Vicarious Living

I'm over the moon for my brother and his wife Jen who had their first baby two days ago. I've seen a couple pictures, and this kid is going to be a heart breaker! OK, he already is.

Babies have been on the mind for quite some time (DUH!), and so this little bundle of sweet-smelling, soft, cuddly love is making me physically ache.

Brian commented the other day I would like to go out to California and steal that baby, but I replied, "No, I couldn't do that to someone I love. I would only steal a stranger's baby." We both shared a little chuckle, but I'm beginning to think there's a tiny part of me that just might! It's that same little speck of crazy in me that wants the world to bend to my every whim.

For now, I'm going to live vicariously through my sister-in-law and brother's new-found parenthood. I'm going to love that swaddled little man with all my heart and promise never, ever, EVER to steal him. He's got the best mommy on earth anyway; he needs her.

Caught the Bug

It's decided. I think. I need approximately $28k to do it, though. That's a little more than half my salary. It's more than most people without a college education make in a year. It's more than I would pay to replace my car with a newer model (but just barely).

Making a baby is making me work harder than ever to build my bank account.

I got a promotion at work this week. I will be the head of the English department starting next year, so I'll be in charge of about a dozen other teachers, their schedules, evaluations, curriculum implementation, bookkeeping, and SO many other responsibilities I don't even know about yet. Yikes. Unfortunately, I'll be taking a pay cut.

Because I cannot handle both this new job AND cheerleading, I have to say goodbye to my girls. This makes me sad... sort of. I'll miss some of the best young ladies I've ever met, but I won't miss the drama and the crazy basketball schedule from December to March.

So now I've caught the writing bug. I'm determined to finish the book I've started and to work harder at sharing my work with my friends - especially my "reader" friends. I don't expect to write a best-seller right out of the gate, but that's where my friends can help me. I value those honest opinions, the critiques and the suggestions. Most of all, I need encouragement. I have never finished more than a short story because I am so damn critical of myself.

So far I've published a short story and the first 6 chapters of my novel in progress. I'm editing as I go, so what I need most is answers to problems I foresee:

1. Are my characters and setting consistent?
2. Is the back-and-forth of the timeline confusing or does it work?
3. What is missing - details the reader needs that I am not hitting?

Any suggestions or constructive criticism is valued more than you could know, so please check out my other blog, entitled "Scribblings." You'll have to read the older posts first to get the full story.

Thank you, friends. I hope you'll enjoy what I've written so far. My plan is to post at least a chapter a week.

Always look on the bright side of life...

Optimism. Wow, there's a loaded word the last few weeks. I've had more disappointment than I care to admit - especially since I won't be talking about work on this blog, like EVER (see Pennsylvania teacher article - yikes!). Of course, the biggest disappointment was learning that my ovarian reserve is somewhat, shall we say, lacking. As stated in my last blog post, this means I am "not a good candidate for IVF."

We went back to the doc today so he could tell us what I already knew, what my amazing husband tried to dissuade me from believing by showing me articles, studies, forums on fertility, and by so many words of encouragement I thought I'd married a counselor rather than a computer programmer. What I already knew after the fated conversation with the nurse on the phone when she called with my AMH blood workup, was that I would not have another baby of my own, at least not with any of the eggs still left in my body.

This brings us to today and our meeting. The doc told us exactly that. We could use a donor egg, and I'd likely have a baby no problem. The problem? That baby wouldn't be from my biological make-up. He or she wouldn't share my traits, my genetic code.

It was one thing to think of adoption. That baby or child wouldn't be ours biologically, but we would care for her or him as if we were the biological parents. I could do that.

I could even fathom having to use donor sperm if need be.

But carrying a child that was B's and not mine? I just don't know.

We would have to pick a donor based on the traits we wanted (could possibly find one with brown hair, hazel eyes and a short stature like me), and then use the same ICSI procedure to retrieve the necessary male goods from B. Then, they'd implant me. Viola! It sounds simple, but my head just can't wrap itself around the possibility of this baby being a "part" of me, but kinda not.

I won't even go into the fact that it's more than twice the cost. UGH!

I feel as if my body is betraying me, and honestly, I've had about enough of that. My ovaries have aged prematurely, and I am angry about it. The doc stated that my reserves were like that of a woman 5-10 years older than I am. 15 years ago, it took ONE try. Ten years ago, again it took ONE try. We barely had to whisper the word "baby" and I'd be preggers. So what's up with my body now? Did I peak way too early? Did having kids as early as I did doom me to this fate? It's just pissing me off.

B wants them to test my AMH again. He thinks it may be a mistake or that by taking the vitamins I've started taking (for general health and balance), that the number will be different. I'm not so convinced. I'm pretty darn sure that my body is finished making baby eggs, and that I'm going to have to accept it. I waited too long, and now I regret it.

The only question now is do I want to carry a baby who is not genetically mine and costs me more than the car I drive?

Devotion

Bad News: I'm old, and so are my ovaries. OK, maybe just my ovaries are old. I'm still a spring chicken.

I got a call from the nurse at the clinic yesterday; our bloodwork was in from last week's tests.

Neither of us have any of the tested diseases - duh. We both have the same blood type (A+ in case any of you need a transfusion in the future). My AMH levels (that's the follicle-stimulating hormone) are low. Very low. Very, very, no longer on the chart low.

"Typically, levels this low do not make for a good IVF candidate," she stated in a near whisper.

"Oh. Alright." I tried to sound as upbeat as one can with the horrible lump of one's dreams being dashed in my throat.

I have an appointment to discuss "options" with the doctor on President's Day. (Still with enough optimism to want to conserve sick days, just in case, but with enough reality in my head to realize there's no rush.)

