urgh

So I decided yesterday that being pregnant is remarkably similar to being 2 years old. It's all about peeing on the potty and being able to take naps. The great majority of my time is either engaging in one or thinking about when I can.

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Other than that, things are fine. Christmas was good, the baby continues to do well, and I'm thinking I need to go into therapy just so that I can bitch full time about my family and maybe one day reach a point where they don't upset me anymore. About two months ago I emailed my dad. I'd been thinking about it for quite a while, composing and rewriting the email endlessly in my head until I finally just sat down and spit it out. Nothing bad, just asking for clarification. I'd had no contact from him since his terse reply to my wedding invitation in 2005, which consisted of him checking "no" on the RSVP card and writing something to the effect of "have a nice life." This seemed pretty clear, so I didn't contact him again, didn't let him know he was going to be a grandfather, etc. When my mom came to visit Danny for the first time, he essentially stalked her until she gave him some pictures of Danny. Wanting him to leave her alone, I contacted him, sent him some pictures and let him know that he was welcome to see him, etc. We visited that Christmas, and a year later he responded to my in-laws' invitation to come over for Christmas and that's all that I've seen him since 2002. He and my stepmother are retired, wealthy, and live 4 hours away, but they've never bothered to visit despite repeated invitations. My dad finally admitted via email that they had no intentions of coming to visit. They've turned down invitations to attend Danny's birthday parties (held in the same city where they live - they and the in-laws live in the same town). All of this following a seemingly heartfelt sentiment expressed that first Christmas where my dad said that he wanted to be part of Danny's life.

So I emailed asking for clarification. You don't want to visit, all you're interested in is us bringing Danny to you. You're seemingly content with seeing pictures of your grandson and the occasional emails to his mom. You send Christmas and birthday presents. What's the deal? What exactly did you mean when you said you wanted to be part of his life? I didn't say this, but I have no interest in bringing him to see his grandfather when his grandfather can't make the slightest effort to leave his palace to cross town and see him. We prefer to spend time with relatives who seem to care. Please clarify what you want out of a relationship.

As expected, this email was met with silence. Despite the fact that all of the above was expressed very nonconfrontationally, very politely.

He responded to my "happy Thanksgiving" email with a "happy Thanksgiving" in return and that's been it. This year we didn't even merit a Christmas card, and Danny got nothing from him. Not that Danny would notice. He has no idea that he has another grandfather.

But I'm pissed. Infuriated. The silent treatment just makes me want to lash out and kick and scream and ask what's wrong with him. He clearly wants to hang on to the imagined hurts that I inflicted upon him twenty-some years ago and would prefer to miss out on knowing his grandson(s) versus have to interact with their mother. He's a petty petty petty man and it's no loss to Danny but yet again, I stupidly got my hopes up that he was capable of being a grownup, being a good person, being a grandfather. Being a better grandfather than he's been a father.

Then there's my brother. Who hasn't spoken or communicated with me in years. For reasons I still don't understand. Apparently I've wronged him at some point too. The best I can come up with on that one, based on irate emails received over the years, was that he's pissed he didn't get a wedding invitation sooner (um, he got one when everyone got one, and I didn't bother to track him down earlier because I didn't think he would come - after all, he hadn't spoken to me in years), and some imagined comment that I supposedly made 15 years ago about not wanting to be part of our family. It's almost scary how he and my dad have rewritten history. When my dad met Husband for the first time, he regaled him with anecdotes from my childhood. That were actually anecdotes of things our next door neighbor did. I was the uber-responsible child, the popular one, the cheerleader, the one that was in the top of her class, Who's Who of American High School Students, etc. I was the one that he sobbed to about hospitalizing my mother for the hundredth time for her drinking. But anyway. Brother is in the same fantasy world as my dad. I'm not mad at how he's treated me (well, not that mad anymore). But when I talked to my mom yesterday to see how her Christmas was, I asked about my brother. Yes, he had called her while on his way to my dad's house. Flying across the country to visit his dad. And I could hear the sadness in my mom's voice. She admitted that she has asked my brother several times if he would ever be coming back East for a visit and he'd always said no, he wasn't planning on visiting the East coast ever again. But he unapologetically told her that he'd be flying to visit his dad (who lives 5 hours from my mom). It was pretty pitiful. My mom said, "I just miss my son." She hasn't seen him in a decade.

