My tale of woe

I had an appointment with the OB this week. In my OB practice, you don't necessarily see the same one all the time because of their philosophy - you never know who will be on call to deliver your baby. Being a cynic, I think it has more to do with malpractice rates, but that's me.

So I saw Dr S. I thought it would go well - young woman, seemingly nice ...I had high expectations. Especially after meeting with my primary OB who was the epitome of human kindness and patience.

I had a few concerns going into the appointment, especially after the very kind RN had gone through some of the bloodwork results with me (from my first appt, which no one called me about). It seemed that my thyroid (I'm hypothyroid anyway and take Synthroid) was on the low side - T3 was .33 and normal started at .35. My TSH was normal. Also, I was concerned about the ankle swelling and my ..er.... urinary leakage of late ... and most importantly, the risk of incompetent cervix as explained to me by Dr High Risk as I've had multiple d&cs and a recent miscarriage. All legit, right? Nothing too crazy, nothing too demanding?

The nice nurse put me in the sono room just in case there was a need for ultrasound. Being an infertility patient, you *know* at the REs there's always a need for ultrasound. I mean, really. But I wasn't in Oz any longer, so I wasn't sure what they were going to do. At the RE's, it was always "better safe than sorry". But I figured I'd be on my best behaviour and see what happened.

Dr S came in and mumbled her name at me. Asked me how I was doing and if I had concerns. I explained my few concerns/questions to her. She obviously hadn't had a chance to look at my chart and started leafing through: "Oh, your bloodwork all came back normal, even the Tay-Sachs." I told her what the RN had said about my thyroid. "Oh, that's nothing to worry about. You're just barely below normal".

Ping... I heard our relationship go from so-so to abysmal in .06 seconds.

At which point I shook my head. I mean ... if I'm below normal NOW ... what is she waiting for? For the level to drop precipitously? When I *know* that thyroid level is extremely important in fetal development/mental development?
But she had already moved on. "As for the incompetent cervix, we can check that when you have your amnio at week 16". At which point I (at week 13)again shook my head but this time words came out too. "I'm not comfortable with that" I said. "I'd rather get checked now and have some peace of mind, especially after my recent miscarriage". She looked at me and although she had good doctor-face on, I could tell she was annoyed.

So she (actually noticed I was allergic to latex)got the abdominal u/s thingie ready and started moving it to and fro on my belly in a joystickesque manner. Now I may be an RN, but u/s is NOT my specialty. If you don't tell me what I'm seeing - especially while moving the wand around - I honestly have no clue, all I see is an indiscriminate blob. So as she's about to zap the Morgons ...er ...anyway, I say to her very timidly "is there a heartbeat?"

And she looks at me and says "Can't you see it moving?? Guess if it's moving there's a heartbeat, huh?".
At which point I reached out and squeezed her neck rapidly while shaking her from side to side. She quietly slid down and expired. My first OB then walked in, looked at her there on the floor, said "good riddance" and continued the ultrasound. He explained everything with great kindness and understanding.

Oops sorry. Fantasy sequence. Pardon me.

And she looks at me and says "Can't you see it moving?? Guess if it's moving there's a heartbeat, huh?".
I said nothing. Because not only was I completely dumbfounded, there was no point. She didn't get it. She had no clue, even though it said "recurrent loss" on my chart. Even though my chart is already 2 inches thick and it's only my second visit. Even though I'm 39, have some obvious problems, am obviously distressed. Even though I'm human and have feelings. Yes, I was in my nurse's uniform but that shouldn't have made the least bit of difference.

Dr Shitty kept trying to zap Morgons on my belly. Finally she gave up trying to see my cervix through my abdomen and decided (Halleluyah! The chorus of angels that is my bladder sang!) to do a transvag, something she should have done from the beginning. She didn't even offer me a picture of my "obviously" moving baby. Bitch. I was burning inside.

Ah, the familiar cooter-cam. I was overjoyed. Well, not really but at least I knew what to do. Something about familiarity. Anyway, my cervix measured 5cm. So she said. I had to ask her if that was good to which she actually laughed (!!!)and told me that I was "above the curve" as normal was 2-4cm. She ok'd me for exercise as long as I keep my heartrate around 140, no higher. She also told me bluntly that there was nothing they could do about my urinary dribbling until after the baby is born. I kind of knew that, but ... oh well. I do Kegels semi-regularly. She then proceeded to argue with me about my blood type which was listed on the chart as O+, when I'm really O-. I have a relatively rare condition called a "weak D" which means that part of my rhesus (that's the + or - part) are positive and part is negative. She didn't actually believe me until I told her that I had received Rhogam post last d&c. Grrrrr.

