cindy's world

Sometime this week, Allie decided to have a growth spurt. Not only does my stomach feel tight the moment I eat a bit of food, but her movements are so distinct and coordinated that I now know she’s a night owl like her mommy (“owl” in Mandarin, by the way, literally translates to “cat-headed hawk”). She’d wake me up dancing at around 3am. If I curled up in fetal position, she’d waste no time in tapping against each of my quads (with perfect aim, one thigh after the other) until I lowered my legs and gave her extra space. I wish a fetal psychologist could tell me whether she’s tapping me in play (Mr. W: “Like how if you put your hand up on the glass, a monkey would put up its hand to match yours”), or being a spoiled brat and pushing away anything that infringes on her personal space. I tend to think it’s the latter, cuz she pushes away anything — my arm, the stethoscope head, my purse, my magazine, the pillow. Oh well, good thing I’m always up at night anyway cuz I sleep like a donut (with a hole in the middle), and Dodo does his territorial yowling thing around the same time as Allie’s dancing (they’re on the same schedule), so looks like the three of us will be up together often.

For the past 3 days, if I ate a normal-sized meal, I’d feel like I want to burst. I also would have trouble getting air into my lungs, but gasping repeatedly for air hurt my abdominal muscles and would give me minor sharp cramping sensations all over the area between my belly button and my ribcage. I remembered learning that at this point, the stomach is pushed up into my diaphragm and cramped, so anything more than a small meal IS very hard on my upper abdominal muscles/lungs/diaphragm. I finished a meal at dinner with hubby and the stepkidlet this evening (she’s back from Haiti now, armed with photos, stories, inspiration, and appreciation for life), and wobbled away from the table, gasping for air, thinking that if something accidentally went into my mouth now, my stomach would explode and Allie would fall out onto the floor. Mental note: no more full meals; stomach capacity has shrunken this week due to increase of uterus size.

People have been asking me for Allison’s middle name, and I tell them it’s undecided. Mr. W decided unilaterally today that it should be Allison Catherine. Why? Allie Cat. “Don’t do that to her!” Stepkidlet said. Coincidentally (or unfortunately), while we were shopping for my cousin Jennifer’s baby shower gift earlier in the week, I bought a really cute cat ensemble for Allie.

Allie’s wardrobe is growing…she got some cute onesies from her Auntie Jordan in Florida, and yesterday, I received a strange package in a manila envelope through courtmail. Turned out it contained a cute little ruffle dress with matching bloomers from her Auntie Erin in Beverly Hills Court. Thanks, Aunties! Now, I just need some place to put Allie’s stuff until we replace the guest room with her room.

Today is the first day of my judge’s month-long vacation. When the courtroom goes “dark” like this, the courtroom staff is available to float and work in different courtrooms as needed. As it’s summer, there are a lot of dark courtrooms, which means we have a more than normal number of available personnel in addition to people specially assigned to float to where needed. These latter people’s job description is “floater.” I am not a floater, I’m an assigned clerk, whose courtroom happens to be dark right now. I’ve been dreading this dark month, and I’ve made sarcastic half-joking comments here and there that they’re probably gonna float me to Compton or downtown or something. Coworkers reassured me that wouldn’t happen, because I carpool to work from 40 miles away. Mr. W works near me so he drives us both to and from work. Carpooling means I don’t have a car available, and there had been a memo issued some time ago from the topmost supervisor of the county that gives carpooling priority over having a vehicle available per person. (Except, of course, if you’re a floater by job description.)

So I checked in before 8am this morning. I had beaten every supervisor to work but the administrative secretary said she’d let the supervisors know I’m in my courtroom, awaiting assignment, when they got in. (I’ll make a note here that other clerks don’t even come in at 8am like they’re supposed to; they get in around 9a, some deliberately, to avoid being floated out.) At 8:10 a.m., the district supervisor called me to make sure I was there and available. I explained that floating out of the building would be a difficulty, as I carpooled as usual and don’t have a car. He said he didn’t think that would be a legitimate reason for “downtown,” who would just tell me to take public transportation to go where I am assigned to go. He said he’d call me back if he heard from “downtown” that I’m to be floated out.

10 minutes later, that supervisor called me back and said that I’ve been assigned to go to Compton Courthouse (14 miles away, but through seriously dangerous and questionable neighborhoods). I reiterated that I don’t have a car, I don’t know how to take public transportation, and to figure out a train or bus route from work to Compton would not only be time-consuming, but stressful. Plus, I’d have to figure out how to get from wherever the train or bus dropped me off to Compton Courthouse on foot. Someone told me I’d have to switch buslines in Watts (major gang and high crime territory). I’m unfamiliar with public transportation and with the area, so I could see myself wandering around, lost, pregnant, and getting harassed by people. While 6 months pregnant with a baby that cost me $26,000 to conceive. The supervisor told me that “downtown” doesn’t care that I’m 6 months pregnant, although he does. He asked if I could take Mr. W’s car to Compton. I’m actually not sure I’d be insured in his car, but it’s his car and I’m supposed to strand him at work while I’m off to Compton and I don’t even know when I’d be able to leave to go home? They couldn’t ask me to do that if I’d carpooled with a coworker, so this should be no different. I told him I’d have to call Mr. W and check with him on that.

Mr. W was, of course, not happy with this situation. He didn’t want me wandering around Compton by myself, period. It’d be different if I weren’t pregnant and had my own car. As it is, driving is difficult for me because any abdominal pressure, such as that by a seat belt, causes Allison to repeatedly hit and push against the pressure. It’s very distracting and it’s okay if I’m driving locally for 15 minutes, but it’d be a serious issue driving an hour to work in crazy stop and go traffic, then half an hour or more depending on traffic to Compton while trying to figure out where I am and where to turn.

My supervisor called me back to check status at around 8:20. As courtrooms don’t even unlock their doors until 9am, t’s still early enough at this time to rearrange floating employees, which is often done in order to make the best employee fits depending on what any person is able to do. They had already made a change this morning; another dark court clerk was supposed to be in Department W, but because a family law clerk called in sick, they pulled that dark court clerk from W and put her in family law, then put another dark court clerk into Department W. A floater clerk was in another department where the regular clerk was on vacation. I asked twice if the supervisor can make rearrangements in assignments, since none of the other 3 clerks are pregnant, and all of them have their own cars available to them. He said he didn’t have any other options. I called Mr. W back and told him this, and could not stop the flow of tears. I thought it was so messed up that they’re favoring the other clerks who were ABLE to float out, but making me take a health risk when I was both pregnant and didn’t have a car. Very quickly, that supervisor called back. It was pretty audible by my voice that I was very upset and tearful at this point. He said that if I were his wife, he wouldn’t be comfortable with me going out to Compton, either, and that if I was having physical stress symptoms, that I have an option of taking sick time for today and he would then tell downtown that I’m going home sick and is unavailable to go to Compton. But then, I would have to bring in a doctor’s note. I told him I’m taking that option and spent the morning on the phone trying to get an appointment with local Kaiser hospitals to see me.

