B cup Baby

Life moves on and your baby stops breastfeeding.  Then you find out you are a B cup now and you get a little spring in your step, despite yourself.

I love my little Bs.  I was C pushing D forever.  You know the game, one of each really.

They look beautiful all tied up in a new bra that has no access doors.  Naked, yikes, that is a different story, but I AM A B!

Shallowly yours,
Roccie

Icing on my donor cake

Epigenetics.

I have lost hours reading about it.

DE contenders: RUN to join Parents Via Egg Donation.

I am not a forum kind of person, but I am now.  I joined up to read the forum and man alive epigenetics is delightful.

Surprise gifts

I came home after a baby sitter had Jay.  I have been an overwhelmed temporary single parent this wkend.  Nothing was clean - well it was all wet in the washing machine anyhow.

I went to put him in his jammies and he was wearing his PROP OF PETRI DISH ATHLETIC DEPT and FAMILY BY FEINBERG onesie - nothing else was clean.

It made me so happy.

I love donor eggs.

I love Jay.

Birthday presents.

I got my period for Jay's first birthday.

Sigh.

I cried. 

This, and him.  It was all a bit much.

Did you listen to that tune on my last post?  Go ahead.  Bear the commercial to hear it, it's short.  Have a cry with me.

I started to supplement him and it was a slippery slope.  He stopped asking and I stopped offering.  It was a heartbreaking call but I have some medications I am taking that are new and not tested.

Sigh.

Breastfeeding was the greatest gift to me ever.  Well, you know what I mean.

It makes me ache to be so happy.  

All my best to you guys.  May your happiness make you cry today.

One.

Someday drawing you different, may I be weaved in your hair.

My guy is going to be one this wk.

What.

If you had any idea how often I think about everyone still in the battle, anyone who recently lost a battle, anyone currently winning the battle, won the battle, managing the life after the battle, well, you would feel pretty loved.

Those with the special hard losses, you get it all over again.

I want this same peace, joy and exhaustion for all of you.

Love, 
Roccie

Here is why you don't think negative things about someone

My MIL fell down our stairs and broke her neck.  Surgery was yesterday and she did well.

Inpatient rehab for 2 weeks follows when she is released from the hospital.  Release date unknown.

Horrible neck brace to wear for 2 months.

I cannot see anyone getting on a plane with that thing.  

I cannot see anyone flying after such trauma and risking air turbulence.

In other news, I just started smoking.

And then the place was crawling with kids

Thinking of any readers who ache to call the goblin at the front door tonight their own.

Pulling for our adoptive families in process and in wait.

Pulling for our pregnant families who watch the toilet paper like their own personal Halloween horror show.

Thinking of families who are complete, but working to pull it all together the way they want it and the way it should be.

Someone bought my latte in line before me today at the S'bucks.  I play my good deed forward to all of you.

Happy Halloween and Happy Family Management.

Much love, 

Roccie
(Who clearly will be doing her hair more frequently in pursuit of more free drinks.)

Request a refund for my donor egg worry

The scene was a play date.  It came up and I was telling it before I knew it. 

Easy.  The Donor Egg Reveal.

Other play date Momma asked some good questions.  We are close enough she could even ask the Springer style ones.  I laughed and remembered thinking that part was strange too.  Hard to remember how it is the first time you hear it all.

We had to leave early.  Leah hit Momma and that is a no no.  Not to mention really embarrassing.  Sigh.

I got a text from my Momma friend later with the last line thanking me for sharing my story about Jay.  Told me he is one special guy.

If I could get back a FRACTION of the energy I spent worrying my way through donor eggs.... ah, the wisdom we all acquire just a few minutes too late.

She is not one of us

Hate to be all Us and Them, but she isn't on the inside, well the DE inside anyhow.

I had my first appointment with the therapist after her maternity leave.  Comments about her baby's blue eyes underlined with both she and her husband have blue eyes.  Hmm.  There goes donor theory.

Then she says they want another.  I wait for reference for the number on ice, but she says she "wants to rescue a child from the planet" and adopt her next child.

What the fuck does that mean.

Mommas, can you weigh in and help me digest this one?  I can't tell if I am happy for her optimism or if she is a dick who has no idea what adoption can mean.

Your thoughts?

A wingspan unbelievable

Click here for my new theme song.  Don't worry, you can skip the add in 3 seconds.

Started working on the profile to find a new home for our embryos.

I carry the dollhouse, safe on my shoulders
Through the black city, night lights are on in the corners
And everyone's sleeping upstairs
All safe and sound

 

And we'll all float on okay

Note: this post is purely self indulgent and I cannot imagine anyone finding it interesting unless you are in my shoes or your initials are CS.

My Jaybird is feeling better today.  Roseola.  (Several days of a very high fever followed by spots that cause no discomfort.)

Fool that I am, I thought I was back on the exclusive breastfeeding train.  How wrong I was.  But, I don't feel so down about it this time, in fact, it makes me laugh.  Gives me insight to the little man Jay will become some day.

Bottles were wasted for four glorious days in my house.  The Prince would have nothing to do with them.  I ruled this house with a kind and generous hand.  My reign of his crib was a short, peaceful, glorious time.

Today was different.  

Happy morning; I saw Jay-smiles and Jay-bouncing.  I saw him Leah-chasing and dog-chasing.  