And then I mentioned my weight to her. She got very upset with me because I've gained too much. I've gained approximately 16 lbs and I know it's not good. Yes, I was on a restricted calorie diet before I got pregnant and the minute I started eating normally the pounds leapt on. Yes, I have a very slow metabolism (thank you O thyroid gland) and normally put on weight easily. Yes, my thyroid may be low (thank you O Dr Shitty) which doesn't help. Yes, all I was able to keep down in first trimester were carbs which definitely pack on pounds in this girl.

My endocrinologist also read me the riot act about my weight gain after I went in to see her because of my lack of confidence (re:low thyroid reading)in Dr Shitty. She is very concerned. Dr Thyroid is also petite and tiny, which made me feel lovely. But she is kind and I at least feel that she gives a hoot. I need to go get punctured again for bloodwork because the OB's office faxed over the thyroid report that Dr Thyroid's office originally sent them in March, not the recent thyroid panel from the OB that I had asked them to send. *sigh*

But now I'm terrified about pre-eclampsia and losing my baby. Note I did not say "alleged baby". Yes, that means you, Stacy.
My blood pressure has measured anywhere from 104/65 to 120/84 which is fine so that helps my state of mind. I know I need to watch what I eat, start to exercise a bit, maybe cut out the carbs as much as possible. But I feel scared, intimidated, worried and a bit like a failure. I don't want to make this pregnancy a bad experience or harm my baby in any way. I want to do what's right. But I am terrified and frozen in place.

So ... if you have thoughts, advice, assvice, concerns, words of kindness ... please share them. And if you can, leave your email address so I can at least thank you.

And know one thing. My next OB appointment is NOT with Dr Shitty. Nor will it ever be again. *sigh* Wanna guess who's going to be on-call when/if I deliver? I just know it.

Things I found out this weekend

That my family is truly overjoyed at our good news.
That my parents are really starting to look their age.
That soon, all of us "kids" are going to be over 40.
That 8 hours in a car and several subsequent hours cooking for Passover cause a certain girl's ankles to swell. Oh yeah. And I mean swell, baby.


The weekend went by far too fast. It seems we had just arrived at my sister's when it was already time to turn around and come back again. Which sucked.
The drive went well - we headed straight up route 15 which took us to NY state, then 390 to the 90 Interstate and up to Canada.
Going took us 8 hours - not bad at all. Of course John didn't let me drive. He never does. So I slept on and off, as we left at midnight. Uneventful except for a teen's snoring in the back seat. Yeesh!

Passover was wonderful. It's my favourite holiday at the worst of times and this was the best. We broke the news to my sister and her husband first - it was kind of hard to hide and she is utterly delighted. After helping her with much Seder preparation, John and I headed out to the mall to see if I could find some clothes that would fit.

I was delighted to find "Thyme Maternity" in Canada and ...score! They had a sale on. I picked up some super-comfy and stylish pants ($59 CDN)a little more than I wanted to spend but the moment they went on, I didn't want them off. Also a couple of nice tops, mostly on sale. Yeah, it wasn't terribly cheap but it wasn't crazy expensive either and I've been desperate to find reasonable and stylish pregnancy clothing. Me, the fashion maven. Please. I can hear the laughter from over there. Anyway, I may have to return some pants to JCPenney now. These others are far more comfortable and wayyyy nicer. Go Canada!

Between the return to my sister's, the last minute cooking, the reading of the Haggadah, much good food, the laughter and many songs, we announced our news to the delight of everyone present, even my infertile sister (who adopted) although her husband had a bit of a sour look on his puss. Ah well. It truly was a special and joyous evening.

Upon retiring to bed, we noticed how swollen my ankles were. Ouch. I elevated them throughout the night and have been doing so periodically since then. It's hard when you're a nurse but I've been trying. I see the OB today and have made a list of things to discuss (oh yeah, he's gonna lurrrvveee me) including aforementioned ankles as well as Dr Risky's concern regarding my possibly dilated cervix. Oh, and did I mention the small thing called the nuchal translucency?