This is already pretty lame, considering I’m unable to leave to go home sick as I still don’t have transportation, so I’m stranded at work anyway. No local Kaisers had any openings today, and coworkers only had the lunch hour to give me a ride to any Kaiser anyway and turns out Kaisers don’t take appointments at lunchtime. The Kaiser appointment lady, who was very sympathetic, suggested I ask my regular OB (45 miles away from work so not commutable at lunchtime) to fax me a work restriction letter, excusing me from work today and from high-stress floating. She sent an internal email to have my OB or his nursing staff contact me ASAP. I was contacted around 10am by my OB’s nurse, who said that the doctor wouldn’t be in until 1:30pm today but that it was unlikely he would write me any such note to restrict my work due to the pregnancy, because there was no physical reason why I couldn’t take public transportation. She said lots of people in the country take public transportation to work regularly. (Okay, but they do this regularly by choice, not because they were unexpectedly told, morning of, to figure out a way to get to a different and unfamiliar location in a dangerous area while pregnant. And I’d also have to figure out how to get home from Compton after dark. Good gawd.) But she said she would talk to the doctor about my request when he got in, given how stressed I am about the situation. She said something about “fraud” if he were to claim I couldn’t do something I can. Let me note here that I also wouldn’t eat or drink the entire day when I’m floated out on public transportation, as Compton Court doesn’t have a cafeteria and I couldn’t go out wandering the streets looking for places to eat. Not good for pregnancy.

Here’s where friends make work worthwhile: Coworker Sandy, who had the week off on vacation, saw my distressed cry on the social networking site and wrote me an email. She said she’d be in the courthouse area for a doctor’s appointment at 1:30p, and offered to swing by the courthouse to pick me up and take me home after her appointment. I accepted gratefully, and now that I know I can get home a little early, I made an appointment with my primary care physician (not my OB) for 4:40p. I couldn’t believe he happened to have a same-day opening. Things were looking up! I was going to get my doctor’s note after all.

Coworker Sandy’s medical appointment ran later than she’d expected and she picked me up outside the courthouse with her husband at 3:15p. I was at work for 7.5 hours already when I was officially out “sick,” having to burn 8 hours of sick time, but I was so grateful to be able to leave finally. Given the time and the bad traffic, we all decided it’d be better for them to take me to the doctor’s appointment directly, then Mr. W can just meet me there and pick me up and go home on his way home from work. On our way, my regular OB’s office called me, and this time a different nurse spoke to me. She said the doctor wants to make sure I have a medical reason, and not a transportation reason, to give me work restrictions. I didn’t have to make up a thing; this IS considered a high-risk pregnancy by definition as I will be over age 35 at the due date, and I HAVE been having round ligament pains for 2 months now (they asked), it IS uncomfortable for me to sit in a car for extended periods of time, and I DO have difficulty driving so I DO have someone drive me to/from work daily. The letter restricting my driving to 10 miles/day and prohibiting long transport periods, such as would be required with public transportation, was prepared to apply immediately until late November, the duration of my pregnancy. It would be in an envelope waiting for me at the reception desk of my OB’s Kaiser hospital (nearer to but past home) which would be open until 5:30p, nurse said to pick it up anytime before then. Whew!

I was soon dropped off at the Kaiser halfway between work and home, where my appointment was this evening, then Coworker Sandy and her hubby went on their way home. I walked in, checked in with the receptionist, who informed me I’m in the wrong building. Okay, point me to the right building, and I’ll walk there. “No no, you’re in an entirely different facility,” she explained. “Your 4:40 appointment today is in [a whole different city farther south].” OH, CRAP. “You can still get there in time,” the receptionists said, looking at the clock reading 4:10.

I got on my cell phone and called Coworker Sandy. “I messed up!” I explained, she laughed, told her husband to turn around for me, and said they’d only made it one light down. Soon they picked me up where they’d dropped me off 5 minutes prior. I called Mr. W from the car to tell him the hospital I’d told him earlier to pick me up at is the wrong one, and to meet me at the correct one. He confirmed the correct one, then gave some cross-streets, which I passed on to Coworker Sandy and her hubby. The two of them said they were familiar with that Kaiser and would take me there. The freeway was horribly, horribly congested, and they passed the exit I’d expected them to get off on. I asked what exit they were going to, and they both gave the name of one of the cross-streets that Mr. W gave. I’m not very good with directions, so I let them go where they appeared to know to go. Exiting at that street took an extra 15 minutes through sluggish traffic, and when we got off, her husband said, “This doesn’t look right.”

Turned out, hubby got two street names confused because both street names started with the letter “A.” The one he gave them as the intersection of the hospital made us overshoot by 6.5 miles, which isn’t a big deal except that it took 10-15 extra minutes each way, making me now late for the appointment. I tried to call the hospital to tell them to keep my appointment, I was running late, but couldn’t get a number for that facility directly. Instead of being 15 minutes early as I was told to be, I was 10 minutes late when I ran in there, and hoped for the best. There was a check-in line at reception (first time ever in my experience at that facility), so I did a self-check-in at a kiosk. I wasn’t sure I did it right, but I was distracted anyway as Mr. W called me and turned out, I think he’d beaten me there, because he was right behind me. We took off to the appointment waiting area and I was very shortly called in.

The nurse there was very sympathetic and kind of horrified at what happened at work, and told me that the next time this happens, I should call her team and they will figure out a way to problem-solve for me. I thanked her. She took my blood pressure and said she was surprised it was within normal ranges. I explained that the numbers she was looking at, 122/76, was high for me because most of the time both numbers were close to/under 100. My primary care doc was great as always, and immediately proceeded to write me a work restriction letter after I explained what happened today, and what its effect on me was. (He diagnosed me with acute stress reaction, and said I appear to have had an anxiety attack in the morning. At the peak of my stress this morning, Allie uncharacteristically went crazy in my stomach at a time when she would normally be still; dr said this is not unusual given the stress hormones I was producing.) His letter didn’t deal with my pregnancy as much as my stress reaction, although it also indicated that I am a high-risk pregnancy patient. It orders “Modified Activity” to apply to both work and home for a month:

Patient is 6 months pregnant. No driving or public transportation. If patient needs to be floated to another work place, please provide her with other means of transportation.
If modified activity is not accommodated by the employer then this patient is considered temporarily and totally disabled from their regular work for the designated time and a separate off work order is not required.

So, if my supervisors ignore the letter and force me to float without providing transportation, I can immediately be off for whatever’s left of the month on full disability, which means they have to pay full salary and not dock my sick time. Awesome. Now I have a general note to cover the duration of pregnancy, and a very specific note to cover the next month we’re dark. By the way, I talked to another dark court clerk who 3 times in the past 2 weeks immediately put in a sick time off slip in lieu of being floated out of the building, and she said the supervisors never required her to bring in a doctor’s note. The rule is that a doctor’s note may be required for 3 consecutive days of sick time off, but is not required for one day. People call in for 1 day all the time, doesn’t mean they’re going to a doctor. So I think that’s another point of unfairness, although I jumped thru that hoop anyway cuz they made me.

Since my doctor very efficiently got me in an out, Mr. W thought we could make it to the other Kaiser to pick up my letter. It was 5:10, and we had 20 minutes. There were some slow people in traffic that Mr. W drove like mad to get around, and I ended up running up the door to that Kaiser at exactly 5:30. The automatic doors wouldn’t open, and they had closed either precisely on time, or a few minutes early. I was still in rush-rush mode and stressed, and was nauseated by that point and my head was hammering. Mr. W patted my knee and took me to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. I told him I still want to take tomorrow off on stress, especially since I already have a doctor’s note, so they can’t request another one. He said he would call in tomorrow to stay home with me, and go with me to pick up my OB’s letter, and we’ll catch a movie in the area afterwards.

Looks like I’m starting my weekend early. Looking forward to seeing college roommie Diana on Saturday. She’s in town for the weekend and we’re going to the Hollywood Bowl for a summer Philharmonic concert.

P.S. Earlier, I received an email from another coworker, who found out about what happened today. She offered to leave on a half-day tomorrow so that I would be placed in her courtroom to cover her instead of being told to float out again. It was very sweet of her, but thankfully, unnecessary. Late morning, a floater coworker who heard about what happened came by and found me, and offered to go to Compton in my place because he felt that as a floater, he should’ve been sent out first. I thanked him and told him I had already opted for burning a sick day. My coworkers are super-awesome.

