet about Group B Strep, but neither she nor Dr. Loud bothered to actually TELL us, out loud, that I have Group B Streptococcus.

I had to find out by calling My Favorite Nurse, who gave me the full run-down. Yes, I have it. No, it’s not a big deal. It’s found in 30% of women. It’s not an STD; it’s not caused by any unhealthy behavior. It’s part of the normal bacteria found in the birth canal of the human female. The risk that it poses to baby is that if baby aspirates it on the way out of the birth canal, there’s a possibility that the bacteria could cause pneumonia. So they treat the mother/carrier with intravenous penicillin during labor. No big.

My Favorite Nurse made sure to note on my chart for this most recent Monday’s appointment that I should be told that I have it, and that the information she passed on to me should be reiterated. I’ve notified Mum and Dad, and they seem fine with it.

I’m still at 2-3 centimeters dilated and about 50% effaced – normal for this stage in pregnancy for someone who’s had babies before, and isn’t moments from labor. Nugget is still head-down and still not engaged. Blargh.

Dismissed Again? I Want My Regular OB!

Soon, my pretties; soon I shall pop and it shall induce tears and laughter and probably involve all manner of other bodily fluids, because birth does that.

We had our 36-week ultrasound yesterday afternoon. Mum and Dad attended, of course, and so did Mum’s parents. They all got a huge kick out of seeing Nugget on screen, especially since the ultrasound tech was able to get them some really good 3D pictures of the baby’s chubby little face.

Whatever gender this baby is, s/he is a little porker. S/he’s measuring a week and a half larger than s/he is. We’re talking 7.5 pounds NOW. If by some strange twist of fate I make it to 40 weeks, we’re looking at a 9-pounder, easy. Anyway; the ultrasound went off beautifully and Mum and Dad got to take home some adorable pictures of their little Stay-Puft Marshmallow baby.

Our OB appointment was, yet again, irksome. We saw Dr. Loud who, as it turns out, isn’t so much loud as well, a little bit racist. It turns out that it was I.F.’s “foreign” accent that caused the doctor to yell him, through the entire appointment. Because, you know, speaking louder makes English more comprehensible to “them ferners.”

Dr. Loud measured my belly (37 cm, I believe) and tried to listen to Nugget’s heartbeat, but couldn’t really find it. Now, I’m not exactly excited about cervical checks, but as I understood it, they were supposed to begin around 36 weeks. We told Dr. Loud that my last pregnancy ended at 36 weeks, 3 or 4 days. To me, this suggests that I should be checked. I’m really confused as to why we had to ask him to check me yesterday; but we did. He said I’m 1-2 centimeters and didn’t mention anything about effacement. He did say that Nugget is not engaged, and so we shouldn’t expect anything too quickly.

Mum and Dad were not impressed with Dr. Loud’s dismissive attitude. Dr. Colorful might reassure us that we had a while to go yet, but Dr. Loud just seemed downright annoyed that we were asking him to do what we are all fairly certain is routine for this stage of pregnancy.

Anyway: I lost at least part of my mucous plug this morning. No bloody show and no leaking yet, but it’s a sign that labor is to be expected soon.

Dr. Know-It-All

Last Wednesday I waddled into the Big Hospital for my OB and Group B Strep test. Group B Strep is a bacteria that sometimes makes its way into preggosauruses. It doesn’t affect us, but can lead to health complications for baby if it’s present in the birth canal during labor and delivery. It’s not an STD and isn’t indicative of risky behavior or anything – some women just have it and some don’t. Thus far, I haven’t and don’t.

I saw a doctor I’ve only met once before, for an ultrasound; and her student. Ladies and gentlemen, I was not impressed by this doctor. I get that when teaching, a doctor needs to be professional and knowledgeable; but there’s something to be said for teaching a student to listen to patients rather than talking over them, interrupting them and dismissing their comments.

First off, the student completely skipped over my pelvis and started trying to measure from my “bits.” I had to stop her and tell her, “My pelvis is right here,” and guide her to it. Then the doctor and I argued over whether or not the doc’s measurement was correct, because she did so mid-Braxton-Hicks-contraction. After that, we listened to Nugget’s heartbeat for a second, and they did the Group B Strep swab.

I asked if they would be willing to check me, because I was curious to see whether or not I was at all dilated.

“It’s not going to affect what we do here,” she snapped.

“I understand that. I’m just curious,” I replied calmly, though my patience was waning.

She did the check, and snapped at me again when I told her that my uterus is ever so slightly tipped. She reported that I was 2 centimeters dilated and 50% effaced. As she did so and withdrew her fingers, I felt a gush. I don’t normally gush after an exam, and told her so.

“It’s just discharge,” she sighed and then informed me, “You’ll have a little bit of spotting for the next few days. It’s nothing unusual;” and left.

I checked out at the front desk and went to the bathroom, having gushed a little bit a few more times after that. Called Mum and chatted a little bit, explaining what my level of dilation meant (not much yet) but that I felt the gush was significant. I haven’t had any more since Wednesday, but my Braxton-Hicks contractions are growing ever stronger and there’s regular pressure down in my pelvis.

Today we find out whether Nugget is indeed engaged, and whether s/he is breech or vertex. Crossing my fingers for engaged and vertex! Dr. Colorful said that my most recent pregnancy is the most indicative as far as what to expect this time. If that’s so, then I should be popping any time this week, MAYBE next week.

More later!

Quit Pressuring Me!

So as you may all know: my due date is September 29. I don’t think I’m gonna make it. Yesterday and today have been jam-packed full of Braxton-Hicks contractions regular enough so that I have to go to the loo every ten to fifteen minutes, and strong enough that walking is, well… Interesting.

I’m not losing any fluids, and there’s no blood and no plug, but based on the direction of Nugget’s movements now compared to movements on Monday at our OB appointment, I feel it’s safe to suggest that the baby has flipped over so he/she’s vertex (head-down). Based on the ridiculous amount of pressure in my pelvis, I’m thinking that she/he has engaged.

And so begins the process of slow and steady cervical dilation and effacement. Be prepared, people. Dr. Colorful says that the most recent birth experience is generally the best indicator as to what to expect for the upcoming one. That said, I remind you that Tempest was almost exactly six hours from that telltale *BANG* between my hips, and delivery. This one will likely not last even that long.

Wearing Thin.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are no longer denizens of the Capitol City. I’ve finally decided, after living there for 31 out of 35 years, that it’s time to try something else. Our new place is quite a lot bigger than the old one, and much nicer.

On Friday the state observed Bennington Battle Day (which is actually August 16^th) and Husbeast didn’t have to work so we rented a truck, loaded it up with the help of three marvelous friends and headed to the new place. It took us another five car-loads total, but by 3:30 pm on Sunday, the old place was empty and immaculate, and the keys were locked properly inside. Thanks, once again to Mama, Mama’s Youngest, BAMF and Mr. Sama; as well as Husbeast and Pooka, of course.

