On Sunday, September 13 - which happened to be Grandparents' Day - we had our second FET. We transferred one Day 6 Hatching Blastocyst that looks vastly different than Frostie Tess. Instead of a small island or vaguely egg shaped mass, this one was a perfect figure 8 more than half out of its shell; a real eager beaver, this kid. We've named it "Ocho" because of its unique shape.
Transfer went more or less the same as last time, though they made us wait until nearly 10 AM to find out what time to report. We now now why but more on that in a moment. We arrived at 1:00 PM, updated our consent forms, and then very quickly were ushered downstairs to the surgical waiting area. Within three minutes, we were taken back to transfer room 2, across the hall from the corner room where we were places in January 2014. My bladder was full, I got my Valium, and we waited f-o-r-e-v-e-r for the traveling circus. It was at least 45 minutes of discomfort but it went relatively quickly once we started watching comedy sketches to get the blood flowing.
When the circus came to town, it was all female. The sonographer was in first, followed by the embryologist, then the nurse, then Dr. Constantini. She was very calming and warm, breaking some tough news in the nicest possible way.
Unfortunately, we learned that we only have one frostie left which means we lost three in the thaw. It happens...I just never stopped to consider that it could happen to us. We were overly confident, perhaps, having gotten lucky on our first try and counting on 5 more tries after that. A 50/50 chance of making it, some clinics say, though typically chromosomallly sound blasts have no trouble surviving the thaw so this is Darwinism at it again protecting from the inevitable loss. That's how I like to look at it and it's really just a small comfort when faced with the uncertain future. If this doesn't take...
For now, though, I am pregnant. I am convinced of this. I felt twinges within hours of transfer, through my nap and all last night. I woke up with more twinges and then full blown cramps. I went to acupuncture, drifted off a bit, then after I got home, I became nauseous and dizzy. I was terribly dizzy within days of Tempest implanting. I think this frostie, far more advanced in the uterine journey, wants to stick around and has already begun the process of homemaking for the next 9 months.
I took an HPT 6 days post transfer last time and it was a very clear positive. I'm going to try my luck and take one 4 dpt on Thursday morning to get it over with. I won't go into the big birthday weekend not knowing. If it's positive, great! I'll test again in a few days and find out my numbers on Tuesday. If it's negative, I'll have a moment to mourn that failure (I'll probably test again on Sunday just to make sure) and then I'll get over it and focus on my newly-minted toddler.
Toddler!
On Wednesday, we will officially have a toddler in the house. My goodness. Goodbye, babyhood. I can't wait for the birthday festivities to begin with our first trip to the zoo and then family and friends arriving to take part in the celebration. Here's to you, baby girl!
Monday, September 14, 2015
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Two weeks to go
Today is the first of September. In two weeks' time, you will turn the big ONE! You're chatting up a storm, babbling the day away and playing with your plastic fruit with the vigor of a professional baseball pitcher. I have never seen a child so young whip toys around in your style.
On Sunday, you took six steps in the kitchen without faltering, your arms held out demanding Pirate's Booty from me. I was amazed. Just today, you managed to walk across the room and I only realized it after turning back around to behold you making a beeline for the glider. Most of the time, though, you scoot around doing the "penitent shuffle" with one knee bent and the other extended parallel to the floor. It's odd and amusing and totally you. I suppose you can move faster that way in this half-walk, half-crawl as you gain confidence in taking steps.
Today we ordered your birthday cupcakes and yes, I will be the first to admit, I caved and got you your very own smash cake. I detest that tradition but it's crowd pleasing and, well, tradition. Your outfit(s) are chosen and so are ours. Now all we have to do is order the food, the keg, buy the wine, track down the final few RSVPs and then we're more or less ready for showtime.
In other news, now is as good a time as any to break it to you: mama is currently in cycle for an FET planned for September 13. That's right, kiddo: you could be a big sister come June. It's excited and nerve-wracking, even though we're graduates of the process. We're planning around your actual birthday and the party so hopefully my uterus cooperates and gets this show on the road. I have to go two full days without lifting you or doing anything strenuous at all and that's tough with one very active and demanding toddler. It's going to be so hard but if it works, I'd like to think it's worth the temporary inconvenience for both of us.
On Sunday, you took six steps in the kitchen without faltering, your arms held out demanding Pirate's Booty from me. I was amazed. Just today, you managed to walk across the room and I only realized it after turning back around to behold you making a beeline for the glider. Most of the time, though, you scoot around doing the "penitent shuffle" with one knee bent and the other extended parallel to the floor. It's odd and amusing and totally you. I suppose you can move faster that way in this half-walk, half-crawl as you gain confidence in taking steps.
Today we ordered your birthday cupcakes and yes, I will be the first to admit, I caved and got you your very own smash cake. I detest that tradition but it's crowd pleasing and, well, tradition. Your outfit(s) are chosen and so are ours. Now all we have to do is order the food, the keg, buy the wine, track down the final few RSVPs and then we're more or less ready for showtime.
In other news, now is as good a time as any to break it to you: mama is currently in cycle for an FET planned for September 13. That's right, kiddo: you could be a big sister come June. It's excited and nerve-wracking, even though we're graduates of the process. We're planning around your actual birthday and the party so hopefully my uterus cooperates and gets this show on the road. I have to go two full days without lifting you or doing anything strenuous at all and that's tough with one very active and demanding toddler. It's going to be so hard but if it works, I'd like to think it's worth the temporary inconvenience for both of us.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
11 Months
Happy 11 months, my sweet baby girl.
In just 4 weeks you will be a bonafide toddler. I have surrendered much of your babyhood with the big move, accepting that you no longer require nourishment from my breast and you no longer wish to be constrained by anything that keeps you from moving at your own free will, be it my arms, the straps of your high chair, or the crib. You want to go go go, see it all, feel your strength and stand up tall.
You did beautifully with the transition from Highland Park to New Providence. I think that slowly seeing your toys and your belongings beginning to fill the new house over the past month or so helped a lot by the time moving day arrived. You learned the layout of the new place, the smells and textures of each new room. You and Oscar are thriving here and I am so proud. You both have space to stretch and many nooks and crannies yet to explore. I love that you have a yard with a fence and that you're both adjusting well to spending 50% of your day outside. That's a big change!
I can honestly say that it's starting to feel like home as we unpack and hang artwork and curtains and see our history as a family unfurl out of brown boxes. It's tiring work but it's necessary and it won't magically happen on its own. You like to "help" with your fascination of taking out; putting in, putting in, taking out. You also like to climb every mountain of cardboard in sight. How thrilling to discover the cave of wonders in the basement as yet uncharted and uninventoried!
For all of the exciting beginnings -- you on the verge of speaking and walking -- I must pause to admit what a difficult time I've had ending the breastfeeding chapter of babyhood. I knew weaning would be harder for me than it would be for you and that has indeed been the case. It's not the temporary physical discomfort so much as its the ending of what only we have shared and will never partake in again. All mothers must feel this way, whether they've breastfed for two weeks or two years. It means, at least in that capacity, that you no longer need me for fuel. Our bodies are further physically separated. It started at birth with the severing of the umbilical cord and now the circle is complete.
Last night, I believe I fed you from my breast for the last time. I will cherish the memory always of your perfect baby head with your downy baby hair, eyes closed in peaceful dream feeding, nestled against my bosom. It was 1:15 in the morning on your 11 month birthday and you took a few sips and fell asleep. All done. You are growing every single day and becoming more independent and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I will cry a bit thanks to the hormone shift, but there's no sense dwelling on it. It's a milestone to be celebrated. My body nourished you for almost a full year. I am confident that you will continue to thrive on formula and milk and embrace a variety of big girl foods, my delicate grazer.
***
UPDATE
We have a walker! As of Sunday afternoon, you took two tottering steps in the grass with six witnesses there to cheer you on. You were holding out for a large audience, I guess, and you did beautifully. Mazel tov, kid!
In just 4 weeks you will be a bonafide toddler. I have surrendered much of your babyhood with the big move, accepting that you no longer require nourishment from my breast and you no longer wish to be constrained by anything that keeps you from moving at your own free will, be it my arms, the straps of your high chair, or the crib. You want to go go go, see it all, feel your strength and stand up tall.
You did beautifully with the transition from Highland Park to New Providence. I think that slowly seeing your toys and your belongings beginning to fill the new house over the past month or so helped a lot by the time moving day arrived. You learned the layout of the new place, the smells and textures of each new room. You and Oscar are thriving here and I am so proud. You both have space to stretch and many nooks and crannies yet to explore. I love that you have a yard with a fence and that you're both adjusting well to spending 50% of your day outside. That's a big change!
I can honestly say that it's starting to feel like home as we unpack and hang artwork and curtains and see our history as a family unfurl out of brown boxes. It's tiring work but it's necessary and it won't magically happen on its own. You like to "help" with your fascination of taking out; putting in, putting in, taking out. You also like to climb every mountain of cardboard in sight. How thrilling to discover the cave of wonders in the basement as yet uncharted and uninventoried!
For all of the exciting beginnings -- you on the verge of speaking and walking -- I must pause to admit what a difficult time I've had ending the breastfeeding chapter of babyhood. I knew weaning would be harder for me than it would be for you and that has indeed been the case. It's not the temporary physical discomfort so much as its the ending of what only we have shared and will never partake in again. All mothers must feel this way, whether they've breastfed for two weeks or two years. It means, at least in that capacity, that you no longer need me for fuel. Our bodies are further physically separated. It started at birth with the severing of the umbilical cord and now the circle is complete.
Last night, I believe I fed you from my breast for the last time. I will cherish the memory always of your perfect baby head with your downy baby hair, eyes closed in peaceful dream feeding, nestled against my bosom. It was 1:15 in the morning on your 11 month birthday and you took a few sips and fell asleep. All done. You are growing every single day and becoming more independent and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I will cry a bit thanks to the hormone shift, but there's no sense dwelling on it. It's a milestone to be celebrated. My body nourished you for almost a full year. I am confident that you will continue to thrive on formula and milk and embrace a variety of big girl foods, my delicate grazer.
***
UPDATE
We have a walker! As of Sunday afternoon, you took two tottering steps in the grass with six witnesses there to cheer you on. You were holding out for a large audience, I guess, and you did beautifully. Mazel tov, kid!
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Moving on
This is it: our last full week living on L'ambiance Court.
We have searched and worked for and dreamed of this moment for years and it's finally falling into place (with the help of some intense scheduling and forward planning.) We've lived in this town house for exactly 4.5 years today. During that time, we've gotten married, had many great adventures and our share of tense moments. I've changed careers and gotten my Masters Degree, Rhett has commuted an ungodly amount of hours to and from work each day and spent almost as much time trekking back and forth from Newark Airport, we've had many medical scares and surgeries from which I've recuperated in this house, the final one resulting in a beautiful baby girl. We brought our Oscar Wilde home to this place as well as our daughter.
When you live somewhere for almost five years, I think by default it becomes "home" even if it takes you a while to feel that way. I know my way around most of the surrounding towns now that I never would have gotten to know had I stayed at PUP. I met some incredible people student teaching in Metuchen and in classes at the gym but I never made friends. I think I can fairly speak for both of us - well, all four of us, really - when I say that we most look forward to meeting the people who will become our dear friends once we settle into life in New Providence.