Flip Flop Girl gave birth today. Congrats, Flip Flop Girl (Christi) and Wilco (Mike)! Kyden gets a baby…uh…sister? Brother? They posted photos of the baby wrapped up burrito-style, but still won’t tell us the gender! By the way, the parents themselves didn’t know until the new baby showed up, having instructed their doctors not to reveal the gender to them on ultrasound and other test results.

About 10 hours ago, when Christi was in the hospital (actually, she’s still in the hospital), she posted a question on her social networking site. “Drugs or no drugs? …that is the question.” I know that when she was in labor with Kyden, she had tried to hold off on getting the epidural as long as she could, hoping that if she stalled in getting to the hospital, etc, it’d be too late to administer the epidural so it wouldn’t be a choice she’d have to make. However, the labor ended up being so painful that she took the option for pain control once she was in the hospital. I don’t know which way she ended up going with Baby #2, but as she was laboring away, her question brought about a flurry of opinions online. 10 women (and actually, 1 man) emphatically encouraged her to get the drugs. My position is that she should do what she wants and make the decision based on her personal reasons, but that as she is aware, my decision for myself is to go without to avoid potential side effects to mom and baby. Apparently this is a hot topic and made some people unhappy with me, and argue that the possible side effects I briefly referred to (spinal fluid leaks, colicky baby, less responsive baby, lower IQ later on in life, prolonged labor, which are based on studies I’d read before I made my preliminary decision) are not conclusively proven. (I later elaborated on what I’d referred to by quoting study results, but I’ll save readers the long quotes.) One friend made a point of telling me details about her own labor experience, which sounded painful and atypical in that she had complications with her delivery, which resulted in a long labor ending up with epidural and c-section. Her logic was, would I opt for open-heart surgery without pain medication if I was told I’d recover faster afterwards? Also, is it really necessary to have super-smart Einstein children anyway, even if it were proven conclusively that epidurals do affect the baby’s future mental development? The other women’s logic in response to Christi’s question were based on things like “why suffer?”, “no need to traumatize yourself with screaming pain.” I think my friend’s situation is something separate, but the other women’s reasons are very mother’s-comfort-oriented (which is the point of administering the typical epidural, anyway.)

It sounded like from the tone of my friend, who shared her painful labor details with me to make her points, that she took offense from thinking I’m condemning mothers who get epidurals, told me not to “knock it,” and defended her son’s IQ (in that her labor is not responsible for a baby’s IQ). Another mother on Christi’s conversation thread who used an epidural also defended her toddler’s IQ by saying how many words he knows at his age.

I get where they’re coming from: they feel that someone (me) saying she doesn’t want an epidural because it can potentially negatively affect the kid’s development is the same as me saying because they used epidurals, I’m saying they are bad moms or have dumb kids, but that’s not what I’m saying at all. I said multiple times on Christi’s conversation thread that it’s each mother’s personal decision. Some women have paralyzing fear of pain and WOULD be traumatized without major pain control. Others have extreme situations, like my friend, which cause doctors to have to intervene and perform emergency surgery so that the mother and baby wouldn’t be endangered. Others have low pain tolerance, period. These people understandably get epidurals because the benefits outweigh the cost.

What I’m saying is, I’m not one of those women, unless something unforeseen happens during delivery and the doctors have to intervene (in which case I’d give them carte blanche to do whatever is necessary to save lives). I’m someone with high pain tolerance, who doesn’t take pain relievers generally, so assuming delivery is normal, I would make the choice to go without. Like I told my friend:
“I’m not knocking it. She asked for for or against, and she knows my position for my personal decision. I explained that it was a personal decision for both her and for me and that I’m not telling her to do or not to do. I’m not saying across the board there is no reason for someone to take pain meds for any given situation. Obviously your situation called for pretty severe intervention or it would’ve been impossible. Open heart surgery is not the same thing as natural childbirth where it’s an option to go natural or not. (BTW, I don’t consider your situation to be an option, it was a requirement given what was happening during your labor.)
Given a choice when an epidural is being administered simply to take away mom’s pain during labor, my decision is that given the risks involved in an epidural for both mom and for baby, I would rather take the pain to prevent the POSSIBILITY of problems. I didn’t say the studies were conclusive or that I believe every woman who uses an epidural is wrong or will have a negative outcome with her child. If someone has pain phobia or high sensitive to pain/shock/trauma, obviously it would be better to have an epidural. I am not one of those people. I choose to suck it up in order to give even a smidgeon of extra possibility of advantage to this child. To me, all the comments of “why suffer?” do not hold a candle to anything I can do for the benefit of this child. I will suffer, I will sacrifice, I will go natural, I will get over it. That isn’t important to me. This doesn’t mean it isn’t important to other women who do NOT want to feel pain if anyone can help it, or women in your situation who have complications and need intervention. But like I said repeatedly, it is a personal decision, it was yours, it is Christi’s, and it is mine.”

Stats show more than 50% of laboring women opt for epidurals. Where are the other 50%? There was ONE woman on Christi’s conversation string who opted to go without an epidural. She said she liked being able to get up right away afterwards (epidurals numb the bottom half so that walking afterwards isn’t going to happen) and liked that she didn’t need an IV, but that others told her that it was worth it to them to sacrifice those things just to avoid labor pain. I don’t disagree with any of them on their decisions; it was their decision for their delivery style. But it’s not my decision. I don’t know why it seems that women who use drugs seem to want (pretty badly based on other responses to Christi’s question) other women to use drugs, but those who don’t really don’t care despite having their own reasons for their choice.

Besides, if a doctor could guarantee me that my child’s health would magically benefit if I got open-heart surgery without meds, I would seriously consider doing just that.

Something new I read in re-researching this today, some other study found a correlation between epidural use and that child’s future (teen/adult) addiction to drugs. I tried to find this study to be more accurate in saying what kind of drug addiction, etc, but couldn’t find the study, so for now I’ll disregard it. Another new thing: studies seem to point to correlation between epidurals and hyperactivity in kids for up to the first 7 years of their lives. This is the stuff that scares me, altho I realize that website isn’t exactly impartial.

Mr. W expressed a concern last week that I was “gaining too much weight too fast,” which put me in a paranoid tizzy. He said he based this opinion on the fact that pregnancy weight gain guidelines tell new mothers to expect a one pound per week weight gain toward the latter part of pregnancy. My usual weigh-in is morning just after I use the restroom, and based on that, I’d put on 8.3 lbs at almost 21 weeks along. Given the 20-lb limit the OB placed on me for total pregnancy weight gain, and the fact that I have 19 or so more weeks of pregnancy to go, at this rate it looked I would blow past 20 pounds. So I was totally bummed.

At the OB appointment last Friday, I voiced this weight gain concern to my doctor. He didn’t seem particularly troubled, saying that a jump in weight gain at this point IS expected. Then he looked at the numbers on his record for me. The bizarre thing is that altho Allison was conceived on Feb 28 with my weight in the mid 120s (and all medical records around that time verified this weight), on May 3 when I had my first visit with this OB, I weighed in at 120. So of course he recorded that as my starting weight, which isn’t accurate. The appointment on Friday was in the afternoon after lunch, and I had come from work and was in full work clothes, so I weighed more than I normally did on my morning appointments, and it made it look like I weigh a few pounds heavier than I really was. So the doctor was a TAD more concerned that at 21 weeks, I appeared to have a 14-lb weight gain. =P He basically told me not to diet or lose weight, but to get some exercise in daily, and to not eat out much, to avoid juices and sugars, and to cut down on carbs and increase protein. He increased my total weight gain goal from 20 lbs to 25 lbs, cutting me some slack, and told me to make efforts to not gain more than 1/2 lb per week from this point on. So I was totally bummed, feeling like a failure when I left there.

