I'm 11 days post-ovulation. My temperature went up initially and hovered for 6 days, and then it spiked higher and has been going up ever since. Today was day 5 at the higher temps.
As I am a total newbie to this charting stuff does this have any significance or am I just imagining things?
Also, when is it practical to first POAS? Keeping in mind that my cycles have been totally irregular and I have no idea when AF "should" arrive.
Of course, I'm dying with suspense here.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Undercover
Well, it looks like I did ovulate this month. And we timed everything just right. So, maybe, just maybe, I'll get good news in 10 days or so.
In an attempt to re-socialize ourselves with friends, we invited over a few couples last night. We've seen our babyland friends periodically, and although I have made no further attempts to spend time with their baby, I don't really mind spending time with them.
It was an awful night, really. It still amazes me how alone I can feel in a room of friends. My pregnant friend arrived first. She's just entering her 2nd trimester, and is anxiously planning life with two children under two. She had lots of questions about our intentions for a future baby. And I outright lied. It just came out. I couldn't tell her that we were trying, that we may even be pregnant already for all I know. I told her the verdict from our MFM and beyond that, we really didn't know what we were going to do.
I figured the question would come up. We're far enough out now that people are expecting the second pregnancy, wondering when the big announcement will be. I didn't intend on lying, in fact, I was kind of thinking maybe I would tell them that we were trying.
But when asked, I just couldn't.
I'm not really sure. I don't want to tell anyone. I haven't told my sister, my mom, anyone. If we do get pregnant I don't think I want to tell anyone that either. M and I talked about it this morning, and I told him I don't want to tell anyone until I have no choice because I'm sick or showing or something. It will be my secret, our secret.
I'll tell you all, and you're the only people I want to tell.
I'm not sure really why I'm so hesitant. I'm worried that a pregnancy will make people think I'm "all better", and I'm dreading people telling me that everything will be ok this time when we all know there are no guarantees. I'm dreading people wanting me to pick out baby things and get excited. I'm dreading all of that much more than the anxiety of the actual pregnancy.
So, until absolutely forced to tell, I think we're in secret.
My other two friends arrived shortly afterwards. The men all went off to the basement to look at tools and discuss manly-type things. I sat with the girls while there was a full discussion on the pros/cons of infant swimming lessons, "family fun days" at random workplaces, the best locations for baby pictures. Obviously I had nothing to add. Eventually I got the question from them as well, what we were planning to do. I lied again. Made it seem like it was way too much risk to even contemplate.
No one really said anything. At one point, one of the girls said you must be glad the one-year anniversary is coming up, to get past that point and forget about the past year and move forward.
Move forward, yes, forget, no.
I can't remember what life was like a year ago, I said.
Life was good, my other friend replied.
I went to bed last night completely emotionally drained, and missed Charlotte more intently than I have for a long time. I miss my baby. I miss myself.
In an attempt to re-socialize ourselves with friends, we invited over a few couples last night. We've seen our babyland friends periodically, and although I have made no further attempts to spend time with their baby, I don't really mind spending time with them.
It was an awful night, really. It still amazes me how alone I can feel in a room of friends. My pregnant friend arrived first. She's just entering her 2nd trimester, and is anxiously planning life with two children under two. She had lots of questions about our intentions for a future baby. And I outright lied. It just came out. I couldn't tell her that we were trying, that we may even be pregnant already for all I know. I told her the verdict from our MFM and beyond that, we really didn't know what we were going to do.
I figured the question would come up. We're far enough out now that people are expecting the second pregnancy, wondering when the big announcement will be. I didn't intend on lying, in fact, I was kind of thinking maybe I would tell them that we were trying.
But when asked, I just couldn't.
I'm not really sure. I don't want to tell anyone. I haven't told my sister, my mom, anyone. If we do get pregnant I don't think I want to tell anyone that either. M and I talked about it this morning, and I told him I don't want to tell anyone until I have no choice because I'm sick or showing or something. It will be my secret, our secret.