I would leap at his command for milk.  He would nurse for..... 2 minutes.

Play.

Crawl up and ask me.  Nurse for one minute.

Play.

Crawl up and ask me.  Nurse for one minute.  

This went on for 8-9 times.  Then he was at my feet crying Mammammmmmaammmaa.  I tried to nurse one more time, then said the dreaded word he had clearly forgotten:  "ba ba, ba ba" and fetched it for him.  He drained it with laser focus.

At bedtime, I nursed him on both sides.  He quickly frustrated with my left (the lame mastitis breast) and moved to my right.  He drank happily for a bit... then started to beat it with his tiny, fat fist.

I looked deeply into his eyes and said the word that used to feel like poison on my lips: "ba ba".  He bounced and repeated it back to me: "BA BA, BA BA"!

He drank half the bottle, then batted it away.  He asked for Momma again and quickly fell asleep at the breast.

Tears, but the good kind this time.

Sometimes I love him so much I cannot even see straight.

Good news for people who love bad news

Jaybird has a fever of over 102.

Guess who smacks away the bottle with his fat princely hand?

Guess who only wants Momma and her low hanging fruit?

Busting out the nursing liners for my leaks,
Loving the sweet outcome of his suffering,
The Most Selfish Mom in the World,
Your Friend,
The Milk Master,

Roccie

Forgiveness

Dear God, please forgive Leah, for today I plucked two (2) gray eyebrow hairs from my sweet, overworked head.

Amen.

Weaner

Sigh.

Jay, I promise you are not missing anything.  Can't you just stay latched a minute more?

I think this ship has sailed.  

I have no leaks, no need for liners.  Really never did use liners except for one brief period in June or July.  I thought I was the embodiment of femininity and life source.

I couldn't get him to nurse last before bed night very long.  He slept through the night.  Did I awaken with le(a)d zeppelins?  Nope.  Regular old boobs at my waistline, maybe a little bit heavier than the night before.

Surely he would devour them upon waking.

Nope.  Poked around at them and then looked at me, whispering "Ba ba, ba ba".

Stupid tears.

....then That happens

The growing up bullshit.

Little man Jay becomes more loving every day as he pushes his way out into his own path.

Cue heartbreak and pride.  Probably not in that order, but it feels like it sometimes.

Breastfeeding is boring.  Just ask him.  He will give it about <1 minute attention, then he is popping off to scout the landscape.  Take inventory.  Note Leah's location or heaven forbid, her absence.  

Pop back on.  Get pissed this thing isn't cranking milk out like it used to produce.  Bite momma.  Laugh.  You should see his face.  Naughty grin that makes me laugh.

Yeah, I know.  I could pump.  I could take the iHop syrup supplements.  Drink that tea.  I could bow to the LLL and bust my ass to get my supply up.  Maybe.  I could also fix the flux capacitor and get the extra time to do all this.

I had the plague known as mastitis.  My production took a heavy hit as I was OUT in bed with severe nausea.  My milk has always been a weak spot for me.  Takes it 5+ days to come in.  Like a lamb.

I know it is coming to an end and I am sad before it even happens.

There is an upside, of course.  I get words from Jay in exchange.  I get a thunder crawl in my direction when I walk into the room.  I get a literal bouncing baby boy in Rocco's arms when I walk in the room.  All my room entries are quite dramatic apparently.  

It helps a lot, but sometimes I get a little swept away just looking at his face and dropping him off in his dorm room.

Sigh.

Some sorta postpartum depression. Who knew.

Postpartum depression is my new psychiatrist's specialty.  When all you have is a hammer, well it all looks like postpartum.  Not sure I buy it, but ok, there it is.  Something about it starting within 6 months of delivery.

Didn't have it with Leah (formerly known as Toddlerina, then formerly known as Pre-Schooler-ista).  Doesn't that make me immune?

I knew I was flagged at risk with Leah's pregnancy, but not sure I really saw the signs at the time.  In hind sight, I probably did, but a story for another time.  Had to get back on the mother fucking IF wagon in pursuit of Take Home Two.  Figured it was all that hormone rodeo.  Oh well, doesn't matter.

I was lucky with my depression in both cases.  The time with Jay and Leah eclipsed my sadness.  I did not have attachment issues, but never slept at night.  I would lie in bed devising plans to escape the house should an attacker come in to steal my babies.

Crazy much?

Anxiety was my new thing.  Never had this before.  Suuuuuucks. Racingthoughtsrelivingeverymistakeyouevermadedammitwhydidthathappen.

Depression.  Try losing all your friends from work (I had some whopper good ones). House bound.  All of a sudden I need to learn to cook and I cannot afford my house cleaner.  Lazy bitch that I am, have always had a cleaning service until when I really needed it.  It is dark at 4 fucking thirty.  

Work doesn't bat an eye at my leaving.  (Only my one buddy out there knows how deep that one digs me.)  Gotta sell the house we cannot afford.  Cannot sell the house as no one will buy it.  More layoffs at Rocco's work.  My precious Leah is becoming wildly Jekyll/Hyde.  My mother in law is dwelling in my basement like a monster.  Fuuuuuuck.

Break down to take the anti-depressant once Jay is 4 months old.  Holy cleared skies.  I forgot this is how I was supposed to feel.

Anyhow, truth in advertising.  I am a bit of a nutter, but we will try to wean off the new cocktail of meds in 6-9 months.