Yesterday at my parents’ house, my mom, totally uncharacteristically, made mention of her opinion that I appear to not have put any extra weight on my person, that only my stomach got big where the baby is. Mr. W pointed out that the doctor said I gained 14 lbs. Mom reiterated that none of the weight gain was on me, she said she could tell. She’s usually the first to point out when I gained a couple of pounds, so I hope she’s not just being nice for nothing now. Meanwhile, I’ll work on diet and be more stringent with cutting carbs and stuff, and try to get more exercise in. I was able to take a brisk hilly 3 mile walk over the weekend without panting myself silly, so this must mean my extra blood supply has finally kicked in. I was getting tired of the breathlessness I’d get from even short spurts of minimal physical activity, like climbing a flight of stairs.

P.S. In good news from the OB visit, my 2nd trimester screen test results are in, so compiled with the data from the first screen, my odds of having a Down Syndrome baby went from 1 in 400 to 1 in 10,000. Everything else came out within normal or good ranges, too.

My prenatal gym trainer asked me yesterday how many times I’d worked out since I’d seen him last week. I drew a blank, then realized it was because aside from a day of pilates, I hadn’t worked out. My week has been filled with a variety of doctors and patients instead.

First, a vet: Dodo’s been scratching and pawing at his ears, and altho I Q-tip it to clean it out, the tips come out purplish-brown each time and he’s been shaking his head anytime I graze his ear. So I decided I need medication. Yup, two ear infections, bacterial and a touch of yeast. I was given (or rather, allowed to purchase at high cost) ear drops and was instructed to administer drops in his ears twice a day for two weeks. Meanwhile, the vet flushed out Dodo’s ears really well. Dodo did not appreciate that and sulked in his cat condo when he got home:

Next, an urgent care visit: Mr. W started having a lower back pain last Wednesday, and he had an accupuncture appointment Thursday, so he told the accupuncturist about his complaint. She supposedly treated him for that with needles in his knee and somewhere else I can’t recall. She not only didn’t cure it, but it got WAY worse. By Friday he had overall body discomfort, his skin and scalp hurt, he had a headache, and a fever started. All of that was secondary to the increased back pain that became so aggravated he couldn’t stand or sit or lean by Sunday, AND he was having difficulty urinating. Unable to sleep the past nights from pain, fever and discomfort, he finally agreed to go to Urgent Care on Sunday. Given the symptoms and confirmed fever, the doctor took a urine sample to check for a urinary tract/bladder infection, which came out negative. The doctor also ordered a urine culture anyway, to see if bacteria or flora or something would grow so they could figure out what the infection is. In the meantime, Mr. W was prescribed a 2-week course of Cipro antibiotics to kill whatever may be causing the symptoms, as the culture wouldn’t be done for a few days, and was instructed to call his regular doctor on Wednesday (today) if he doesn’t feel better. When we went to the lab, turned out the doctor had also ordered a urine sample to test for the STD chlamydia (which probably wasn’t mentioned in front of me so as to not breach patient confidentiality, and who expects an honest answer if a doctor asked a patient in front of the patient’s wife, “Have you had extramarital sex in the past few months?”). Since the appointment on Sunday, Mr. W’s discomfort and back pain did not alleviate, he continued to not sleep well, not pee well, and his fever raged on. He’d take a few Tylenols to bring the fever down, and it’d work, then the Tylenol would wear off and immediately his temperature would shoot up again. My mom and prenatal gym trainer both suspect kidney stones. (This is a primary reason I gave up drinking sodas years ago, among some other health reasons.) He took both Monday and Tuesday off work, althought he’s back at work today. I wanted him to see his regular doctor today, but he’s being stubborn and he *thinks* his fever broke and he’s feeling less agony. I’ll see if I could convince him to make an appointment for this evening.

My first OB visit: Now for some better doctor visits. I had my first OB visit with Kaiser yesterday. The doctor was very nice and Mr. W liked him a lot. He studied my blood test results, ordered some other routine tests, and did a vaginal ultrasound and physical checkup. Turns out I’m too early in the pregnancy for the anemia to be of the baby’s doing, so I AM anemic. He encouraged me to supplement my prenatals with iron, so I’m back to my vegetarian liquid supplement Floradix (which I LOVE). I lost some weight so I’m actually a pound less now than pre-pregnancy which I was concerned about, but the OB wasn’t concerned. He said I’m healthy and way ahead of his other patients, with whom he has to spend hours explaining proper nutrition, as the trend of pregnancy problems in the OC is overeating, not undereating. The nutritional needs of the baby right now are minimal.
So now the fun stuff: ultrasound. At my angle laying down I couldn’t see the screen in detail, but I did see that the baby was now filling up the previous black void in the uterus. And then this conversation:
OB: This kid is going to TOWN!
Me: What do you mean?
OB: It’s moving around so much that I can’t get a still picture to take a measurement.
[Seeing a profile, then a back, then a butt, then feet. Then a head, a heartbeat, then feet. Then profile, then back, then hands.]
Me: I thought that was YOU doing that, moving the ultrasound around!
OB: No, it’s the kid. Watch. [Holding the ultrasound still. Seeing the front, then the profile, then the back, then feet.]
Me: Does this mean it’s gonna be a kicky kid?
OB: Well, it certainly has that possibility.
Me: Can you tell where the placenta is attached?
OB: It’s hard to tell that right now, but it seems to be anterior…but let me get this measurement first, it’s important.
[Mr. W takes out his phone and starts filming the screen, getting the following footage after the kid stopped dancing quite so much.]

So the good news is, Riley’s developmentally right on schedule, and the placenta does not seem to be over the cervix, which is how it looked in the last ultrasound video. And, he’s sure alive. I thought it was adorable he was all happy and playing in there (which I can’t feel), but Mr. W in his sickly stupor put a damper on it. “I don’t think it’s a good thing that he’s rolling around so much. There’s still a lot of room in there for him to move around, what if he wraps himself up and gets tangled in the umbilical cord?” WAAAAH!!! Well, the doctor didn’t seem concerned. :/

I (and Pilates) didn’t kill the kid! This is a video from my Wednesday morning appointment. The doctor is taking a measurement of the baby (and my uterine cavity, and each ovary, but that’s not on the video. You’re welcome.). Mr. W shot the video on his phone, and if you can look past the beginning when his hands are shaking, you can make out the baby’s rapid heartbeat in the middle of his chest. It looks like a flashing.

This marks my last appointment with the fertility clinic (which staff has been SO GREAT). I donated the 2 vials of Follistim I didn’t use so that it could save a future IVF patient $300. At 8 weeks, I’ve been told I may be transferred to my regular OB now. I made the appointments with my regular medical provider for 2 weeks away.