I'll tell you all, and you're the only people I want to tell.
I'm not sure really why I'm so hesitant. I'm worried that a pregnancy will make people think I'm "all better", and I'm dreading people telling me that everything will be ok this time when we all know there are no guarantees. I'm dreading people wanting me to pick out baby things and get excited. I'm dreading all of that much more than the anxiety of the actual pregnancy.
So, until absolutely forced to tell, I think we're in secret.
My other two friends arrived shortly afterwards. The men all went off to the basement to look at tools and discuss manly-type things. I sat with the girls while there was a full discussion on the pros/cons of infant swimming lessons, "family fun days" at random workplaces, the best locations for baby pictures. Obviously I had nothing to add. Eventually I got the question from them as well, what we were planning to do. I lied again. Made it seem like it was way too much risk to even contemplate.
No one really said anything. At one point, one of the girls said you must be glad the one-year anniversary is coming up, to get past that point and forget about the past year and move forward.
Move forward, yes, forget, no.
I can't remember what life was like a year ago, I said.
Life was good, my other friend replied.
I went to bed last night completely emotionally drained, and missed Charlotte more intently than I have for a long time. I miss my baby. I miss myself.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The funeral of an infant
Let me start by saying it's a good thing the university semester is only until the end of April. My schedule is insane. The students are sweet, yet demanding, and very time-consuming. I am enjoying this job. I love their late-teen/early 20s innocence, with term papers and recitals their biggest stress. No babies in sight. No babies in conversation. Love it love it love it.
Hamster did indeed die, about two hours after my last blog post. Unlike babies, hamsters can be replaced with $12.99 at the pet store, so a week after #1's passing, we welcomed #2. He's cute, and makes me smile. Different breed, different colour.
AF finally arrived, at day forty-something. I started charting this month, and am at day 16, and am anxiously awaiting my temp to rise to have some proof that I am actually ovulating. I am not holding my breath. I just can't see it being that easy.
We had a follow up appt with our MFM today, to talk about conceiving again, etc etc. Not much new there. Calcium, baby aspirin, maybe heparin, maybe not, maybe bedrest, maybe not. No definites or guarantees. Still the 1/3 chance that I'll end up right back here in DBL.
She was, however, thrilled with the weight I've lost, even though I'm still 7 or 8 lbs short of goal.
I've been trying to imagine it, both ways. Imagining myself bringing home an actual live baby is almost impossible. I was looking around that office today with the pregnancy due date wheel on the wall, the "stages of fetal growth" poster. Watching heavily pregnant women walk the halls. I just can't imagine it. I really can't see this all turning out with a happy ending. I'm not sure if it's intuition, or self-preservation, or fear. I cannot imagine that in time I'll be sitting in a hospital room with a real, live, squirmy baby.
I can, imagine, however, exactly what it would be like to have a second dead one.
I was doing some catalogue shopping for my choir, looking for pieces for Easter and beyond. It was a new catalogue from an unfamiliar publisher. There were lists of pieces for every occasion, organized by the liturgical calendar. The last page caught my eye, Unique Songs for Extraordinary Occasions.
There was a little bit of everything: the opening of a new church building, welcoming a new pastor. Then there was this subheading:
The funeral of an infant.
Four songs were listed with titles like A Cradling Song and Born to Bring Us Love.
I'm surprised they're published. I'd be curious to know why they were written. And I'm quite proud of this publishing company for having a category for them in their catalogue.
I might order them, the four of them. Might as well be prepared.
That says a lot about my mindset nowadays.
Hamster did indeed die, about two hours after my last blog post. Unlike babies, hamsters can be replaced with $12.99 at the pet store, so a week after #1's passing, we welcomed #2. He's cute, and makes me smile. Different breed, different colour.
AF finally arrived, at day forty-something. I started charting this month, and am at day 16, and am anxiously awaiting my temp to rise to have some proof that I am actually ovulating. I am not holding my breath. I just can't see it being that easy.