Worry not.  This is how I feel now.  My girl at peace, just like me.

Man, I am going to miss summer

First vacation since Pre-schooler-ista (formerly known as Toddlerina) was less than one year old.

I am so happy it is slightly absurd.  

Yes, Rocco makes me insane as he is The World's Worst Disciplinarian, but a little sun and sand makes it all fade away.  Counseling is going ok, but we are on her maternity break.  Pretty sure this is why Rocco took us to the beach.  Self preservation.

Oh, and a little medication doesn't hurt either.  So much for my "situational" depression when my first daughter was stillborn years ago.  Guess it is a long situation?  New crazy med doctor appt tonight.  Eager to get her analysis.  

Maybe I am just perma crazy.  I am ok with this.  It was some big shit that went down.

Would you believe me if I told you sometimes I am afraid I am going to forget to tell Jaybird about the DE?

Memories for sale

What am I going to do with all this baby stuff.

This is a national treasure, yet the Smithsonian is not taking my calls.

I had a plan for all my baby items.  I was going to use them for Take Home Number 2 and Take Home Number 3.  Well, that changed.

I held all of Toddlerina's items for my buddy at work.  Several years ago, his first daughter was born too early and could not stay.  He welcomed home a new baby girl this past spring.  

I lovingly folded each of Toddlerina's items with an easy mind.  I pictured them on this much loved and much wanted baby girl.  They said thanks but no thanks, we are swimming in girl clothes.  What.

I think about the bins and bins of items my sister gave me sitting in our basement.  Honestly some of it really should have gone into the garbage.  Sorry Ang.  It should have.  

Now I get it.

It is like you want it all to keep going, freeze in time as much as possible.  Eternally toddling.  It all goes so fucking fast.

 

What is our secret handshake?

I like to pretend it is like spring training for an athlete, or a tune up for a fancy car, but the fact is I am back on the juice and started seeing a therapist.

What are the key sources of marital strife?  Money and children.  What if you have no money because you wanted to have children?  What a rip off.  I swear I think they act like amplifiers to each other.

I do not doubt in my marriage, but we need a professional to help us process The Family Discipline Plan.

I made over half a dozen calls before I found the right person.  We had our first session last week.  Rocco and I both thought it went really well.

I couldn't bring myself to look at her tummy.  You know where this is going, right?

She had on a maxi dress.  The world's most unflattering dress unless you are a stick or PREGNANT.  I was scared to get caught checking her out.  Plus, she is about my age if I had to guess.

Think she is one of us?  What if I found another mother in the donor egg game?

The children we were supposed to have UPDATED FOR DONATIONS BY REQUEST

I haven't forgotten them.  I haven't forgotten yours.  

She is always there in the back of my mind but sometimes she comes front and center to everything else.

It doesn't hurt anymore but it is a strange, slightly empty feeling.  Uneasy isn't the right word because I like to remember her, most of the story anyhow.

We went to a fundraiser benefiting parents in pursuit of children.  Some parents go on to IVF and some to adopt, using the grant money raised in the name of Virginia.  

Many foundations and grants originate in a tragic loss.  Virginia's parents went through fertility treatments and had a beautiful daughter.  It isn't my story to tell, but Virginia died in a horrible accident before she was one.

I met Virginia's parents and had an instant connection.  You know how it can be.  They are strong and healing as best they can.  The fundraiser was a huge success, the best one to date.  The weather was beautiful and Virginia's mom said, "Of course it is.  Virginia arranged it."  And I believe her.

Virginia's dad is great with kids.  He is a wonderful father.  I really enjoyed the special attention he shared with Toddlerina.  It broke my heart.  I cried for him when I went to feed Jay off in the shade.  Virginia's dad kept a loving, close eye on my Toddlerina.

Rocco was saying what an energetic host he was, always playing with the kids.  Rocco noted that he played with Toddlerina a lot.

Of course he did.  She is the same age that Virginia would have been if she could have stayed with us. 

UPDATED:

Thank you so much for asking where you can make a donation Kerrie.  I wish I could find your contact information to thank you personally.

I thought about putting a link to the fundraising site here.  I hesitated and didn't do it.  I feared I might violate the privacy of the family in telling a story about their race day and especially, their precious daughter.

I changed the names in order to give a little space for the family.  The daughter's name is Savannah, not Virginia.  I feared they may find this post in a random search and feel betrayed by me voicing my experiences of Savannah's day.

I thought about it long and hard.  I think it makes sense to share the real information in order to enable a donation in Savannah's name.  Should the family find this post and if it hurts them, I will take it down immediately.

I knew Savannah's dad was thinking about Savannah when he looked at my Toddlerina.  I lost a friendship with a girlfriend who was pregnant the same time as me my first pregnancy.  My first daughter was stillborn, hers is now 5.  

It wasn't a dramatic breakup, but I allowed myself to drift away.  It hurts way too much to see her.  My friend understands and has never asked about it.  I suppose that means she is still a good friend, isn't she?

Thanks so much for being here with me.  I am so grateful for your support.


This is the fund in Savannah's name.

This is the foundation that manages Savannah's fund.

 

 

The children we were supposed to have

I haven't forgotten them.  I haven't forgotten yours.  

She is always there in the back of my mind but sometimes she comes front and center to everything else.