Our spring was a constant parade of to-ing and fro-ing to some pretty incredible places, so much so that we blinked and here we are approaching my 29th birthday and the big move. We were so fortunate to share these adventures with Tempest from her first flight in April to Miami, to the long, long drive to Maine during which we both had raging colds, to Kiawah and Charleston in May, to Key West and Orlando in June. Travelin' Tess has earned her badge of honor, that's for sure.
I will also never forget what a trooper she was, beginning in March, when I'd load her up to spend at least half a day house hunting nearly an hour north of our current home. Our then 6.5 month old was so tolerant of the shuffling about but secretly, I think she enjoyed nebbing in other peoples' homes. We'd spend at least 2-3 days a week looking and hoping and losing faith and then cursing the absurdities of the NJ real estate market until one day while we were still in Miami, a potential home popped up on the GSMLS listings in my inbox. I nearly gasped aloud. It looked like a winner! It had to be a winner. I NEED TO SEE THIS HOUSE WHAT TIME IS OUR FLIGHT TOMORROW???
Naturally, we landed and I scheduled the showing for the very next morning so Rhett could see it with us. It was pretty darn close to perfect: it had the yard, the space, the hardwood throughout. Naturally, it lacked a decent 21st century kitchen but the bones were there. We found ourselves taking on the one project we said we absolutely did not want to take on: a kitchen renovation. But honestly, we're both pretty excited to see the finished project. (Currently knee-deep in the demo phase and waiting on the permit...)
By Cinco de Mayo, we had made an offer and by Mother's Day, we were under contract.
Speaking of Mother's Day, a little someone started saying "Mama" -- ok, more like MUUUUUMMUUUUUM -- the day after on May 11. It barely registered at first as just more babbling but when she consistently said it all day and then continued to use it almost entirely appropriately during play when she wanted my attention or when she was finished eating and wanted down, I realized that my child in fact was saying my name. We're still working on "Dada." She said it twice and both times, he missed it. Now we're onto the "ffffff" and "vvvvvv" sounds.
Since the verbal leaps, we've also gained a cruiser who can push a walker and even stand up on her own for a few seconds. Tempest is on the verge of independent steps. I can feel her straining every time she pulls herself up and turns around, one handed, to me as if to say, "Just you wait, muuuuum. You'll be chasing me in no time." She understands "no" and ignores it as she pleases, she can climb the stairs with ease, she can sort of spoon feed herself without gouging out her eye, and she can spit out food she finds distasteful or, alternatively, hand it to Oscar who is always lurking nearby. The dog is smart but the baby is smarter: she knows that if she hand feeds him her scraps, he'll be her best pal and in fact, he now allows her to climb on him with little more than a brief growl of annoyance.
We have no idea what we're in for once our belongings are actually packed up and professionally unloaded on the other end but we can safely guess that we'll have our hands full with a very curious and mobile 10 month old and an anxious pup who just wants to patrol his new fence line and make friends. Thankfully, we have almost-professional help from two people who have done this, oh, twenty-some times. I would lose my mind without them so thanks, Mom and Dad, for putting up with the circus mcgurkus. While we cannot repay the kindness, I am thankful that I have a small part in making memories for you, for me, and for Tempest when she's older. I look forward with joy to reminding her of all the Big Things she did before her first birthday.
We have searched and worked for and dreamed of this moment for years and it's finally falling into place (with the help of some intense scheduling and forward planning.) We've lived in this town house for exactly 4.5 years today. During that time, we've gotten married, had many great adventures and our share of tense moments. I've changed careers and gotten my Masters Degree, Rhett has commuted an ungodly amount of hours to and from work each day and spent almost as much time trekking back and forth from Newark Airport, we've had many medical scares and surgeries from which I've recuperated in this house, the final one resulting in a beautiful baby girl. We brought our Oscar Wilde home to this place as well as our daughter.
When you live somewhere for almost five years, I think by default it becomes "home" even if it takes you a while to feel that way. I know my way around most of the surrounding towns now that I never would have gotten to know had I stayed at PUP. I met some incredible people student teaching in Metuchen and in classes at the gym but I never made friends. I think I can fairly speak for both of us - well, all four of us, really - when I say that we most look forward to meeting the people who will become our dear friends once we settle into life in New Providence.
Our spring was a constant parade of to-ing and fro-ing to some pretty incredible places, so much so that we blinked and here we are approaching my 29th birthday and the big move. We were so fortunate to share these adventures with Tempest from her first flight in April to Miami, to the long, long drive to Maine during which we both had raging colds, to Kiawah and Charleston in May, to Key West and Orlando in June. Travelin' Tess has earned her badge of honor, that's for sure.
I will also never forget what a trooper she was, beginning in March, when I'd load her up to spend at least half a day house hunting nearly an hour north of our current home. Our then 6.5 month old was so tolerant of the shuffling about but secretly, I think she enjoyed nebbing in other peoples' homes. We'd spend at least 2-3 days a week looking and hoping and losing faith and then cursing the absurdities of the NJ real estate market until one day while we were still in Miami, a potential home popped up on the GSMLS listings in my inbox. I nearly gasped aloud. It looked like a winner! It had to be a winner. I NEED TO SEE THIS HOUSE WHAT TIME IS OUR FLIGHT TOMORROW???
Naturally, we landed and I scheduled the showing for the very next morning so Rhett could see it with us. It was pretty darn close to perfect: it had the yard, the space, the hardwood throughout. Naturally, it lacked a decent 21st century kitchen but the bones were there. We found ourselves taking on the one project we said we absolutely did not want to take on: a kitchen renovation. But honestly, we're both pretty excited to see the finished project. (Currently knee-deep in the demo phase and waiting on the permit...)
By Cinco de Mayo, we had made an offer and by Mother's Day, we were under contract.
Speaking of Mother's Day, a little someone started saying "Mama" -- ok, more like MUUUUUMMUUUUUM -- the day after on May 11. It barely registered at first as just more babbling but when she consistently said it all day and then continued to use it almost entirely appropriately during play when she wanted my attention or when she was finished eating and wanted down, I realized that my child in fact was saying my name. We're still working on "Dada." She said it twice and both times, he missed it. Now we're onto the "ffffff" and "vvvvvv" sounds.
Since the verbal leaps, we've also gained a cruiser who can push a walker and even stand up on her own for a few seconds. Tempest is on the verge of independent steps. I can feel her straining every time she pulls herself up and turns around, one handed, to me as if to say, "Just you wait, muuuuum. You'll be chasing me in no time." She understands "no" and ignores it as she pleases, she can climb the stairs with ease, she can sort of spoon feed herself without gouging out her eye, and she can spit out food she finds distasteful or, alternatively, hand it to Oscar who is always lurking nearby. The dog is smart but the baby is smarter: she knows that if she hand feeds him her scraps, he'll be her best pal and in fact, he now allows her to climb on him with little more than a brief growl of annoyance.
We have no idea what we're in for once our belongings are actually packed up and professionally unloaded on the other end but we can safely guess that we'll have our hands full with a very curious and mobile 10 month old and an anxious pup who just wants to patrol his new fence line and make friends. Thankfully, we have almost-professional help from two people who have done this, oh, twenty-some times. I would lose my mind without them so thanks, Mom and Dad, for putting up with the circus mcgurkus. While we cannot repay the kindness, I am thankful that I have a small part in making memories for you, for me, and for Tempest when she's older. I look forward with joy to reminding her of all the Big Things she did before her first birthday.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Back to Blogging
I'm finished! I'm finished! Finally, I'm finished!
With my Masters degree, that is. Tomorrow is "graduation day," even though I won't be attending Drexel's ceremony, and I will have my M.S. in Teaching, Learning and Curriculum.
That said, I can end this nearly two-month hiatus and catch up on chronicling on our exciting whirlwind spring of travel and house hunting and more!
But that will be tomorrow...tonight, I'm still solo parentis.
With my Masters degree, that is. Tomorrow is "graduation day," even though I won't be attending Drexel's ceremony, and I will have my M.S. in Teaching, Learning and Curriculum.
That said, I can end this nearly two-month hiatus and catch up on chronicling on our exciting whirlwind spring of travel and house hunting and more!
But that will be tomorrow...tonight, I'm still solo parentis.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
7 months!
Happy seven months, baby girl!
My, how you've grown. Your personality, evident from birth, is becoming even more pronounced and nuanced with each passing day. I have enjoyed getting to know your ins and outs and likes and dislikes and I am so proud to call you mine. I wouldn't trade this time together for anything in the whole wide world. You make me laugh and you challenge me in the best possible ways. I have never known love like this before.
What a ham. That's my funny hunny. She never ceases to be effortlessly, wildly entertaining. I think I took these shots at around 6:30 AM...when she'd been up for over 3 hours. Her belly was full of milk and she was ready to start her birthday by launching off the glider but mama was a killjoy and kept scooping her up and re-setting the shot.
The second half of this year is going by much too quickly. Everyone warned us this would happen but I didn't want to believe them. In the blink of an eye, a mewling, motionless infant starts crawling and walking and talking. Growing up takes a lot of work, though. I've seen these exertions first-hand and I can testify to the ebbs and flows of sleep and teething and everything else she has to explore in the space of a day. It's a lot of stimulation to process all at once without some bumps in the road.
We have two more swim classes left before we test our skills on the first of two aquatic vacations. We've started weekly Music Together classes on Monday mornings. Our group is large, about 14 children of various ages, and their (mostly) mothers. There's one nanny and one dad. There's a boy names Ares who lives up to his name in every way. He wages war on the giant drums hiding in the corner and lets loose his wrath when prevented from running amok. There's a Hannah, a Vivian, a Margot, an Isabelle, an Isabella, a Ryan, an Abigail, an Anders, and others I can't remember. It's a nice mix of toddlers and babies and a terrifying preview of what permissive parenting looks like. Ha! Not for our daughter...no way. (Example: Ryan broke free and tried to take down the fire extinguisher while Ares and Isabella, brother and sister, fought over who could climb the stacked mats in the corner before someone noticed what they were doing.) Tempest doesn't miss a beat. She's probably storing up ideas for when she can run around during future classes.
It's nice to be out and about in the warming spring weather with her. She's at such a wonderful age for absorbing new experiences and I don't worry so much about keeping to a strict schedule with her because, let's be honest, if she gets two naps a day of at least 30-45 min, I'm fine with that. These days, I don't even feel guilty about plopping down next to her and snoozing when I can. Is it when they're toddlers that they nap for hours at a time? Yes? Please? That would be SO NICE.
Seven months and she's working her way up to scooting. She likes to grab hold of furniture now and pull herself up. She can hold it for a few moments before her legs get tired but she knows how it works and that's scary. Any day now she's going to just start moving and then there's no going back!
She's been in bed for about 20 minutes now which means I have another 20 minutes before she wakes up and realizes I'm gone. I'll quit while I'm ahead and try to catch up on school work...or DVR. Who am I kidding? DVR always wins.
My, how you've grown. Your personality, evident from birth, is becoming even more pronounced and nuanced with each passing day. I have enjoyed getting to know your ins and outs and likes and dislikes and I am so proud to call you mine. I wouldn't trade this time together for anything in the whole wide world. You make me laugh and you challenge me in the best possible ways. I have never known love like this before.