On the drive home from the GWN (Great White North, catch up, would you?), I called the genetic counselor who informed me that our post-test risk went from 1:95 to .... *drumroll* ... 1:781! Yay for us! She was very pleased and while we're still going ahead with amnio, that big sighing sound you all heard early Monday afternoon? Well, that was me. And maybe even John a little bit. We're actually relaxing a little bit, DBTs* and all.

Oh and if anyone ever figures out a way to get a 16 year old boy out of the shower after less than 25 minutes, could you please let me know? Cutting off the water supply is getting old. I need something far more exciting. Heck, I wouldn't want to bore the child.



*DBTs=dead baby thoughts. Stolen shamelessly from the Infertility blogosphere.

Happy Passover!

I went to the Hair Butchery yesterday for a cut. *sigh*. Ah well, what do I expect for $19. At least it looks more tidy. Yeah. What the hell are these layers? Thank heavens I decided not to do colour. I'm going to wait till I'm firmly in my second trimester, roots be damned.

We are heading to Canada (land of the free, home of the brave) for Passover tonight. Yes, we're driving and since John won't ever let me drive, I expect to have a good sleep on the road.

We finally get to tell the family that we're expecting. It's very exciting!!

So - here's wishing everyone a happy and joyous Passover, filled with family, love and good food! And for those without family to go to this year, here's an invitation to the infamous getupgrrl's Infertility Seder
Next year in Jerusalem!

Wow.

warning to infertilinas - much baby and pregnancy talk and pictures to follow.

Let me start off by saying that my Perinatologist is an absolute doll. Kind, soft spoken and thorough - what more can a girl ask for?

I liked the genetic counselor who was quite thorough and seemed more concerned about my risk of breast cancer than anything else. It seems that my risk for passing chromosomal abnormalities is only age-related, nothing else. We discussed my odds - she put them around 1:95 for Trisomy 18 (Downs) and similar odds for other abnormalities. She spoke in layman's terms until I finally broke down and told her I was an RN at which point she stopped babying me a bit. But she was good and very thorough. The one thing she said that I clung to was that if the nuchal didn't look wonderful, there was the option of doing a CVS right there and then. I kept that in mind as a benchmark.

After a long discussion, she took me to what I thought was the cooter cam room. I was about to drop trou when the tech stopped me and told me just to lower my pants a bit, this u/s was done abdominally. Oops. Infertility strikes again!

Anyway, she left me with my pants slightly lowered, displaying my flabby white belly. The peri arrived and seriously, what a nice man. He introduced himself, talked a bit about what we were looking for, tut-tutted over my bad back and got to work. I could see something ... and he said "Ok, we're measuring the crown-rump length (CRL) and you're right on target, 12 weeks and 1 day!" at which point I sort of choked out "is there a heartbeat?"
Dr Risky looked at me with a very kind look, and very softly said "I'm sorry. Let's do this the right way from the beginning, shall we?". I think I fell in love right there and then. And sure enough, there was the heartbeat at 171. I even heard it, loud and clear. Faithful readers will know me well enough to know that I was sobbing at this point. Dr Risky showed me the spine and the stomach, even the bladder. It was quite something!

Then he went to measure the neck fold and the bambino was squirming away. I mean ... the bean was doing the mambo. It was tough for Dr Risky to get a measurement at first but eventually he got 1.4mm, which put me well below the 50th percentile for abnormalities. Of course, that's all contingent on the bloodwork, but no one suggested the CVS, which made me breathe easier.

And then ... and then ... he switched the ultrasound to 3D. And for an instant, just an instant, I saw my baby's face. Not this amorphous blob that kept wriggling, but a baby. With a face and a body ... a real baby. My baby.

For the first time this is starting to come home to me. I've been relatively ambivalent about this pregnancy up till this point. And now ... I - we - may actually have a baby to show for all the turmoil, pain and heartache of the last couple of years. I'm over-joyed, afraid and ... slightly less terrified than I was up till now.

12 weeks. Wow.

And here s/he is ...


the blob!


a view from the rear


3D ... and sucking his/her thumb

Just when you thought it was safe ...

I didn't sleep much last night. Not just nerves but back pain too. Yeah. Sciatica.

