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Archive for March, 2007

My Coke tastes funny to me. I remember last time I was pregnant lots of things tasted weird to me, but certainly never Coke.

This is unacceptable. It is absolutely ridiculously unbelievably unacceptable for the nectar of the gods to taste funny. I know I shouldn’t be drinking it, but I love it. And I really need a little caffeine today. I am allowed 300mg of caffeine per day. I drink one Coke per day, which is WELL below that limit. And besides, it’s keeping me from feeling like I’m going to throw up imminently.

And now it tastes funny! UNACCEPTABLE!

Edited to Add: While it may, at first glance, seem perfectly reasonable to suggest Pepsi as an alternative… I must say… YECH! I am a Coke-loving Pepsi-hater! You’d think I was from Atlanta or something (I’m not). Coke is the nectar of the gods! Pepsi does not compare! And if somehow I discovered that Pepsi tasted perfectly fine during this pregnancy, I’m not sure how I’d look at myself in the mirror every morning. So I will forgive the transgression of December Baby this once, since I had obviously not made it clear how important Coke is to me! But for future reference, there is only ONE TRUE COKE! (and none of that nutrasweet crap will do, by the way)

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OMG what was I thinking? Why did I think I could get through an entire week (almost) without an ultrasound? Why oh why did I let Shady Hell graduate me on Tuesday? I should have begged to come back on Friday! I can do this. I can. I only have to get through to Monday, when I see the perinatologist who will also be doing an ultrasound. It’s all good. I’ll make it, right?

I never thought I would be this high maintenance. I wasn’t in my last pregnancy. Then again, my last pregnancy didn’t involve the “T” word. Nor had I ever had a miscarriage. I despise being high maintenance. But see, I’m starting to think how wonderful triplets would be (terrifying and exhausting, yes, but still… wonderful, right?), and that is bad. It means I’ll be sad if something happens to one or more of them. I’m getting attached which is no good at all. I am absolutely not far enough along to get attached.

I got freaked out the other day, because there’s a due date calculator out there somewhere (I’d link to it, but I’ve purposely forgotten where it is) that will not only calculate your conception and due date, but it will calculate your expected due date if you’re expecting twins, triplets, or quads, and then it goes on to calculate what date you enter the second and third trimesters, what date range you can have CVS, amniocentesis, glucose tolerance test, and other tests. So it has calculated my expected due date for triplets at September 19. I really need to stop googling. I should be stopped! Back away from the computer now!

I fell asleep at 8pm last night. Before J went to sleep, even. Poor S… it looks like he’s going to be on bedtime duty for a long time. I feel awful because S works long and hard and already takes more than his fair share of kid and household duties, and I’m being a complete slacker and I just can’t help it. I fell asleep during dinner, which is how I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay up for bath and bed time. I’m having a hard time staying comfortable at night though, so I’m waking up a lot. I woke up at 1, 1:40, 2:30, 3, 3:15, 4:40 and 5 last night (times are approximate). The stupid cat seemed to think it was fine for her to be taking up half of the bed, which didn’t help matters. Eventually I kicked her off and she stormed away in a huff. Poor thing.

I’m still ravenously hungry, but unable to keep much food down. I’m about to get a banana, which seems to be the one fruit I can eat without getting queasy. I’ve lost so much weight, I’ve actually gone down a size in pantyhose. Astounding. Not that I expect that to last, nor would I want it to. And I’m still guargantuan, but at least now I’ve got an excuse, right? One of the multiples stories I read said that when she went to her OB at 10 weeks she was already in maternity clothes and her doctor said “either you’re having twins or you’ve got your dates wrong.” I cannot imagine needing to be in maternity clothes two weeks from now. I’m still fat, but definitely not showing the pregnancy.

I’m all kinds of babble right now, so I’ll stop. Besides, I’ve got deadlines that I need to meet today.