Sunday afternoon Pooka and I got to attend a concert given by the lovely and talented wife of one of my favorite uncles in a very old local church. She only does it once a year and it’s a major highlight of my summers. We also got to see my fantastic cousin, her magnificent wife and their adorable son. Pooka joined him in checking out the cows behind the church, and found a tiny toad for him to look at, which seemed to please him greatly.

Monday I worked a little more than half a day and scooted homeward for my OB appointment. Mum and Dad got to feel Nugget kick for real this time, and Dr. Colorful seemed pleased with our progress. It does sound like I’ll probably go into labor a week or two, maybe even three weeks early (based on my most recent experience). Mum’s voting for three. Ha! She’s so excited to meet her baby. Not that I blame her, of course, but her enthusiastic impatience is pretty funny.

Yesterday I took the day off to sleep in. I’ve been pushing myself way too hard lately, and just needed to rest a little longer than usual. That’s not to say I’ve been doing a ton of heavy lifting or anything (that’s absolutely forbidden anyway). I’ve just been waking up early every morning and “going” nonstop until 11:00 or midnight every night; then getting back up and doing it over again. So yesterday I slept till 11:30.

I did make a ridiculous amount of progress on the new apartment, but I took a bunch of little breaks between, and sometimes in the middle of, tasks. So as of now, we have a working kitchen, fully arranged dining room and a working living room. I’ve got a couple projects to do, but otherwise my house is, by-and-large, presentable.

Happy Tummies and Big News

Seltzer - particularly lime-flavored seltzer - is the most wonderful thing human beings ever created. It’s fizzy and makes me burp (but then again, breathing makes me burp these days), but it’s not the unpleasant kind of “oh my god, PREGNANCY” burps, and even the first sip settles my angry stomach.

I can’t eat within three hours of going to bed or I wake up with screaming acid reflux and have to sit up every fifteen to thirty minutes to belch. I can’t eat large portions unless I plan to be on my feet and walking for twenty minutes at a minimum. I could eat an egg, cheese and bacon breakfast sandwich or a mixed green salad with fruit in it and some light vinaigrette dressing – its’ all the same to my body right now. The only thing that seems to “do it” for me, is sipping seltzer between bites.

Nugget has also concluded that somersaults are super fun and must be performed at the most awkward moments for his/her incubator. S/he’s taken to doing it while I lay on my side, as if using the mattress as a springboard. Catbutt seems to find these abdominal acrobatics exceptionally amusing, and like to flick my belly with his tail, hard enough to get a reaction out of Nugget… While I’m trying to sleep. This game generally takes place around 4:00 am, daily.

Last Monday’s OB appointment was par for the course. Nugget’s heartbeat is normal, and Mum got to hear it over the phone. She and Dad decided to skip the appointment due to illness on Mum’s part. She didn’t want to get me and Nugget sick too. I appreciated that. Dr. Colorful threw me a curve-ball on Nugget’s gender too, so now I have no theories at all as to his/her sex! Blargh! Oh well; we’ll find out in seven weeks, give or take.

In other news: We’re moving to the greater Queen City area next weekend. We put the deposit and first month’s rent down on our new place right before our OB appointment. The new place has two floors and is quite a bit larger than our current place, with much more storage; one and a half baths; in-apartment laundry facilities and a DISHWASHER! I cannot tell you how much those last two please me. We actually have our own tiny little laundry room with full-sized washer and dryer.

There are a couple very minor cosmetic issues, but I can fix those easily and cheaply. The tension rod in the upstairs (full) bathroom is rusty and needs replacing, but I have two of those already, so I don’t even need to spend money on that repair; and the vanity light covers in both bathrooms need either a good scrub or replacing. No big deal; I suspect that a short soak in hot water with a little bit of “Barkeeper’s Friend” and some elbow grease will brighten those babies right up. There’s also a tiny chip in the laminate counter top in the kitchen, but we have a marble cutting board that will probably live on top of it anyway, so no harm done.

Anyway, we still have our current kitchen and a few loose items to pack, but by Friday we should be good to go. I’ll report more once our stuff is all safely ensconced in the new apartment! Whee!

Out of the Puking Pan and Into the Flu-Like Fire

Whee! My Pooka is home from an almost three-week vacation on the West Coast (visiting grandparents, aunts and uncles). We picked her up at oh-dark-thirty on Sunday. I can't tell you folks how good it is to have my baby home again. Yeah, I know: She's not a baby. She's almost fourteen. But she's mine. I gave birth to her. Therefore she's my baby.

Monday I had to call in sick at work due to what I can only guess was food poisoning of some sort. It started Saturday night and lasted through Sunday; leaving me queasy and headachey on Monday. Of course I had forgotten that Hubs had to work the day shift that day, which left me to take Gytha (new car) in for scheduled maintenance.

Pooka and her long-time besty joined me in heading to the Queen City where we met up with Mum and Dad for lunch. By that point my tummy was feeling better enough to be hungry, so I had a light soup and salad. Mum and Dad found Pooka and her friend to be charming and funny (because they are), and we wound up late for our appointment because we lost track of time talking and enjoying ourselves.

We saw Dr. Colorful again (and have set up our appointments through our due date so that all but one is with him, because we all like him best). He started to revisit the Tdap (Tetanus, Diptheria and Pertussis) vaccination but Mum made it clear that she did indeed want me to get the booster. The nurse who administered it was VERY good. It felt like she prodded me with a finger and it was done.

Nugget also prodded his/her parents a bit while we waited for Dr. Colorful to come in. I laid down on the exam table and let Mum and Dad poke and press on my belly to try to get their silly baby to kick them properly. Well, Nugget seems to find his/her parents soothing, because while they did get to feel SOME movement, it was nowhere near the kicks I get when I'm trying to sleep or snuggle with Hubs. They did get to hear the heartbeat though, and the doctor declared it... Yeah, you guessed it: Perfect. My uterus is measuring at 31cm and Nugget is still in a “transverse lie” which means s/he is sideways. Not a big deal, really. Dr. Colorful mentioned that he'd like to see baby head-down by 34 weeks (2 visits from now) but I reassured him that all three of the babies I've birthed, including Pooka, were in the wrong position until about 36 weeks, at which point they went breech and then flipped into the right position; engaging at the last minute. He told Mum and Dad that at worst, we'll do an external cephalic version (where they turn the baby from the outside). I doubt it'll be necessary.

Of course, we absolutely didn't joke that perhaps the heartbeat might be a little irregular and therefore an ultrasound might be prudent. And Dr. Colorful completely refused to go ahead and fit us in for one just after I got my shot. It definitively never happened. Ever.