We had a follow up appt with our MFM today, to talk about conceiving again, etc etc. Not much new there. Calcium, baby aspirin, maybe heparin, maybe not, maybe bedrest, maybe not. No definites or guarantees. Still the 1/3 chance that I'll end up right back here in DBL.
She was, however, thrilled with the weight I've lost, even though I'm still 7 or 8 lbs short of goal.
I've been trying to imagine it, both ways. Imagining myself bringing home an actual live baby is almost impossible. I was looking around that office today with the pregnancy due date wheel on the wall, the "stages of fetal growth" poster. Watching heavily pregnant women walk the halls. I just can't imagine it. I really can't see this all turning out with a happy ending. I'm not sure if it's intuition, or self-preservation, or fear. I cannot imagine that in time I'll be sitting in a hospital room with a real, live, squirmy baby.
I can, imagine, however, exactly what it would be like to have a second dead one.
I was doing some catalogue shopping for my choir, looking for pieces for Easter and beyond. It was a new catalogue from an unfamiliar publisher. There were lists of pieces for every occasion, organized by the liturgical calendar. The last page caught my eye, Unique Songs for Extraordinary Occasions.
There was a little bit of everything: the opening of a new church building, welcoming a new pastor. Then there was this subheading:
The funeral of an infant.
Four songs were listed with titles like A Cradling Song and Born to Bring Us Love.
I'm surprised they're published. I'd be curious to know why they were written. And I'm quite proud of this publishing company for having a category for them in their catalogue.
I might order them, the four of them. Might as well be prepared.
That says a lot about my mindset nowadays.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Flashbacks
My hamster is dying. Right now, as I type.
When M and I moved into our house we couldn't agree on a pet. I wanted a cat, he wanted a dog. Neither of us would give. We ended up compromising on a hamster.
I felt ridiculous having a hamster as a pet. I mean, it's a kids' pet. Adults don't have hamsters. I felt silly buying him, felt silly telling people we had him.
But, I really, really like him.
He's very cute, and I'm not a cutesy type of person. He's friendly and playful, and highly entertaining. When I was on bedrest last winter I spent hours just watching him putter around his cage. In the weeks after Charlotte's death I spent a lot of time talking to him (questioning my sanity the entire time, of course). He's always made me smile, and that's a rarity lately.
He's old now, over two. His breathing's labored, he isn't eating. The vet gave us some antibiotics for lung congestion with warnings that he could go anytime. I think the time is here.
He hasn't eaten in days. Stopped drinking yesterday. He's barely moving now, curled up into a little furry ball. When I pick him up he's limp, too weak to squirm. His little head just hangs back. His breaths are growing farther apart. His normally busy beating heart is very slow.
I bet you can all see where this is going, right?
Even though he is just a hamster, I am reliving Charlotte's death with every little hamster breath. It's exactly how she died. The movements stopped first, then the breaths grew further apart. Then her heart stopped. Limp. Cold.
Watching anything die is heartbreaking, even if it's just a hamster. It's incomprehensable that 10 months and 2 days ago, it was my baby.
It's bringing back a lot of memories. It's days like today when I can't believe I lived through it.
When M and I moved into our house we couldn't agree on a pet. I wanted a cat, he wanted a dog. Neither of us would give. We ended up compromising on a hamster.
I felt ridiculous having a hamster as a pet. I mean, it's a kids' pet. Adults don't have hamsters. I felt silly buying him, felt silly telling people we had him.
But, I really, really like him.
He's very cute, and I'm not a cutesy type of person. He's friendly and playful, and highly entertaining. When I was on bedrest last winter I spent hours just watching him putter around his cage. In the weeks after Charlotte's death I spent a lot of time talking to him (questioning my sanity the entire time, of course). He's always made me smile, and that's a rarity lately.
He's old now, over two. His breathing's labored, he isn't eating. The vet gave us some antibiotics for lung congestion with warnings that he could go anytime. I think the time is here.