It doesn't hurt anymore but it is a strange, slightly empty feeling.  Uneasy isn't the right word because I like to remember her, most of the story anyhow.

We went to a fundraiser benefiting parents in pursuit of children.  Some parents go on to IVF and some to adopt, using the grant money raised in the name of Virginia.  

Many foundations and grants originate in a tragic loss.  Virginia's parents went through fertility treatments and had a beautiful daughter.  It isn't my story to tell, but Virginia died in a horrible accident before she was one.

I met Virginia's parents and had an instant connection.  You know how it can be.  They are strong and healing as best they can.  The fundraiser was a huge success, the best one to date.  The weather was beautiful and Virginia's mom said, "Of course it is.  Virginia arranged it."  And I believe her.

Virginia's dad is great with kids.  He is a wonderful father.  I really enjoyed the special attention he shared with Toddlerina.  It broke my heart.  I cried for him when I went to feed Jay off in the shade.  Virginia's dad kept a loving, close eye on my Toddlerina.

Rocco was saying what an energetic host he was, always playing with the kids.  Rocco noted that he played with Toddlerina a lot.

Of course he did.  She is the same age that Virginia would have been if she could have stayed with us. 

UPDATED:

Thank you so much for asking where you can make a donation Kerrie.  I wish I could find your contact information to thank you personally.

I thought about putting a link to the fundraising site here.  I hesitated and didn't do it.  I feared I might violate the privacy of the family in telling a story about their race day and especially, their precious daughter.

I changed the names in order to give a little space for the family.  The daughter's name is Savannah, not Virginia.  I feared they may find this post in a random search and feel betrayed by me voicing my experiences of Savannah's day.

I thought about it long and hard.  I think it makes sense to share the real information in order to enable a donation in Savannah's name.  Should the family find this post and if it hurts them, I will take it down immediately.

I knew Savannah's dad was thinking about Savannah when he looked at my Toddlerina.  I lost a friendship with a girlfriend who was pregnant the same time as me my first pregnancy.  My first daughter was stillborn, hers is now 5.  It wasn't a dramatic breakup, but I allowed myself to drift away.  It hurts way too much to see her.  My friend understands and has never asked about it.  I suppose that means she is still a good friend, isn't she?

Thanks so much for being here with me.  I am so grateful for your support.


This is the fund in Savannah's name.

This is the foundation that manages Savannah's fund.

 

 

What are you looking for in your donor embryo relationship?

Why don't you just ask me to explain the universe.  Hardest question ever.

What kind of relationship do you expect to have with the recipient family?

We want open, but just how open is a tough one to define.

Do I want to meet the family prior to donation?  I don't know.  I have some hang ups about this.  I never met our egg donor even though we had the option.  I know I am a brutal critic.  I know I will see things that are not wrong, but since they don't match my mind's expectation, will I see them as faults?  I will create problems that are not real.

My donor didn't ask to meet us before donating.  What if she had?  Would we have passed?  Would she roll over in her proverbial grave if she read this blog?  Let's face it, I don't come across as an easy going Momma who runs a smooth ship.  I have some baggage and I create more where I see fit.

Was my egg donor more established in her resolve to donate?  Is that why she didn't require to meet us prior to donation?  Does she separate herself from it all easier than I do?

Many donors required an amendment to the contract that mandated any remaining embryos not used by the original donor egg couple would be destroyed.  Harsh word.  Wonder why I picked that one.  Anyhow, many donors request that embryos not transferred are not passed on to another family.

I admit, there was some appeal in those types of donors.  We would never face this next step since it was all decided for us.  At the time, we did not limit our evaluation of potential donors to allow only those who gave us full control over the embryos.  God, fate and destiny set me up with a donor who allowed us to determine the future of our remaining embryos.  If I had to do it all over again, I would want an egg donor who gave us control over the future of the embryos.

I think I would crumble seeing my Jaybird and know there was nothing I could do for the embryos.  I am grateful not to face that problem even though this is a tough process for us.

In lighter news, Jay recently discovered his penis.  Oh, how he loves it.

Things I learned about embryo adoption

I pretty much take this all as close to fact.  I may have transcribed it incorrectly or misheard something, but I took notes during the conversation.  I guess it is my cheap disclaimer and invitation for challenges or corrections.

I talked at length with my RE last night.  Funny, I avoided saying her name.  I still want to call her by the formal title of "Dr. Fantastic", but we are now in the Mostly Friends stage of our relationship.  Add the fact that I was documenting every word that came out of her mouth... well, it felt like old times.  I just don't feel worthy of being on a first name basis with her.

I adore my RE.  Every patient should be so lucky to have such a dedicated person in her corner.  She talked about embryo donation as a physician, a mother, and as a woman who has her own embryos on ice.  Yes, the Good Doctor is not only the President but a member too.  Of course she is.

On my road to the crib, I asked my RE about donor embryos.  It seemed like it was a lifetime ago.  The only thing I could remember about the conversation was her reaction: negative.

I had to go back there.  I had to turn over that rock.  I have been in knots waiting for this conversation.  If anyone could shake my commitment to donating our embryos, it would be her.  I don't know what to make of that statement.  I am not wavering in my decision, but I could easily be knocked off the rails by the right arguments from her.  I have consistently put so much faith in her guidance.  What would I do if she pulled back the curtain to show me all the ugliness I didn't know about embryo adoption.  How could I turn my back on the information.