On the way home, my head started to pound like mad so the kiddos (who spent the duration of my OB appointment shopping in the Queen City) and I popped off at Hubs' work to have dinner while we waited for his shift to end, and I popped a Tylenol. It helped a little, and I figured that would be the end of my “Tdap side effects.” Ha ha ha ha! NO.

I woke up this morning with that telltale throbbing at the injection site; a headache the size of my hometown and joints that squealed and protested with every movement. I shouldn't have been surprised; it happens every single time. Ah well. It's temporary and fairly minor, all things considered. As of right now the headache is barely more than my head reminding me that it still exists and my joints are a little tender but I can move without cringing. The only thing that really still hurts is my arm. Piddly.

I did, however, have a brief moment of carpal tunnel-like symptoms after work today, but they seem to have abated for the time being. I'm grateful for that. I hate carpal tunnel.

Shoot? Don't Shoot?

Late post, but what can I say? Life gets in the way and sometimes blocks the brain while it’s at it.

Monday I went to the Little Hospital on the hill at 6:30 am for the usual glucose tolerance test to check me for gestational diabetes. Blech. They fed me a plastic cup full of sugary muck that tasted like over-sweetened orange soda and sent me out to the lobby to sit for an hour. Granted, the muck tastes better than it did when I had Pooka, but it still knocks me for a loop every time. Headaches, sugar buzz, then sugar crash… It’s not pleasant. I really need to get better at remembering to bring a protein-packed breakfast to eat right afterward.

I went to work for a couple hours after I finished the test – I don’t think I’ve touched on work yet this year. I was an auditor for 9+ years, and then my boss’ boss retired. Her last act regarding the auditing team was to fire my boss. Because we’re a state agency, that took long past the big boss’ retirement to actually put into action, but two months later, it did happen. Thank goodness. My boss was not a good candidate for her position. She wasn’t a good supervisor, and she just didn’t GET the process we used to audit.

Before my boss left, I sat with another coworker and talked over an idea I had regarding the whole team at large (beyond just the auditors). Basically, I wanted to restructure the whole team – combining the three major jobs and then dividing the work up by region, so that no one person was ever overwhelmed at one time, and that the work would be spread out better over the course of the year. We presented the idea to the big boss’ successor and she said we could talk about it once things slowed down a little.

Yet another team member gave her notice about a month after the idea was proposed. It wasn’t until then that my idea became truly feasible. New Big Boss got the restructuring process started with HR and proposed a raise. We’re still waiting to hear back on that part – hooray for bureaucracy – but the new job is SO much less dull than being an auditor. (I’m a Finance Analyst now, for the record.)  My old boss (not the big boss) was so far behind, even with all of my work and some of hers done, that I even ran out of stuff to make up to do. Now, with three major jobs, I’m actually busy just about every day.

Anyway; around 11:30 I headed over to the house to pick Hubs up to attend my OB appointment with me. Mum and Dad were back at the IVF Clinic for an egg retrieval cycle and monitoring, so they couldn’t make it. I got to see a doctor who’s been there since I started using the Big Hospital but whom I hadn’t yet seen due to varied schedules. We’ll call him Dr. Colorful, just because that’s what his last name makes me think.

Dr. Colorful brought a resident in with him, and we joked that Dr. Badass used to tell the other docs to bring interns and residents in to see me because I’m easy and know what they’re looking for, as far as information about the pregnancy goes. They declared me to be in good health, but I did get a stern glance for not having done the glucose tolerance test earlier. Ah well – nobody’s gonna die, and I’d know if I had gestational diabetes. Pooka’s father is diabetic, so I know what to look for (constant hunger and thirst, and constant need to use the loo beyond what’s normal even for pregnancy.)

We called Mum to let her listen to Nugget’s heartbeat over the phone, which put her over the moon. Nugget kept kicking the Doppler wand. S/he’s a pretty vehement mover. By this I mean that s/he’s still trying to break things in there, whenever s/he moves. No subtlety to this little one.

Dr. Colorful also recommended that I get a new TDAP (pertussis) vaccination. I had one back in May of last year, but the new guidance from the CDC is that women get the shot during every pregnancy as sort of a booster for the baby. Mum wasn’t excited about this – she says that vaccines during pregnancy make her nervous. She asked me to hold off until 36 weeks – all of this by text message, so I went out into the hall to find the nurse who was supposed to give me the shot. I had figured that Mum would be all for anything that ensured Nugget’s immune system, so I had told the doc to go ahead and order the shot for me that day. I went out into the hall to tell the nurse what Mum had asked, and she scurried off to find Dr. Colorful.

We called Mum again and he explained that waiting until 36 weeks was basically pointless, and that at that point we might as well not bother. His reasoning was that everyone who’s going to be dealing with Nugget regularly, postpartum, should be vaccinated. In the meantime, giving me the shot now would allow my body to begin to process the vaccine, thus developing antibodies that would be passed to Nugget through the placenta. This in turn would give Nugget a sort of immunity cushion until s/he was old enough to be given the vaccination him/herself.

The consensus became that I’ll wait until my next appointment when Mum can be there and have had some time to do her research, and we’ll revisit the vaccine discussion then. I did tell her that I got the vaccine two months before Tempest was born too, and that there were no adverse effects. We’ve had the “vax/anti-vax” discussion before, and I’m not under the impression that she’s “anti-vax” but I guess I can understand her wanting to know more before she gives the go-ahead. I did the reading last time so I’m not worried, but it’s good that she’s not just jumping forward “because the doctor said so.” I never vaccinated Pooka for chicken pox because the likelihood of contracting it again after you’ve had it is almost nil. Other than that, we all get our shots, like it or not.

I digress though. Our next appointment is July 21^st at 2:45 in the afternoon. That’ll be our 30-weeker. Welcome to the third trimester, peoples.

Most Normal Visit To Date

What a weekend, ladies and gentlemen! Thursday night my friend BAMF’s maid of honor and I threw her bachelorette dinner, including a Zombie scavenger hunt (since BAMF and The Ginge’s wedding invitation said that they’re going to vow to survive the Zombie Apocalypse together). Friday we all drove out to the wedding site for the rehearsal and dinner, which were lovely and filled with laughter. Saturday was the wedding, of course. It was a warm, breezy, pleasant day in the back woods of the Green Mountain State, and the ceremony was short, sweet and just dorky enough to be fun. I looked like a blob of key lime pudding in my bridesmaid’s dress (which, sadly, I had picked out. Ah, maternity wear), but Hubs assured me I was the prettiest blob of key lime pudding ever.

We also got to spend time each day this weekend with our friend OtherWife who was back from California just for the wedding. We only get to see him a couple times a year, so this was a real treat!

Miss Pooka got to go on an adventure of her own this weekend – to Quebec City and Montreal with her school. They stayed in hotels with guards on each hallway (a school requirement), took a dinner dance cruise down the Hudson River, visited lots of historical sites and had dinner in a fancy Brazilian restaurant.