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OMG what was I thinking? Why did I think I could get through an entire week (almost) without an ultrasound? Why oh why did I let Shady Hell graduate me on Tuesday? I should have begged to come back on Friday! I can do this. I can. I only have to get through to Monday, when I see the perinatologist who will also be doing an ultrasound. It's all good. I'll make it, right?

I never thought I would be this high maintenance. I wasn't in my last pregnancy. Then again, my last pregnancy didn't involve the "T" word. Nor had I ever had a miscarriage. I despise being high maintenance. But see, I'm starting to think how wonderful triplets would be (terrifying and exhausting, yes, but still… wonderful, right?), and that is bad. It means I'll be sad if something happens to one or more of them. I'm getting attached which is no good at all. I am absolutely not far enough along to get attached.

I got freaked out the other day, because there's a due date calculator out there somewhere (I'd link to it, but I've purposely forgotten where it is) that will not only calculate your conception and due date, but it will calculate your expected due date if you're expecting twins, triplets, or quads, and then it goes on to calculate what date you enter the second and third trimesters, what date range you can have CVS, amniocentesis, glucose tolerance test, and other tests. So it has calculated my expected due date for triplets at September 19. I really need to stop googling. I should be stopped! Back away from the computer now!

I fell asleep at 8pm last night. Before J went to sleep, even. Poor S… it looks like he's going to be on bedtime duty for a long time. I feel awful because S works long and hard and already takes more than his fair share of kid and household duties, and I'm being a complete slacker and I just can't help it. I fell asleep during dinner, which is how I knew I wasn't going to be able to stay up for bath and bed time. I'm having a hard time staying comfortable at night though, so I'm waking up a lot. I woke up at 1, 1:40, 2:30, 3, 3:15, 4:40 and 5 last night (times are approximate). The stupid cat seemed to think it was fine for her to be taking up half of the bed, which didn't help matters. Eventually I kicked her off and she stormed away in a huff. Poor thing.

I'm still ravenously hungry, but unable to keep much food down. I'm about to get a banana, which seems to be the one fruit I can eat without getting queasy. I've lost so much weight, I've actually gone down a size in pantyhose. Astounding. Not that I expect that to last, nor would I want it to. And I'm still guargantuan, but at least now I've got an excuse, right? One of the multiples stories I read said that when she went to her OB at 10 weeks she was already in maternity clothes and her doctor said "either you're having twins or you've got your dates wrong." I cannot imagine needing to be in maternity clothes two weeks from now. I'm still fat, but definitely not showing the pregnancy.

I'm all kinds of babble right now, so I'll stop. Besides, I've got deadlines that I need to meet today.

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My Coke tastes funny to me. I remember last time I was pregnant lots of things tasted weird to me, but certainly never Coke.

This is unacceptable. It is absolutely ridiculously unbelievably unacceptable for the nectar of the gods to taste funny. I know I shouldn't be drinking it, but I love it. And I really need a little caffeine today. I am allowed 300mg of caffeine per day. I drink one Coke per day, which is WELL below that limit. And besides, it's keeping me from feeling like I'm going to throw up imminently.

And now it tastes funny! UNACCEPTABLE!

Edited to Add: While it may, at first glance, seem perfectly reasonable to suggest Pepsi as an alternative… I must say… YECH! I am a Coke-loving Pepsi-hater! You'd think I was from Atlanta or something (I'm not). Coke is the nectar of the gods! Pepsi does not compare! And if somehow I discovered that Pepsi tasted perfectly fine during this pregnancy, I'm not sure how I'd look at myself in the mirror every morning. So I will forgive the transgression of December Baby this once, since I had obviously not made it clear how important Coke is to me! But for future reference, there is only ONE TRUE COKE! (and none of that nutrasweet crap will do, by the way)

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Wow. Since last night, despite the nausea, I have been absolutely, unbelievably, disgustingly ravenous. This would be great, except that food still turns my stomach, so being ravenous isn’t helping that. I am also unbelievably lazy. I crawled into bed last night around 9. My husband called at 10 to say he was on his way home (he’s often out on Wednesday nights). At 10:30, just as he was pulling into the driveway, I called him and asked him to please bring down a banana for me when he came inside. I am THAT unbelievably lazy. I was so tired the very thought of walking up one flight of stairs made me feel hopeless. But I NEEDED food. Right that instant! Fortunately, I have the best husband on the planet, and he brought me water, my nightly medicine, and a banana immediately.

