Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Roccie, meet Baby Jay

He is here and we are in love.

The "we" could be anyone: my family, Rocco's family; my friends or Rocco's. This whole wide world seems to be lining up to love him.

I am pretty tired and sleepless. Stare at him when I should be sleeping. Pecking out one handed posts when I should be sleeping.

I am sitting on top of the world.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Roccie, meet Roccie

How about that Thanksgiving?  It was great.  This is the first time I have ever celebrated a holiday without my family.  I have to admit, I was feeling a little sorry for myself at first.  I thought it would be kind of lonely but it was perfect.

The last hurrah for the Rocco family of three.  Or five if you count all those dogs. 

We went to cheer Rocco on in a neighborhood Turkey Bowl.  It was organized by the neighborhood mom's group.  I am not sure why we went.  The last mom's group meeting I went to was t-o-r-t-u-r-e.  A bunch of northwest suburban moms representing the stereotype at the peak.

Rocco, Toddlerina and I arrived a little late.  The games had already started and we kind of milled around, trying to figure out where we fit in.  Did we?  These people are a bunch of morons.

I get to talking.  Everything starts coming with ease.  Moms my age.  Donut holes.  Coffee.  I even see flasks.  What is not to like?

Yelling in the background.  I'll be damned if Rocco didn't just score a touchdown.

I see a baby.  I want to touch it.  I head on over.

Some of the neighborhood kids attending the bowl are in high school.  I see them video taping the mom with the young baby for their psychology class.  I noticed a little late, almost walking into the frame of the shot.  This is what I hear:

"...I guess I thought I would have kids in my late 20's shortly after getting married..."

She catches my eye, this mom who looks just like me, less the belly, but add a six month old in a pumpkin seat by her side.

I grab my stomach to double over and give a fake, silent Santa laugh.  She laughs out loud and loses her train of thought.  I don't know it yet, but I might have just met my new Very Best Friend Ever.  I wander off to let the filming complete.

Suuuure we will have our babies in our late 20s.  Er... make that 30s...  Errr....

The video mom and her dog (sans leash) eventually come over to the swings where Toddlerina is shouting with delight.  We laugh at the mom's public service message she video taped for the high school students: don't settle.  Wait for love, even if it takes a while.  Like, uh, an extra 20 years.

She has an incredibly well behaved dog.  Key sign of an Infertile, no?

Great and easy conversation.  I tell her I will give the public service message to the same girls once they reach college: news flash: believe that declining fertility chart in your gynecologist's office.  Just because you are young and intend to live forever, your eggs won't.

Love fest ensues.  She is 42 with a six month old.  Old girl has me beat and I admire her for it.

Man, did we have a great time.  Rocco had to buy a splint for his finger on the way home.  I plugged in the heating pad before he asked.  What a great day.



Friday, November 18, 2011

Fertiles: making me eat my words, again and again

Who are these Fertiles - showing care and compassion on a grand scale?  My local Fertiles really showed their true colors last night.

I saw email chains flying around setting up dinners for my family once the baby arrives. Do I have any preferences, aversions, dietary restrictions? What about Toddlerina? What does she eat?  Would I like to consider a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule to stretch it out - everyone will make large meals to allow for leftovers.

Who are these people?  How do these Fertiles have the hearts of an IF veteran?  I guess babies can bring out the best in everyone.

I got a call from another neighbor.  Her daughter is our occasional sitter.  She has a chronic illness that can keep her out of school for weeks at a time.  It is not life threatening and she is expected to outgrow it.  Her daughter recently had a bout with it and is on the mend.

She had made something for the baby at school.  Wouldn't I come down and get it?

I head out the door - half in clothes, half in jammies (it was 730pm after all).  I am wearing The Nighttime Bra, the one without the flying buttresses.

Low riders and jammies, I walk into a surprise neighborhood baby shower.

It was great.  Everyone swapping stories, trying to scare the new Momma to be then telling tear jerker tales of motherhood.

I would give anything in the world to have everyone here beside me, battle over and war won.  Every day I offer up my own thanks, then your names are right behind - asking to take you along too. 

It looks dippy in print, but I wanted you to know.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Closed for Business

Reporting to you LIVE from a Mother In Law Free Zone: Roccie of The Roccie Road.

She is gone now.  Sweet rejoicing begin, my house is now my home again.

Rocco took MIL to the airport on Saturday.  The three month long occupancy has ended.