This week, I also had a visit with a personal trainer at the ultra nice gym, who specializes in prenatal exercise. He knew a lot and explained medically, biologically the changes that my body would be going through soon, and what that meant as far as my posture and agility changes, how that kinesiology can be supported and eased with what exercise. I’m meeting with him for three training sessions soon. Apparently, a pregnant woman can exercise from the beginning all the way to the day she delivers, if she does the right things. I learned why the doctor wanted me to drop the weights so significantly. That hormone Relaxin, that softens all the cartilage/tendons/ligaments so your body can stretch and change for pregnancy and prepare labor? It affects all the joints’ facia, too, which means if I’m careless doing heavy freeweights and not watching my range of motion, the lack of support with softened joints can cause my limbs to hyperextend, even popping out a joint (YEOWCH). So yes, nothing that’s jerky, twisty, fighting gravity too much. Machine weights are a good alternative. He also advised me to keep my exercise heart rate below 140-145. That was a little difficult, as I’m out of breath more easily now and my resting heart rate is 5 bpm faster than it was pre-pregnancy. But keeping the heart rate lower, he explained, is key to preventing overheating the baby during exercise. I guess I’m sticking to easy cardio, such as the elliptical trainer, from now on.

Mr. W has been receiving a newsletter from whattoexpect.com every few days (*nudging Flip Flop Girl*) with advice that tracks exactly where I am in this pregnancy. He’s been calling me to his emails to read them, altho I’d hoped he’d read them himself and fill me in on the pertinent stuff. He does look at the occasional newsletter if the headline interests him, but mostly, they’re saved for me to delve into. A newsletter I read just a moment ago talked about fatigue I’m likely going through now, how normal that is given all the extra stuff the body is doing, and how to combat this fatigue. I haven’t been fatigued; in fact, I still had insomnia the past few nights. I had no issue walking a brisk 3 miles at lunchtime today, and despite the slightly more labored breathing and raised heartbeats I’d already described, working out this week hasn’t knocked me out. In fact, my morning sickness is now barely noticeable. I read on to see their fatigue cures. Don’t reach for the caffeinated frappuccinos, candy bars, or energy drinks, the article warns. They cause a crash and are very unhealthy for both mom and baby. Instead, bring up nutrition by eating these proteins (e.g. cheese, poultry, tofu and soy products, legumes, quinoa, nuts/seeds), these complex carbs (e.g. fresh fruits, dried fruits, fresh veggies, whole-grain breads/crackers/cereals, baked potatoes), and these iron-rich foods (e.g. spinach, dried fruit, soy products). These are things I’m eating now, anyway! I bring a bag of wholesome carbs and nuts/trail mix, 3 varieties of fruit, and a stick of string cheese or yogurt to work with me and graze throughout the day. I had a craving for a baked potato last weekend, and Mr. W indulged me by taking me to Claim Jumper and ordering a rack of baby back ribs (for him; I still have my meat aversion) and selecting the baked potato as his side (given to me, of course). A similar article from the same newsletter teaches moms-to-be to combat cravings by substituting unhealthy cravings (such as for candy bars, things that give you little nutrition but a big crash afterwards) with similar healthier alternatives, which I already do, too.

I might just be one of those lucky people for whom pregnancy is manageable in the first trimester, when a lot of people suffer from the crazy hormonal fluxes. I am certainly appreciative of not having to experience morning sickness for another 6-8 weeks until I reach the second trimester. But couldn’t it be possible that my body is having an easier time because it doesn’t have to try every trick in the book to get me to eat the nutrition it and the growing baby needs? I keep comparing the pregnancy experiences of a particular acquaintance — miserable, cranky, and huge as early as 3-4 months — with those of my friends who are nutrition- and exercise-savvy. The latter friends had all enjoyed their pregnancies and despite having had down-days, too, had overall uneventful and unproblematic pregancies and deliveries. I hope to join their ranks. But if I don’t, you guys will know.

I know women who didn’t exercise during their pregnancy because they don’t normally exercise, period. Then there are women who exercised through their pregnancies; these second category of women had an easier time during their pregnancies and labor. Plus, the first category of women that I know bitched through their pregnancies and the second category seemed well-adjusted, excited, happy. When the doctor put me on a no-exercise restriction from before my egg retrieval (late February) through the time they saw a normal heartbeat on ultrasound (last week), nearly 5 weeks had passed and it felt like 4 months. I didn’t gain any weight, maintaining steady at about 121 lbs, but I felt like my muscles were atrophying, I was starting to feel crabby and sluggish, and I was going to fall off the workout wagon and have a hard time getting back on again. I WANTED to be exercise-minded, and here’s why:

Get On Up: 33 Reasons to Exercise Now
February/March 2011 issue of FitPregnancy magazine, a gift from the hubby. I’ve italicized the ones most convincing to me.

1.) You’re likely to gain less weight. Research shows you might put on 7 pounds less than pregnant women who don’t work out, while still staying within the healthy weight-gain range.
2.) Labor and delivery may be easier. No guarantees, of course, but strong abs and a fit cardiovascular system can give you more oomph and stamina for the pushing stage. One study found that prenatal water aerobics regulars were 58% less likely to request pain medication during labor than non-exercisers.
3.) You lower your gestational diabetes risk by as much as 27%. High blood sugar during pregnancy puts you at extremely high risk for developing type II diabetes in the decade after delivering and raises the odds of preterm delivery or having an overweight baby. If you do develop it — and many fit women do because genetics and age play a significant role — exercise may help prevent or delay your need for insulin or other medications.
4.) You get that “prenatal-spin-class high.” Active moms-to-be report better moods than their sedentary peers, both immediately following a workout and in general throughout their pregnancies.
5.) You’re less likely to cry, “Oh, my aching back.” Some 2/3s of pregnant women experience back pain, but water workouts, yoga and pelvic tilts can offer relief. Exercise during the second half of pregnancy seems to be especially helpful.
6.) You’re less likely to get constipated. Pregnant women’s intestinal tracts often get backed up due to high progesterone levels and a growing uterus, but exercise, along with a high-fiber diet, keeps your digestive system humming.
7.) You have more energy. On days when lifting your remote control seems like a tall order, even a 10-minute walk can revive you.
8.) Odds are, you’ll deliver a svelter baby. Babies born with excess fat are significantly more likely to become overweight kindergarteners, and overweight newborns of moms with gestational diabetes are more prone to develop diabetes later in life.
9.) You can enjoy the greatest flexibility of your life. Relaxin, a pregnancy hormone that loosens your pelvic joints in preparation for delivery, also relaxes the rest of your joints. With careful stretches, like those done in prenatal yoga workouts, you can capitalize on this window of opportunity.
10.) You’re more likely to avoid a forceps delivery, C-section or other intervention. Regular exercisers are 75% less likely to need a forceps delivery, 55% less likely to have an episiotomy and up to 4 times less likely to have a Cesarean section, research has found.
11.) You’re likely to be fitter in middle age. In a study that followed women for 20 years after delivery, those who’d exercised throughout pregnancy could run two miles 2.5 minutes faster than those who’d taken a workout break while pregnant. The continuous exercisers were also working out a lot more.
12.) You’ll get positive attention. Everyone smiles when they see a pregnant woman on a power walk. No one is more popular at the gym than the pregnant woman on the biceps machine!
13.) You feel less like a beached whale and more like a hot mama. Women who exercise throughout pregnancy have a better body image than those who sit out the 9 months.
14.) Your labor may be shorter. A landmark study found that among well-conditioned women who delivered vaginally, those who had continued training throughout their pregnancy experienced active labor for 4 hours and 24 minutes compared with 6 hours and 22 minutes for those who’d quit training early on. Two hours less of hard labor is nothing to sneer at!
15.) You learn to chill out. With its emphasis on breathing, meditation and joyful movement, prenatal yoga helps stressed-out moms-to-be stay calm. Plus, a regular prenatal yoga practice can teach you to relax rather than tense up when you feel discomfort, a helpful skill during labor.
16.) If you work out in water, you enjoy a wonderful sense of weightlessness. For some women, swimming or water aerobics may provide their only relief from painful foot and ankle swelling.
17.) You’ll likely experience less leg swelling. Your body retains more fluid during pregnancy, and your growing uterus puts pressure on your veins, impairing the return of blood to your heart. Exercise can limit swelling by improving blood flow.
18.) You may be less prone to morning sickness. Though nausea stops many women from exercising, many moms-to-be report that they feel less queasy after a workout or that the exercise takes their minds off the nausea for a short time.
19.) You may boost your child’s athletic potential. One study found that 20-year-olds who were exposed to exercise in utero performed better at sports than same-age peers whose mothers did not exercise during pregnancy.
20.) You’ll bounce back faster during delivery. Compared with new moms who were inactive during pregnancy, those who exercised are more likely to socialize and enjoy hobbies and entertainment post-baby. They just seem to cope better with the demands of new motherhood.
21.) You’re likely to be healthier and leaner when your kids head off to college. Twenty years later, fit women who’d exercised throughout their pregnancy had gained 7.5 pounds, compared with 22 pounds for women who had taken a break when pregnant and resumed exercising afterward. The continuous exercisers also had lower cholesterol levels and resting heart rates.
22.) The sense of accomplishment and confidence spills over to the rest of your life. Finishing a prenatal power walk makes you feel like you can conquer the world!
23.) Your child may have a healthier heart. The developing babies of prenatal exercisers have more efficient hearts than those of non-exercisers, and this higher cardio fitness level seems to last into the childhood years.
24.) If you smoke, exercise may help you kick the habit. In a small study, pregnant smokers reported that exercise gave them confidence to quit, decreased their cigarette cravings, boosted their energy levels and “helped them feel more like a non-smoker.”
25.) You might sleep better. Some pregnant women who work out say they fall asleep faster, slumber more soundly and snooze longer than inactive moms-to-be.
26.) You’ll meet other expectant moms in a prenatal exercise class. Get their phone numbers; you may be meeting up for playdates or babysitting co-ops soon!
27.) You may be at lower risk for the #1 cause of premature birth. That’s preeclampsia, a complication that involves high blood pressure and excess protein in the urine. About 5%-8% of pregnant women develop it, and the numbers are growing.
28.) You’re more likely to avoid prenatal depression. This is especially true if you exercise outdoors because bright light has antidepressant effects. Some 12%-20% of pregnant women experience depression, which is linked to poor sleep and marital problems after delivery.
29.) You feel more in control. When your body is changing in all kinds of wacky ways and your entire life is about to be transformed in huge, unknown ways, a regular exercise routine offers consistency and the knowledge that you’re doing something great for both yourself and your baby.
30.) You look better. Exercise increases blood flow to your skin, enhancing that pregnancy glow. Plus, when you’re calmer and fitter, it shows.
31.) Your children may grow up to be smarter. Some research indicates that kids of moms who work out during pregnancy have better memories, in addition to higher scores on intelligence and language tests.
32.) You bust out of your exercise rut. Pregnancy often forces you to try something new — to swim when you used to run, to try Wii Fit Ski instead of snowboarding, to give Pilates a whirl.
33.) You keep your immune system humming. Moderate exercise such as walking lowers your risk of catching a cold by as much as half. Researchers believe the data applies to exercising moms-to-be as well.