John and I went out to get topsoil for the garden that he tilled (by hand!) and we were getting it all ready and mixing the soil and mulch and making rows and chasing away the very large bunny that wants to check it out already ...

...and ping! I felt something give in my back. I hadn't really done much, I believe I was raking. Nothing strenuous. *sigh*. It's gotta be the extra weight I've put on. And believe me, 99% of it is "extra".

Between that and the heartburn, I didn't get much sleep last night. Doctor's list says no ibuprofen. I don't even have Tylenol in the house, it does so little. And I'm worried about using Icy Hot or something like that. Yeah, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.

May I please add that constipation and gas pains are also no fun when your sciatic hurts?

My nuchal is today. That's going to be SO much fun. And John won't be with me.

The last time he wasn't with me for a test we got bad news. I hope it's not a trend.

So, I need your good thoughts. 1)That the nuchal is ok and 2) I get through this pain without killing something. Like a certain bunny.

I really don't want to take time off work. I'm hoarding every precious hour. My mother in Toronto was horrified when I told her yesterday that there is no mandatory paid maternity leave in the United States of America. I do believe it's the only "civilized" country that doesn't have it.

So much for "family values".

But I digress. Please send good thoughts my way today? Thank you.

PS - did I mention the new girl at work who, while trying to "bond" with me (my most recent loss seems to be a topic of office conversation), felt it necessary to tell me about her miscarriage at 12 weeks? A very nice girl, but ... please.

Guess which week I'm in?

Oy.

"You'll be fine"

It's Saturday morning and the house is empty but for me and two cats. John is off golfing and Jr is at the biothing's. The cats are jonzing for food and being cute, nothing new there.

I vaguely remember last night; I came home from work, chewed on some Tums, lay down on the couch cause I was tired and not feeling wonderful ... next I know, John is taking me upstairs somehow and I am following compliantly. I remember going to the bathroom and him helping me undress. That's all I remember till this morning when my bladder woke me. Wow. 12 hours of sleep.

I didn't eat dinner so I awoke absolutely ravenous this morning and have already wolfed down a sesame seed bagel (toasted) with light cream cheese. Thoughts of food are dancing in my head - it's all I seem to think about lately. Well, that and that little thing called the nuchal translucency test.

Yeah, that. Now I am a worrier by nature and even I know that worrying about this does nothing, so I've been trying not to think about it but it's hard. As it stands, my chance of carrying a Downs baby is 1:100. Them ain't great odds, yanno.

At work everyone says "you'll be fine, you'll see!". How do they know? How on earth do they have the confidence to say that to someone? I would never do that, never tell a person "oh, you'll be fine" when I don't know for a fact that it's true. I say that as a person and as a nurse. But then again, the people at work have never understood what I've been through, or the emotional pain of being infertile or even subfertile. I believe that they think since I got pregnant without IVF treatment that I am absolutely fine. They remind me of Paula. Please go and read Emily's most excellent diatribe.

And I may be fine, I guess. Sure I needed surgery and much testing, yes I went through emotional (and to an extent) physical hell, yes I suffered loss(es), but hey ... I got pregnant the good ol fashioned way, so what am I kvetching about?
In truth, I think that too sometimes.

Then I give my head a shake. And hear nothing. Alas.

I just want this damned test to come back ok. Yes, I am scared. And nervous. And John won't be with me. I wish I could say "it'll be fine" but something inside me won't let me.

So I'm going to go immerse myself in gardening and possibly, eating. Because John tilled (by hand) the garden that I couldn't do and because we had a frost last night. I fell asleep before I could cover my nice new plants.

Ooops.

The *cough domestic cough* diva

Thanks for bearing with me as I got the vitriol out of my system. I just get so darned bitter about the whole step-parenting thing sometimes - all the work, none of the credit. Yes, I know. I know that "one day he'll realize how much you did and he'll thank you for it" ... but that's right up there with that lovely homily "oh just relax and you'll get pregnant! It worked for my mother's brother's sister's cousin's half-step uncle!"

If you know what I mean.

It's a beautiful Monday morning and I've been outside gardening. Or pretending to do so. It's my day off and I couldn't have picked nicer weather. Saturday we stopped at Walmart and I picked up a bunch of plants. I realize that it's too soon and that we could still have a killing frost, but ... tulips were 50 cents each. And there were snapdragons. And violas. And other things whose names I may not remember but they were darn pretty.