This morning Hubs and I got to sleep in a little bit, since I had an OB checkup at 9:15. Of course, OtherWife left this morning to go back to Cali too, so he came with. Pretty much everywhere he needed to go this weekend, we were going at the same time. Convenience for the win! He and Hubs dropped me off at The Big Hospital and sped off to enjoy some man-time in the Queen City for a while.

Mum and Dad arrived a few minutes before we were called in for our appointment, and I regaled them with some of the finer points from the weekend while we waited. I also gave them a crocheted giraffe that a very thoughtful coworker of mine had made for them. Apparently crochet is magic. To be fair, my crocheting skill is minimal at best, and I couldn’t hope to reproduce this adorable little plushie, but I get the basic concept of crochet. Ha!

My blood pressure was elevated a little, and I have gained an embarrassing ten pounds since my last appointment. I am choosing to the gain on water retention, as my feet are already swelling – perhaps from so much time on my feet this weekend, coupled with the heat and delicious, but salty dinner on Saturday night. The nurse took my blood pressure again a few minutes after the initial 120/80 “shock” and indeed, it had come down to 110/70. Much more acceptable.

Dr. Firstname saw us today, and while we waited for him to get the Doppler ready, Mum got to feel Nugget kick! It was a weak one because inevitably when you WANT them to move, they don’t. Then when the person who wants to feel the movement goes away, baby goes NUTS. Little bugger. Anyway, Nugget’s heart beat was at a steady 120, then the Doppler got kicked and his/her heartbeat went up to 140, as it should.

I got paperwork for the ghastly Glucose Tolerance Test, to be performed between June 23 – July 7, and we were told to schedule another appointment for July 7. After that we’re down to the “every two weeks” mark. Holy crap, ladies and gents! How the hell did this pregnancy go by so fast? Mum and Dad say it’s been slow, and I get why that might be the case for them, but for me it’s absolutely flying! Maybe it’s because I’m used to it by now? I dunno. I’m okay with this.

Hubs and I are toying with the idea of maybe applying for a home finance loan so we can actually buy a house. Nothing is set in stone; we don’t even know if we’d be eligible for a realistic-sized loan. But it’s something to think about, and if we can do it, it would be nice to be able to live in a place we own and can renovate and decorate however we want.

I guess that’s it for now, on the surrogacy end. Other stuff happens, but doesn’t belong on this blog. J

Panic at the Disco... Uh, I Mean, OB Clinic...

I got to sleep in this morning! Well, for half an hour anyway. In order to get ourselves back on the established Obstetrical Schedule of visits, we had to do one this week as well. Hubs got up with me and despite a screaming migraine, tagged along to the appointment (even though I told him he ought to stay home – it’s like he enjoys being around me or something. Weirdo.)

Mum and Dad drove four hours to attend the 8:45 am appointment – you do the math. They’re some dedicated parents, for sure! Mum said she slept the whole way, and Dad said it was a nice drive, with no traffic, so it was almost preferable to an end-of-day appointment.

We met a new doctor today – She’s got GORGEOUS silver hair, so that’s her name – Dr. Silvertresses. We chatted for a bit to make sure everything looked good on my end – it does. Nugget is a wiggly little bugger. Much like the previous two occupants of the Über-Ute, this one seems fond of kicking Hubs while we’re snuggling. S/he has also taken a shine to my new laptop. I don’t know if it’s the vibrations or what (it doesn’t heat up) – but Nugget rubs what I must presume is some appendage up against my belly where it meets the laptop, very deliberately. Anyway, we told Dr. Silvertresses all of this, and she let us know that the next 8-10 weeks are super-dull doctor’s visits.

I think she spoke too soon. I flopped back on the exam table, as I do at every visit, and lifted my shirt so that the doc could use the Doppler on my belly and let Mum and Dad hear Nugget’s heartbeat. Well, the placenta is right at the front of my uterus, so that’s a pain in the butt. And Nugget decided to hide today. Mum did not take this well. This is 1,000% understandable, of course. She’s been through hell AND the wringer to get to this point, and is so used to getting bad news that any time something looks off, her brain goes into worst-case-scenario.

Dr. Silvertresses was, much like Dr. Goggles, very accommodating. We were hurried into an ultrasound room where Nugget made some sucking motions for us, and registered a heart rate of 149. Perfect. This put Mum at ease, and we joked that if ever Nugget decides to hide again, we know that s/he’s probably just being a diva and wants to be on-screen again.

We were going to head into downtown of the Queen City for brunch, but Hubs’ migraine made him decide to wait for us in the car. Mum and Dad being the sweet, lovely humans they are, told us to go home and get Hubs tucked into a dark, quiet room where he could ride out the migraine in peace. We did so, after handing them a bottle of Little Piggy Pink (a rosé wine from Fresh Tracks Farm – a local winery), gave out hugs and headed home.

We’ve got another appointment on June 9^th at 9:15am. As it turns out, this piggybacks on a trip to The Big Apple for Mum and Dad, so I suggested that they pop up here rather than going home first. Of course it’s up to them, so whatever they choose to do will be what’s best for them, but if they HAPPEN to get here at an earlyish hour of the evening, they might let us take them out to dinner the night before their appointment. MUAHAHA! What? They did say they’ve never had a bad meal in Vermont…

Legalese

I got a HUGE packet of court documents from The Agency in my email yesterday. It was for me and Mum and Dad to all review and make sure everything looked accurate for pre-birth order stuff. Basically The Agency is submitting a bunch of paperwork with our signatures all over it saying that Mum and Dad are the rightful and biological parents of Nugget. Hubs and I obviously aren't contesting it, cause... Well, we're not Nugget's parents. Duh.

Most of it looked good. Mum caught a misspelling of my name in one part - There's only one "E" in my first name. And apparently The Agency was under the impression that:
1.) My lawyer actually spoke with me regarding this contract, and therefore advised me that this paperwork would be forthcoming and
2.) That I had been through this part of the process before.

Firstly, my lawyer emailed me once. Other than that, I emailed with his secretary. He was useless. I'm never using him again. In fact, I have disrecommended him to Sister Surrogate. Secondly, I'm still listed on Tempest's and Wiggle-Worm's birth certificates as their mother. I.F. hasn't gone to court to have my name removed yet. So no, I haven't been through this part of the process before.

Thankfully, I'm a smart human bean and can read and understand legalese. So I expected this, and I know what I'm doing despite  having a lump of an attorney. (I was gonna go for alliteration there, but decided against it.) I did have a moment of "Aww, come on," when I read the documentation listing Mum and Dad as Plaintiffs and me and Hubs as Defendants. I know that's how the courts work, but we're not defending against anything, so my brain kind of went, "Harumph" for a second. I'm over it now.