Morning sickness set in last week. At first I wasn’t sure what it was, because it doesn’t feel like regular nausea (yet), it feels like carsickness. And a few times when I’d experienced it, I was in the car, and Mr. W drives kinda maniacally, so it’s not unusual I’d get carsick. But then I started having the same sensation when I wasn’t in the car. Namely, when I was looking at or thinking about a food that I suddenly can’t bring myself to want. Egg- and meat-aversion had set in, and when I considered those foods, I’d get that carsick feeling. I’d immediately feel better when I thought of refreshing foods I did want — carrots, celery, tofu. Then this carsickness would occur more often, when I wasn’t even thinking of food. I read in my baby book that morning sickness is strongest on an empty stomach, and the best way to quell it is with consumption of dry carbs or other starchy foods. It works; a piece of toast, a handful of Cheerios cereal, they all do wonders.

I learned just this past weekend, when I returned to the gym, that there is a progression with my morning sickness. First I’m hungry. Like, truly empty-feeling stomach growling hungry. This happens pretty often, as the hormone that says “I’m hungry” gets secreted more often and the hormone that says “I’m satisfied now” gets blocked thanks to pregnancy. If I ignore the hungry feeling, the next stage I go into is the carsickness thing. I’m truly empty-stomached and my body wants food NOW. I’ve found that if I go through a mental rolodex of foods at this time, my body will make it very clear what foods it wants and what foods it wants to puke up (not that I’ve puked yet). Occasionally I want junk food, which is impossible because bodies don’t naturally crave Cheetos, so I try to break it down and see what the body is REALLY asking for that my brain recognizes as the junk food. Typically, if it’s junk food, it’s salt and carbs. I’ll feed myself a healthy version of that — whole wheat toast with garlic spread and garlic salt, for example — and my body is happy. Apparently it’s quite common for pregnant women to crave carbs and salt (glucose for energy, salt to balance out the water retention). If I pass this point and don’t feed my body, it goes into a crazy light-headed anemic dizzy nearly fainting spell. I got there yesterday; I was at the gym with Mr. W and his son, and they usually work out for a long time. I did a 10-minute warmup on the elliptical machine, and after that I was already in the hunger stage. I had no food, so I moved on and did 7 resistance exercises mostly in superset form, with little to no break in between to get the utmost cardio benefit. I then hit the point of nausea. Mr. W and his son weren’t done yet, so I pushed through and completed my exercises, then went back for 20 minutes of cardio which, instead of cooling me down, made me pant for the entire time, and for almost 15 minutes afterwards, unable to get my breathing and heartrate back down. I was lightheaded and sick, having burned through all the glucose in my bloodstream such that now neither I nor the fetus had any left. I listened to my body and it wanted Korean soon tofu soup. Sodium, protein. Mr. W said he wanted to introduce his son to Mother’s Market’s vegetarian cafe, and altho the thought of that brought about a nausea reflex in me and I was sorely disappointed at not having what my body wanted, I went along. It was practically across the street, thankfully, and I was hoping I could go into the market section to buy a box of wheat saltines I could have immediately, and have around me in the car or at work the next time things got this bad. Mr. W said they’d have saltines at the cafe section even tho I’ve never seen them serve it, so we went straight there. Not only did they not have crackers of any sort, but the food took almost 40 minutes to arrive after we ordered, and Mr. W himself ran out to the market section and bought two boxes of random healthy-sounding crackers. He returned a minute after the food got there. Thank goodness I was able to find a tofu vegetable sandwich on grilled sourdough, it was perfect. I had a side of lemon quinoa, and I was 100% again. My body needs protein, but with a meat aversion, I was getting it from vegetarian sources — tofu, soy products, quinoa, beans. Mr. W’s son asked me, when his dad was at the grocery section, when I find out the sex of the baby. I said I thought it was around 5 months; he was disappointed it would be so long and said he could hardly wait to find out. I told him how recently, someone had asked me if his kids were okay given that I was now pregnant, and I had said that they’re excited. It’s funny how people expect a lot of competition; Daughter thought it was ridiculous that people assumed she and I compete for her dad’s attention, or that we don’t get along, or that she’d be upset about the pregnancy, too. She was pushing for this kid before *I* was onboard. I guess her newer friends have also asked her about me and asked whether I was mean to her, and she always said, “No! She’s great! We’re like best friends!”