I planted a big pot full of them and it looks very lovely. I have no idea if they're compatible with each other or if I even did it right, but ... I'm giving it a good shot. I even spread mulch on the gardens. I also planted the remainder of the plants in various places in our garden - including a hydrangea. I'm just hoping it'll get enough sun where it is. What do I know?

The vegetable garden plot is now marked off. John didn't want me using a tiller by myself without him here. You know, in case I cut off my foot or something. I told him that technically, cutting off my foot wouldn't hurt the (alleged)baby, but he was not to be dissuaded. Whatever did I do before I met him and had to use power tools? By myself. With no one around at all ... *sigh*. Some things are just not worth arguing about.
Instead I have been hacked at the grass with a hoe and now have an impressive blister. I would use that excuse so not to make dinner tonight, but I already have the slow cooker going. Ah well. I even baked sugar cookies yesterday. Oy.

It's definitely too early to plant veggies, but I do want to get things going, including a bunny-proof chicken wire doohickie, as there are bunnies galore around here.
Oh, and for those few who do read this and have some gardening expertise ... PLEASE feel free to give pointers, advice, assvice, whatever. I can use all the help I can get!

I've never done this before. Never had a home of my own. Never had a garden of my own. Never started a vegetable garden from scratch. Never been pregnant this long. Never been in love like this. Lots of firsts and I am quite happy.

The nuchal is the 18th. 18 in Judaism is the numeric equivalent of "life" and is considered a good luck number. Considering what we're looking at, I'm hoping it's a good omen that the appointment is on the 18th.
But as my friend Stacy said yesterday ... "they're all good luck numbers. Just relax."
Her, I believe. She showed up yesterday with her 3 kids, 2 of which are ART babies. She's convincing that way.

I tried to take pictures of the flowerpot and garden but my dig cam is foobared and acting temperamental. I managed to snap a couple shots before it decided to go on strike - then when I uploaded the pics, there were some old and unexpected shots there somehow. So you get one of those too. Who doesn't want to see cute kitty pics, anyway?

flowerpot


lame flowerpot picture. I hate my camera.


anyone need insulin?

Dinner and a rant.

Last night we went out for dinner. Just the two of us, Jr is at the biothing's house. Before you wonder about the title "biothing", let me explain.

WARNING! BITTER STEP-PARENT RANT AHEAD!

First of all, the female in question is a miracle of "oops" pregnancies, reason enough to loathe her. 4 husbands, 4 kids. Two of which were taken away and custody given to the fathers, not an easy task in the state of Maryland. One of those kids is Jr.

She pays us next to nothing in child support. I'm serious. For nearly 16 years, she's paid the absolute minimum Maryland requires and each time John has spoken to her about raising it a bit, she quits whatever pathetic job she has. She raises huge stinks about contributing to buying him luxuries like ... glasses and clothing. And thinks nothing of buying him. I mean that, that's no typo, she'll buy him a flat screen TV for his bedroom, a new Playstation, an mp3 player. But glasses? She's supposed to pay 50% of all medical expenses. The last time we bought him glasses and rec specs, it was more than 400 bucks (he has a special Rx). We're still waiting for her half and that was nearly 3 years ago.

Let me just add (since I'm on the topic and feeling particularly bitter this morning for some reason) that John took custody when Jr was around two and a half. She had been catting about while John worked 2 full time jobs because she wanted to be a "stay at home mom" and she had 2 other kids - well, one really, because one was with the father. She filled that time screwing other men and in general neglecting Jr. John didn't know - at first - about the former.

And I say she neglected Jr because when John,who had no experience raising children or any idea of what was developmentally "on target" and who was working constantly, took Jr to daycare at close to 3 years old, he realized that Jr had almost no vocabulary, in comparison to other kids his age. Sure, he had realized that the baby was constantly dirty, as he was doing almost all the childcare when he was home and rumours from neighbours about the older daughter being left alone with Jr circulated, but my husband is a good man and loathe to think poorly of others.