They're both just assholes. It's one thing to be an asshole to me. But being an asshole to my mom is just wrong. Yes she's got issues and is difficult to be around (she inspires huge guilt/pity in me) but she doesn't deserve this from them. Her last contact with my dad was him telling her that he didn't ever want to hear from her again (she'd asked if he could increase her alimony - she's mentally ill and can only work minimally). And her only surviving son makes it clear that he doesn't want to see her.

And he doesn't know them, so they can't hurt his feelings, but they're being just as vindictive to my son. My mother in law preaches persistence and compassion and encourages me to keep contacting them, to keep the doors open, but I just don't think I can be that nice. I just want to physically hurt them.

dreams realized and hopefully unrealized

I'd like for you to meet my second son.













:)

So the Level II ultrasound went fairly well. The technology has improved over the last 3 years, so Husband and I got quite a lot of good looks at the little guy. In what was particularly interesting to me, they even were able to look at uterine blood flow in order to see if there were any markers indicating a likelihood of pre-eclampsia (again). One side had the marker and one side didn't, which apparently means that I'm in the clear (for the moment). I go back again at the end of the month to get another look at the baby's heart and the uterine blood flow again, which is fine by me. Don't need to twist my arm too much to get another peek.

It was such a happy day that I haven't really wanted to write about it - kind of wanting to hold the memory to myself before sharing it. We'd spent a nice Thanksgiving with the family, a nice weekend at home, and everything in general with Husband has been going well. It's sad to say, but even just having all of that uninterrupted driving time in the car was good for our relationship. And the day of the ultrasound felt like a date. It was just the two of us, we got lunch afterwards, we shared a happy experience, the sun was shining, life was good. I think I figured out that I really miss him when he's gone on the road all week long, so when he's home, I look for things to be annoyed about just so I can be mad at him and not miss him as much when he's gone. If that makes any sense.

The happiest news, of course, was just that all is well with the little guy. All his body parts were there and in all the right places (we all counted fingers and toes out loud), heart looks good, face looks good, spine looks good, and the doctor said that he feels that chances of Downs' is half of one percent chance. Nothing is for certain, of course, but I just feel good about this little guy. He is a fighter. He's not supposed to be here, I wasn't supposed to be able to conceive him, but he saw a window and wiggled his way in and found a way to be here. And boy is he active. Little sucker kicks a lot and is strong. With all of the meat products he's been inducing me to eat, I'm thinking that he will be the linebacker to Danny's quarterback. At this point I'm figuring that he's going to pop out of the womb saying "go meat!" like that commercial.

But lest we forget that other love of my life, here's a Halloween pic of the other man.




Awesome is pretty much how I'd sum him up as.


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The only disconcerting note to all of this goodness, though, is my dreams. Early in this pregnancy they were filled with erotic dreams about cheeseburgers and buffet dinners. Really steamy stuff. Not as much fun as my pregnancy dreams that I had while pregnant with Danny - that was some actual good stuff. The only surprise there was which random man would appear in them. Yum.

But these ones lately are just horrid. I've only had a few of them, but each one has had an impact that lasts for days. The theme seems to be that Danny is doing something dangerous or is in a dangerous situation and I either fail to realize it or realize it too late and am unable to save him - rush over just a split second too late, that kind of thing. So far he's fallen out of a second story window, been smothered, etc. The memory of looking out that window at his broken body below is one I still can't shake.

My boss, who is much more psychoanalytical than I am, thinks maybe I'm worried that once the new baby comes that I won't be as attentive to Danny as I need to be, and I'm worried about my ability to keep him safe. I suppose that's it, because I will essentially be on my own with two kids, but it's not something I really worry about that much. Mostly I figure I'll get a good sling and just tote the baby around while I tend to Danny. If anything, the fear is that I'll ignore the baby in favor of Danny's needs, out of guilt that I'm usurping his position as King of the Household.