The rest of the day I noticed Rocco paying a lot of extra attention to me.  My water glass was always topped off and I didn't have to let the dogs in and out.  A lot of little things, you know?  He made me a nice dinner to boot.

That night, when we crawled into bed, he went to hold my hand.  Oh no, Rocco.  First of all, it is hard to read with only one hand and second of all, more importantly, nuh-uh, no way, this park is closed for business.

Business Time is over.  I am over 37 weeks pregnant, sir.




Please Rocco, I am pulling an extra 30 pounds and while my sex drive may by up, it sure doesn't mean I want to act on it with you.  Ahem.

I broke it to him gently and he laughed.  I think he laughed at the idea of actually coupling with me, but it IS so preposterous I laughed too.

Rocco wasn't looking for love, but told me he was feeling really connected with me. That he realized just how hard it must have been to live with his mother.  He wanted me to know how much he appreciated my sacrifice.

What a good, good man.

I ate 2 Tums, rolled over and went to sleep with a giant smile on my face.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Why were DE so easy for me?

How is that for a sensationalist title?  

Anyone who has been around here knows that title is kind of a load of crap, but true at the same time.  I freaked the fuck out when I faced donor eggs, but once I committed, I was in and rarely looked back.

Did I always know I would choose this option to continue my family?  Maybe.  DE were raised at my first WTF appointment after our 1st IVF cycle was a bust.  Was I always a little terrified of my own body?  Absolutely.  Losing my first pregnancy to severe genetic anomalies wrecked me.

This shirt was given to Toddlerina by well meaning family members (might I clarify his family, ahem).




I hated it the moment I saw it.

I found it again as I pull out Toddlerina's infant wear to use as hand me downs for this DE baby.  I only put it on Toddlerina one time.  It put me in a foul mood all day long.  You know that feeling where you just cannot settle - the feeling usually reserved when you are personally wearing something crappy - too tight, too sheer or way too last year.  

I hated that damn shirt.

I don't think hate is too strong a word.  It got me all riled up.  No, it is not hard to get me going, but this shirt was so damn presumptuous.

Why the fits, Roccie?  Is Toddlerina not created by that very fraction - one half you and one half Rocco?

Maybe I always knew I was coming this way, the way of family by donor egg.

I see a lot of folks out there in the middle of or considering their own DE dance and man, oh man, do I wish I could help you digest it all.  I try my best to support you by telling you how much I love my DE decision, but I felt I owed you this little bit of truth.  Maybe it was easier for me.  If your decision isn't as clear cut as mine felt, give it time.

I sit here at term today, 37 weeks.  I have one baby by me and one baby via gift egg.  I hope it gives me a unique perspective to share with you.  I am just so overcome with joy that my family will grow.  I hope you can find your path to your family no matter what it takes.
 

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Forgiving Fertiles

Just when you think another Fertile in your face will make you fall to the floor in convulsions, screaming "Away with you, BREEDER"...

You won't believe what my own personal pack of Fertiles did for me yesterday.

Those Fertiles threw me a baby shower.

Everyone knows you only get a baby shower for the first take home baby.  After this initial birth, it is assumed you are now a Breeder too.  Subsequent pregnancies will line up like little obedient soldiers.  "Second babies" are a promise to the likes of you - there is no need to celebrate.

Speechless.

Not sure how I didn't cry right there in the conference room at work.  I think I was too stunned.

All these years, they got it.  They knew how hard I was working to get back to this place... pregnant.  Another baby.

I am forever grateful for these Fertile friends.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

36 weeks pulls all the brakes

This is my fourth pregnancy.  Each one brings its own bucket-o-terrors.  Once I passed the level II ultrasound with Toddlerina I felt like I was successfully past the worst of it - danger and risk.  I haven't enjoyed the same level of comfort with this pregnancy.  

Early bleeding, my SCH and placenta previa put a deep fear in me.  I know one family in real life who lost to preterm labor and another who lost a heartbeat at 34 weeks.  Last OB appointment I was informed that the placenta keeps aging.  Damn, what.  I though my Fine Young Egg buried all that ageist bullshit.

Anyone have any idea how the hell the planet reached 7 billion.  Yeah, me either.

If I go into labor at 36 weeks, no efforts are made to delay delivery.  Gulp.  The baby is developed enough to balance the risks of early delivery with the risks of stopping labor.  Heavy.

No reason to suspect anything, but I raced home and threw in a load of laundry.  You can never be too prepared for this kind of thing.