But when he found out about the infidelities, he took Jr and sued for custody. By that point, Jr had been tested and found to need speech therapy (big shock!!) and a therapist was coming 2-3 times a week to John's mom's house, where they were staying. John worked heavily with Jr, leaving work early, working on speech therapy every day, making sure Jr was getting what he needed.
The biothing showed up for one session. One. And that was right before the custody hearing. She lived 5 minutes away.
She showed up to the custody hearing sans lawyer and 7 months pregnant with another man's baby. John and her were still married at the time.

Yes, I say that judgementally. I am biased, certainly, but John is a good and kind man. He is devoted to his son - and to me. He has become extraordinarily gentle around me since this alleged pregnancy, pretty much doting on me. I know that he must have been much the same way with the biobitch, who screwed him over.
I don't forgive crap like that, not even slightly.

Needless to say, that amongst other things made the judge give John full custody. Not joint, not shared. FULL custody. Which he still has. Yet my husband bends over backwards to insure that Jr has time with the biothing. When we lived closer to her, John would drive Jr to her house and back (!!!) so Jr could spend time with her. Not that she would lift a finger, of course. Now that we live farther away, he still drives halfway, a good 45 minutes in either direction. And she bitches about that. I don't know any other custodial parent who does what John does.

She does absolutely no parenting of Jr. Nothing. Which shows in the way he talks about her and treats her, she complains about his tone with her. When he spent most of 7th grade at her house because of poor school districts (PG county, for those that know) where we were living, she never made sure his homework was done, never ever went to parent-teachers, never ever made sure he was staying on track with his schooling.
As a result, Jr entered the 8th grade missing the all-important basics in math/algebra and English and he struggled mightily. We disconnected the Playstation and made him sit and do work. I bought him workbooks. By the end of 8th grade, we had made up a lot of the missing links but decided to put him in pre-algebra in 9th grade and made him do extra work in the summer. He was bitter, oh yes he was.
Smartest thing we could have done, the kid is acing algebra and geometry now. Yeah, his English leaves a lot to be desired but he really is a typical boy. Just not interested, would rather be outside playing sports. Despite that, his grades are excellent after much hard work from John, Jr and me.

Not to mention her treatment of me. I've been in the picture 5 years and she has gone to great effort to badmouth me to Jr. Calling me names, badmouthing me. When she found out I was Jewish, she hurried out and bought Jr a crucifix and made him go to church the weekends he was there. That lasted all of 3 weeks, because she didn't go to church before. When we made wedding plans, she decided that her and husband number 4 needed to have a "renewal of vows". Right before our wedding. It was pretty funny, actually. She has consistently tried to poison Jr's mind against us and even told him that John had "girlfriends" while they were married. It goes on and on. Whenever Jr comes home from a weekend there, we hear the not-so-subtly planted vitriol that she's shared with him. Because to her, it's not about the kid. It's about her.

Oh, and I've only shared the tip of the iceberg, honestly. I could go on, but there's no need. I feel much better now. On to what I was actually going to talk about.
{/end rant}

Anyway, so Jr is over there this weekend and we have a kid-free weekend. We went out to a Mediterranean restaurant, as I was craving some home-style food ( I grew up in Israel) and it was pretty decent. Tabouleh, hummus, kibbeh, dolmades, fool medames. And shwarma, which was so-so. The salads made up for it. It's a strange place - looks like a full service restaurant, but you order and pay at the counter and then sit down and wait for someone to bring you your food. Kind of odd. But tasty and it satisfied my craving to the point that I over-ate. It just tasted so good!

And the main reason I mention all this? I wore jeans.

Maternity jeans.

Nothing else fits.

Ack.

The segue post. Sorry.

I wish I had something scintillating and hip to say, but I'll leave that to the actual writers amongst us, check out my links list for their sites.
I have to say, I'm very very flattered that I'm being linked to by women I admire a great deal - it feels a bit like high school and being accepted into the "cool" clique. Are you gals just waiting to play a trick on me ala Heathers?

Only I never was accepted in real life, for fun or for real. Hah.

I was abysmally uncool all through my school years. In grade school I was an over-achiever who'd rather have her head in a book than anywhere else. That may have had something to do with the nearly-complete hearing loss in my left ear that remained undiscovered till the age of 8-ish. OK, ready for the segue?