I don't really care why I'm having them. I'd just like to stop having them. Horrid. Just horrid.

geezer thoughts

Sorry I've been so quiet. I think I hit a wall as far as IF overload, so I pulled back and away from the IF sites, blogs, etc. I don't know what it is, but apparently a little or none does better for me than a lot, which I guess is what I was indulging in. Maybe that's why I got so frustrated - it makes me slightly insane and very irritable to immerse myself in the IF mindset, and I can't relate to people who do. It's just not healthy for me, but clearly others can do it. I can't do it. Apparently I'm just a taker - I delurk when I need the support and withdraw again in between times of needing support. I offer it to others when I do lurk, but I just can't participate in the regular chats. I can't understand the animosity towards "fertiles." I understand envy and jealousy and wishing so hard for what others have that your heart is going to burst but choose not to become bitter. All I know is what works for me. I in no way endorse that this is the way for others.

As for other aspects of my life, it's just putting along. Husband continues to drive me nuts and I wonder at least once a week why I had to choose him. And then we have a moment like Saturday. Danny and I were out at "the bouncy place," one of our common Saturday morning "dates." I looked up to see Husband walk in the door unexpectedly and I was so happy to see him. As in, sun bursting through the clouds happy. Seeing him unexpectedly, somewhere besides our living room, was just a happy thing, kind of like a new light on something familiar, so that it looks different. Clearly we need to go on a date together, sometime soon. We haven't been out together in over a year, and one of these days when I'm able to stay awake and alert past 8:30 at night, we will definitely plan for that.

But Danny is doing well, and the new little one is doing well as far as I know. The level II ultrasound is a week from today and we should know more than as far as gender (although I'm pretty sure I already know - pretty good u/s at the OB's office two weeks ago), any extra appendages, etc. I've had no testing whatsoever prior to this, and I know, as a geezer mommy, that this wee one is at higher risk for all kinds of scary things. Hopefully all will look good next Monday and I'll relax just a little bit more...

if you want to be mad at me, feel free to read

So I guess I should just basically shut up. Even if I'm just talking about myself, I somehow manage to offend people. The pain Olympics continue on all fronts, I suppose. If I've made strides myself, that reminds others that they haven't or aren't where they want to be. Or whatever. I don't recall saying I was perfect, especially since I'm the one who was in a bad mood for three days when Nicole Ritchie got pregnant. Again.

Oh well. Pain Olympics is such an adequate term. And if you tune in right now, you can catch them on most local stations.

On IF boards. In IF'ers lives. In my household.

Husband and I are in yet another stupid fight about who does more around the house. Apparently I do absolutely nothing but breathe and take up space. The combination of that plus pregnancy hormones has me just wanting to punch someone. Or yell at the top of my lungs. Or maybe just collapse in a lump of snotty tears and curl up into a ball until I completely disappear.

So I've probably offended again and I honestly am okay with that. Apparently I can't please anyone right now.

crossing over

Still here. Hanging out. I broke down and bought a home doppler thingie and got to hear the heartbeat last week. Husband listened in Sunday night and it was "a moment." Pretty cool.

Feeling McRegret right now as I mistakenly read the side of my Quarter pounder tonight. Didn't stop me from eating all of it, and my fries. And Danny's 4 chicken nuggets that he didn't want. Need. McIntervention. Stat. Feeling McFat and McGrumpy.

So anyway, I hang out on this lovely infertility support site (not happy happy babydust land of FF, but the other one). Mostly I lurk, as I'm not sure where I fit in. There's a lot of hullabaloo over there about who counts as an IF "vet", if you're still a vet once you've "passed over" (their phrase, not mine), whether you should be allowed to speak to someone who hasn't "passed over" yet or not. There is lots of discussion about the bitterness, those who they mock or dismiss. You're dismissed if you've been lucky enough to have a child, because clearly there's no way you remember what it was like before you had your child, and while you're not quite the enemy, you're definitely sitting in the same section as the enemy now. The enemy being the "FERTILES." Because if you conceived on your own, you never have any issues in pregnancy, IF ladies are the only ones who have complications, IVF pregnancies are the only ones who have unexplained bleeding, FERTILES don't ever have these issues. (Gee, do you think that IF ladies maybe have more issues because there are some physical issues that led to the IF, that possibly could contribute to pregnancy complications? duh) I was moved to comment on a discussion about yoga with THE FERTILES. As in, oh my, how on earth could we practice prenatal yoga in the same room as people who couldn't possibly have ever been through something as debilitating as infertility, they'll be all cheerful and happy because they haven't suffered infertility, because I have the magical ability to detect whether someone went through ART or not, and I'm determined to hang on to my INFERTILE status for the rest of my life regardless of whether I've conceived or not, and hey, let me just ignore the fact that I'll be dismissed by my bitter brethren as soon as I give birth because I can't possibly understand. (okay, holy run on sentence there, sorry) I commented that in response to the original question, I'd taken prenatal yoga with my son, found it helpful, enjoyed it, recommend it, never felt different from any other pregnant ladies in the class. My comment was ignored in favor of scathing comments about happy happy joy joy FERTILES and how annoying it would likely be to take a class with them. I feel invisible amongst those ladies, but oh well. Not sure that's a club I want to be a member of.

