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Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Birthday, Little Man!
Today my lowercase turned 2. These have been the two happiest years of my life.  The lowercase proves disco is alive and well. And apparently requires Mommy's glasses.
 Happy Birthday, my sweet boy. You were the best gift of all and I thank God each day for choosing me to be your mommy.
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Tuesday, October 23, 2007
People suck!
The lowercase turns 2 a week from tomorrow. We've been planning his party for several weeks and it seems things have just fallen apart completely.
Where to begin, where to begin. How about my family which really isn't so bad.
My mom's parents will not be coming. Apparently my grandma had some issues with her back a few weeks ago, went through physical therapy it wasn't any better so they did an MRI. A closed MRI. And she had a massive panic attack and has been having them ever since despite taking several anti-anxiety medicines in attempts to get back to normal. So she really can't come. And I knew that and was ok with it.
My nephew can't keep a secret and spilled to my mom....who also can't keep a secret and immediately called to tell me. My brother, his wife and their three kids were coming to surprise as along with my biological father and his wife. And then things fell through with their plans (3 kids, school, wife is a teacher's aide...) so the 5 of them couldn't come and for whatever reason my dad and step-mom wouldn't come without them. Could be because my step-mom is an evil bitch and we don't exactly like each other...could be that since my dad and I aren't close they are afraid to come out here and spend an entire weekend hanging out with me (and, oh, yeah...the ex-wife, her husband and his mother).
So from my family, making the trip will be my mom, my step-dad (who the lowercase was named for, by the by) and his mom. They are all awesome and I am extremely excited about their arrival Friday evening.
Of course, the real fun comes with Mr. W's family. My MIL was an only child and her mother had surgery recently. Apparently, she broke her foot more than a year ago but it was missed on x-ray and healed at an angle that prevented her from walking. Early this month, she finally had the courage to let a surgeon re-break the bones and put pins in. She hasn't walked in so long that her doctor felt she needed to be in a rehab facility after the surgery. Somehow she wasn't getting along with the nurses and therapists, they forced her to do excercises that hurt her shoulders so then she refused to do ANYTHING they asked. And they turned her in to her insurance so they cut off her benefits and were kicking her out of the facility at the end of this week. She has nowhere to go. So my mother-in-law is going to have to take care of her. My father-in-law said it wouldn't be fair for him to come up without his wife and then finally admitted that he didn't want to come up in case something happened there and he would never hear the end of it from her.
OOOOOK. I mean, I get it...it's legitimate, but, what the hell? They've got more money than God -- surely they could hire someone to help out for a day? They've left her alone for less valid reasons many times before -- she was in a wheelchair then just as much as she is now.
And then Mr. W's sister called to say she isn't coming either. Something or other about her car not working right and being afraid to drive it...she was going to ride up with her parents but since they aren't coming, she isn't either. (Despite the fact that there is a train that runs from her town to ours that she has taken in the past)
I mean, I get that they are all valid reasons that people who said they were coming aren't...but it just sucks. On so many levels. And in writing it appears more innocent than it is. If you've read other posts about my in-laws, you know a bit of how they are and I can assure you that there is much more back-bitey-ness to all of this.
IT SUCKS!
EDITED:
Perhaps the galling part is the part that I forgot to post? That my mother-in-law said that they would make a special trip up to celebrate on a different weekend. When we asked when they would like to plan that, she said "Well, November's crazy, taking care of your grandma for a week or so and then getting ready for Thanksgiving...then I have to clean that up and get ready for the holidays (they decorate for both Channukah and Christmas but don't really celebrate either)...then there are all the holiday parties, mine, my friends, then we barely get those cleaned up and it's time for the New Year's parties, then we'll need some time to rest...so maybe in the summer?"
EDITED 2:
Our best friends locally will also not be coming. On Tuesday evening at 5:00, they delivered their 2nd son. We are all very excited about his arrival as we met them in the NICU -- their first was a 30 weeker born the day before our son (really only about 6 hours before). We've been through a lot together -- I'm just so glad we didn't have to go through any more drama as this one waited until a respectable 37.5 weeks to arrive!