Speaking of my nightly medicine, when I graduated from Shady Hell, my doctor told me I could stop taking the metformin that day (Tuesday). I am leery of this. I stopped taking it around 6 weeks last time, and with the subsequent miscarriage (might not have been related), I had inquired about staying on metformin through the first trimester and he had agreed that should I get pregnant again, staying on the metformin for the first trimester had enough possible benefit to counteract any perceived risks. But when he told me to stop taking it, I just nodded and said, “uh huh” because I was too busy watching Margaret measure the three (THREE!!) heartbeats on the screen to realize that I should be asking about it. I have enough metformin in my current bottle to get me through Sunday night, and I have an appointment with the perinatologist on Monday, so I think I’m going to keep taking it until Monday and ask him if I should refill it or not.

Oh and about the tired thing… I was unbelievably shattered in my last pregnancy. I had negative energy. I felt terrible. I could barely get out of bed in the morning. I couldn’t keep my eyes open after 8 or so at night. I dozed at work accidentally twice. I didn’t think it could be described, and I certainly didn’t think it could be any worse. Oh my gosh. It is THREE times worse (surprise!) this time. Last night I was actually contemplating using toothpicks to hold my eyelids open until I could get J in bed (since my husband was out, I definitely had to handle bedtime). I remember when I was pregnant last time, there was an occasion when S was out of town, and J and I were vegging together before bedtime. He was “reading” books or watching TV or something. Eventually, J, my adorable barely-three-year-old (at the time), WOKE ME UP to tell me it was time for him to go to bed. I fear there will be many repeats of this incident in this pregnancy.

In other news, despite the unbelievable hunger, I have now lost so much weight that I am wearing a skirt that hasn’t fit me in two years. It is two sizes smaller than most of the clothes in my closet. This is not good, though under any other circumstances I would be thrilled. (Don’t be too impressed, by the way, it’s still an enormously huge size, just two sizes smaller than my previously enormous size)

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Wow. Since last night, despite the nausea, I have been absolutely, unbelievably, disgustingly ravenous. This would be great, except that food still turns my stomach, so being ravenous isn't helping that. I am also unbelievably lazy. I crawled into bed last night around 9. My husband called at 10 to say he was on his way home (he's often out on Wednesday nights). At 10:30, just as he was pulling into the driveway, I called him and asked him to please bring down a banana for me when he came inside. I am THAT unbelievably lazy. I was so tired the very thought of walking up one flight of stairs made me feel hopeless. But I NEEDED food. Right that instant! Fortunately, I have the best husband on the planet, and he brought me water, my nightly medicine, and a banana immediately.

Speaking of my nightly medicine, when I graduated from Shady Hell, my doctor told me I could stop taking the metformin that day (Tuesday). I am leery of this. I stopped taking it around 6 weeks last time, and with the subsequent miscarriage (might not have been related), I had inquired about staying on metformin through the first trimester and he had agreed that should I get pregnant again, staying on the metformin for the first trimester had enough possible benefit to counteract any perceived risks. But when he told me to stop taking it, I just nodded and said, "uh huh" because I was too busy watching Margaret measure the three (THREE!!) heartbeats on the screen to realize that I should be asking about it. I have enough metformin in my current bottle to get me through Sunday night, and I have an appointment with the perinatologist on Monday, so I think I'm going to keep taking it until Monday and ask him if I should refill it or not.