I probably am not allowed to comment, but I'm just sick of this attitude. Yes I was bitter and jealous and desolate in the time period before I conceived Danny, but I also recognized that my fertility was just one part of who I was. I was not tempted to make it my identity. Or, well, maybe not my entire identity. At least not that I remember. Although, you know, I do have a kid now, so I can't possibly remember clearly. The yoga class thing just has really set me off. While I was an anxious neurotic mess while pregnant, it was because I was afraid something would happen to Danny and I'd lose him. Being pregnant was something I was incredibly grateful for. I felt like I'd joined a club I'd been wanting to join for a long time. And like I really belonged there, because damnit, I'd worked hard to get there. I don't remember (because I have a kid now, and that has caused amnesia) ever feeling a division between me and other people who were pregnant. Who was I to assume that they didn't have difficulties too?

And when I was moaning about all my difficulties getting pregnant again this time, my sister in law got pregnant. I was bitter. Boy was I bitter. Everything happens so easily for Husband's family, for Husband. I was the screw up, the only one who struggled. I was jealous and bitter. And then she got breast cancer. And I felt like I'd been kicked in the head for my selfishness. As if my negativity has somehow caused this very bad thing to happen to her. I was pretty sure that she'd have given anything to trade places with me, to be cancer free, to not be worrying that she was going to die and never see her second child.

And that pretty much cured me of my bitterness. I decided that everyone has something that they struggle with, and while I mourned with each RE that told me I'd never have another child, at least I didn't have breast cancer. Suddenly I felt lucky.

So now, no, I can't relate to these vets. I want to yell at them and tell them to get over themselves. But I can't, because my opinions don't count. I've crossed over to the other side.

attitude at 11 weeks

Sorry I've been quiet again. Apparently I've been too busy eating everything not nailed down in my household, along with visiting all of the local fast food restaurants. It seems that Baby likes cheeseburgers. Frequently. And I've been absolutely insatiable. It's really ticking me off because usually I get an intense craving for something that isn't in the house at the moment (like a fast food cheeseburger) and then I end up eating other stuff which doesn't satisfy me. I actually had an intensely erotic dream last night about a divine buffet.

But anyway, I had my first OB visit today and it went quite well. I was quite a bit nervous about it, which I didn't realize until I'd gotten back to work and was exhausted and drained. But the little peanut was there still, heart still beating, although he was taking a nap. He woke up ever so briefly and twitched a few times and then curled back up and ignored us. I could see my finger poking his nest on the ultrasound but he resolutely ignored me. Oh, so it's going to be like that? It's starting already?

Meanwhile I've pulled some maternity clothes out of the closet. And yes, my memory was correct. They are just as ugly as they were when I wore them the first time.

So I'm trudging along. Still feeling like I'm not really pregnant, I'm faking it, this is all a dream.

be vewy quwiet...

So I've been very quiet lately, tiptoeing and trying not to wake The Beast.

We've been back in for two more ultrasounds, and last week I was officially released to my OB, who I see next week. RE has been increasingly pleased each week with my bloodwork and how the little peanut is growing and as he termed it, I'm as "out of the woods" as I can be, without actually being "out of the woods." The baby was measuring almost a week ahead (being on steroids can do that) and the placenta seemed a good size, and the heartbeat was continuing to increase, so everything looked good.

Which means that I should be feeling pretty good around now.

But no. Hence the tiptoeing. Because if I relax and start feeling optimistic, then something bad will happen, right?

RE says that if there were chromosome issues, the baby would most likely have passed by now. And that everything about my uterus looks good. But we all know that doesn't matter. The baby's heart could stop anyway.

So, shhh.... I'll continue tiptoeing until next Thursday, if you don't mind. At that point I'll be 10 1/2 weeks and almost out of the very critical period.

Shhhhh.