My wonderful, exquisitely loving husband, who wasn't as thrilled to have another mouth to feed and butt to clean as I, has been trying desperately and loyally to console me and to give me nothing but encouragement. I can't express how much love I feel for him right now for the articles and forums he's been reading to me and showing me in the last 16 hours. I fell asleep last night to his encouraging words, and woke up to them this morning as well.

My heart is breaking, but I have realized something I've taken for granted too many times in our relationship and marriage. He is devoted to me beyond any expectations I've ever held for him or anyone else. Screw Hallmark holidays, my valentine shows his love in ways no stupid card or dead flowers can.

A Few Weeks Have Passed... Did you miss me?

It's been an exciting week, ladies and gents. A blizzard, 3 snow days and a couple appointments with doctors. As most of the country has experienced the winter storm of the decade, I'll save those details for the reader's own research.

Most of my audience would like to know what happened at the much-anticipated appointment with the fertility clinic. Ah, that.

My husband is relieved that the only testing he had to endure was of the blood variety. Let your imagination figure out what he was truly nervous about.

Basically, it's all set. There are no reasons the doctor or nurse could find in our medical histories, our profiles, or our bodies which would prevent us from conceiving as early as early April. In fact, the whole process will likely be about HALF the price I had anticipated.

Such good news! So...

I'm trying to decide the when. If I begin the process in a week or two, we conceive in early April (it takes about 8 weeks to prepare the ovaries for egg extraction), then we would have another Miner minor in December. I would love to have an early winter baby.

However, we could choose to postpone the blessed event until mid-spring of 2012, so that the last quarter of school would be my maternity leave. This would be past "testing" time for my students.

The doctor would like to see us start as soon as possible. Either way, I'll be 38 when I have this kid, and Brian will be 40. Aiden will be 10 and Alex 14 (or 15). He did mention that age is a factor. The sooner, the better. I agree. It's one reason I didn't want to put off our planning a few more months or a year in order to save more money.

I also don't want to base the birth of my child on my work schedule - whatever it may be. It's probably the more responsible, practical way to go, but why the hell would I want to give over control of my family to my job - I do that enough as it is.

Decisions, decisions. Any input would be happily considered or dismissed.

Trembling Toy Poodle

Last Monday was a go-get-'em day. Finished collecting and scanning and sending all the paperwork necessary to RRC.

Thursday was a oh-hell-yeah day, as we had a snow day. Fortuitously, the clinic caught me at home to let me know one piece of paperwork was missing, so I quickly sent it in as well. A few minutes later (after I completed shoveling the 7" of snow off the driveway and sidewalk) Carol from RRC called back. We set up our first appointment for February 1st. Ladies and gentlemen, that is one week and three days away. I was expecting a month at least.

So remember that previous post where I self-deprecatingly stated my impatient personality? Yeah, now I'm freaking out because it is happening so fast! OK, maybe "freaking out" isn't quite the right verbiage here. I'm nervously excited. If I were a toy poodle, I'd be wetting my master's carpet.

I know I'm going to get poked and prodded and scanned and interrogated for about 3 hours next week, and my poor husband has no idea what to expect for himself. It may be time to call my sister-in-law to get the low-down. For now, I'm overjoyed and thinking of where I'm going to put a kid in our 3-bedroom house. Somebody might be moving to the basement sooner than he figured (and, no, I don't mean my hubby - he can stay put).

The Book of Mom

As I think I may have mentioned, patience was not a virtue handed to me at birth, unlike these good looks and charm (HA!). So it may be a recurring theme present on this blog. I'm not a good waiter (or apparently waitress either, since I was asked to wash dishes more than serve pizza at my first job - but that's beside the point). I don't wait well. Better?

In the meantime, while I'm waiting (UH!) for the RRC to call me to set up an appointment since we've got all the appropriate paperwork in, I may have to bore everyone with musings of a different sort, if nothing more than to take my own mind off of the lapsing time.

Here's a good topic: The Book of Motherhood

Now, I know all of my fellow moms out there are nodding, thinking of the day they were handed their very own copy of this instruction manual. They're nostalgically pondering the soft music playing when they were given this volume of priceless knowledge and how-to, complete with diagrams, pictures, and pop-ups. The birds were chirping, the breeze caught each page just at the right moment to turn as we soaked in everything we needed to know about mothering. Bliss. Pure bliss.

Those of you non-moms out there thinking, "of course!," get real! There is no such book. We have no idea what we're doing 95% of the time. It is why our oldest children are so screwed up (or will be) and in therapy (or will be). We listen to the advice of "experts," our mothers, sisters, friends, and strangers in the grocery store who give us that look when we give in and buy the candy just to shut that brat up!

When all else fails, we try desperately to listen to our intuition. Unfortunately, that fickle b!tch doesn't always give us the best advice. In fact, I'm pretty sure my intuition is out to lunch with her friends whenever I have a real crisis on my hands and I'm screaming at my teenager to do his homework for "the last time!" or using foul language in front of them - constantly.

I'm happy to give others advice on mothering, as long as they understand that most of my advice is not proven by experience, but is likely the opposite of what I did (and what failed for me). I have several friends with young children (someone should have told me when I was 23 that the rest of my friends were going to wait until my biological clock was going crazy to start having babies - would have saved me some money and parental blunders along the way). Some bring to me stories of their children doing "weird" things and ask me if it's "normal" - as if I should know. I'm confident that my own children are fairly abnormal, so what others' kids are doing, if different than what mine did, is "yes, absolutely" normal.

My own mothering is (hopefully) going to start a new chapter in the next year with the addition of another little rugrat climbing the furniture and walls, and my oldest will be starting high school. I think I may get it right this time. Maybe. Who knows? I suppose my children's therapists can tell me in 10-20 years.