The second half of this year is going by much too quickly. Everyone warned us this would happen but I didn't want to believe them. In the blink of an eye, a mewling, motionless infant starts crawling and walking and talking. Growing up takes a lot of work, though. I've seen these exertions first-hand and I can testify to the ebbs and flows of sleep and teething and everything else she has to explore in the space of a day. It's a lot of stimulation to process all at once without some bumps in the road.
We have two more swim classes left before we test our skills on the first of two aquatic vacations. We've started weekly Music Together classes on Monday mornings. Our group is large, about 14 children of various ages, and their (mostly) mothers. There's one nanny and one dad. There's a boy names Ares who lives up to his name in every way. He wages war on the giant drums hiding in the corner and lets loose his wrath when prevented from running amok. There's a Hannah, a Vivian, a Margot, an Isabelle, an Isabella, a Ryan, an Abigail, an Anders, and others I can't remember. It's a nice mix of toddlers and babies and a terrifying preview of what permissive parenting looks like. Ha! Not for our daughter...no way. (Example: Ryan broke free and tried to take down the fire extinguisher while Ares and Isabella, brother and sister, fought over who could climb the stacked mats in the corner before someone noticed what they were doing.) Tempest doesn't miss a beat. She's probably storing up ideas for when she can run around during future classes.
It's nice to be out and about in the warming spring weather with her. She's at such a wonderful age for absorbing new experiences and I don't worry so much about keeping to a strict schedule with her because, let's be honest, if she gets two naps a day of at least 30-45 min, I'm fine with that. These days, I don't even feel guilty about plopping down next to her and snoozing when I can. Is it when they're toddlers that they nap for hours at a time? Yes? Please? That would be SO NICE.
Seven months and she's working her way up to scooting. She likes to grab hold of furniture now and pull herself up. She can hold it for a few moments before her legs get tired but she knows how it works and that's scary. Any day now she's going to just start moving and then there's no going back!
She's been in bed for about 20 minutes now which means I have another 20 minutes before she wakes up and realizes I'm gone. I'll quit while I'm ahead and try to catch up on school work...or DVR. Who am I kidding? DVR always wins.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
An Unexpected Merger
So this is news: IVF NJ has merged with RMA NJ effective March 16. We received a single page typed letter in the mail announcing this news with very little fanfare.
My initial thoughts ranged from "huh?" to "wow, good for RMA" to "oh shit."
So maybe this explains the newly exploding marketing campaign as evidenced by the radio commercial I heard the other day or the two page spread in a glossy print magazine that I saw in the nail salon. They've made some mad bank off this merger. It's a little disconcerting to see something that once had word-of-mouth cache now fairly ubiquitous, especially when it is directly correlated to making money and has the potential to affect quality of medical care .
I know we're not in-cycle now, thank goodness, but this is a huge change and having just seen Anne and Dr. Hock, the fact that neither of them mentioned a word struck me as rather odd. I was there on February 5. They definitely knew this was happening. Perhaps they were legally bound by silence until it was official? But I do find it strange that the letter we received is nowhere to be found on the RMA patient portal. There is a press release that was posted on March 18 but that's not what we got in the mail. Something about the way this was announced to past/current patients rubs me the wrong way. Am I losing sleep over it? No, but the reality is, this will affect us, should we move forward with another FET in the future.
When I stop to think about logistics, it is perplexing as to how this is going to work. Supposedly, IVF NJ patients have been absorbed into the offices of RMA, thus potentialy increasing the volume and the wait time in each RMA clinic. If you read these FAQs from the website, you'll learn that while all doctors are remaining with their current patients, it's vague about the nurses. If I were an IVF NJ-er, I'd have so many questions right now. Heck, as an RMA alum, I have many questions. I don't envy those women mid-cycle who must feel completely blindsided by this announcement, on top of all the other stresses they are dealing with along their journeys. In fact, on my infertility support community, this is a very hot topic on the local boards. IVF NJ folks have been told they have to wait up to 60 days for insurance to cover their upcoming cycles with the new RMA branding. I'd be furious! Some of these women don't have two months to spend waiting around. Granted, there's not much you can do to battle arbitrary insurance policies if that's what they're telling the new Franken-clinic.
So where does this leave us? Future uncertain. Some visceral reaction is repelling me from accepting this merger. I don't know if it's irrational because I feel some weird possessiveness of the old RMA, or what. Perhaps I associate our success with pre-merger RMA and my brain can't compute that it no longer exists as we knew it. Then again, it's not like RMA was ever intimate. You already feel like cattle at Basking Ridge and now that's simply going to be exacerbated. Hard to tell what, exactly, I'm feeling. Maybe it's more to do with taking something that is already impersonal (you know, ART in general), as biologically exacting and individualized as the protocols are, and amplifying the sense of insignificance? That seems like over-analysis.
Whatever the real reasons for my hesitation are, I'll give myself some time to absorb and to mull but I won't ignore them if they're still around in September.
My initial thoughts ranged from "huh?" to "wow, good for RMA" to "oh shit."
So maybe this explains the newly exploding marketing campaign as evidenced by the radio commercial I heard the other day or the two page spread in a glossy print magazine that I saw in the nail salon. They've made some mad bank off this merger. It's a little disconcerting to see something that once had word-of-mouth cache now fairly ubiquitous, especially when it is directly correlated to making money and has the potential to affect quality of medical care .
I know we're not in-cycle now, thank goodness, but this is a huge change and having just seen Anne and Dr. Hock, the fact that neither of them mentioned a word struck me as rather odd. I was there on February 5. They definitely knew this was happening. Perhaps they were legally bound by silence until it was official? But I do find it strange that the letter we received is nowhere to be found on the RMA patient portal. There is a press release that was posted on March 18 but that's not what we got in the mail. Something about the way this was announced to past/current patients rubs me the wrong way. Am I losing sleep over it? No, but the reality is, this will affect us, should we move forward with another FET in the future.
When I stop to think about logistics, it is perplexing as to how this is going to work. Supposedly, IVF NJ patients have been absorbed into the offices of RMA, thus potentialy increasing the volume and the wait time in each RMA clinic. If you read these FAQs from the website, you'll learn that while all doctors are remaining with their current patients, it's vague about the nurses. If I were an IVF NJ-er, I'd have so many questions right now. Heck, as an RMA alum, I have many questions. I don't envy those women mid-cycle who must feel completely blindsided by this announcement, on top of all the other stresses they are dealing with along their journeys. In fact, on my infertility support community, this is a very hot topic on the local boards. IVF NJ folks have been told they have to wait up to 60 days for insurance to cover their upcoming cycles with the new RMA branding. I'd be furious! Some of these women don't have two months to spend waiting around. Granted, there's not much you can do to battle arbitrary insurance policies if that's what they're telling the new Franken-clinic.
So where does this leave us? Future uncertain. Some visceral reaction is repelling me from accepting this merger. I don't know if it's irrational because I feel some weird possessiveness of the old RMA, or what. Perhaps I associate our success with pre-merger RMA and my brain can't compute that it no longer exists as we knew it. Then again, it's not like RMA was ever intimate. You already feel like cattle at Basking Ridge and now that's simply going to be exacerbated. Hard to tell what, exactly, I'm feeling. Maybe it's more to do with taking something that is already impersonal (you know, ART in general), as biologically exacting and individualized as the protocols are, and amplifying the sense of insignificance? That seems like over-analysis.
Whatever the real reasons for my hesitation are, I'll give myself some time to absorb and to mull but I won't ignore them if they're still around in September.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Halfway through
On March 16, Tempest Felicity Caldwell Austell turned 6 months old.
Now there's a record scratch moment for this Mama. 6 months?
My baby's first year is half over, already? I feel like we just got through the holiday whirlwind with our newborn, I blinked or took a quick nap or something, and now she's crawling and eating solid food and and sitting in high chairs in restaurants! Soon enough she'll be standing on her own and scooting and maybe even speaking in a language other than babble raspberries, along with all the other first year milestones we have yet to experience. Summer is going to be one wild ride.
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Onto the update!
At her 6 month well-visit, she weighed 16 lbs (with diaper on) and was 29.5 inches long. This child is wearing mostly 9-12 months in clothing now, depending on the brand, and continues to eat new foods with the voracity of a baby velociraptor. Watch those fingers! chomp chomp
She is a professional crawler, as of St. Patty's Day. She can stop, change direction, back up, go forward, side to side and even does this hurdler stance to achieve a seated position without assistance. One of her favorite activities is to lunge for Oscar when he comes prancing into the room. She squeals with glee and goes bear crawling after him while he deftly avoids her, sometimes seeking shelter on the furniture where he knows she can't reach him…yet. Your day is coming, pal. She will learn to stand and then nowhere will be safe! Tess also enjoys grabbing O's feet and trying to chew them. She likes his tail, as well, but he's having none of that. We always grab her hand and tell her, "gentle, Oscar" which means she's probably going to think her name is Oscar. ha!
We lowered the mattress in her crib one notch on the first day of spring (when it snowed 6 inches) because she can pull herself up and gnaw on the bars like a little beaver pup. She doesn't like not being able to see out with the snazzy new bumper installed so she's started pressing her entire body weight down on the bumper to flatten it, then she chews on the top, making grunting noises, until someone comes to pick her up. I have a feeling she's going to teach herself to stand up in there sooner rather than later for a better view. What a nebinsky!
Dining out has become much more enjoyable now that she can sit in a high chair and be mostly entertained by the new surroundings. I've learned that if I bring the Boon squeeze spoon and some puree, I don't have to order something that comes with a pickle, which, by the way, she absolutely loves. She does not appreciate having her pickle taken away before she's finished sucking every last seed out of the slimy shell. I guess there are worse things she could be eating but I try to limit her to half a pickle per outing. Nothing like a nice green salt lick for baby!
So far, she's eaten peas, carrots, sweet potato, banana, black beans, mango, cantaloupe, chia, quinoa, millet, oats, rice, apple, butternut squash, spinach, kale, blueberries, pear, avocado and enjoyed pretty much everything she's put in her mouth. Her absolute favorite is still banana pear oatmeal breakfast, homemade, steamed and blended with a bit of formula. She makes the sweetest baby bird faces and eats like its her last meal. I love it. We even do "beverage service" with a bottle to get her used to drinking while she eats. While she can't quite self-feed yet, she tries her best.
The motor skills are there but she still prefers drinking at the Breastaurant. Yeah…speaking of…that weaning thing? Not going so well. It's a slow crawl toward boob independence but I've set a new goal of having her totally off by the end of September. That way, she's not prematurely forced into something that's probably going to be fairly unpleasant for both of us and I can pace it so that more interesting, chewable foods can slowly replace mother's milk. Kid still won't take a damn bottle so I might as well wait for the good stuff like finger foods to help me out.
I won't go deep into sleep woes here. Pretty much nothing has improved from an earlier post about frequent wakings wah-wah-wah. In fact, things have gotten profoundly worse, thanks to phase 2 of teething. No pearly whites in sight but I can feel them cresting the bone. I just wish they'd hurry up and give her - and me - some relief. Maybe the Easter Bunny will offer magical teething carrots to help her cut those teeth.
In short, sleeping sucks. There. I said it. That's really all there is to say until we get this new bedtime bootcamp routine down. No more 9:30 or 10:00 PM bedtime, kiddo. You go to sleep like every other baby: when the sun is still in the sky and the clock says 7:00 PM. I'm all for taking cues from the baby but when that baby gives no cues, will not sleep ever without parental enforcement, it's time for a big change.