I've discovered a new breakfast! I'm not sure if it's just me being pregnant or if it's actually something good, but holy crap: Ezekiel english muffins with butter and smashed banana on top. OM NOM NOM! On the downside, eating in the evening (no matter WHAT I eat) seems to cause an excess of indigestion and burping when I go to bed. TUMS is not helping. I'm not sure what to do except maybe try buying a recliner and sleeping in that. But I hate not sleeping next to Hubs, so I'm at a loss. I could ask my OB to prescribe me Ranitidine again but I don't know if that will help, since antacids aren't doing anything. Hmm...

Boy? Girl? Girl? Boy? I'm Not Telling.

Yesterday was our 18-week ultrasound and OB appointment. Uneventful, routine stuff for me; so much so that I forget sometimes how much it means to Mum and Dad. I hope that my old-hat way of going about things helps to put them at ease rather than making them feel that their experience is being minimized. Maybe I’ll ask.

My cravings this trimester have gone from jalapeno poppers (with no heartburn, believe it or not) to bananas. So of course Mum made me a huge batch of banana bread. She and Dad brought it to our appointment yesterday, and I’m not going to say I didn’t devour a healthy portion of it on my way home afterward. I shared a little bit with Hubs and Pooka, but it’s MINE!

Our nurse weighed me and brought us to our exam room where I chattered right through her taking my blood pressure and she very politely told me to shut up so she could get an accurate reading. The first one was kind of scary high. The second was actually a little below my usual, but still within the healthy range. While we waited for the doctor to come in and chat with us, Mum divulged that our previous visit turned out nicely, but that the doctor’s repeated references to friends of his who had undergone IVF and had twins was not well-received.

Dr. Firstname attended us this time and was just that – attentive. He’s more laid-back than most of the doctors with whom I’ve dealt at The Big Hospital except for perhaps Dr. Badass. He had no trouble finding Nugget’s heart beat with the Doppler, which seemed to please Mum greatly. He said my weight gain looks good, fundal height looks good, and Nugget’s heart rate was 144 beats per minute: well into the normal range. The normal range, for those of you who want to know, is 110-160 beats per minute. He told us that one of the next two visits was going to need to be two weeks from another, rather than four between each. We waffled a bit and decided to visit again two weeks from yesterday. Of course, we forgot to set up the appointment when we checked out, but I called this morning.

We got shuffled back out to the waiting room to cool our heels until we were called in for our ultrasound. We had a pleasant chat about my nerding habits, and discovered that we all share a fondness for the Game of Thrones TV show.  Mum made some comment about not letting me ask the ultrasound tech about the baby’s gender, and I couldn’t help myself. Dr. Goggles had VERY surreptitiously snuck it into our last visit, so I told her I know. I also told her that I wasn’t going to give it away. She started trying to reason it out but Dad and I both had to stop her, because her logic was moving in weird directions that weren’t making sense to us. So until Nugget is born, I’ll be dangling “he’s” and “she’s” and the occasional “it’s” in conversations, just to be a pain in the butt and make them laugh. Did I mention that I love their sense of humor? I think I may have, but I do.

According to the ultrasound Nugget is measuring a day ahead of her/his gestational age, and all of his/her bits look perfectly healthy. Mum and Dad got some great pictures AND a DVD of the whole shebang to take home with them. The ultrasound doctor came out to double check on the membranous septum in Nugget’s heart to make sure there weren’t any holes in it, and to check her/his upper lip to make sure it wasn’t cleft. Given that the last time this doctor came in to chat after an ultrasound it was to tell I.F. that Tempest had a slight abnormality in his brain, this visit was much more welcome.

We weren’t able to go grab lunch this visit because Mum had some work due for her job yesterday afternoon and it wasn’t stuff that could be done remotely. This worked out pretty well for me, as I had to pop off at Best Buy to pick up a Playstation 4 for Hubs’ birthday (which is today, by the way! Happy Birthday, Precious!). I dropped it off to him on my way back to the office, since he has to work through tomorrow and I wanted him to have some play time on it this week.

Except that there was a hardware fault with the power source. Hubs got this information after the PS4 crapped out and he called Sony support. They were able to diagnose the problem pretty quickly I guess, and Best Buy was marvelous about exchanging the bad unit for a new one. The guy at the customer service desk even tested it out for me to make sure that he didn’t send me home with another busted console.

And I got to have dinner with Pooka and an old friend of mine. We parted company quickly at the end of the night; my friend having decided to buy himself a Playstation 3 at the very, very last minute before Best Buy closed. Ha! Boys and their toys.

A Real Hair-Puller

Today started out as a real hair-puller. No joke. I woke up and had to remind Hubs that I needed him to drive me to work, then come back and pick up Pooka and drop her off at school (she broke the growth plate in her right ankle, having been instructed by the director of “Willy Wonka Junior” to jump off a five-foot-high stage in HEELS), then drive himself to a medical appointment at 8:30. After that, he had to pick me up at work for 12:30 so that I could drop him off at home and make it to the Big Hospital for a 2:00 OB appointment.

Several hiccups made themselves apparent very quickly. When I went in to kiss Pooka, as I do every day before I leave for work, she informed me that she had been selected to perform in the State Middle School Music Festival.  Today. This meant that she would be in rehearsals all day, rather than school, and that Hubs would have to drop her off at the high school, and be sure to acquire lunch for her and drop it off in time for her to eat it before coming to pick me up at 12:30. It also meant that I had to cancel the late lunch I was planning to have with Mum and Dad after our appointment, so that I could make sure that Hubs got to work on time and that Pooka had dinner delivered before the performance.

I had also planned to have tea with my local Sister-Surrogate (mentioned previously) at 6:30, which would have been scuppered, except that the choral portion of the Music Festival wasn’t to begin until close to 7:30.

Halfway through the day Miss Pooka contacted me to inform me that she couldn’t keep standing all day, with her broken ankle (understandably) and that she was feeling sick. At my instruction she went and spoke to the choral director who excused her, thus negating the possibility of her being excluded from future opportunities. Thankfully her besty’s mom was willing to pick her up early and give her a ride home.

 It also turned out that my Microsoft Outlook (work) calendar is syncing with my phone/Google calendars so that all of my appointments in the work calendar are showing the times an hour earlier than the events are actually scheduled to happen. So what I thought was a 2:00 appointment was actually 3:00. This particular hiccup worked out to my advantage, as it allowed me to escape an exceptionally frustrating work day early, and gave me the better part of an hour to snuggle with Hubs before taking off to the Big Hospital.

I arrived at the hospital, I thought, ahead of Mum and Dad. Turned out they had gone to wait in the GYN waiting room rather than the OB reception area. Big hugs were exchanged (I love that) and a few amusing anecdotes were shared until My Favorite Nurse came out to get us. Not much happened; she took my blood pressure and asked how I was feeling, and Dr. Goggles came in. We chatted for a few minutes – nothing major – and I told him that Mum and Dad were particularly anxious to hear Nugget’s heartbeat.