In summary, her negativity about embryo donation was from a recipient's point of view, mostly centered on the poor quality of the available embryos.  Recipient couples wait to be matched, process the adoption, prepare for the transfer and often find the embryos do not survive the thaw.  Can you imagine.  What a brutal crusher.

She said that embryo donors are typically in their 40's.  Now of course I got all fired up about what woman in her 40's is spitting out excess embryos, but that is beside the point.  Ever the jealous Infertile, I am.

Most embryos are still sitting on ice.  Tens of thousands.  The ones couples want are going nowhere slow.  The optimal efficacy for embryos is less than five years.  As couples decide what comes next, each passing year lessens the likelihood of implantation.

Success rates are also greatly impacted in the whole process of creating the embryo.  My clinic is very selective about what is worthy to freeze but many clinics are freezing day 1 or day 6 embryos.  Just because it is a frozen embryo doesn't mean they were all created equally.

I wonder why the older couples are the ones donating the embryos.

She said our types of embryos are very rare.  The caliber of the clinic, the youth egg, the quality of the blast, the freezing process.  Not just rare, very rare.

I am glad I confronted the fear of what my RE would say about the donation process.  If anything, it helps to strengthen my intent to donate.  I don't know that the recipient couple that sparked the research will be the right match for us.  Rocco and I both felt like the wind was knocked out of us when the donation felt more immediate.  Need to understand why.  We need to make sure this is still our plan, but I feel a little stronger about it today.

The other side of the coin

Here is the ugly side.

What if the child born to the recipient family doesn't like Jay or thinks we are hillbillies?  What if Jay meets this donor family and he secretly likes them better than his own family?  How can all these children avoid the inevitable comparisons?

Maybe these embryos are just cells.  As we all are painfully aware, there is no promise they will implant and result in a pregnancy.

How can I argue the personhood movement as bullshit when I tend to frame my own embryos as people?

I am interested in the promise of stem cell research.  I am not even sure you can still donate embryos any more.  I think Federal funding was killed on all those programs.

Not much on the ugly side, is there?  I should be having a tough conversation with an experienced resource in the next several days.  This is my last exploration into the bad side of donating embryos.

I am just a blip in time.  Who cares if I am a hillbilly.  I am a happy hillbilly.  

I feel like the brunt of this decision will be carried by the child born from donor embryos.

Can you think of any other challenges I should face before making this decision?

Defining mother

Big developments on this end.  It seems we might have a match for a recipient family.  I wasn't looking yet, but maybe it came looking for me.

Do I believe things happen for a reason?  Sometimes.  But the phrase makes me want to scratch the speaker's eyes out.  Can I scratch out my own eyes?

There is one big factor I hadn't really considered yet.  Jay.  How will he feel about it all?  It has really thrown me for a loop.  When the embryo adoption plan was formed Jay was more of an idea than a person.  Now he is a give/take real live person.  Shouldn't the impact it could have on him be considered?  Same for Toddlerina.  Hell, hers is even more complicated.

It also sounds ridiculous.  Poor, poor you if the biggest problem you face in your young adult life is accepting full or partial brothers and sisters exist out there in the big world.  Life can throw much more gruesome problems your way.

But I initiated this so called problem.

But why did I do it?

I have to admit for me, there is nothing noble about donating embryos.  I am glad the recipient family benefits.  Of course I am.  But I am not donating to help them.  I am doing this for my embryos.  I am doing this for my unborn children.

Are those the right words?  I consider them my children.  I guess I have no blood relation to them.  You could challenge me and say they are not my children.  But they are.

So how can I let someone else raise my children?

If the other family doesn't raise them... they won't get raised.  They won't get to be here and live and breathe and be happy and sad and joyful and all the pairs of opposites you can think of.

My head is exploding.

Father, don't forget the Infertile

My church asked the mothers to stand today.  The priest called all the moms down around the altar for a special blessing.  I was sitting upstairs, but you can bet I busted my ass to get down there to be a part of it.

I included everyone in the mom's prayers.  The church's version felt a little exclusionary.  I noticed certain women who remained seated.  I made sure we were all included in the blessing with the version in my head.  

You don't need a baby in the crib to be a Momma.  You just want one.

On the way out I waited in the long line to ask Father Jack to say some special prayers for the Fertically Challenged.  He gave me an auto response affirming he would, then it seemed to click with him.  He repeated himself, saying he would pray and gave me a real promise to do so, looking me in the eye and hearing my request.

Not for the faint of heart

What does finished feel like.

I have never been good at tracking my own limits.  Binge is a verb I once knew.

When do you stop planning The Next Great Thing.

How do you recognize contentment.

Can you binge on babies.

It hurts when I start to mourn things still in progress.  I get a little teary eyed when he moves up in his diaper size.  I think about the eventual last feeding session with him and my heart seizes.  The finality of it all knocks the wind out of me.

If I master my thoughts and become present in the moment, it is clear.  Actually, it is magnificent.  I have everything I need.  We are finished.  Our family is complete.

It's just that clarity fades when I think I may never come this way again.

Finally, something good to say

I hope this picture makes you happy for the weekend.

Big E's tail is blurry because it is, as always, wagging.

(Laundry left in frame to add a little color.)

Have a good one and be sure to tell the ones you love that you love them.