He hasn't eaten in days. Stopped drinking yesterday. He's barely moving now, curled up into a little furry ball. When I pick him up he's limp, too weak to squirm. His little head just hangs back. His breaths are growing farther apart. His normally busy beating heart is very slow.
I bet you can all see where this is going, right?
Even though he is just a hamster, I am reliving Charlotte's death with every little hamster breath. It's exactly how she died. The movements stopped first, then the breaths grew further apart. Then her heart stopped. Limp. Cold.
Watching anything die is heartbreaking, even if it's just a hamster. It's incomprehensable that 10 months and 2 days ago, it was my baby.
It's bringing back a lot of memories. It's days like today when I can't believe I lived through it.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Loneliest Road
It's a snowy, blustery day here. Schools are closed. I'm sitting home, in my pjs, enjoying a true snow day- the absolute best kind of day.
Work has been such a distraction lately. I haven't had much time to read or blog or even think, really. I'm still carrying my dead baby weight on my shoulders and it's always on my mind, but I can feel Charlotte slipping a little, replaced with responsibilities and deadlines.
Other than M, our doctors, therapist and my blogging friends, I can't remember the last time anyone mentioned Charlotte, implied anything about Charlotte, or acknowledged that I was anything but sick last year. To me, it's starting to feel more and more like a bad dream and less like reality. When everyone ignores it all the time, it's hard to even remember myself. What I do remember through the fog are fuzzy images that no one else wants to remember, but that I cling to every detail of.
At Charlotte's memorial service, parents of my friend J came to give their condolences . They said how sorry they were, how they had been through something similar with their daughter L years before. I had always been so close with this family, spending holidays with them and even lived with them for a period of time. I had never heard of a baby dying in their family.
A couple of days later J called to check on me. She's such a sweet and dear friend. I asked her about her older sister; what had her parents been referring to? She paused for a second. Oh right, she said. I totally forgot about that. L had a little boy in between her two girls but there were some genetic abnormalities so he was born early and didn't make it.
I didn't think much of it in the moment, but I've thought about it so many times since. They are such a close, ideal family. 10 years after the fact, she didn't remember that her own sister had buried a little boy. My story didn't jog her memory even, until I reminded her.
In ten years time will anyone remember Charlotte, except M and I? I don't know that they will.
Makes me so sad.
How do you make people remember something they won't even mention?
Not one person (that I know of) has even gone to see her stone. It's been installed now for three months. They all know it's there. My inlaws haven't seen it, my mom hasn't seen it. No one visited her at Christmas, except for us. I showed a picture of it to my MIL, almost by accident, just going through pics on the computer, and she made little comment, just oh, that's what it's like.
Walking the dead baby road can be the loneliest, loneliest road IRL.
It's day 46 of my cycle. I've taken two more HPT. Still negative.
Work has been such a distraction lately. I haven't had much time to read or blog or even think, really. I'm still carrying my dead baby weight on my shoulders and it's always on my mind, but I can feel Charlotte slipping a little, replaced with responsibilities and deadlines.
Other than M, our doctors, therapist and my blogging friends, I can't remember the last time anyone mentioned Charlotte, implied anything about Charlotte, or acknowledged that I was anything but sick last year. To me, it's starting to feel more and more like a bad dream and less like reality. When everyone ignores it all the time, it's hard to even remember myself. What I do remember through the fog are fuzzy images that no one else wants to remember, but that I cling to every detail of.
At Charlotte's memorial service, parents of my friend J came to give their condolences . They said how sorry they were, how they had been through something similar with their daughter L years before. I had always been so close with this family, spending holidays with them and even lived with them for a period of time. I had never heard of a baby dying in their family.
A couple of days later J called to check on me. She's such a sweet and dear friend. I asked her about her older sister; what had her parents been referring to? She paused for a second. Oh right, she said. I totally forgot about that. L had a little boy in between her two girls but there were some genetic abnormalities so he was born early and didn't make it.