Much to everyone’s chagrin, Nugget would not make him/herself known via Doppler, so Dr. Goggles generously suggested an ultrasound. Poor Mum had been waiting on baited breath for this one appointment, and he was not about to let her down. I cannot say how much I appreciated this. Not only did he offer an ultrasound, but when the nurses told him it would be at least half an hour’s wait, he ordered us into an empty ultrasound room and did the scan right there, himself.

Mum was beside herself to finally see her baby moving, with a solid, healthy heartbeat. I’m not gonna lie: it was wholly satisfying to be able to be the method by which she’s really going to be a Mommy. So Nugget is healthy and growing and all is well.

I managed to get back into town and pick Hubs up in time to bring him to work, then hit the local co-op for healthy dinner things for Pooka, and rushed off to the local créperie to get tea with Surro-Sister. She’s a marvelous, intelligent, strong woman who I must admit I admire to no end, and am so excited for her to begin her first surrogacy journey! We shared birthing stories, of course, and hers were some of the most interesting I’ve heard!

If you remember, dear reader: I posted that Surro-Sister’s Intended Father #1 had accidentally called me, meaning to call her instead, and then I wound up sitting behind them at the same créperie, listening to them talk about how sweet and helpful I am.

Well.

Further to that story, it turns out that Surro-Sister’s Intended Parents had viewed my profile back when I was being matched two-and-a-half years ago, and were the couple who had decided I lived too far away. How weird is that? Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if we SHOULD all sit down and have lunch or something. Too funny.

I’m home now, trying to relax after several grueling weeks. I’ve taken four teenagers to an anime convention in Boston; cared for a poor Pooka with a broken ankle; made a hell of a stink to Pooka’s principal and the irresponsible director who instructed her to jump off the stage and didn’t think that perhaps doing so in heels might cause problems; attended Pooka’s play and was as ever, impressed by her prowess on stage, even in a wheelchair; finished an audit at work in just over a week; accompanied Desert Rose to a late night OB appointment to make sure that her contractions were not actually causing her baby to come out yet; consulted with the best glamour consultant I’ve ever met about a portrait session, and attended an OB appointment that made Mum happier than she’s been since we started this cycle.

Let’s hope the rest goes as smoothly. I don’t have all that much hair to pull.

"And Den?"

I cannot believe I forgot to mention this yesterday!

Tuesday night I was napping in my room between dinner and going out to pick Hubs up from work, when my cell phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line was a hesitant male, trying to be polite and pleasant – but it wasn’t anyone I recognized, and when he introduced himself, I knew he must have had the wrong number. When I tried to tell him so, however, he insisted that he had the right one. He said “they” had given him my number.

I asked him who he was looking for, and he spoke a name I didn’t know; then said something about her being a potential surrogate. This, of course, caught my attention. I asked him who he was dealing with, and he responded that he was working with The Agency. I asked him who, specifically, gave him my number and he informed me it had been the Carrier Coordinator. He reiterated that he was looking for this other girl, who reportedly lived in a town about 14 miles south of me.

I told this man that I would text the Carrier Coordinator and try to get this straightened out. He was obviously nervous, and had an initial matching call scheduled with this girl, so I wanted to make sure they connected. It’s nerve-wracking to go through the very first matching process – the surrogate worries that no one will like her profile, or that she won’t be a good match for anyone, or that potential Intended Parents won’t like her. So the sooner the Coordinator and I got them in touch, the better for both parties.

I texted the Coordinator and she triple-checked, then assured me that she had not given the Potential Intended Father (PIF) my number, but the other woman’s, and sent the correct number to me, as well. I forwarded the number on to PIF and must assume that he made the call immediately, because there was no answer when the Coordinator tried to call him. I texted him one last time to say, “Good luck,” and left it at that.

Out of curiosity, I hopped on Facebook and messaged a friend of mine, to whom Pooka and I refer as “Sexy J.” She and I had discussed surrogacy a while back, and I had given her The Agency’s information. I asked if, by chance, she knew of anybody in her town who had signed up. She responded by informing me that yes indeed, she knew just who I was talking about, and was visiting with that woman’s husband as we typed. Small world!

I wound up texting the woman (who I do not yet know well enough to give her a nickname) to wish her the best, and we wound up chatting for quite a while. We’ve tentatively decided to get together for dinner some evening to chat. It can be lonely sometimes, being the only person in your social circle who carries other people’s kids, so the idea of having a comrade in that way is very exciting!

We still have no idea how PIF got my number, but I wound up with a new friend, so I’ve got no complaints.

Net Gain For Justice

Wow, I’ve been slacking off. Bad Preggosaurus. Alright, now that I’ve been sufficiently chastised, I can proceed with updates. Also, there are links to those things with which you might not be familiar. Just hover over the words and they'll show you which ones are links.

Last Sunday morning (as many of my Facebook followers know) I totaled my 2007 Ford Focus – who I had named Jeannie MacFeegle. Turned left at the bottom of the northbound exit ramp two exits north of me on the interstate, and wound up tangoing with a Volvo Cross Country. Jeannie didn’t stand a chance. Volvos are absolute tanks. The Volvo needed a new passenger-side fender, headlight and front bumper. Jeannie lost everything forward of the radiator. Thankfully the insurance company checked everything out and turned over a check very quickly.

Last Monday I had another ultrasound, at Mum’s request, to ease her mind. Even though it wasn’t medically necessary, My Favorite Nurse managed to finagle it anyway. Between her and the Big Hospital’s billing department, we were able to make sure my insurance never even saw the charges, so everybody was happy, and of course Nugget is doing beautifully. Heartbeat was a solid 159, which is still well within normal for its gestational age.

Tuesday morning, I went out with “Auntie Badass” (my mother’s older sister) to go car shopping. I had done a bunch of research Monday after work and made some phone calls. Despite having only had auto credit with Ford, I started off at the local Toyota dealership. The salesman was solicitous without being pretentious or pushy, and didn’t ask me or Auntie where our husbands were, which scored big points with both of us. I test-drove an automatic transmission 2014 Scion XB (Did you know that Scion is just a badge of Toyota? Me either!). It was a good little beast, and was a lot of fun to drive, but Hubs and I had discussed our “must haves” for a new car, and manual transmission was a big one for me. The XB had four doors, which was a must, and storage space for things like cell phones and sun glasses up front, which was also a must. It also had plenty of space in the cargo area for a dog, which we will eventually acquire; and ample leg room in the back seat for the days when we transport Hubs’ coworker, the Gentle Giant. who is easily 6’5”.