No one left when they came for me

When did my blog get all holy?

I am finding it harder and harder to keep the church out of my business.

I am in the early stages of collecting agency names to donate our remaining embryos.  I have a handful of criteria.  I want to be able to influence the recipient family based on open adoption terms and consideration of same sex couples.

Aaaaaand: cue the holy rollers.

These sites are riddled with religion.  Seems they care more about "Non Christians Need Not Apply" than anything else.  Some sites boast of being "Religion - neutral".  But it is still there in my face: religion.

Sigh. 

But wait.  Wasn't I just posting it up about me and my new BFF the Catholic Church?  Yeah, but sometimes I wonder what I am doing.  You know how bad Dr. Google is when you are symptom tracking?  Let me tell you it is just as bad when you go looking for more Catholics like me.  All I can find are a bunch of narrow minded jackmongers who are Catholic and spouting anti IVF. 

I don't have a bend to chose same sex couple.  Since we are not one, I assume it might be less likely we would choose one, but I don't want that decision made for me.

I think I might be painting myself into a corner.  Looking for a fight.  I sent emails to all the agencies I could find with a polite one liner email: do you allow adoptions by same sex couples?  The responses are telling.

Everyone assumed I was gay.  Some agencies were respectful and encouraged me to consider another agency.  One ignored my emails.  Multiple emails.  Funny, the response I got from that same agency when I told them I was holding, not buying.

I am tabulating it all and will publish my results.  It seems like the way to avoid the issue is to put a Married Couples Only sign on the door.  What bullshit.

How I wish I was not so combative.  I cannot tell you how much I want to garb my babies in THATS RIGHT I AM A PRODUCT OF IVF GET OVER YOUR HOLY SELF.

On Easter.

I just don't know how my priest had the right to go so very against the grain.

But I actually AM holier than thou

Nobody gets my goat like those Catholics.

Nobody.

You know I am a Catholic, right?

I suppose I take some liberties with the word.  I have said before I consider myself a Catholic, but I am certain there are Catholics out there who would beg to differ - they would say I have no right to call myself a Catholic.

One of the suburbs outside Chicago has a local Catholic church threatening to picket and protest if a new IVF clinic is approved for construction.  No need to link to the story - same old bullshit we have heard before: commoditized children.  A product, not a life.

Clearly these Catholic fools have spent no time actually talking to an infertile family.  The word Product implies it is easy to obtain.  'Yes, please sign me up for one baby.  To go.'

I am here to speak for the Catholic Church.  The one that I belong to; where I consider myself a part of a larger group, reporting up to God who is bigger than the triviality of this post, but here it is anyhow.

I spent many years outside the Catholic Church.  Later as an adult I fell in with a non denominational Christian church.  I got rather geeked up on God.  I attended group bible studies where God was actually something I wanted to learn.  I grew.  I voiced my challenges and settled them with the support of some profoundly brilliant women.  It was a cool time.

No excuses, but then my baby died.  My life was a giant mess.  I would have told God to stick it, but I just didn't care enough to make the effort.  Plus, didn't he know that was what I thought anyhow?

Time passed and I wanted to rebuild the relationship.  I church shopped.  For years.  I did the whole range.  Unitarian to Methodist to Presbyterian to Episcopalian.  More non denominational Christian.  United Church of Christ.  More Episcopalian.  I never once considered returning to the Catholic Church.  A story for another time.

Then God got involved.  Made me share an office with a Catholic at work.

The horror.

I was in the trenches trying to have Baby Jay.  I sure didn't need some snot Catholic coming down on me about my marginalization of life.  Damn if she wasn't my boss too.  More horror.  I had to come clean on the IVF since I was going to miss a lot of work.

Next thing I know, I am learning about God again.  And I am interested.  Huh.  This Catholic is an ally.  She helps me renew my relationship with God.  Pretty heavy.

I talk with Rocco and we decide to open the evaluation up to the Catholics again.  One small issue - they "hate" IVF.  This late entry dark horse of the Catholic Church happened right about the time that the Church came out and said the Nobel Prize awarded to Dr. Edwards, pioneer in IVF, was "misguided".

I call the priest.  Make the appointment.  I am prepared to duke it out with him - what exactly is wrong with my family.  Please help me understand what misguided means cause it is making my blood boil.

You know what he said?

Nothing is wrong.

He asked what is there not to like about a mother willing to pursue her family with such devotion?  He asked me to tell him what part of my story Jesus wouldn't like.

It isn't often I get to speak for Jesus.  Especially to a priest.

I think Catholic is a label only if you make it one.  So yes, Catholics make me really mad, but I am one.

Money that isn't mine

Gah, money and medical procedures.  When will you stop haunting me.

I quit my job.  The terms of our 401k loan are to pay the outstanding balance within 90 days of separation from the firm.  We do have the money to pay off my 401k loan.... cause we are paying it off with Rocco's 401k loan.

I have some money in my bank account in the short term.  A nice, big five figure balance that isn't really mine.  It belongs to the loan.  Yes, technically it is mine, but it is due back in the hands of the loan master, the bank.

It has been burning a hole in my greasy little pocket.

Emmie tore her ACL.  Anyone have any experience with this?  Surgery is the only option and it rolls in at $2100.

I adore her.  She is my original Baby Before the Baby.