This is Night One. Talk to me in a week or two when the worst is behind us and I hope to be functioning at full brain capacity. Spring break! Wooohoo! That has such a different meaning now…
I uploaded all of the photos from my iPhone during this week off and took a leisurely stroll through the pictorial history of Tess. It is staggering to see the remarkable physical changes imprinted for posterity. Her face, her eyes, her hands, her smile: it's all changed but somehow unchanged. The more I get to know this little person we've created, the more I can trace behaviors back to birth or notice tendencies, now fully-realized, that make me smile. She is dramatic and wild and loving and musical. She is long and lean and agile. She is alert and inquisitive and sensitive. She is stormy, yes, but she experiences the world in a heightened sensory state, partly because she is an infant and partly because that's just Tempest. There is no doubt our daughter will be passionate and creative in whatever she sets her mind to doing in this life.
She is such a pleasant, welcome presence in my arms in the morning. I feel myself longing to hold her, even before she's awake, just so we can start our day together. The sight of her megawatt grin in the early morning light jolts my heart into beating faster like nothing else can. I melt when she lifts an arm to me, signaling, "pick me up, please!" I know these days of babyhood are short so even on the most difficult, challenging occasions, I remind myself to step back and cherish them because the next 6 months will be over before we know it.
Now there's a record scratch moment for this Mama. 6 months?
My baby's first year is half over, already? I feel like we just got through the holiday whirlwind with our newborn, I blinked or took a quick nap or something, and now she's crawling and eating solid food and and sitting in high chairs in restaurants! Soon enough she'll be standing on her own and scooting and maybe even speaking in a language other than babble raspberries, along with all the other first year milestones we have yet to experience. Summer is going to be one wild ride.
Onto the update!
At her 6 month well-visit, she weighed 16 lbs (with diaper on) and was 29.5 inches long. This child is wearing mostly 9-12 months in clothing now, depending on the brand, and continues to eat new foods with the voracity of a baby velociraptor. Watch those fingers! chomp chomp
She is a professional crawler, as of St. Patty's Day. She can stop, change direction, back up, go forward, side to side and even does this hurdler stance to achieve a seated position without assistance. One of her favorite activities is to lunge for Oscar when he comes prancing into the room. She squeals with glee and goes bear crawling after him while he deftly avoids her, sometimes seeking shelter on the furniture where he knows she can't reach him…yet. Your day is coming, pal. She will learn to stand and then nowhere will be safe! Tess also enjoys grabbing O's feet and trying to chew them. She likes his tail, as well, but he's having none of that. We always grab her hand and tell her, "gentle, Oscar" which means she's probably going to think her name is Oscar. ha!
We lowered the mattress in her crib one notch on the first day of spring (when it snowed 6 inches) because she can pull herself up and gnaw on the bars like a little beaver pup. She doesn't like not being able to see out with the snazzy new bumper installed so she's started pressing her entire body weight down on the bumper to flatten it, then she chews on the top, making grunting noises, until someone comes to pick her up. I have a feeling she's going to teach herself to stand up in there sooner rather than later for a better view. What a nebinsky!
Dining out has become much more enjoyable now that she can sit in a high chair and be mostly entertained by the new surroundings. I've learned that if I bring the Boon squeeze spoon and some puree, I don't have to order something that comes with a pickle, which, by the way, she absolutely loves. She does not appreciate having her pickle taken away before she's finished sucking every last seed out of the slimy shell. I guess there are worse things she could be eating but I try to limit her to half a pickle per outing. Nothing like a nice green salt lick for baby!
So far, she's eaten peas, carrots, sweet potato, banana, black beans, mango, cantaloupe, chia, quinoa, millet, oats, rice, apple, butternut squash, spinach, kale, blueberries, pear, avocado and enjoyed pretty much everything she's put in her mouth. Her absolute favorite is still banana pear oatmeal breakfast, homemade, steamed and blended with a bit of formula. She makes the sweetest baby bird faces and eats like its her last meal. I love it. We even do "beverage service" with a bottle to get her used to drinking while she eats. While she can't quite self-feed yet, she tries her best.
The motor skills are there but she still prefers drinking at the Breastaurant. Yeah…speaking of…that weaning thing? Not going so well. It's a slow crawl toward boob independence but I've set a new goal of having her totally off by the end of September. That way, she's not prematurely forced into something that's probably going to be fairly unpleasant for both of us and I can pace it so that more interesting, chewable foods can slowly replace mother's milk. Kid still won't take a damn bottle so I might as well wait for the good stuff like finger foods to help me out.
I won't go deep into sleep woes here. Pretty much nothing has improved from an earlier post about frequent wakings wah-wah-wah. In fact, things have gotten profoundly worse, thanks to phase 2 of teething. No pearly whites in sight but I can feel them cresting the bone. I just wish they'd hurry up and give her - and me - some relief. Maybe the Easter Bunny will offer magical teething carrots to help her cut those teeth.
In short, sleeping sucks. There. I said it. That's really all there is to say until we get this new bedtime bootcamp routine down. No more 9:30 or 10:00 PM bedtime, kiddo. You go to sleep like every other baby: when the sun is still in the sky and the clock says 7:00 PM. I'm all for taking cues from the baby but when that baby gives no cues, will not sleep ever without parental enforcement, it's time for a big change.
This is Night One. Talk to me in a week or two when the worst is behind us and I hope to be functioning at full brain capacity. Spring break! Wooohoo! That has such a different meaning now…
I uploaded all of the photos from my iPhone during this week off and took a leisurely stroll through the pictorial history of Tess. It is staggering to see the remarkable physical changes imprinted for posterity. Her face, her eyes, her hands, her smile: it's all changed but somehow unchanged. The more I get to know this little person we've created, the more I can trace behaviors back to birth or notice tendencies, now fully-realized, that make me smile. She is dramatic and wild and loving and musical. She is long and lean and agile. She is alert and inquisitive and sensitive. She is stormy, yes, but she experiences the world in a heightened sensory state, partly because she is an infant and partly because that's just Tempest. There is no doubt our daughter will be passionate and creative in whatever she sets her mind to doing in this life.
She is such a pleasant, welcome presence in my arms in the morning. I feel myself longing to hold her, even before she's awake, just so we can start our day together. The sight of her megawatt grin in the early morning light jolts my heart into beating faster like nothing else can. I melt when she lifts an arm to me, signaling, "pick me up, please!" I know these days of babyhood are short so even on the most difficult, challenging occasions, I remind myself to step back and cherish them because the next 6 months will be over before we know it.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
That's my daughter in the water
Our first official Parent and Me swim lesson this morning and you're still recovering. Sleeping, oh miracle of miracles, for a full 2 hours at this point. (The nap being the miracle -- but you are, too.)
I'd say that's a success!
Intrepid former pool manager, Nick, whom I've now learned has been replaced by an Israeli Olympic synchronized swimmer, finally managed to call me back last week to tell me the classes had already started but we could still join. Really on top of his game, that one. Mr. "don't use that GoPro in here" was already not at the top of my list so I can't say I'm sorry to see him go.
I am thrilled that Tempest took to the water today just as much as she did during her demo with Erin a month-and-a-half ago. There were two other babies; sweet Maddie, 11 months, whose mother, Jessica, was born and raised in Highland Park and is a teacher in Kendall Park, and Clara, a pudgy, adorable 7 month old with both mom and dad, Gina and Luke, in tow. There was a toddler boy who came late named Jake and he was Hanna Andersson model beautiful -- total stunner. I may have creeped his mom out starting at him. It was a pretty good-looking class, if I do say so.
The instructor's name is Ben and he also happens to be the youth swim team coach. They meet immediately before the baby class so he apologized for always having to start a bit after 11:00. This just means we get a little free playtime before the structured playtime so no complaints there. I call him Gentle Ben in my head because he's young, probably younger than me, and very sensitive and sweet with the babies. I detected a hint of hesitancy when I told him Tess was 6 months and he said that's the youngest baby he's ever had in class but when I reassured him that she loved her demo, he seemed relieved.
No screamers in this class! In fact, no tears or fussing at all during the entire 30 minutes. Maddie swallowed a ton of water on one of her dives but once she coughed it out, she was totally unfazed. Clara is a champion kicker, Jake did his own thing, mostly, away from the little ones, and Tess was just happy as could be. She loves jumping in. I hold her as she "stands" on the edge and then I send her sailing up into the air, secure in my arms, landing with a big splash feet first. She laughs her head off and kicks her legs in glee to do it over and over again. Her joy was infectious.
There's not much instructing at this age, obviously, but our job is to get our little ones comfortable in the water. Looking around, I'd say mission accomplished. The more time she spends in the pool, the easier it will be to take her to other pools and bigger bodies of water. Once Tess masters floating, she can move onto kicking like Clara and then using a noddle tied around her belly like Maddie. (We tried the noodle and failed. She just wanted to eat it, face first, in the water. ha!)
After practicing our entries, back floating, belly floating, and a variety of baby holds, we gathered in a circle for singalong time. Wait -- what? This is swim class. I tried desperately to recall the verses to some kiddie favorites but this wasn't Music Together where they give you a song book ahead of time to study. Ooof. I did my best and basically just launched Tess in the air at the appropriate parts of "The Wheels on the Bus." Duly noted for next time: learn more nursery rhymes and do not make up your own stupid lyrics.
The singing marked the official end of class but we get ten minutes of free swim after. Tess really enjoyed spinning in circles while partially submerged. At one point, I think she got a little dizzy, as her eyes went from wild delight to unfocused panic, like a kid about to puke on a thrill ride, so I slowed it down a bit. She was all smiles and squeals throughout, though.
All in all, Tess and I were in the pool for about 45 minutes. That's a good long time to make her glassy-eyed with exhaustion. I honestly thought she was going to fall asleep when I was floating her with her head against my chest. Once we got back into the women's locker room, she actually did fall asleep. As I was changing her. This was unprecedented. She woke up at home, only to feed, and then has now been out for nearly 2.5 hours. WOOHOO SWIMMING!
The physical experience of buoyancy is at once peaceful and exhilarating. I can't wait to share swim class with Rhett next Saturday. Viewing something as commonplace as a pool through my daughter's brand new eyes forces me to stop and marvel at her fearlessness and instinctual ability to hold her breath underwater without ever having experienced it outside the womb. Babies truly are a wonder.
I'll leave you with this. Tell me you can stay dry-eyed during this song and I will not believe you...
I'd say that's a success!
Intrepid former pool manager, Nick, whom I've now learned has been replaced by an Israeli Olympic synchronized swimmer, finally managed to call me back last week to tell me the classes had already started but we could still join. Really on top of his game, that one. Mr. "don't use that GoPro in here" was already not at the top of my list so I can't say I'm sorry to see him go.
I am thrilled that Tempest took to the water today just as much as she did during her demo with Erin a month-and-a-half ago. There were two other babies; sweet Maddie, 11 months, whose mother, Jessica, was born and raised in Highland Park and is a teacher in Kendall Park, and Clara, a pudgy, adorable 7 month old with both mom and dad, Gina and Luke, in tow. There was a toddler boy who came late named Jake and he was Hanna Andersson model beautiful -- total stunner. I may have creeped his mom out starting at him. It was a pretty good-looking class, if I do say so.