Oh and about the tired thing… I was unbelievably shattered in my last pregnancy. I had negative energy. I felt terrible. I could barely get out of bed in the morning. I couldn't keep my eyes open after 8 or so at night. I dozed at work accidentally twice. I didn't think it could be described, and I certainly didn't think it could be any worse. Oh my gosh. It is THREE times worse (surprise!) this time. Last night I was actually contemplating using toothpicks to hold my eyelids open until I could get J in bed (since my husband was out, I definitely had to handle bedtime). I remember when I was pregnant last time, there was an occasion when S was out of town, and J and I were vegging together before bedtime. He was "reading" books or watching TV or something. Eventually, J, my adorable barely-three-year-old (at the time), WOKE ME UP to tell me it was time for him to go to bed. I fear there will be many repeats of this incident in this pregnancy.

In other news, despite the unbelievable hunger, I have now lost so much weight that I am wearing a skirt that hasn't fit me in two years. It is two sizes smaller than most of the clothes in my closet. This is not good, though under any other circumstances I would be thrilled. (Don't be too impressed, by the way, it's still an enormously huge size, just two sizes smaller than my previously enormous size)

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Thoughts

I was a bit unfair in my recent FAQ post. I posted all the snarky questions (some of which I’m sure weren’t intended in a snarky way, but I’m all hyper-sensitive right now, so there you have it), but I gave absolutely no credit to the overwhelming support that I’ve received from much of the infertility blogging world. My friends inside the computer are the best people on the planet.

Mel has been especially helpful, as has Marie-Baguette. I’ve gotten amazingly supportive comments and emails from most of you. Kirby offered to help in anyway possible, even if it meant driving down to Baltimore to meet me. December Baby cracks me up with her comments. Thalia, who has enough to worry about on her own already, has given me some much needed support. Vanessa who is dealing with her own shock at the moment, has still popped in to send me her thoughts. Countless others have popped in out of the woodwork to check in and see how things are going. I wish I could name every single one of you, because honestly, all of you who comment on this blog are awesome. You’re articulate, supportive, thoughtful, understanding, and unbelievably wonderful. If I didn’t single you out, it’s not because you’re not awesome, it’s because my hands are starting to hurt from all the typing. You all rock my world.

So you see, it really was unfair of me to focus only on the snarky and to ignore all the love and support I’ve gotten. Still, I think it’s telling that at the time what stuck with me was the snarky stuff. I think it’s because I was carrying around a lot of guilt. By all rights, I should be ecstatic. I should be thrilled beyond thrilled to have hit the infertility lottery. In a lot of ways I am. But it would be lying if I ignored the fact that I’m still utterly terrified. I’ve now got three strong beating hearts inside of me. That’s a lot of responsibility. I don’t know how we’re going to handle it financially, emotionally, or physically. I don’t know where we’re going to squeeze them into our house. I can’t figure out how on earth to deal with something as simple as childcare, because no matter how expensive childcare will be, it will still be less than my salary, so we can’t afford for me not to work. Who wants to take care of triplets? Can you imagine?

And then I remember that I’m getting ahead of myself. I remember my friend who got pregnant a week after I did last summer, only she was pregnant with triplets. I had a miscarriage at 12 weeks. Two weeks later, when she was 13 weeks, she lost two of hers and she’s due with a singleton next month. Am I ever going to be able to breathe in this pregnancy? Will I ever feel safe? Will I ever stop wondering if walking up that flight of stairs will mean the demise of my future children? Will I ever make it out of the house again? Will I be able to push a triple stroller? How will we deal with the hospital bill? How much of it will insurance cover?

Will we lose our foster son? Will a court side with his mother, who hasn’t seen him in 11 months and 4 days, if we end up with triplets? Will they assume that we’re now too busy to love our gorgeous boy? I can’t imagine life without J. He was supposed to be with us for a year and then either go back to his mother or be adopted by us. Two and a half years later, nothing has changed. I am his mother. I am the one who stays up late with him. I am the one who worries about what he’s eating. I am the one who comforts him when he throws up (admittedly, S is the one who actually cleans up the vomit, because, well, ew!). I am the one who feeds him and hugs him and tucks him in and sings to him and wakes up with him poking me. (None of this is meant to take away from the astounding amount that S does… S is a much better parent than I am) But what if we have triplets and some judge decides we simply can’t take care of three infants plus J?