Emmie stayed by my side in my bed for 10 days when I didn't get up after the baby died.  I don't remember this time, but my mom did.  Gets me all weepy when I look at Big E.  Good dog.

 

What PAIL gave to me

PAIL.  What a mess, huh?  It pulled off some scabs for me.  

I feel like I have been granted license to open up again.  No one asked me to censor but I did.

I remember my happy frustration when I first started looking for donor egg blogs.  So many of them were "finished" - they were at home with healthy babies.  Quiet blogs.  Infrequent updates.  So very unlike me at the time.

Well hello and welcome to my stale parenting blog.

I didn't want to become that blog.  The one talking about babies and naps and poops.  

I was frustrated by the lack of LIVE ACTION donor egg blogs, but it gave me great comfort.  All these women were getting pregnant!  And taking babies home!

But I still have some shit to sort out.  Anyone who has the heart and time to help me attend to my issues is welcome here.  If you are quietly reading along to form your own plans, you are welcome here.

I am beyond the live action (...for now?).  I have tried to make navigation easier for the new donor egg recipient by listing my milestones.  I am on the other side and now need to dig into some ideas that could hurt to read depending where your heart is day to day.

I don't know if we will transfer another embryo.  

I don't know what agency to use to facilitate the embryo adoption process once our family is complete.

If you are in a place you can read parenting issues that sound down right ungrateful, please stay.  I could use your advice and you can call bullshit when you see it.  If it sucks to read someone with such a divine problem as mine, I understand.

I left a lot of blogs that got pregnant when I wasn't.  I get it.  I sure as hell wouldn't want to read about someone counting her embryos over and over.  I  promise I won't be weighing the benefits of a Gemini over a Libra, but my issues will sound pretty trivial.

All my best every single day,

Roccie

What are you mad about this time Roccie?

I am sure there are great blog posts out there about this subject.  In fact, I sent a request to Peggy Orenstein, author of Cinderalla Ate My Daughter, to prompt her on it.  I know authors of her caliber don't have time to respond to every question, but let's hope.

In the mean time, here are my most recent rants.

What kind of message are we sending our sons?  How are we teaching them to perceive and treat women?

I am painfully aware of the crap we sling at our daughters.  Remember the "Too Pretty to Do My Homework" bullshit?  The ever present princess.  The diva-as-desirable.  Remember when diva meant asshole?

The pink.  Have mercy on me, the incessant pink.  It is familiar territory where I quickly get riled up.  Now I have the exposure to what we give our precious corn fed sons.

Shirts that read "Lock Up Your Daughters" or "Heartbreaker".

I saw a couple holiday themed ones.  I can only assume it is for Easter as it has a bunch of little yellow baby chickens on it and reads: "Chicks are all over me".  This one is countered with the cougar-centric "Older Chicks Dig Me".

Have I totally lost my sense of humor.

Me, Myself and I

What am I going to do with all that dry clean only.

Maternity leave ended last week.  I went back into the office to quit.  Tender my resignation.  Stick it to the man.  Claim my freedom.  So why am I the one feeling a little on the low side?

The fucknuttery ran wild at my firm, but damn if I didn't have some fabulous friends there.  I am grateful and lucky to have had them.  I think the Us vs. Them mentality (Cool Kids vs. Senior Management) made the good ones that much better.

Whoa.  Why the past tense there?  I did not do that for effect.  I only caught it when I read my own words back.  I know things will never be the same with my friends and I will miss them.  I really miss them.

Please go stand by my friend K.  She is one of the friends I am taking with me, no matter where I go.  K, you are more precious to me than you know.

I am tempting Fate for you

We have a lot of our sisters out there in the trenches right now - early cycle days, in The Wait or pregnant.  Go ahead and let your fantasies run wild.  I will tempt Fate out loud so s/he misses your verbalization of a Take Home Baby.

Toddlerina is on the upswing.

I read a book that compared babies/toddlers/preschoolers to a spiral.  Picture a slinky hanging down from the ceiling.  That kind of spiral.  The upswing is to the whole ages: 1, 2 or 3.  The downswing is on the half year: 6 months, 1 and a half, TWO AND A HALF, etc.

(You can read about equilibrium and disequilibrium here and here.  It is really interesting.  I wish I had known it prior to my own demise.)

I have been a prisoner in my home for the last 6 months.  Ok, maybe a little longer as she descended into madness.  It is where I got the nick name Toddlerina for HRH.  She ruled with a tiny iron fist.  And teeth.

Heavens rejoice, I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel.  My girl is returning.  Oh, how I missed her.

I suppose I will need a new name for Toddlerina.  She will be a preschooler this year and hopefully not a tiny tyrant.  Jay doesn't have a handle.  Not sure why she does.

PreSchoolerista doesn't really roll off the tongue.  Maybe I just need to get used to this new little person with her new identity.

The truth about School (aka DAYCARE)

Toddlerina was in school at the tender age of 16 weeks.  I was devastated when I enrolled her.  I cried when she started in school and can you believe I cried when I pulled her out to come home with me.  I would miss it.  What.

We went back to school today to visit Toddlerina's friends.  My friends are there too.  I didn't realize just how much those teachers had become a part of my family.

Toddlerina RAN into the school director's arms, shouting her name the whole way.

Marla!

Marla!

Marla!

Of course I cried.  Then they cried, then we all looked at Jay and cried.  It was so much fun for so much crying.