The instructor's name is Ben and he also happens to be the youth swim team coach. They meet immediately before the baby class so he apologized for always having to start a bit after 11:00. This just means we get a little free playtime before the structured playtime so no complaints there. I call him Gentle Ben in my head because he's young, probably younger than me, and very sensitive and sweet with the babies. I detected a hint of hesitancy when I told him Tess was 6 months and he said that's the youngest baby he's ever had in class but when I reassured him that she loved her demo, he seemed relieved.
No screamers in this class! In fact, no tears or fussing at all during the entire 30 minutes. Maddie swallowed a ton of water on one of her dives but once she coughed it out, she was totally unfazed. Clara is a champion kicker, Jake did his own thing, mostly, away from the little ones, and Tess was just happy as could be. She loves jumping in. I hold her as she "stands" on the edge and then I send her sailing up into the air, secure in my arms, landing with a big splash feet first. She laughs her head off and kicks her legs in glee to do it over and over again. Her joy was infectious.
There's not much instructing at this age, obviously, but our job is to get our little ones comfortable in the water. Looking around, I'd say mission accomplished. The more time she spends in the pool, the easier it will be to take her to other pools and bigger bodies of water. Once Tess masters floating, she can move onto kicking like Clara and then using a noddle tied around her belly like Maddie. (We tried the noodle and failed. She just wanted to eat it, face first, in the water. ha!)
After practicing our entries, back floating, belly floating, and a variety of baby holds, we gathered in a circle for singalong time. Wait -- what? This is swim class. I tried desperately to recall the verses to some kiddie favorites but this wasn't Music Together where they give you a song book ahead of time to study. Ooof. I did my best and basically just launched Tess in the air at the appropriate parts of "The Wheels on the Bus." Duly noted for next time: learn more nursery rhymes and do not make up your own stupid lyrics.
The singing marked the official end of class but we get ten minutes of free swim after. Tess really enjoyed spinning in circles while partially submerged. At one point, I think she got a little dizzy, as her eyes went from wild delight to unfocused panic, like a kid about to puke on a thrill ride, so I slowed it down a bit. She was all smiles and squeals throughout, though.
All in all, Tess and I were in the pool for about 45 minutes. That's a good long time to make her glassy-eyed with exhaustion. I honestly thought she was going to fall asleep when I was floating her with her head against my chest. Once we got back into the women's locker room, she actually did fall asleep. As I was changing her. This was unprecedented. She woke up at home, only to feed, and then has now been out for nearly 2.5 hours. WOOHOO SWIMMING!
The physical experience of buoyancy is at once peaceful and exhilarating. I can't wait to share swim class with Rhett next Saturday. Viewing something as commonplace as a pool through my daughter's brand new eyes forces me to stop and marvel at her fearlessness and instinctual ability to hold her breath underwater without ever having experienced it outside the womb. Babies truly are a wonder.
I'll leave you with this. Tell me you can stay dry-eyed during this song and I will not believe you...
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Go Ahead
Well, Tuesday was my first regular ol' annual at the gyno in I don't know how long -- years, for sure, and probably since spring of 2013 when I was first diagnosed with endo.
It was so odd walking into my OB office with my almost-6-month-old and not being pregnant or recently postpartum. We weren't there to talk about the baby. It was all about me. Of course, Dr. Convery, whom I haven't seen since she discharged me from the hospital, was thrilled to see Tess again. She could not get over how big she is now compared with the skinny little peanut she met at two days old. Convery has a Frozen-obsessed 4-year-old daughter but the sight of a baby girl is enough to send any mother, even an experienced obstetrician, down memory lane. She kept saying how beautiful Tess was and how happy she seemed and to enjoy her because pretty soon I'll have a preschooler like she has.
I cannot even imagine. When I try to think of Tempest in 6 months, or a year, all I see is a taller version of my still somewhat bald baby. I can't picture her filling out and assuming a toddler's pudgy form but I know it's going to happen at some point. I'm in no rush.
The exam for us non-preggos is so fast! I had forgotten it's basically open, swipe, poke around, show me your boobs: The End. My mastitis is completely gone so that's great news. Then the conversation turned toward will this dark line on my lower abdomen ever go away? Answer: maybe. Apparently, it's variable from woman to woman and the darker your skin, the less likely it is to fade. I should be ok to that end. Mine's not even that dark anymore and I certainly got lucky dodging stretchmarks this time around...but multiple pregnancies means multiple bodily ravages so I'm not holding my breath for next time.
Next time?
Yes, Virginia. There can be a next time.
"So, are you going to stay not pregnant for a while?"
She was totally baiting me and, I'm pretty sure, already knew the answer.
Am I that obvious?
"I had a feeling I'd be seeing a lot of you in the next year," she replied.
She told me to get dressed and meet her in the consult room. I filled her in on our RMA appointment and got to ask all of my questions I've been mulling for the past few weeks. She listened intently and was characteristically measured in her responses.
I am not someone she considers to be high-risk from the outset. The placenta previa wound up resolving itself in the end. It moved from partial at 28 weeks to marginal at 35, which is rare but extremely positive for my outlook. In fact, my previa could very well have been caused by the second embryo bleeding out in the form of an SCH. Had we just transferred one, it may not have even happened. It's hard to say for sure now but it's not a red flag.
Additionally, my A-typical preeclampsia developed more or less at term and while that is, again, rare, it is decidedly less concerning than someone who develops symptoms at 28 weeks. Could it happen again? Yes, certainly now that I've had it once. But Convery wasn't all that concerned about long-term implications for chronic hypertension or anything like that because I am young, active and extremely healthy, otherwise.
In short, she doesn't see any of my complications as medically dangerous if they were to be repeated. In her own words, "we know what we're dealing with now so worst case scenario, we know how to treat you if they come up again."
The big piece of advice was to wait another few months until late summer to give my body the ideal amount of time to heal. From a medical perspective, she said 18-24 months in between children is advised because that is optimal recovery time. If we do go ahead and plan a transfer in, say, August, that would be a late spring baby. Of course, the timing depends on Tempest and her willingness to wean. I'm not pushing her.
As for the 9 months of discomfort from the rapid expansion stretching out all the fascia from previous surgeries, she said it could be completely different this time -- or not. Every pregnancy is unique. (Gee, I've heard that one before!) Not a thing I can do about my irritable uterus but there is medication for that, just as there is for the inevitable raging heartburn. I have to decide if the pain and discomfort is worth it (which, obviously, it is.)
The only "must" (or must not): do NOT transfer multiples. She made me promise not to put my body through that and of course, I told her we were aiming for a SET (single embryo transfer.) She was extremely optimistic about our chances - I kept saying "if" and she kept saying "when" - because I have already been pregnant and delivered a healthy baby.
Time will tell.
And time, naturally, brings the unexpected.
I signed no second baby contract so we're free to change our minds in the next 6 months. I did cancel that saline sono for St. Patrick's Day, though. I'll call back when I'm ready to get back on that roller coaster.
Until then, I'm going to enjoy every moment with my firstborn.
It was so odd walking into my OB office with my almost-6-month-old and not being pregnant or recently postpartum. We weren't there to talk about the baby. It was all about me. Of course, Dr. Convery, whom I haven't seen since she discharged me from the hospital, was thrilled to see Tess again. She could not get over how big she is now compared with the skinny little peanut she met at two days old. Convery has a Frozen-obsessed 4-year-old daughter but the sight of a baby girl is enough to send any mother, even an experienced obstetrician, down memory lane. She kept saying how beautiful Tess was and how happy she seemed and to enjoy her because pretty soon I'll have a preschooler like she has.
I cannot even imagine. When I try to think of Tempest in 6 months, or a year, all I see is a taller version of my still somewhat bald baby. I can't picture her filling out and assuming a toddler's pudgy form but I know it's going to happen at some point. I'm in no rush.
The exam for us non-preggos is so fast! I had forgotten it's basically open, swipe, poke around, show me your boobs: The End. My mastitis is completely gone so that's great news. Then the conversation turned toward will this dark line on my lower abdomen ever go away? Answer: maybe. Apparently, it's variable from woman to woman and the darker your skin, the less likely it is to fade. I should be ok to that end. Mine's not even that dark anymore and I certainly got lucky dodging stretchmarks this time around...but multiple pregnancies means multiple bodily ravages so I'm not holding my breath for next time.
Next time?
Yes, Virginia. There can be a next time.
* * *
"So, are you going to stay not pregnant for a while?"
She was totally baiting me and, I'm pretty sure, already knew the answer.
Am I that obvious?
"I had a feeling I'd be seeing a lot of you in the next year," she replied.
She told me to get dressed and meet her in the consult room. I filled her in on our RMA appointment and got to ask all of my questions I've been mulling for the past few weeks. She listened intently and was characteristically measured in her responses.
I am not someone she considers to be high-risk from the outset. The placenta previa wound up resolving itself in the end. It moved from partial at 28 weeks to marginal at 35, which is rare but extremely positive for my outlook. In fact, my previa could very well have been caused by the second embryo bleeding out in the form of an SCH. Had we just transferred one, it may not have even happened. It's hard to say for sure now but it's not a red flag.
Additionally, my A-typical preeclampsia developed more or less at term and while that is, again, rare, it is decidedly less concerning than someone who develops symptoms at 28 weeks. Could it happen again? Yes, certainly now that I've had it once. But Convery wasn't all that concerned about long-term implications for chronic hypertension or anything like that because I am young, active and extremely healthy, otherwise.
In short, she doesn't see any of my complications as medically dangerous if they were to be repeated. In her own words, "we know what we're dealing with now so worst case scenario, we know how to treat you if they come up again."
The big piece of advice was to wait another few months until late summer to give my body the ideal amount of time to heal. From a medical perspective, she said 18-24 months in between children is advised because that is optimal recovery time. If we do go ahead and plan a transfer in, say, August, that would be a late spring baby. Of course, the timing depends on Tempest and her willingness to wean. I'm not pushing her.
As for the 9 months of discomfort from the rapid expansion stretching out all the fascia from previous surgeries, she said it could be completely different this time -- or not. Every pregnancy is unique. (Gee, I've heard that one before!) Not a thing I can do about my irritable uterus but there is medication for that, just as there is for the inevitable raging heartburn. I have to decide if the pain and discomfort is worth it (which, obviously, it is.)
The only "must" (or must not): do NOT transfer multiples. She made me promise not to put my body through that and of course, I told her we were aiming for a SET (single embryo transfer.) She was extremely optimistic about our chances - I kept saying "if" and she kept saying "when" - because I have already been pregnant and delivered a healthy baby.
Time will tell.
And time, naturally, brings the unexpected.
I signed no second baby contract so we're free to change our minds in the next 6 months. I did cancel that saline sono for St. Patrick's Day, though. I'll call back when I'm ready to get back on that roller coaster.
Until then, I'm going to enjoy every moment with my firstborn.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Marching On
Tempest is now 26 weeks old, if you can believe it, and well into teething, scooting, eating purees, attempting to crawl, launching her tiny body all over the floor and making lots of new noises. It's incredible to see the difference from the holidays to now. She's her same charming self but transformed into this mobile creature who will never be content with being strapped into any kind of restraint again. Heaven help us when it's time to switch strollers. I don't see that working out too well! We're lucky she does well in the Ergo pack.
