More Firsts

posted by Mel

Vanessa and I just got back from our first real OB appointment. We love her. We didn’t know her before, and, for some reason, the intake nurse we saw a couple of weeks ago thought she would be a good fit for us.

Now I know why. Katy H, per Vanessa it is like having YOU for an OB– at least attitude-wise. She’s laid-back and funny and maybe even a little nuts. I knew I was going to adore her with just one look at her outfit. Hot pink velour sweater with 3/4-length sleeves, stretched a bit too tight around the mid-section and boobs. Brown cotton capri pants. It was 1980s gym attire– except for the shoes: chunky brown leather sandals. She has personal experience with infertility. Her last child was an IVF baby. So she seems to get the way the mind of an infertile works.

Because V and I are both gold-star lesbians, we got out of a bunch of tests for STDs AND the pap she usually does with new patients. She ordered another ultrasound for next Tuesday; so I can cancel the one I had scheduled with Dr. Pompous for next Friday and wait for our own RE to be back in town to have our graduation appointment with our clinic.

Everything was going great until they had to draw blood. I have notoriously difficult veins, and the blood was coming very slow. I passed out. It isn’t the first time it has happened, but it’s the first time it happened when I wasn’t already a bit dehydrated. I had already had 80 oz of water by then. When I came to, a nurse was holding some kind of ammonia capsule under my nose. They pretty much carried me to an empty exam room and made me lie on my side until my blood pressure came back up. It had dropped to 70/58. Considering that I’d had plenty to eat and drink, one of the nurses said that it was probably just because I’m pregnant. (What happens if you do this in the middle of a delivery? Something new to worry about.) There must have been 5 different people who came back and checked on me. It was the height of embarrassment.

Actually, the real height of embarrassment came about 5 minutes after we finally left the office when Vanessa told me I had passed gas while I was out. I hope she’s lying.

More congrats in order

posted by Mel

Vee and Jay, we couldn’t be more happy for you. You guys have been there with us from the very beginning of our journey. It feels like the universe is righting itself a little bit.

They should rename Cool Water to Stagnant Sewer Water

Eric’s cologne makes me want to vomit.

Actually, it offended my nostrils even pre-pregnancy, but now it brings me close to tears. Any way to say that delicately to a 20-year-old?

And why put on cologne just to go to the skate park?

Now with pics (warning– belly pic)

posted by Mel

Yesterday’s ultrasound with baby measuring at approximately 7 weeks, 3 days. If you look closely, the white dot in the middle of the blob is the heart. I think the 4 peripheral white-ish protrusions might be limbs. The u/s tech is such a doll. She wrote “Hi Momma Vanessa” above it since Vanessa couldn’t be there yesterday.

I am also going to bite the bullet and show you our first belly pic. Vanessa calls this one, “I’m so happy I’m pregnant!” as opposed to the actual first belly pic we took where I was accidentally frowning because I was trying to get the positioning right, and I ended up looking just like Shirley. Vanessa calls that one “I’m so mad I’m pregnant.” I’m definitely not mad. By the way, what you see is pre-existing fat with a side of mega-bloat. The baby is only about the size of a pencil eraser at this point.

I’m still debating the widget. Feels like a jinx. Plus, I have no idea how many weeks pregnant I really am. I’m still confused about it. Do I really go by last menstrual period? Implantation was definitely late, so it’s never going to be accurate for where the baby should be. And I’m afraid to look at it all the time and think the baby is always behind. I’m neurotic enough as it is.

It’s all good

posted by Mel

Will post a pic later, but I wanted to do a quick post to let everyone know that it’s OK. Baby is measuring 7.4 weeks (11.4 mm) and gestational sac is measuring 6.4 weeks (16.8 mm)– within safe range. It grew a mm/day for the past week, which is exactly what it should be doing at this point. The RE eyeballed the heartbeat and called it about 140 bpm and said he doesn’t need to see us again for two weeks. I’m feeling very relieved. My emotional status has gone from just plain Cautious to Cautiously Optimistic. Thanks to Katy H for accompanying me while Vanessa was traveling!

The u/s pic that’s giving me fits until Friday afternoon

posted by Mel

See for yourself. No precise measurement on the gestational sac. The embryo (doesn’t say on the u/s and sorry for the crappy pic. Best I could do) is measuring 4.4 mm at what should have been 6 weeks, 6 days according to the last scan, which was already about 3 days behind where it should have been according to my last menstrual cycle. Yeah, I know, last menstrual cycle doesn’t matter b/c there was late implantation but still.

A Minor Inconvenience

Posted by v.

I’ve uploaded the photos from the minor accident I had on Saturday. Can anyone guess what happened? My car’s the red one.