My mother loves to tell the story of how an active, bright and babbling baby - wasn't. She grew very worried and called the doc, who was out of town on vacation. Instead, Dr Young (yes, that was his name) showed up at our house - after all, this was the 60s and housecalls were not a big deal - and examined me carefully. I was lying on the couch, completely lethargic. Mom says he then took a brightly coloured rattle and dropped it in front of my eyes - I didn't budge, track or do anything. At which point, the good doctor stood and said "Mrs B, get a blanket (it was winter), wrap your daughter up and follow me - we're going to the hospital now". That man saved my life.
That man - and the doctor who diagnosed me at Children's Hospital in Winnipeg way back then (and later became the head of Children's), who actually figured out that I had a relatively little-known disease.

You see, I had meningitis. Considering that I was a very young infant (the age changes each time my mom tells the story, but I figure around 1-ish) back in the dark ages of medicine, the mid-60s, the fact that I survived it is a miracle.
Back then, no one tested for sequelae - no one really knew.

So, the hearing loss went completely undetected until I was in 3rd grade, at which point my father had surgery on his ear.
In response to that, I took my transistor radio - do you remember the ones that had the white ear piece that you shoved in your ear? - well, I turned it up full-crank and put it in my good ear - and nearly deafened myself completely. Then tried it in my "bad" ear - you see, *I* was aware of the difference, I just figured that was the way it was supposed to be - and heard nothing. Zip. Just some vibration.
Aha! I had solved the mystery! *I* needed surgery too, just like Daddy!!

At which point I went to my mother and unilaterally declared my need for ear surgery, pronto. It was enough to make her hmmm and put a bunch of little things together ... and take me to my father's ear doctor who took no time in determining the hearing loss. 95% neuro-sensori loss. Almost complete left ear deafness.
And nothing you can do about it, either. The nerve is pretty much dead.

A few years back, I was working ICU at Johns Hopkins. We were mostly oncology-based, but we did some other stuff as well. I was caring for a patient who'd had a tumour in his ear removed - the surgery itself is what damaged his hearing, but he had no choice, the tumour had to come out. The ENT (ear nose and throat) surgeon, a personable guy, was talking to him about how they were going to help restore his hearing. My ear (hah)perked.
Afterwards, I pulled Dr Ear aside and asked him if what he had explained to the patient would work for me. Without skipping a beat, he answered that it wouldn't, but he did have something else, a pilot project, something new and relatively untested, that would work beautifully for my kind of hearing loss. A BAHA, or "bone anchored hearing aid".

And sure enough, it went through and I had the surgery, which implanted a titanium pin in my mastoid bone, to which I attach a hearing aid. It works by transmitting the vibrations via the skull (bone) to my good ear, giving me awareness of sound on that side. No, it hasn't cured my hearing, that won't happen until we figure out nerve grafting, probably not until I'm gone and buried. But, when I remember to wear the darned thing, it does help. It also picks up a lot of ambient noise, which is a hassle and gives me headaches.
IOW, I don't wear it much. But it was fun to tell you about. Here's a pic taken not long after the surgery, just to give you an idea.


the pin



the hearing aid on the pin

So the segue won. I guess this post is about my hearing aid, rather than my lack of popularity in school. I'm far too much a "stream of consciousness " writer.
Yes, I was popular with some sub-sections of my jr and high school years, but we won't talk about that this time around.

As for other things, I finally ventured into the baby section at Target. I lasted about 2 minutes before getting completely overwhelmed with all the thousands of strollers, high chairs and swings and backing sloooowwwwwllyyy down an aisle to escape. Only the aisle was filled with classic Pooh Bear stuff, my silly dream/contraband stuff that I've wanted to fill a nursery with for a long time. I promptly burst into tears and ran the hell out of there.

Not yet. I just can't do it yet.

And I still don't have results back on the 12(!!!) vials of blood they drained from me for screening purposes the other day. I'll wait one week. Then I start calling Dr Delivery's office. Yeah, they're going to love me.


PS- someone pointed out that I have pink and blue as the primary colours on my site. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!! I swear. It never dawned on me. I'm so dense sometimes.

Double digits

Yeah. I've made it to 10 weeks and to steal from grrl, NBHHY. Or, for those unfamiliar, "nothing bad has happened yet". It took me a while to figure that one out. I'm not the sharpest knife in the butcher block, yanno. BTW, go read grrl while you're at it, assuming you never have. She says it a lot better than I ever could.