I didn't think much of it in the moment, but I've thought about it so many times since. They are such a close, ideal family. 10 years after the fact, she didn't remember that her own sister had buried a little boy. My story didn't jog her memory even, until I reminded her.
In ten years time will anyone remember Charlotte, except M and I? I don't know that they will.
Makes me so sad.
How do you make people remember something they won't even mention?
Not one person (that I know of) has even gone to see her stone. It's been installed now for three months. They all know it's there. My inlaws haven't seen it, my mom hasn't seen it. No one visited her at Christmas, except for us. I showed a picture of it to my MIL, almost by accident, just going through pics on the computer, and she made little comment, just oh, that's what it's like.
Walking the dead baby road can be the loneliest, loneliest road IRL.
It's day 46 of my cycle. I've taken two more HPT. Still negative.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Random musings
Hmmm... what is this? A free hour? Can we say BLOG?
Today is day 39 of my cycle. No AF. I have taken, as of this morning, four pregnancy tests. I am not pregnant. I have a feeling this is a very long cycle and my body is completely confused. If by some miracle I am pregnant, great, let's get this ball rolling. If not, that's ok, just let me have my stupid period so I can start charting and figure out what's going on.
TTC sucks.
We invited my pregnant friend and her husband and baby over for dinner on the weekend, and they came. I chickened out and didn't say anything to her, really. She is 11 weeks. The conversation was painfully awkward at first. I got the lowdown on her morning sickness and her doctor's appointments. I didn't really mind hearing about it. She talked about being off work next year and about choosing colours for the baby's room and finishing their basement so the toys will have a place. He little toddler ran around the room pushing buttons on everything he could find.
It was all so surreal. You forget, you know. How easy and uncomplicated pregnancy and childbirth can be for some people.
All I could think, the whole time, were all the milestones she has yet to reach and conquer in her pregnancy in order for this baby to come home. The odds that are stacked up.
Oh right, the odds are actually in favour of her bringing home that baby, aren't they?
Again, I forget sometimes.
I have to say that pregnant women don't upset me like they used to. I worry for them, I fear for them, and I'm a bit jealous of their bliss. But the pain has subsided (well, mostly). More than anything, I really don't feel like I live in their world. I don't feel like I have anything in common with them. The same experiences with completely different outcomes. Detached, maybe.
If and when I do get pregnant I think I will feel even more detached from the regular pregnant people.
Off I go to school. Another day.
Today is day 39 of my cycle. No AF. I have taken, as of this morning, four pregnancy tests. I am not pregnant. I have a feeling this is a very long cycle and my body is completely confused. If by some miracle I am pregnant, great, let's get this ball rolling. If not, that's ok, just let me have my stupid period so I can start charting and figure out what's going on.
TTC sucks.
We invited my pregnant friend and her husband and baby over for dinner on the weekend, and they came. I chickened out and didn't say anything to her, really. She is 11 weeks. The conversation was painfully awkward at first. I got the lowdown on her morning sickness and her doctor's appointments. I didn't really mind hearing about it. She talked about being off work next year and about choosing colours for the baby's room and finishing their basement so the toys will have a place. He little toddler ran around the room pushing buttons on everything he could find.
It was all so surreal. You forget, you know. How easy and uncomplicated pregnancy and childbirth can be for some people.
All I could think, the whole time, were all the milestones she has yet to reach and conquer in her pregnancy in order for this baby to come home. The odds that are stacked up.
Oh right, the odds are actually in favour of her bringing home that baby, aren't they?
Again, I forget sometimes.
I have to say that pregnant women don't upset me like they used to. I worry for them, I fear for them, and I'm a bit jealous of their bliss. But the pain has subsided (well, mostly). More than anything, I really don't feel like I live in their world. I don't feel like I have anything in common with them. The same experiences with completely different outcomes. Detached, maybe.
If and when I do get pregnant I think I will feel even more detached from the regular pregnant people.
Off I go to school. Another day.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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