It sounds, in my blog, as though I’m walking around in a constant state of terror, but I’m not. This is where I go to vent it all out, but generally, I’m okay. I take a lot of deep breaths. I’m eating a lot of saltines (because seriously? It’s what I can keep down now). I’m looking at each step individually. This is how I stay sane-ish.

Next steps:
4/2: Appointment with Perinatologist
4/3-4/10: Pesach, so can’t think too much about the triplet factor anyway.
4/12: Appointment with my OB

Probably we’ll tell our mothers about this here pregnancy by the end of April. I begrudgingly admit, I probably can’t avoid mentioning the triplet part. When we thought we were having twins, S and I had agreed not to tell anyone but my father that there was more than one. But with triplets, I doubt we can avoid mentioning it. It’s okay. I just don’t want to tell anyone too soon. My father knows because I needed parental advice the day I found out there were three and he’s great at objective advice even in completely screwy circumstances.

But see… the last time I was pregnant, I told my mother immediately, because we thought it wasn’t real… we thought I was miscarrying. And so I missed her mother’s funeral because my doctor didn’t want me getting on a plane that week. So I had to tell her. And I was pregnant for three whole months. I was well past the scary part. I was well past the point of worrying whether I would make it all the way to April. No one expected me to miscarry. No one. But when I called my mom from the hospital to tell her what had happened, she sighed and said, “Oh sweetie, I thought that might happen.” Nothing could have made me angrier at that moment. Nothing. She knew nothing of the kind. The doctors were shocked! We were all shocked! But she’s got to act like she knew all along, which is crap. I had a perfectly perfect ultrasound of a healthy baby five days before. There is no way she “knew” or “thought” it might happen. And if she was sitting around worried it might happen, then she was projecting her own BS onto me, which is so not okay. (My mother had at least 8 miscarriages, most of which were very early, one of which was around three months…. very sad, yes, but also no reason to believe I’ll have the same experience… my mother had NO problem GETTING pregnant, only a problem STAYING pregnant. Our circumstances are very different) I just can’t bear to have her saying something stupid like that again if something should happen to this pregnancy. And that’s why I can’t tell her. She won’t even know she’s being hurtful. That’s the worst part.

Two other irritating things and then I’ll wrap up this embarrassingly long post. If you make it to the end, I’ll give you a cookie. But you’ll have to come get it.

The two things that really piss me off when people say them are these:
1. Well, at least you’ll be done having kids after triplets!
2. Oh my gosh, triplets… are they natural/spontaneous/fertility-induced?

Let’s start with #1: Maybe I won’t be done! Maybe I didn’t want to have just one pregnancy and poof! be done! Maybe I want a dozen kids (I don’t, but still, I could!). Maybe I don’t want to think about the fact that I’ll be done after that, long before I’d planned on being done. Maybe I don’t want to be reminded that I won’t get to see my seven-year old interact with my 2 year old interacting with my newborn, like some women get to see. Maybe I don’t know whether all three will even make it and then maybe I’ll be even less likely to be done with the whole shebang. Maybe it’s cruel to act like this is something that can be brushed off like that.

And number 2. Boy that one ticks me off badly. First of all, ALL children are natural. And who the hell cares if they’re fertility-induced or spontaneous? Does it really make a difference? Is it really any of your business? Worse is the implication that if they were fertility-induced it was my own, irresponsible fault, but if they were spontaneous, well, they’re a gift from God and how beautiful that I got such a surprise!

I swear I’m not this cranky in real life. You don’t have to believe me, but I really am a rather pleasant person in real life. Anywhozit, enough whining. Thank you all for being awesome.

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