February was a good month in terms of sleep and relative cheerfulness. She seemed as pleased with her new abilities as we were watching her discover them. Though sleep has been hit or miss (mostly miss, who am I kidding?) from the beginning, the shortest month brought the gift of three hour stretches and then "dream feeding" where she'd never fully wake up, making it easy to put her back in her crib for another two hours of shut-eye.
February also brought the return of the midday nap - hallelujah, hallelujah - for 2-3 hours at a stretch. This was vital. If Mama didn't also get her nap, she would have lost her damn mind. I took full advantage and dozed for an hour or so and then brought ,y laptop into bed with me to do school work.
My afternoons still look a lot like this:
Too bad the crib isn't currently nap material. I'd get a heck of a lot more accomplished. But, hey, we'll get there someday...maybe. I admit that it's been rough, not having the dedicated time to concentrate on some dense-ass theoretical reading this quarter. Heck, I've still got finals, a group project, a freaking 15 page paper and another project due in the next two weeks. Come hell or high water, it will all get done. Somehow. I try not to let it bug me but there is an overriding sense of anxiety since I'm so close to the end of school and I don't want to blow my GPA in the homestretch. Honestly, though, there are days where I do the bare minimum of what's required and I just can't sweat it. My priorities lie elsewhere these days. Overachieving is a thing of my pre-Tempest past.
So here we are; a fresh month full of new possibilities! March roared in like a snow leopard and with two weeks to go till someone turns six months, we've had to make some big adjustments in baby gear and child-proofing.
1. No more swinging when mama's in the shower. It no longer calms her down. She refuses to close her eyes and then it turns into a 10 minute game of peek-a-book which can be quite awkward when you're shaving your legs in a hurry, listening to your infant yell at you for daring to clean yourself up. (Really, who doesn't want to smell like milk and spit-up all day?) If I don't pop my head out every 30 seconds and sing absurd showtunes the entire time, I've got one very loud, very unhappy child. But darn if she doesn't laugh her head off, happy as can be, when I unbuckle her. Silly baby.
2. The bassinet portion has been removed from the pack-n-play. I made the executive decision to retire it the minute Tess could consistently get up on her hands and knees, since it's not very deep and she could accidentally eject herself. Don't need no baby-launching out of cribs yet. I'm just praying she never learns to do what I did - what my own grandmother taught me to do! - which was to hoist my leg over the rail of my crib and lower myself, ninja-like, down to the ground. I must have been close to a year old but still...NOPE. I think I'd have a heart attack if Tess starts that up.
3. The infant insert has been removed from the car seat carrier and though I was hopeful that it would buy us another month or two sans extra padding, this long lady is almost at the height limit. She's about 29 inches, measured today, and the limit is 30. Chicco recommends upgrading once their feet are within two inches of the bottom but I want to give her a few more weeks since she doesn't have much heft. The next car seat, while convertible from infant to grade-school booster, does not come with a stroller base so until she can sit up in her umbrella stroller, we're kind of SOL. I guess it's fine to be without wheels temporarily as she's not the biggest stroller fan, anyway. It's just one more transition to consider in a never-ending parade that starts now.
As a closing thought, do they make foam helmets for babies learning to crawl? I'd love to fabricate one. She's not running into furniture or walls or anything because I'm watching her but sometimes she suddenly falls ass-over-tin-cups if she gets a leg stuck or tries to change direction. It happens so quickly that I think it startles her more than it actually hurts but still, talk about Tumblin' Tess! She'll lie there with this shocked look on her face like, "holy crap, did I do that?" and the she starts wailing to be picked up. Poor thing. She'll need a little more practice time before joining to U.S. Olympic team.
February was a good month in terms of sleep and relative cheerfulness. She seemed as pleased with her new abilities as we were watching her discover them. Though sleep has been hit or miss (mostly miss, who am I kidding?) from the beginning, the shortest month brought the gift of three hour stretches and then "dream feeding" where she'd never fully wake up, making it easy to put her back in her crib for another two hours of shut-eye.
February also brought the return of the midday nap - hallelujah, hallelujah - for 2-3 hours at a stretch. This was vital. If Mama didn't also get her nap, she would have lost her damn mind. I took full advantage and dozed for an hour or so and then brought ,y laptop into bed with me to do school work.
My afternoons still look a lot like this:
Too bad the crib isn't currently nap material. I'd get a heck of a lot more accomplished. But, hey, we'll get there someday...maybe. I admit that it's been rough, not having the dedicated time to concentrate on some dense-ass theoretical reading this quarter. Heck, I've still got finals, a group project, a freaking 15 page paper and another project due in the next two weeks. Come hell or high water, it will all get done. Somehow. I try not to let it bug me but there is an overriding sense of anxiety since I'm so close to the end of school and I don't want to blow my GPA in the homestretch. Honestly, though, there are days where I do the bare minimum of what's required and I just can't sweat it. My priorities lie elsewhere these days. Overachieving is a thing of my pre-Tempest past.
*
So here we are; a fresh month full of new possibilities! March roared in like a snow leopard and with two weeks to go till someone turns six months, we've had to make some big adjustments in baby gear and child-proofing.
1. No more swinging when mama's in the shower. It no longer calms her down. She refuses to close her eyes and then it turns into a 10 minute game of peek-a-book which can be quite awkward when you're shaving your legs in a hurry, listening to your infant yell at you for daring to clean yourself up. (Really, who doesn't want to smell like milk and spit-up all day?) If I don't pop my head out every 30 seconds and sing absurd showtunes the entire time, I've got one very loud, very unhappy child. But darn if she doesn't laugh her head off, happy as can be, when I unbuckle her. Silly baby.
2. The bassinet portion has been removed from the pack-n-play. I made the executive decision to retire it the minute Tess could consistently get up on her hands and knees, since it's not very deep and she could accidentally eject herself. Don't need no baby-launching out of cribs yet. I'm just praying she never learns to do what I did - what my own grandmother taught me to do! - which was to hoist my leg over the rail of my crib and lower myself, ninja-like, down to the ground. I must have been close to a year old but still...NOPE. I think I'd have a heart attack if Tess starts that up.
3. The infant insert has been removed from the car seat carrier and though I was hopeful that it would buy us another month or two sans extra padding, this long lady is almost at the height limit. She's about 29 inches, measured today, and the limit is 30. Chicco recommends upgrading once their feet are within two inches of the bottom but I want to give her a few more weeks since she doesn't have much heft. The next car seat, while convertible from infant to grade-school booster, does not come with a stroller base so until she can sit up in her umbrella stroller, we're kind of SOL. I guess it's fine to be without wheels temporarily as she's not the biggest stroller fan, anyway. It's just one more transition to consider in a never-ending parade that starts now.
As a closing thought, do they make foam helmets for babies learning to crawl? I'd love to fabricate one. She's not running into furniture or walls or anything because I'm watching her but sometimes she suddenly falls ass-over-tin-cups if she gets a leg stuck or tries to change direction. It happens so quickly that I think it startles her more than it actually hurts but still, talk about Tumblin' Tess! She'll lie there with this shocked look on her face like, "holy crap, did I do that?" and the she starts wailing to be picked up. Poor thing. She'll need a little more practice time before joining to U.S. Olympic team.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
What If
I'm starting to second-guess myself. Second-guess trying for another baby, that is.
I took Tess to RMA on Groundhog Day for a follow-up appointment to discuss the possibility of another FET cycle. It was wonderful introducing her to Nurse Anne and to Dr. Hock. They loved holding her and cooing and cuddling with her. I took some priceless photos that bring us full-circle.
It was such a surreal experience to bring our living, breathing frosty to the office where it all started. We first saw her on the monitor as a follicle (perhaps Large Marge?) and then we saw her again, heart beat and yolk sack, through 8 weeks of pregnancy. Amazing. It is simply amazing.
Three weeks ago, I was all fired up like, "yeah, let's do this!" I have always wanted to be done having children, however many that may be, before my 30th birthday. The endometriosis made that less of a goal than a mandate. Lucky me. I am a good healer, though, as Dr. Hock said, and because I'm in otherwise great health, she sees no reason to wait. I was cautioned that my risk of developing both complications again, placenta previa and pre-eclampsia, is high. Like 40% high. Still, I was undaunted.
After a quick peek inside to check the status of the uterus and ovary(ies?), everything looks quiet. No discernible cysts, some normal follicular growth on the right side, and a really cool view of my internal c-section scar on the ol' uterus. We worked out a provisional schedule.
I would need to have another saline sonohysterogram before proceeding, just to make sure we're clear of adenomyosis and any problematic scar tissue/fibroids post-baby. It also helps to remap the now-used womb. Ain't my first trip to the rodeo this time around, y'all, and things do shift. It was reiterated that I have a rather extreme anterior tilt to my uterus and this is why the saline sono was probably so painful last time. "A full bladder should help" (yeah, ok) but I'm not holding my breath and I'm not taking any chances. I'm going to med up. That's right. It was worse than childbirth. It was worse than getting a tooth pulled. It was probably even worse than having that abscess drained in front of me with nothing but a muscle relaxant to soothe me. I won't go into graphic detail but imagine having a thin tube inserted into your nethers and imagine the sensation of that tube being on fire. For 10 minutes. AWFUL.
Alas, this is all par for my course in IVF Land and though I can't say I'm totally gangbusters to deal with the unpleasantness again, especially with Tempest to consider, another baby is worth it. Right?
But it's there, every third thought in my brain; that nagging voice asking me if I'm sure.
Maybe it's the relentless freeze that has come to define this winter and the seeming impossibility that the three of us, O, T, and me, will ever get outdoors together for any length of time again.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm dreading the saline sono on St. Patrick's Day (decidedly not my favorite procedure.)
Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I've finally had time to absorb the gravity of the situation; the facts and figures and practicality of it.
A 40% chance of everything going to hell. That's higher than my odds of even getting pregnant again.
I suppose, more than the economics or the practicalities of life with a toddler and newborn, the decision comes down to my health.
Do I want this badly enough to take the odds?
At worst, do I want to compromise my body for potentially the rest of my life?
At best, do I want to be incapacitated, should I have another SCH or previa that maybe doesn't resolve this time and thus the only course of treatment is bed rest?
As lovely as a little sister or little brother for Tempest sounds in theory, I am less and less convinced with each passing day that this feels right. I'm usually spot on when it comes to heeding my gut instinct. My blood pressure is still all over the place, more than 5 months post-partum, and while that can be normal for pre-e, it can also indicate chronic hypertension -- and yes, this does run in my family so I don't really want to mess with being on meds for the rest of my days.
I have done the sensible thing and set up my 6 month GYN visit with the good Dr. Convery. I'm going to level with her and talk through everything I've been thinking/reading. She won't pull any punches and I have a sneaking suspicion she'll tell me straight that maybe this is something to seriously consider before moving forward with RMA. After all, she saw me at my worst. My absolute, get-this-baby-out-of-me /as yet undiagnosed pre-e worst, just two days before giving birth. She ordered the tests that likely saved Tempest from complications. She also spoke to me on the phone an hour before my father drove me to the hospital to express her concern and well-wishes on the probable delivery of my child that night.
In short, I will not move forward with anything until I get the blessing or the Do Not Pass Go from my beloved OB. (Well, now she's my gynecologist, which is weird, but at least I also get my annual out of the way.)