Yes, I'm pretty overwhelmed today. The whole double digits thing has me going. And, I'm starting to "look" pregnant, even to me. Sure, I'm not exactly svelte to begin with, but ... there's a definite change to my body. Thicker, somehow. And I can't suck my stomach in any more. Freaky. I won't even talk about my boobs, which have suddenly seemed to develop a fondness for Madonna's cone look. Jesus Murphy.

I'm freaked out for any number of reasons, the first being "holy shit, I may actually have to birth this child", while others are slightly more pedestrian. Such as "ummm, you've changed a total of maybe 2 diapers in your life", "how the hell do I bathe a baby" and the ever-popular "what the hell am I going to do with said (alleged) baby once it gets here??"

And the more mundane "what if the testing shows something bad??". Yeah, ever the optimist. That's me, alright.

It's difficult, because no one seems to understand that there's a dark cloud that is always hovering on the horizon. Sure, it's gorgeous outside, the sun is shining and all looks well, but there's that damned cloud ... again. At work everyone expects me to be happy and bubbly about this pregnancy - so I try my best because I don't want to hear another damned lecture about pessimism. Damnit, I have GOOD reason to be pessimitic!!!

I'm Jewish!

Not to mention all the other crap I've been through. Yeah, that.

So, I'm going off to donate multiple vials of blood to my OB shortly, and I'm truly in a good mood ... just a tad frightened and trepidatious. And wondering when I'll be able to relax and just enjoy this. Probably not till after the amnio, huh? If all goes well.

*sigh*.

What's that old Carly Simon song ...?

...Constipation. Cooooooonnnstipaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaationnnn ...
There's the single reason I haven't given up (all)of my coffee intake.

Oh wait. I think that may have been the Jr High version of her song. Works for me.

I've learned the hard way (ha ha) that if I don't drink one cup of coffee per day, I am completely miserable. It seems like a small thing to bear in order to be able to go ... and all the research I've read says that 1-2 cups of coffee a day aren't a bad thing. So I'm forging ahead with the coffee drinking because - well, I just feel so much better.

I won't really mention the terrible gas. Let it suffice to say that the other day, John told me that when he had come to bed the previous night and lifted the covers, he nearly passed out. He then said excitedly "hey, now you know what it's like to be a guy!". Oy.

During the OB visit, Dr Delivery told me that he considered me high risk. Not just because of my age - I have a few other fun risk factors it seems. Ah well. Then he offered me a choice of himself doing the nuchal translucency, or sending me to a perinatologist for it. Now I really did want to see a peri, but I didn't want to insult the man. Yeah, I'm a nurse but those authority figures still have a grip on me. Luckily, my schedule just doesn't work with his availability, so I ended up having to set up an appointment with a peri this April 18th.

When I called, they also advised me that I would have a genetic counseling session prior to the appointment and that I would need a full bladder for the screening. I must have sounded hesitant because she reassured me that I'd be able to fill up during the counseling appointment. Whew! I can just imagine ... sitting through an hour long counseling session with a full bladder. Uh-huh.

The difference between a nuchal translucency test and an amniocentesis is that one is a screening test and the other is diagnostic. In other words, the former will give you the odds of you having a certain disorder, while the later will give you a factual yes/no answer. While a nuchal will give us a pretty good idea if there is something wrong, I'm pretty sure we'll go ahead with the amnio anyway. Thoughts, concerns and other info is appreciated, if anyone has experience and wants to comment. I'd love all input on this.

I realize it's a very personal choice. I will be honest and forthcoming - if the baby I am allegedly carrying has some form of either a fatal or disabling genetic disorder, it is most likely that we would choose to terminate. We have talked about this at great length and examined the pros and cons and it is the right choice for us. I hope that this is never something we have to deal with, but considering my age, it is a possibility and we are as prepared for it as anyone can be, I believe.

Hence, all input on screening, diagnostics and testing is appreciated. You're welcome to voice your own perspective on this, but please play nice. I am very pro-choice and I respect other's views, please do the same.

Ah, such a downer on a rainy Saturday morning. The nice thing is that we should have that first round of testing out of the way and done by the time we leave to Canada for Passover. If everything is well, we will be announcing to the family, as I'll be out of my first trimester by then. Nothing to see here! Keep moving ... and time for my second cup of coffee.