After test driving the Scion, Auntie and I went down the hill to the Ford dealership. Up till that point, I had been emailing with the digital sales manager there, who had said to me more than once: “I won’t miss your business for price.” But I had bought Jeannie there, so I decided to go speak to the salesman I’ve known for years. He and another salesman both blew me off, asking me to come back the next day with an appointment. Well, Tuesday was Town Meeting Day, and I had the day off, so I wanted to get something rolling that day. They tried to push me back as far as Saturday. Now, Auntie had loaned me her car beginning Sunday night, and was generous enough to let me use it for up to two weeks. I don’t like taking advantage of people, so I wanted to be able to give her car back as soon as possible.

Needless to say: After the blow-off, once I got outside, I looked to Auntie and grumbled, “Screw this noise. Let’s go buy a Scion.” So we drove back up the hill and I told the salesman that if he could find me a 2014 Scion XB with a manual transmission, I’d buy it. He had one located before I left that day.

Once I did leave and dropped Auntie back at home, I scrambled back into town and met up with Mum at my local créperie. Truth be told, it’s one of my favorite restaurants, and I was pleased that Mum was impressed. She drove us up to the Big Hospital where I geeked out with the receptionist over Dr. Who and Torchwood, and got scathing glares from another receptionist for not being overly excited about Sherlock.

Dr. Mischief was our doctor-of-the-day, and he assured us both that I am once again, a low-risk pregnancy. I got the usual initial pelvic exam, along with blood pressure, heart and lungs checks, and the requisite question-and-answer session between Mum and Doctor. I think she felt confident by the end of the visit. At least, I hope so.

Friday, I picked up my new silver 2014 Scion XB, 5-door, 5-speed. Hubs and I have named her Gytha, and we love her. Hubs has been generous enough to let me do all the driving, because I’ve so missed having a stick-shift! He’s a good Hubs. I think I’ll keep him. The only complaint I’ve had about Gytha is small. We had a huge snowstorm yesterday, and dealership windshield wipers are absolute rubbish. I bought a new set yesterday, and I no longer have any complaints. She’s a bear in the snow, shifts like a dream and has more bells and whistles than I could have thought to ask for! I no longer have to talk on my cell phone by holding my phone – she came with Bluetooth built into her stereo system! So not only can I talk on my phone over the stereo, but Hubs and Pooka and I all have our phones programmed into the stereo so that we can touch the stereo screen and play our music without cables or USB plug-ins.

Monday this week, half of my agency started work in our new building in the Granite City. It’s a little farther away from my house, but by taking a different route, the amount of time my commute takes is no more than it was when I worked 3 miles closer. Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in almost ten years: I HAVE A WINDOW! This alone makes the whole move worth it for me. Everyone else can complain all they like about the building, the move, the location, whatever. I’m happy. I can turn my head and see outdoors.

All in all, I’m calling the last two weeks’ events (as Hubs puts it), “a net gain for justice.”

What A Week (And Weekend!)

Ladies and Gentlemen: What a week! Lots of changes, lots of work and a bit of good news to boot!

Friday was my last monitoring ultrasound and blood work for The IVF Clinic. Nugget looks to be growing nicely, and its heartbeat was 165 – a good, strong heart rate and well within the normal range. Poor Mum was pretty nervous waiting for the results of the ultrasound. Usually my appointments are in the morning, so she doesn’t have to wait long to hear news one way or the other. Friday’s appointment was at 12:45, so there was nothing to tell her till 1:00ish. But again: All was well

The second downside to taking a later appointment for monitoring is that even with ordering the results “STAT,” The IVF Clinic sometimes doesn’t get all of the results that day. This was the case on Friday. The blood work ordered was for Estradiol (estrogen) levels, progesterone levels and beta hCG (pregnancy hormone) levels. As of the end of the work day, only the ultrasound and progesterone results had come in. It’s the full workup that determines how well the pregnancy is going, so it’s entirely possible that, had The Big Hospital sent in all of the results by the end of the day, I might not have had to continue stabbing myself in the butt through the weekend. Oh well. It’s old hat now.

Thursday my office threw a huge bash for my boss’ boss who retired. Her last day was Friday. So our team took her out to lunch at the Chinese restaurant across the street from the office, then threw her a party in the big conference room at the office. People came from all over the state to wish her well, eat cake and snacks and drink punch. Hopefully the Big Boss left feeling appreciated. Frankly, I’m not sure how well the team will function without her, but the lady who’s rumored to be replacing her is brilliant and capable and if she’s hired, will fill Big Boss’ shoes easily.

This weekend I went down to my grandparents’ house to visit and take care of whatever chores they needed done around the house. I won’t go into the list of chores I did, but let’s just say I had to excuse myself and go to bed around 8:30 Saturday night.

I did get an hour nap in yesterday between arriving home after the two-hour drive from Gram’s, taking out the recycling that has been piling up in our store room, and having to take Pooka’s friend Vriska home, which is about a two-hour round trip in and of itself.

Pooka and I popped off at the grocery store to get some cranberry juice and seltzer for me (since I can’t drink de booze), apple juice for her and soda for our guests. Hubs ordered pizza and BAMF, The Ginge and Hubs’ coworker came over for the evening. They went home around 9:30 and Hubs and I brought back the rental car I had used for the trip to and from Gram’s, then dropped his coworker off at home.

One of the signs that I’m pregnant is that my dreams become weird, for me. Now, my dreams are always extremely bizarre. I dream about zombies and superheroes and magic and many other things you’d only see in sci-fi/fantasy. When I’m pregnant, my dreams become exceptionally mundane, and might have some occasional juxtaposition here and there. For example: Last night I dreamed that Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen were in town, and insistent on staying at my place. The problem was, my house was very messy, and I don’t like having company – except for very close friends – when my house isn’t pristine. I think there was something about a bet where they insisted that I hide my old teddy bear and if they could find it, they got to stay. Except that they didn’t know I had an attic, and so I offered to put them up in the bed and breakfast on the main street in town, which is a stone’s throw from my house.

Like I said: Weird.

Nugget Has A Heart!

Ladies and gents: Nugget is here to stay! Despite the fiasco of last weekend, it is growing beautifully and has a good, strong heartbeat. We confirmed that heartbeat at a rate of 130 this morning.

The ultrasound tech was kind enough to save a little clip of the heart beating for me and set it to loop when she left, so that I could take a video (below) to send to Mum and Dad via text message, since they couldn’t be here. Mum had asked me to tell her “as soon as humanly possible” what Nugget’s heart rate was. So I took the video and sent it to her with this text: “Heart rate is 130 and Nugget is growing perfectly! Believe me now? LOL <3” She responded tearfully but happily.

I am convinced, at this point, that every pregnancy comes with one big scare or significant inconvenience. With Pooka, I was hospitalized overnight and given intravenous antibiotics for a kidney infection. WiggleWorm’s umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck twice but she was fine. And with Tempest, I wound up with kidney stones. So the way I figure it is that last weekend’s scare was our big drama with Nugget, and the rest will be smooth sailing.