With everything we have in the mix - ok, everything I have to contend with, for indeed, it is my body we're talking about, not to mention that I am the primary caregiver to the loves of my life - this decision is one we very well may be discussing each and every day until we've reached a mutually agreeable conclusion.
It's not a question of want. Of course I want another child. I'd take two or three more! But it isn't that simple, is it? Not for us. It will never be that simple for us.
I took Tess to RMA on Groundhog Day for a follow-up appointment to discuss the possibility of another FET cycle. It was wonderful introducing her to Nurse Anne and to Dr. Hock. They loved holding her and cooing and cuddling with her. I took some priceless photos that bring us full-circle.
It was such a surreal experience to bring our living, breathing frosty to the office where it all started. We first saw her on the monitor as a follicle (perhaps Large Marge?) and then we saw her again, heart beat and yolk sack, through 8 weeks of pregnancy. Amazing. It is simply amazing.
Three weeks ago, I was all fired up like, "yeah, let's do this!" I have always wanted to be done having children, however many that may be, before my 30th birthday. The endometriosis made that less of a goal than a mandate. Lucky me. I am a good healer, though, as Dr. Hock said, and because I'm in otherwise great health, she sees no reason to wait. I was cautioned that my risk of developing both complications again, placenta previa and pre-eclampsia, is high. Like 40% high. Still, I was undaunted.
After a quick peek inside to check the status of the uterus and ovary(ies?), everything looks quiet. No discernible cysts, some normal follicular growth on the right side, and a really cool view of my internal c-section scar on the ol' uterus. We worked out a provisional schedule.
I would need to have another saline sonohysterogram before proceeding, just to make sure we're clear of adenomyosis and any problematic scar tissue/fibroids post-baby. It also helps to remap the now-used womb. Ain't my first trip to the rodeo this time around, y'all, and things do shift. It was reiterated that I have a rather extreme anterior tilt to my uterus and this is why the saline sono was probably so painful last time. "A full bladder should help" (yeah, ok) but I'm not holding my breath and I'm not taking any chances. I'm going to med up. That's right. It was worse than childbirth. It was worse than getting a tooth pulled. It was probably even worse than having that abscess drained in front of me with nothing but a muscle relaxant to soothe me. I won't go into graphic detail but imagine having a thin tube inserted into your nethers and imagine the sensation of that tube being on fire. For 10 minutes. AWFUL.
Alas, this is all par for my course in IVF Land and though I can't say I'm totally gangbusters to deal with the unpleasantness again, especially with Tempest to consider, another baby is worth it. Right?
But it's there, every third thought in my brain; that nagging voice asking me if I'm sure.
Maybe it's the relentless freeze that has come to define this winter and the seeming impossibility that the three of us, O, T, and me, will ever get outdoors together for any length of time again.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm dreading the saline sono on St. Patrick's Day (decidedly not my favorite procedure.)
Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I've finally had time to absorb the gravity of the situation; the facts and figures and practicality of it.
A 40% chance of everything going to hell. That's higher than my odds of even getting pregnant again.
I suppose, more than the economics or the practicalities of life with a toddler and newborn, the decision comes down to my health.
Do I want this badly enough to take the odds?
At worst, do I want to compromise my body for potentially the rest of my life?
At best, do I want to be incapacitated, should I have another SCH or previa that maybe doesn't resolve this time and thus the only course of treatment is bed rest?
As lovely as a little sister or little brother for Tempest sounds in theory, I am less and less convinced with each passing day that this feels right. I'm usually spot on when it comes to heeding my gut instinct. My blood pressure is still all over the place, more than 5 months post-partum, and while that can be normal for pre-e, it can also indicate chronic hypertension -- and yes, this does run in my family so I don't really want to mess with being on meds for the rest of my days.
I have done the sensible thing and set up my 6 month GYN visit with the good Dr. Convery. I'm going to level with her and talk through everything I've been thinking/reading. She won't pull any punches and I have a sneaking suspicion she'll tell me straight that maybe this is something to seriously consider before moving forward with RMA. After all, she saw me at my worst. My absolute, get-this-baby-out-of-me /as yet undiagnosed pre-e worst, just two days before giving birth. She ordered the tests that likely saved Tempest from complications. She also spoke to me on the phone an hour before my father drove me to the hospital to express her concern and well-wishes on the probable delivery of my child that night.
In short, I will not move forward with anything until I get the blessing or the Do Not Pass Go from my beloved OB. (Well, now she's my gynecologist, which is weird, but at least I also get my annual out of the way.)
With everything we have in the mix - ok, everything I have to contend with, for indeed, it is my body we're talking about, not to mention that I am the primary caregiver to the loves of my life - this decision is one we very well may be discussing each and every day until we've reached a mutually agreeable conclusion.
It's not a question of want. Of course I want another child. I'd take two or three more! But it isn't that simple, is it? Not for us. It will never be that simple for us.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
5 months
On President's Day, our girl turned 5 months old. Miss Tempest is a rootin', scootin' fireball. Ain't no stopin' her now! She's on the move!
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Since our potatty is so very active, I thought now might be a good time to try out Gymboree to see if she could burn off that energy in a new environment and perhaps, oh, I don't know...SLEEP?! Maybe? Just a little better?
I took her to her trial class yesterday, Level 1 for babies from birth to 6 months. The closest facility is in Metuchen so we just shoot up 27 and we're there in 20 min. Parking is another story but I'm hoping my habitual earliness will pay off routinely. We caught the tail end of the toddler class. Those kids are hysterical. There were 12 of them, about the same mix of those at our Music Together trial, but this is a gym so they definitely separate babies by appropriate ages so there's not a Running of the Rug Rats trampling situation.
Once everyone had kissed Gymbo goodbye, the older kids were wrapped up in their layers of sweaters and coats and boots and gloves and shuttled toward the door. The waiting area is about the size of our laundry room so that was fun finagling the infant carrier out of the line of fire but I managed to squeeze past to safety. I exchanged pleasantries with several of the toddler moms who said, "He's gorgeous! What's his name?" Granted, the carrier is orange but she had a pink hat on. Come on, ladies! This is 2015. Gender neutral gear has been a thing for a good 30 years now. It just kills me that she's always assumed to be a boy first. No one has ever asked me, "Boy or girl?" Maybe that's the Bryn Mawr talking but I always ask.
Apparently, no one leaves Gymboree willingly. There were at least two tantrums and one kid and his mom disappeared into the bathroom for a good 8 minutes. We made our introductions and Tempest was proclaimed the most beautiful baby with the most unique and lovely name. Always a good start. Screams were heard issuing from the bathroom and Miss Liz confided in me that this particular child has severe separation anxiety every. single. time. We laughed about everyone assuming that a baby dressed in any shade of blue - aqua, navy, turquoise - is presumed to be male. We talked about Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers and how lovably nuts they are. Miss Liz's friend has a female who has killed groundhogs and brought them inside as trophies. Oscar failed at basic mouse-catching. He's just not that into carnage but I'm sure if we let him loose with a squirrel, he'd make a toy out of it.
Once the screamer had cleared out, we had the gym to ourselves. The "floor" is made of those foam mats that velcro together. There are slides and roller logs and odds and ends for the big kids to climb over but today, Tess was just getting her orientation lesson. It ended up being private because the other little boy didn't show. In about five minutes, Miss Liz turned to me and said, "your daughter is so active that you'd do better to move her up to Level 2. We'll finish Level 1 today but come back next Tuesday for another trial class with the 6-10 month-olds." Tess was not interested in lying on her back, or in singing, or in having her body manipulated. She wanted the balls and she wanted the bubbles. She scooted forward for Miss Liz. She rolled everywhere. It was fun for her but we could both tell that she was ready for the next step.
We ended up using one of the logs to work the core muscles toward sitting up. That was fun, watching her flop back and then righting herself, laughing. She did so well and had to be absolutely exhausted when we were through. There was some mirror play on her belly and we ended with the classic Gymboree parachute. Definitely not as much fun as having a mosh pit of babies under there but Tess loved it. First we spun her on top of it and then we put her underneath. She was watching me the entire time but she did give a smile, finally.
Miss Liz was wonderful and explained the motor skills we were working on and the benchmarks each session attempts to achieve. Classes are once a week with open gym time. Gymboree is one of those activities that is only going to get more fun as Tess grows and moves and learns to play. I'm looking forward to meeting some older babies next week and seeing how she does with the next level.
Since our potatty is so very active, I thought now might be a good time to try out Gymboree to see if she could burn off that energy in a new environment and perhaps, oh, I don't know...SLEEP?! Maybe? Just a little better?
I took her to her trial class yesterday, Level 1 for babies from birth to 6 months. The closest facility is in Metuchen so we just shoot up 27 and we're there in 20 min. Parking is another story but I'm hoping my habitual earliness will pay off routinely. We caught the tail end of the toddler class. Those kids are hysterical. There were 12 of them, about the same mix of those at our Music Together trial, but this is a gym so they definitely separate babies by appropriate ages so there's not a Running of the Rug Rats trampling situation.
Once everyone had kissed Gymbo goodbye, the older kids were wrapped up in their layers of sweaters and coats and boots and gloves and shuttled toward the door. The waiting area is about the size of our laundry room so that was fun finagling the infant carrier out of the line of fire but I managed to squeeze past to safety. I exchanged pleasantries with several of the toddler moms who said, "He's gorgeous! What's his name?" Granted, the carrier is orange but she had a pink hat on. Come on, ladies! This is 2015. Gender neutral gear has been a thing for a good 30 years now. It just kills me that she's always assumed to be a boy first. No one has ever asked me, "Boy or girl?" Maybe that's the Bryn Mawr talking but I always ask.
Apparently, no one leaves Gymboree willingly. There were at least two tantrums and one kid and his mom disappeared into the bathroom for a good 8 minutes. We made our introductions and Tempest was proclaimed the most beautiful baby with the most unique and lovely name. Always a good start. Screams were heard issuing from the bathroom and Miss Liz confided in me that this particular child has severe separation anxiety every. single. time. We laughed about everyone assuming that a baby dressed in any shade of blue - aqua, navy, turquoise - is presumed to be male. We talked about Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers and how lovably nuts they are. Miss Liz's friend has a female who has killed groundhogs and brought them inside as trophies. Oscar failed at basic mouse-catching. He's just not that into carnage but I'm sure if we let him loose with a squirrel, he'd make a toy out of it.
Once the screamer had cleared out, we had the gym to ourselves. The "floor" is made of those foam mats that velcro together. There are slides and roller logs and odds and ends for the big kids to climb over but today, Tess was just getting her orientation lesson. It ended up being private because the other little boy didn't show. In about five minutes, Miss Liz turned to me and said, "your daughter is so active that you'd do better to move her up to Level 2. We'll finish Level 1 today but come back next Tuesday for another trial class with the 6-10 month-olds." Tess was not interested in lying on her back, or in singing, or in having her body manipulated. She wanted the balls and she wanted the bubbles. She scooted forward for Miss Liz. She rolled everywhere. It was fun for her but we could both tell that she was ready for the next step.