When does this get fun?

We made it through another scan. First, the good, which I know is what I should be concentrating on– there is a still a good strong heartbeat.

The doctor put the gestational age at just shy of 7 weeks when we were in the u/s room, but then he marked 6++ on my chart. Of course I freaked out and asked for clarification after he had already left the room. So he had to come back in and talk me back off the ledge. I’m glad he’s patient.

They couldn’t measure heartbeat in any precise way with the equipment on hand, but he counted and it looked like it was about 120 bpm, which seems within normal range. The fetus is measuring 4.4 mm and, if we are to go by last week’s measurements, we should be at 6 weeks, 6 days now. So it seems like it’s a couple of days behind again– and it was already a couple of days behind.  Also, he eyeballed the embryonic sack and called it a little on the small side. But again, no exact measurements. So of course I am googling what a small embryonic sack could mean and finding everything from ‘doesn’t matter at all as long as the embryo is measuring fine’ to 80% CHANCE OF MISCARRIAGE. That last thing didn’t come from a reputable source, though– came from a manic infertile on a message board that I usually disregard because is full of blinkies.

So I’m not relaxed yet. I don’t know when I will relax. Another awful 11 weeks+ miscarriage in the blogosphere today. How do you relax when this kind of thing happens on a regular basis?

Another u/s at the end of next week. I think my doctor ordered it out of pity for Vanessa, since I am clearly a head case. Unfortunately, Vanessa’s going to be out of town, so I’m trying to decide if I’m comfortable having a friend in the room for what, at this point, is still a pretty intimate event in terms of the imaging machinery involved, or if I’m going to go it alone.

Being pregnant so far

I am bloated up to at least a size higher than usual, which was already a size higher than I was comfortable being. I didn’t expect to look 5 months pregnant at 6 ½ weeks. I wonder if my body remembers being 90 lbs heavier than this and is just settling back in.

 

I am kind of horrified to find that my hips have already spread. I didn’t think it was possible for them to spread any farther, but I seem to suddenly be at least 3 inches wider. My weight hasn’t increased, but suddenly nothing fits. I’m already using the rubber band trick to keep my jeans closed. I am busting out of bras that were on the loose side two weeks ago. My heartburn and belching are a real treat for Vanessa. I’ve woken up several times this week in the middle of the night to a spinning room. I had one mini-puke this weekend, but that could have just been caused by heat, since I was working in the yard. I’ve been nauseous on and off throughout the day for the last three days. I suddenly have a problem with car sickness.

 

I’m not complaining, though.* I cling to this stuff. I’m hoping one more ultrasound this Friday will provide the confirmation that I need to settle in and enjoy this ride.

 

*The one thing I am likely to complain about, should it happen, would be an increase in shoe size. I already have to shop in the drag queen section of the shoe store. If my feet get much bigger (size 10 now), I’m going to have to start special ordering.

Indy Pride

We went to Pride on Saturday. Last year at Pride we ran into one of Vanessa’s exes at the festival, and she had a 2-year-old in tow. We told her that we’d been trying at various doctors for over a year, and she replied that she’d gotten knocked up at home on the first try and that she could tell us how to do it if we wanted. Minutes later I was collapsing in tears on a friend’s blanket. I looked out for her this year. I wanted to let her know that we finally figured it out. Apparently all it takes is shitloads of painful invasive procedures, a ton of needles, and roughly $30,000. Who knew it could be so easy?

 

Apparently Vanessa was looking out for her, too, because I didn’t see her all day.

 

This year I held my breath and told a 30-something lesbian couple w/baby who came up to the Barkalounge booth to check out doggy daycare services that we were expecting. They said congrats and talked about how hard of a time they’d had getting pregnant—17 IUIs between them, injectables, and they had been contemplating IVF when they finally got lucky. What a relief to meet someone in real life for whom this has not been easy, someone else willing to talk about what a bitch it is!

 

Vanessa and I have been talking about nicknames for this tiny fragile something I’m currently harboring in my uterus. I favored “Dark Horse,” with acknowledgement to Vee’s comment in my last post—seemed quite apropos. But I didn’t like the initials DH, which lots of folks in the blogosphere read as “Dear Hubby.” So Vanessa came up with MDB for Million Dollar Baby instead, and that has kind of stuck. No, I’ve never seen the movie, but I understand from IMDB that this nickname could have a rather ominous connotation. I still think it fits and I’m choosing not to take the movie as a sign. If I were really looking for signs, I’d be more alarmed that our new neighbor was sporting a “Dying Fetus” t-shirt at the roller derby bout Saturday night. Apparently it’s the name of his band.