For those of you who are curious as to what a 7-week old embryo looks like: this is it. The bean-shaped blob is Nugget, and the little pulsing blob inside Nugget is its heart.

UPDATE 2/11/14: I have one more monitoring appointment scheduled for next week, and then I'll be released into the care of the obstetricians at The Big Hospital.

Mis-Adventures in Surrogacy

This past weekend was a complete and utter debacle. I’m still reeling from it, honestly. Just… Ugh.

Friday after work, Hubs and I went up to the general Queen City area to shop for a suit for him. He’s never had one, and we feel it will make a difference when interviewing for teaching jobs… Or any jobs, really. We found a very nice black one that shows off his assets and hide his very few liabilities. The staff at Men’s Wearhouse were very good to us, and helped us keep the whole package within budget, so that was nice. Plus, they’re tailoring it to fit him properly. We’re told it will be ready at 3:30pm on Saturday. After the suit, we popped over to a local Mexicali restaurant for dinner, which Hubs critiqued (much to my amusement) throughout the meal. Apparently it did not compare favorably to his current place of work, even though he did admit that the food wasn’t bad, “for the price versus the quantity.” Then we snuck over to BestBuy and picked up a CD and a movie for which Pooka had been begging since December.

Saturday Hubs went to work in the morning and I slept in late. Pooka decided to go with a friend (Curly-Q) to the Queen City to celebrate another friend’s birthday, so I sat around the house and marathon-watched “Merlin” on Netflix. I had agreed to pick her up at 8:00pm at the birthday girl’s house, so once Hubs got home from work I got dressed and headed out. I wound up waiting for a while, as teenagers will make their parents do, and of course two other girls needed rides home in other areas, so I dropped them off before heading home with Pooka and Curly-Q.

On the way home, I felt several significant gushes. Deciding not to panic, I pulled off the nearest exit and stopped at a gas station. Once in the bathroom, my fears were confirmed: The gushing was blood. And lots of it. I’m not a crier, as a rule, but I lost it. I burst into tears. Some poor woman waiting her turn outside the bathroom went and found Pooka elsewhere in the store. Pooka told her that I was pregnant, and probably just sick. After a few minutes, the woman went and found my daughter again and reported that she heard me crying. She had asked if I was alright through the door, but I had ignored her. Pooka and Curly-Q abandoned their intent to use the loo themselves and followed me quietly to the car, where I explained the situation. They’re good girls, and were sympathetic and as supportive as they could be, not knowing what to do in a situation like this one. I dropped Curly-Q off at her house and Pooka and I went home, where I burst into tears afresh as I made for the loo again. There was just so much blood!

I called The IVF Clinic, and was told to see if The Big Hospital could see me Sunday for blood work and an ultrasound. This was around 11:00pm. After several phone calls between myself, The Clinic and The Big Hospital, I had an appointment for blood work and ultrasound at 8:15 Sunday morning.

Sunday morning rolled around, and I made my way up to The Big Hospital. While waiting to be called in between other people’s IVF procedures, I emailed Mum and told her I was so very sorry; that I had wanted to get it right for her on the first go – and explained what had happened.

I shouldn’t have.

For lo and behold, the ultrasound showed Nugget, bigger than it was on Thursday, and looking perfectly normal. My estrogen and progesterone levels were fine, and my beta hCG levels were 16,499 – right on track. My bleeding had almost completely stopped and everything looked fine. If I had just kept my stupid fingers from sending that email, poor Mum wouldn’t have had to go through the emotional roller coaster on which I sent her this weekend.

Dr. Head-Honcho made a point to come in and see me again, as he was working Sunday, and reassured me that bleeding during the first trimester, especially with IVF procedures, is very common, and not always an indication of miscarriage. I was told to take it easy for the rest of the day and the following day – avoiding stress and trying to stay off my feet as much as possible.

So that was the weekend. Thank goodness for tenacious little embryos!

Yesterday was just as big a mess as the weekend. I called the mail-order Pharmacy that The Clinic chooses to distribute medications, to order more progesterone in oil. I’d have called on Sunday, but they’re not open on Sundays – unlike the other Pharmacy I used with the First IVF Clinic. Anyway, there’s a snow storm down there, so they wouldn’t guarantee next-day delivery. Now, I was REALLY low on progesterone. I’m not a doctor, and the boxes weren’t labeled as to how many days’ worth of medication was in each vial, so I wasn’t sure when to order more.

Needless to say, there was panicking done. I called The Big Hospital and asked if their Reproductive Endocrinology & Infertility (Dr. Head-Honcho’s division) could prescribe me one or two CCs of the stuff. No dice. I called my regular doctor to see if they could prescribe it. No dice. I called my local pharmacy to find out if they carried progesterone in oil, just in case I could find someone who was able to call in a prescription. No dice. I called The IVF Clinic again and they had no doctors on duty and are closed until Friday because of the snow. I could not believe it. Snow doesn’t close everything down in Vermont – not unless you get six feet of it in under five hours. So it was incomprehensible to me that The Clinic would be closed! I even emailed Dr. Head-Honcho personally to ask if he could help me. He responded fairly quickly, and had reached out to someone else on his team to try to make it happen for me.

Exasperated, desperate and tearful, I left a message with The Clinic’s answering service for the NURSE on call to ring me back. I was terrified that I wouldn’t have enough progesterone for that night’s dose, and would therefore surely miscarry.

Well, it turns out that nurses at The Clinic can call in prescriptions. The nurse who called me back had just phoned in another prescription for another surrogate at The Big Hospital’s pharmacy, and still had the number in front of her. She rang me back again shortly thereafter and said my progesterone would be ready in an hour – all I had to do was call them and give them my insurance information.

I emailed Dr. Head-Honcho back to thank him and let him know everything was sorted out; then I called my besty – Mama, who was happy to drive me up to The Queen City to pick up my scrip, and we chatted almost nonstop during the 40-minute drive.

But wait! There’s more!

Once at The Big Hospital’s pharmacy, I was informed that the only two vials they had in stock had walked out the door with the other surrogate, not half an hour previously. The staff called the in-patient pharmacy and double-checked all of their shelves to try to find even a partial vial of progesterone, but there was none to be found. The pharmacist was able to order four vials of it for today, and said it would be available at 9:00 am.

So Hubs, despite not having gotten much sleep, drove up to The Big Hospital early this morning to pick up my progesterone. Interestingly, FedEx just emailed a “delivery exception” to me. They had of course tried to deliver my meds (which require a signature) while Hubs was indisposed, so I called the main FedEx number to ask for help. They’ll be back at my house in five minutes with the package.

As I look back on the last few days, and all the drama and inconvenience I “suffered” though, I have to say that I was very lucky to have had so many contacts that were so willing to go out of their way to help me. Sure, there’s a lot of crap in this world; but there are also people out there who are willing to go to the mat for complete strangers. For that, I am exceptionally grateful.