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The Same Book
Mr. W and I may not be as far apart in our future family planning as I recently thought. About a week ago, Mr. W said that if a job offer that is on the table comes to fruition, he thought a second child might be more of an option. With this job, he would be working from home and therefore my bed rest would not be a major problem for the lowercase since he would be there to do the active stuff (cooking, cleaning, carrying the lowercase when needed) while I could do the light work of parenting (hahahaha) from a horizontal position on the couch. (Incidentally, we will find out more about the possibility of this job at the beginning of November, possibly as early as the first). While in the car last weekend, he off-handedly asked if I thought that my perinatologist would consult with us if I were not pregnant -- "you know, just to see what the protocol would be if we did decide to give it another go." He further went on to say that he thought we should do everything exactly as we did with the lowercase since that time we had success. He wondered if I would have to pay to have my massive file shipped to my current gynecologist since she was not the doctor I saw when I became pregnant (the first trimester with the lowercase, I was still part-time downstate, part time in Western NY and saw my downstate doctor). Or would it be simpler for me to just call my downstate doctor and maybe make an appointment when I was visiting to get the Clomid prescription and go over the baby aspirin and prometrium regimen since he was the one who took care of all that in conjunction with our former RE. (Have I mentioned I do not like my current gynecologist? That I think she's cold and unfeeling? That she's a bit rough with the speculum? And that I'm now nearly a year overdue for an exam as a result? And that I don't think she'd be at all sympathetic to my attempts to maintain a pregnancy? Consider it mentioned.) He kind of caught me by surprise and so I just discussed things as far as he was willing -- basically answering his questions with my opinions but not pushing for more. Something that totally goes against everything in me to do, but I let him lead this conversation in its entirety. And it kind of worked. He didn't get frustrated or try to change the conversation -- it only ended when we arrived home and had to take the boy out of the car seat and unload the trunk. I suppose that where I once wasn't sure the Mr. and I were even in the same library, it appears that we not only are but are even reading the same book. We're just on different pages at the moment. Here's hoping he's a fast reader. And that, despite my fear of taking this particular metaphor too far, one of the next pages he comes to involves the job shift that could make this all possible.
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Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Dissatisfied
I keep promising myself that I'm going to post more often. I also keep promising myself that I'm not going to post about my, for lack of a better word, dissatisfaction with my reproductive/family building future. But I'm finding that to be a bit prohibitive. I'm not one of those people who can make mundane family life exciting reading. Most of you who still read have arrived at parenthood as well. You know what life is like with a toddler. You know that it is intensely joyful, funny, and mind-bogglingly incredible despite it's frequent swings into insanity and utter annoyance at having to put the choochoo tracks back together every 2.3 seconds in order to prevent emotional meltdowns of nuclear proportions (meltdowns that aren't always the exclusive domain of the toddler).
I realized then that if I want to reach one of my goals, I'm going to have to foresake the other. At least today. I'm sure that our regularly scheduled blog silence will be back again soon. Because I really, really can't stand being "that whiny blog." But here goes.
I am dissatisfied with my reproductive future. In extreme levels. My entire life I've known I wanted to have children. Read that sentence a few times if you need to. That last word is really important: children. I honestly always thought I would have a house full. I come from several generations of "large families." My mom is the oldest of 4. Her mother was the 2nd of 9. Her dad was the middle of 3 (though it was HIS father's second family and he had several older siblings from the first family, a couple of whom joined us for family functions). My stepfather, who became "my dad" when I was 5, is the middle of 7. And we are all EXTREMELY close. I know each of my great-aunts and uncles well as well as their children and grandchildren -- I grew up with some of them, babysat the younger ones, was babysat by some of the older ones... Even my biological father, whom I am not at all close to, is from a large family -- he's the oldest of 5.
And so I always just assumed that I would have a large family. Obviously, if you've been reading for any length of time, you also know that I knew it wasn't going to be just lay down with the husband for a bit and then gestate happily away. And then came pregnancy after pregnancy after pregnancy with nothing to show for it but bills for my use of the operating theater. Until finally, finally there was bed rest, and normal sonograms, and a belly that popped...and contractions, and pre-term labor, and magnesium sulfate, and steroid shots, and emergency c-sections, and two months of NICU, and hope, and joy, and love, and FEAR.
It took me a while to be comfortable with it all and I kind of am. Most of the time. Because most of the time the past is just the past. Most of the time. But it's something that has left Mr. W with a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn't want to relive any of it. The wife crushed and desperate after yet another miscarriage; the viewing of the c-section (seriously, the drape should be higher when the husband is 6'4!); the NICU and all that entails. He wants no part of it.
And in all honesty, I don't really want any part of it either. You know...except the one part. The baby part. We have an incredible NICU here; really great perinatologists. The best possible location to be in when your reproductive abilities are as screwed up as ours are.
I've fleetingly thought of surrogacy, but I'm not really a candidate (or wasn't considered one when I last was seen by an RE and since I carried exactly as he predicted, I'd say I'm still not)and the local clinic doesn't handle it at all. Donor eggs, donor sperm, no problem (in accessing the technology and treatment), but someone to donate their uterus? No way.
I've looked at adoption. Mr. W and I had wanted to adopt from Guatemala before the birth of the lowercase. But that isn't a viable option right now. And having read some recent adoption horror stories...well, I'm a bit afraid of the heartbreak.
And Mr. W isn't on board for ANY kind of adding to the family yet. For fuck's sake, I couldn't even talk him into bringing home a puppy!
But of course, everyone else is moving on. EVERYONE that I know is having or TTC their second. And I'm not. No matter how much I want it. I'm just...not.
It just really sucks that there can be no compromise in this arena. Either one parent gets what they want or the other does. You either do it, or you don't. And I hate it that I'm the one who has to lose in this arena.
I've even thought about looking up stats for second births from others with unicornuate uteruses. What kind of successful outcomes...how early I'd be likely to deliver...but I already know the answer to that. I would 100% have another preemie at roughly the same gestation. I would 100% have another c-section. I would 100% have more NICU time.
In a nutshell: I am dissatisfied with my utter lack of a reproductive/family-building future. And I don't see any chance of that changing any time soon.
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