I am deeply grateful to stay home with my family and I cannot imagine myself here without a nod of gratitude to our school.  It shaped Toddlerina and it shaped me for the better.

Momma.  Are you hurting as your baby gets ready for school?  I know this post doesn't diminish the pain, but consider it a flash forward into your future.  S/he will be so very happy and so very loved.

And when the kids are old enough 

We are going to teach them to fly.

(Name that tune.  Players?)

So. You had you a donor egg baby.

Does the issue need a final analysis?  A post game review?  Do I need to size up my results as compared to my expectations?

I wish I had been a more frequent blogger to document the transition.  But I don't know if I could have done it.  How do you witness paint dry?  One day, it is just dry.  You might have noticed the tacky stage where the paint is sticky.  I think that was what most fascinated me.  The transition stage.

It was his nail beds.

I kind of obsessed on his nail beds.

Obsess isn't the right word.  It just got on my radar.  I cannot explain it.  I noticed it and since I did, I would come back to it.  Check it out.  Confirm my observations.  Then I would move on.

I don't notice it anymore, this is written from memory.

Jay's nail beds are lovely.  They are long and narrow.  He looks as though he could be a world renowned pianist one day.  Elegant hands, even for a baby.

My hands are mannish.  Man hands, right out of Seinfeld.  I have wide, short nail beds.  Even with a manicure (Oh!  The Good Old Days!), they still look quite masculine.  It doesn't bother me.  It is just me.  Toddlerina has hands that look like mine.  Jaybird looks different.

And that is the end of the differences I have cataloged.

He is so busy being himself, I can never really see him as anything else aside from Just Jay.  The same goes for Toddlerina.  She is so busy taking up so much space I never look at her as an extension of me.  I never did.

I thought I would feel this way, but how do you know.  I expected donor eggs to slide away into the non issue bin.  I am amazed just how cleanly and quickly it happened.  It was almost as if the nail beds were there to provide a point of reference.  To show the distance from here to there was not that great, if it even existed at all.

Tell me about this thing they call SAHM

Cue: music.

Take this job and shove it.

I ain't working here no more.

Cue: celebration.

Welcome to the Shiny New Me

The one that Gets Shit Done.  On time.  (Forget "under budget" cause I am on maternity leave and frankly don't have the drive to deliver all that.)

The issue of insurance coverage has been resolved.  Floated up to senior management in our HR department and approved.

Baby Jay has been enrolled with full medical coverage, backdated to his birth date.

Let's be honest.  I was messing with FIRE.  We couldn't even roll over to Rocco's coverage if my firm refused me.

You all probably forgot, but I work with a more than a few bags of the finest douche.  I barely presented myself as professional to that bag when I had my final maternity leave planning meeting.

I was so smug.  Why should I be nice to her?  Why play games?  We all know we think very little of the other, so why be fake?  I will tell you why, just in case something like this ever came up!  Lesson learned.

Anyhow.  Out with the old and in with the new.  I am loving and forgiving and tolerant and now a BLISTERINGLY organized woman.

 

Second time around

I think this post likely has a limited audience.  I sort of want to get my thoughts down on First Take Home Baby compared to Second Take Home Baby.  And complain slash freak the fuck out.

I have all the books, the required reading: development, sleep and more development.  I read them cover to cover for Toddlerina.  I recently dug them out and stacked them neatly on the bookshelf.  I hope the easy access will prompt my reading.  I am kind of winging it with my boy Jay and I hope he does not suffer deeply for it.  

Joke.  Kind of.

On the other hand, I have his life documented with precision.  Law, love the iPhone app and the many, many ways to measure your infant.  I know I have some fellow data hogs out there.  May you also be blessed with a useless data set of nursing, urine and poopers.

I need to get my birth announcements out.  Hell, I need to take the photos.  I took some good ones right when we came home, but then I could not control myself and put them up all over FB.  Classic, right?  Sort of takes the thrill away from this artist.  I will blame it on the holidays, but it is mostly me working hard just to stand still.

How is this for a zinger.  I forgot to enroll my only son into my healthcare plan.  Mother fucker I am such a mess.  I don't know yet if they will open the window to allow him in.  I should find out today or tomorrow.  It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it.  

This is some hard ass work, but I repeat myself.

Now what?

This isn't going to be a post saying I don't know what to do with my blog (I don't).  This isn't going to be a post exploring my current lack of identity (I have none).  Oh, but they are a-brewing.

Jaybird is a champ.  I am starting to surface a little bit.  I need more sleep, but I am not willing to give up the free time I have when both littles are napping, so I must not be that tired.  Yawn.

Toddlerina is now home from school with me full time.  It is a very busy day doing a whole lot of nothing.  I have had two play dates in the last month.  Big successes, but no where near relaxing.  This is some hard ass work.

The play date that just left was a SAHM for the last 2 months as she switched jobs.  Her new job starts up next week.  She was so carefree and had no silver roots like me.  I noticed she was clean, too.  How does she make it look so easy?

Bitch has a nanny come 3 days a week for 5 hours.

Now how is that a SAHM?  Course, I would never let on to her that I think she is CHEATING.  I like her a lot.  I tried to swallow down my personal green eyed monster.

At least I know you need paid help to make it all so easy and I made a hair appointment next Saturday.

Clean will have to wait until Rocco gets home from work.