Anywayz, after we got home, Mr. W went straight to bed (it was like 5p) and I hung out with Daughter and Beau until they left for Fellowship (yeah, they still go, but not as often). Then, still with strong cravings for Korean tofu soup, I went to wake Mr. W up at 8:30p. He said he wasn’t sleeping, just laying there, but that I was going to have to get Korean soup alone. “What?! You said after the gym that we could go there for dinner! You’re really gonna make me go all the way to Irvine alone? You suck!” He got up. We discovered a GREAT Korean restaurant called Kaya Restaurant, oddly in a plaza we’d frequented but didn’t know was there but the online reviews for the place were very good. The service was unusually good for an Asian restaurant, and their tofu soup really DOES taste better than the other chain restaurants. I was SO happy when we got home.

The day after I was cleared to exercise again was a court holiday, Cesar Chavez day. (Don’t hate me just cuz you don’t get ethnic days off.) The stepkidlet left early for class as I was in the kitchen, and I suggested kayaking at the lake when she returned that afternoon. She loved the idea, and Beau said he may join us after his workout scheduled for noon. Turned out Daughter’s last class was canceled, so she was home by noon. She didn’t think Beau would make it since his workouts are sort of a career thing as he’s a basketball person, and his workouts take practically a full workday. (He didn’t get out of the gym until 5pm, so he did miss the lake, altho he stopped by afterwards.) Daughter meanwhile had also invited one of her best girlfriends, Kylie. So basically, I was going to end up kayaking with my stepdaughter and her boyfriend and/or her best friend. When did I start being one of those parents that hang out with their teenage kids’ friends? Maybe I should invite them all to go clubbing with me with the promise that I will buy them beer. =P (I mentioned this to them at the lake, and they both thought it was really funny, until Kylie told a story where a schoolfriend’s mom really DID offer her to share a bong. Kylie told that mom uncomfortably, “No thank you, I don’t do that.” I’m not gonna be one of THOSE moms.) It turned out to be a beautiful day, 90 degrees out and sunny. We all soaked up the Vitamin D, drifting in our kayaks, dangling our toes in the water.

The day before, Mr. W and I scored free tickets from a coworker of mine to see “Wicked,” and he had texted Daughter something like, “Nyanny nyanny nyah nyah, guess where I’m going after work.” “Wicked” is one of Daughter’s favorite Broadway musicals, if not absolute favorite. So while we were at the lake, to get him back, I had Daughter take a photo of me in my kayak. I sent that photo to Mr. W via text along with the message “nyanny nyanny, look where I’m at!” Mr. W was meanwhile at mandatory training in downtown Los Angeles, 50+ miles from home. He wrote back, “You suck. Who are you with?” I guess it was pretty obvious I wasn’t alone, cuz you can see both my hands in the photo on my kayak. Right on cue, Daughter then sent him this photo:

We (those of us on the lake and not at work) got a good laugh. And okay, I admit, there is ONE advantage to the iPhone: front-facing cameras so you can see what you’re taking a photo of, and be sure to get in the frame.

After an hour kayaking, we all decided the perfect way to end our day of leisure is to go to Coldstones for ice cream. I almost bought an entire cookie dough ice cream cake, thanks to college roommie Diana, who DID end up buying an entire Coldstone ice cream cake to enjoy over the course of a few days with her new hubby. But Daughter (thankfully) talked me out of it. She said I should just get a small thing because she knows I don’t normally eat ice cream, and I’m just having cravings, and the moment I get some ice cream in me, I’m gonna be over it. So to not go overboard. I was SO GLAD she had some sense that I didn’t have at the time (I must’ve been out of my mind with heat exhaustion and a blood sugar low), because I took her advice and she was right. Halfway into my small-size mint ice cream with waffle cone mix-in, I was sure I was about done. I’m so glad I didn’t have to figure out how to store an 8″ ice cream cake in the freezer that I’m gonna feel guilty about for the next month.

I had no idea what to wear that Saturday morning. What does one wear when one meets his/her child for the first time? I suppose the impression you want to give of your identity would play a factor. If I dressed business-casual, does that make people think I’m professional and responsible? Maybe a little cold and unmotherly. If I dressed athletically, do I appear sloppy? I didn’t think I wanted to wear anything trendy, or anything remotely uncomfortable or restrictive. So I opted for a loose red hooded tunic (sort of my signature color now) and black cotton drawstring yoga pants. It’s sort of a homemaker, casual look. Maybe something that says “I’m ready to roll up my sleeves, jump into the midst of the action with both feet, and be mom.” Plus it’s roomy for optimal comfort.

The lobby at the Redondo Beach branch, the place my kids have called home for the past 5 days, was empty when we walked in before 11am. I was eventually called into the back into the same room I was in the last time I saw my doctor. He had agreed to come back for this procedure, but was coming from his office in Beverly Hills. A nurse walked me through some consent forms, then handed me a Valium pill. “I didn’t take this when I did the trial transfer,” I said. I don’t like being drugged up.
“No, you wouldn’t have. This is to relax you, and it also relaxes your muscles. Since your uterus is a large muscle, this will keep it from cramping while we’re doing the transfer.” Oh, it’s for the kid. Okay, then. I popped the pill and swigged the water. Then I changed into the provided gown and when I reopened the door to let the nurse know I was changed, I felt the panning delay of my eyes, like I was getting a little loopy.
“I can feel it working already,” I said. She looked surprised, as it had only been about 5 minutes. I explained it’d been hours since breakfast (I probably slept 2 hours the night before, and it was an odd insomnia as I was not nervous, I just wasn’t sleepy) so the medication hit me fast. She told me to climb into bed and that she’d check on my doctor to see where he was. Turned out he was just leaving the other office. He arrived only 15 minutes later than the planned time (although the nurses and embryologists jokingly gave him a hard time about it), which meant it had been about half an hour since I took Valium, but it had worn off. I wasn’t dizzy or spacy or anything anymore. That’s some powerful liver I’ve got there. I tried my best to relax my muscles on my own as the doctor played classical music, inserted the cold speculum (“Just a warning, this is going to feel cold,” he said. The nurses all said, “Well, it was WARM when we set her up but it’s cold NOW by the time you got here,” haha) and cleaned what he needed to inside with some cotton swabs. Meanwhile, the embryologist came in from another door wheeling a big clear box that looked about the size of a large treasure chest on legs. I knew what was inside was more valuable to me than any pirate’s booty.
“Is that the embryo?” I asked.
“Yup,” she said. She looked inside the box through a microscope attached to the side wall of the clear box. “Wanna see it?” she asked Mr. W. Of course he wanted to see it!
“That’s a really good-looking embryo we’re putting in you,” the doctor said as Mr. W looked.
I joked, “Oh, I’m sure you say that about all your blastocysts.” Mr. W later told me it looks much like the photo they had taken for us, but less clear. Here’s the photo attached to a report that the nice embryologist had shown me before the doctor got there:

Oh, speaking of this report, the embryologist had also told me that they would be freezing 3 embryos that day; 2 top-notch quality blastocysts (“A”s), 1 mediocre blastocyst (“C”). The C blastocyst has rather thin walls, so it’s likely it would not survive the freezing and thawing process. There are 2 more embryos they’re watching that are growing slowly, and the embryologist is going to give them more time to see if they grow into blastocysts. If they do, they will be frozen with the other ones. So with 1 embryo going in, 3 frozen, 2 being watched, that leaves 5 more that are not accounted for. I assumed those 5 did not survive the 5-day waiting period.
The doctor very, very carefully, using a surface ultrasound on my stomach controlled by a nurse to guide his movements (all my ultrasounds had been vaginal before this point) threaded a thin tube called a catheter through my cervix into my uterus. I didn’t feel a thing, but only knew what he was doing because he explained every step to me as he was performing it. He looked at the ultrasound screen and referenced a white line in the middle of a tight C-shaped dark mass, saying “That’s me.” The catheter. I could SORT OF make out what he called “the white line” but only because he insisted it was there; if I were looking at the screen without direction, it would’ve all just been various shades of gray fading into other shades of gray to me. Mr. W seemed to see better, since he was sitting closer to the screen. The doctor described his actions, how he was going to bring the catheter in a little farther, and said that there was a little polyp he had to go around to get in.
That dropped my jaw. “But they said there were no more polyps, that they were all gone!” He didn’t seem concerned and said it was fine, he just went around it, that’s all. So I guess my body just makes and then gets rid of polyps between cycles? At least the polyps had disappeared in time for me to catch this cycle, even if one came back later. =/ The embryologist then brought the embryo to the doctor. I didn’t see how it was administered, but the doctor told me to expect to see a small white flash at the end of the line, and that would be the embryo in some fluid going into my uterus. I COMPLETELY missed it. I was looking, I just didn’t see anything. But somewhere in there, it hit me the magnitude of what we’re doing and emotions suddenly rose to the surface and choked me. I didn’t make a sound, but I saw the convulsion on my uterus in the ultrasound. I forced myself to calm down and it did not happen again. After the doctor withdrew something, he kept the speculum in me, backed off a bit, and the embryologist quickly rushed back to the big clear box and looked through the microscope again.
“She’s checking to make sure that the embryo’s not still in there,” he explained. In a few percentage of cases, the embryo for whatever reason did not get released with the fluid, and is still stuck in the instrument. Soon, she gave the all-clear. “Okay, the embryo’s not there, which means it’s in YOU,” the doctor said with a smile. He carefully pulled out the speculum and lowered the bed.

They wheeled me to the recovery area where less than a week ago I listened to another patient throw up. The nurse told me to prop my knees up, and tucked me in under the warmed-up blankets. I was directed to lay there for half an hour before they released me. I was kind of surprised they just squirt the embryo in there and it somehow magically sticks. Too bad no one’s come up with some sort of dissolving tape. They can put the embryo up against my uterine wall, slap some tape over it, and let the tape melt away in a week. I guess nature’s more efficient. So as the embryo presumably burrowed itself into all its surrounding nourishment, Mr. W leaned against the railing of the hospital bed I was laying on and looked at me adoringly. We just chatted until the nurse came by and asked me if I had to use the restroom yet. I sure did; in order for the abdominal ultrasound to work well, I had to drink 16oz of water an hour before the procedure and hold it. That fluid was ready to come out now. After I returned to the bed and my doctor popped his head and the arm in the curtain to squeeze my toes “for luck” and to tell me to rest up for the next 48 hours while forbidding me to exercise until they see a heartbeat, I was soon discharged.

I started my bedrest downstairs in front of the TV in the living room. That soon hurt my back. In the evening, I was shooed upstairs for my nighttime Progesterone shot. Luckily, it was a relatively uneventful shot, unlike the night before when Mr. W said “Hmm” after he withdrew the needle. “What?” I’d asked. He said there was blood in the syringe, but he hadn’t noticed blood when he drew back after first stabbing me to check for blood. “Maybe it’s too dark in here, and I’m not wearing my glasses,” he’d said. I demanded to see the syringe. Soon I took a picture of of it and sent it to Bat for a nurse’s opinion.

Bat seemed initially confused that there was blood in the syringe AFTER the injection, but then said if Mr. W truly hit a vein and accidentally gave the shot intravenously, first of all it’d be a miracle, and second, we’d see a lot more blood than that. So I felt a teeny bit better. He said likely we just went through a couple of little capillaries on the way in and out. =P

I bed-rested for a FULL 48 hours. I was bored, I watched way too much wedding-related shows on TLC, and texted photos of my constant companion, Dodo, to people who probably had better things to do, like work.

Mr. W had planned to work out for 4-5 hours on Sunday, the day after the embryo transfer, but after seeing that I’m literally put on “strict bedrest,” meaning NO getting up at all except to use the restroom, he decided to stay home. He stayed downstairs and played computer games, played on his iPad, read outside while sunning in the backyard, but popped in anytime I texted him. I tried to keep the requests to a minimum. I felt guilty being waited on. I texted for water and an orange, asked for vitamins once, and he brought me my meals on trays and ate next to me on the bed before he brought everything back down and disappeared to his own devices again. He’d reappear for shots, and when I texted about how I watched the entire day start, peak, and wane right outside my window and I felt like I’d never even started my day. He slept in the spare room the last 3 nights to allow me to sleep sideways on the bed with the TV on. I guess when I laid like that, there was only room for me and this guy:

If you’re over 6 feet tall, you’re outa luck on this bed. I also joked about wanting a bell.
Somewhere in there, the lab called. An embryologist I was speaking with for the first time explained the following:
18 eggs extracted
12 were mature and fertilized
11 became embryos
4 embryos became blastocysts
3 were “A” quality, 1 was “C” quality
1 “A” was implanted, 2 remaining “A”s and the remaining “C” was frozen on Saturday
The remaining embryos had stopped growing and the cells had stopped dividing, despite the extra day in the lab they gave them to see what would happen. She asked for my permission to dispose of those non-blast embryos; I said of course. And then I asked her: If out of 18 eggs, and 11 embryos, only 4 survived to become blastocysts, that’s only a 22% survival rate. Does this ratio apply/transfer to my eggs if I were going through natural pregnancy? If I released 18 eggs, would only 4 get to this point, meaning chances are it’d take me up to 4-5 months of “trying” before I get pregnant? She said this was not a clear ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, because there are so many factors that went into this; there was all the artificial meddling I’d done to my hormone levels, there’s the fact that ICSI was performed and not natural sperm selection (I guess ICSI is a delicate operation), and, as Mr. W pointed out, the quality of his sperm may have had a lot to do with the fact that some of my embryos met with early cessation. And maybe if these embryos were conceived inside my body, the conditions would’ve been more conducive to their continued growth. There are too many variables to know for sure. “But we put a really pretty blastocyst in you yesterday, so hopefully everything will turn out great,” she said comfortingly. “Good luck!” That’s the second medical professional who has praised the attractiveness of this embryo. Hope it doesn’t get to Riley’s head.

I moved so gingerly after the transfer. Although “bedrest” means I can lay on my side, front, back, however I want as long as I’m horizontal (thank goodness or I would’ve lost my mind), I was paranoid every time I moved and got up to use the restroom. I’d check the toilet immediately after using it to make sure there’s not a little round embryo bobbing on the water surface. I know, I know, I wouldn’t be able to see it. But I didn’t want to see blood, either. About 26 or so hours after the embryo transfer, I suddenly felt like the insecurity was gone. Things sort of just fit into place, not in a tangible physical way, but more as a “feeling” I have that things are right now. Like the kid has burrowed itself into my uterine wall now. Things happen fast, from what I understand; when the embryologist showed me the photo of the blastocyst they were going to transfer, she explained that the actual thing measures bigger than that now. I asked when the photo was taken. She said 9:30. “This morning?!” “Yeah, they grow fast.”

Mr. W came up and curled up behind me at around 11:45 a.m. this morning. “Harro!” I said.
“I came up to join you for the countdown,” he said. “Fifteen minutes!” Finally?! The first thing I did off bedrest was take a shower. Then I carefully peeled and stuck my first two estrogen patches on my lower abdomen (thank goodness SOME of these meds are in the form of pills and patches; one shot in the heiny a day is quite enough). And then, the three of us (including my girlie stepkidlet) went to The Counter and had a burger. Yum.

It’s been a tough 48 hours without being able to reach a computer. =P