We ended up using one of the logs to work the core muscles toward sitting up. That was fun, watching her flop back and then righting herself, laughing. She did so well and had to be absolutely exhausted when we were through. There was some mirror play on her belly and we ended with the classic Gymboree parachute. Definitely not as much fun as having a mosh pit of babies under there but Tess loved it. First we spun her on top of it and then we put her underneath. She was watching me the entire time but she did give a smile, finally.
Miss Liz was wonderful and explained the motor skills we were working on and the benchmarks each session attempts to achieve. Classes are once a week with open gym time. Gymboree is one of those activities that is only going to get more fun as Tess grows and moves and learns to play. I'm looking forward to meeting some older babies next week and seeing how she does with the next level.
Seasons of Love
I know many people count winter as their least favorite season but I truly love it. I love the coziness of incessant snow, I love the relative hush that falls over the street and the crisp air that sets your lungs afire. That feeling of being cloistered away for a time is a luxury that many don't count among the riches of the season. Call me sentimental for something that isn't very practical, but I see the earth buried beneath this temporary mantle and I know that life will begin again soon, very soon, and we should all be patient and enjoy the anticipation of spring. Or maybe that's just my lapsed Catholicism rationalizing Lent...either way, you've gotta hand it to a religion that appropriates nature's cycle. Maybe it is the poetry of deepest winter, those dark-skied mornings and early twilights that make us hold our loved ones a little closer, spend a little more time talking and just being together, that I hold dear.
Of all the winter months, I love February the most. January even holds special meaning for me now (frosties!) but February is that special time when we get to celebrate unabashed displays of looooooove. I freely admit that I used to have a teenager's loathe it/secretly like it relationship with Valentine's Day. I have always been a reluctant romantic so I can really get behind the red and pink splendor of pouring out your guts in the form of verbal sentiments and edible delights. Who doesn't love chocolate? Come on! February is chocolate's time to shine. The furtive nature of sending and receiving valentine's has a rather gothic quality to it. I don't know, something about the slow burn of a flame you never knew existed is appealing. The season is rife with possibility.
But there's so much more to love than the romantic sort. There's philia, or friendship, storge, affection, eros, of course, but then agape which, though deeply Christian in its associations today, comes from ancient Greece and is the most powerful of all: unconditional love. I felt stirrings of this when I said yes to the love of my life and there were murmurs when we brought Oscar home but I have never truly known agape before becoming a mother. Of course, I've been the recipient of apage and I love my parents truly and deeply but it isn't the same until you, yourself, transform from someone's child into someone's parent.
This Valentine's Day, I celebrated the greatest gift the world has ever known -- and yes, I had my champagne and Dove Promises, too.
Of all the winter months, I love February the most. January even holds special meaning for me now (frosties!) but February is that special time when we get to celebrate unabashed displays of looooooove. I freely admit that I used to have a teenager's loathe it/secretly like it relationship with Valentine's Day. I have always been a reluctant romantic so I can really get behind the red and pink splendor of pouring out your guts in the form of verbal sentiments and edible delights. Who doesn't love chocolate? Come on! February is chocolate's time to shine. The furtive nature of sending and receiving valentine's has a rather gothic quality to it. I don't know, something about the slow burn of a flame you never knew existed is appealing. The season is rife with possibility.
But there's so much more to love than the romantic sort. There's philia, or friendship, storge, affection, eros, of course, but then agape which, though deeply Christian in its associations today, comes from ancient Greece and is the most powerful of all: unconditional love. I felt stirrings of this when I said yes to the love of my life and there were murmurs when we brought Oscar home but I have never truly known agape before becoming a mother. Of course, I've been the recipient of apage and I love my parents truly and deeply but it isn't the same until you, yourself, transform from someone's child into someone's parent.
This Valentine's Day, I celebrated the greatest gift the world has ever known -- and yes, I had my champagne and Dove Promises, too.
My funny Valentine
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Midnight Madness
Joi Mitchell was right. You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
And by that, I mean the basic human right to sleep more than 30 minutes at a time. Yes, yes, I know: having a baby means you'll be moderately-to-severely sleep deprived at various point throughout their first year or life and even beyond in times of tumult (teething, illness, nightmares) but did anyone ever say, "oh, hey, I bet I can go a whole week without making it to REM and not lose my damn mind?!"
Nope. Not a chance. No one in the history of the world has ever said that because it is next to impossible.
Last night, I reached full-on fever dream territory. I dreamed that there was a formula pump that attached to my nipples; a handy tool for weaning mothers for middle-of-the-night feedings. The liquid was brownish, as formula tends to be when it oxidizes, but I couldn't turn it off so there was formula gushing everywhere in the bed and Tess was not pleased with it to begin with so she was crying and I just couldn't stop the stupid pump so I flooded our bedroom with formula and then we went all "Bedknobs and Broomsticks," floating into the night.
OK, so I had been having weird waking dreams of our house being broken-into when it was really the neighbors slamming their toilet seat or something but this one took the cake. I had convinced myself that this was happening, could even taste the formula, and it took me staring at the clock which read 2:59 for me to realize that we were not, in fact, in imminent peril.
Whoa.
While I try not to dwell on specifics (which might be rather embarrassing, as threats of bodily harm come to mind) I absolutely do not recall reaching this frightful state of exhaustion in my first six weeks of motherhood. Sure, I was bone tired as my body was adjusting to the new demands of nursing and my hormones were settling but then, at least, Tess slept for a few hours at a time. Up to a week ago, we'd even make it to four hours at a stretch more than twice a week which was a huge improvement from the colicky weeks leading up to Christmas.
Dear Tempest has slept like crap since last Saturday and by "crap," I mean not at all. She will nap during the day because poor petunia is completely exhausted but even those naps are fitful and full of stirrings. The longest one never last more than 2.5 hours and that's only if I'm physically lying down next to her. I feel so guilty that my almost-5-month-old is experiencing sleep deprivation. Infants her age are still supposed to be getting at least 12 hours of sleep per day, which is laughable to me. Crazed laughter floods my head when I count up how much time she actually spends resting, if not sleeping: maybe 6-8 hours, including lap and shoulder snoozes? That's absurd and probably damaging to her neural development. Must. Not. Freak. Out. This is fixable, right? It has to be something she'll grow out of.
It's the teeth. It's the all the new activity. It's solid foods causing gas. Honestly, I don't know that it's one thing but I guarantee it's a combination of factors big enough to cause her this level of distress at night. In the day, she's her happy, inquisitive self. At night, we're talking Jekyll and Hyde. Is she overstimulated? Maybe. Is she in constant pain? Hard to say. Sometimes, yes. I see her grabbing her cheek or her ear and crying out. I wish those little white buds would hurry up and break through to give her some relief. I think it gets worse overnight because the ache is all she has to focus on. The pediatrician recommended Tylenol before bed for as long as she's actively teething which "could be months" GEE THANKS. Last night was the very first night that Tess slept for a solid hour but even then, the duration was full of fraught wakings.
Did I mention we're back to co-sleeping? She has flat-out refused her crib for even so much as a 20 minute snooze since Sunday. She's happy to play in there while I'm in the shower or taking Oscar out but sleeping there? Forget it. The pack-n-play, formerly my go-to for mid-afternoon naps, is now a no-go. If I hold her, she'll doze, but if I sneeze or cough or even twitch slightly, it's all over. I feel like I'm tip-toeing around a very cuddly, adorable land mind and I absolutely do not want to disturb it.
Of course, my distress, while temporary, is nothing compared to what my poor daughter is going through. I know all babies go through teething; I did, Rhett did, we are no worse for the wear but I suspect not all children have such an intense experience as our Tempest. I feel helpless. Nothing I am doing seems to be working so all I can do is provide my love, my breast, my bear-hug embrace and wait it out, as she must.
And by that, I mean the basic human right to sleep more than 30 minutes at a time. Yes, yes, I know: having a baby means you'll be moderately-to-severely sleep deprived at various point throughout their first year or life and even beyond in times of tumult (teething, illness, nightmares) but did anyone ever say, "oh, hey, I bet I can go a whole week without making it to REM and not lose my damn mind?!"
Nope. Not a chance. No one in the history of the world has ever said that because it is next to impossible.
Last night, I reached full-on fever dream territory. I dreamed that there was a formula pump that attached to my nipples; a handy tool for weaning mothers for middle-of-the-night feedings. The liquid was brownish, as formula tends to be when it oxidizes, but I couldn't turn it off so there was formula gushing everywhere in the bed and Tess was not pleased with it to begin with so she was crying and I just couldn't stop the stupid pump so I flooded our bedroom with formula and then we went all "Bedknobs and Broomsticks," floating into the night.
OK, so I had been having weird waking dreams of our house being broken-into when it was really the neighbors slamming their toilet seat or something but this one took the cake. I had convinced myself that this was happening, could even taste the formula, and it took me staring at the clock which read 2:59 for me to realize that we were not, in fact, in imminent peril.
Whoa.
While I try not to dwell on specifics (which might be rather embarrassing, as threats of bodily harm come to mind) I absolutely do not recall reaching this frightful state of exhaustion in my first six weeks of motherhood. Sure, I was bone tired as my body was adjusting to the new demands of nursing and my hormones were settling but then, at least, Tess slept for a few hours at a time. Up to a week ago, we'd even make it to four hours at a stretch more than twice a week which was a huge improvement from the colicky weeks leading up to Christmas.
Dear Tempest has slept like crap since last Saturday and by "crap," I mean not at all. She will nap during the day because poor petunia is completely exhausted but even those naps are fitful and full of stirrings. The longest one never last more than 2.5 hours and that's only if I'm physically lying down next to her. I feel so guilty that my almost-5-month-old is experiencing sleep deprivation. Infants her age are still supposed to be getting at least 12 hours of sleep per day, which is laughable to me. Crazed laughter floods my head when I count up how much time she actually spends resting, if not sleeping: maybe 6-8 hours, including lap and shoulder snoozes? That's absurd and probably damaging to her neural development. Must. Not. Freak. Out. This is fixable, right? It has to be something she'll grow out of.
It's the teeth. It's the all the new activity. It's solid foods causing gas. Honestly, I don't know that it's one thing but I guarantee it's a combination of factors big enough to cause her this level of distress at night. In the day, she's her happy, inquisitive self. At night, we're talking Jekyll and Hyde. Is she overstimulated? Maybe. Is she in constant pain? Hard to say. Sometimes, yes. I see her grabbing her cheek or her ear and crying out. I wish those little white buds would hurry up and break through to give her some relief. I think it gets worse overnight because the ache is all she has to focus on. The pediatrician recommended Tylenol before bed for as long as she's actively teething which "could be months" GEE THANKS. Last night was the very first night that Tess slept for a solid hour but even then, the duration was full of fraught wakings.
Did I mention we're back to co-sleeping? She has flat-out refused her crib for even so much as a 20 minute snooze since Sunday. She's happy to play in there while I'm in the shower or taking Oscar out but sleeping there? Forget it. The pack-n-play, formerly my go-to for mid-afternoon naps, is now a no-go. If I hold her, she'll doze, but if I sneeze or cough or even twitch slightly, it's all over. I feel like I'm tip-toeing around a very cuddly, adorable land mind and I absolutely do not want to disturb it.
Of course, my distress, while temporary, is nothing compared to what my poor daughter is going through. I know all babies go through teething; I did, Rhett did, we are no worse for the wear but I suspect not all children have such an intense experience as our Tempest. I feel helpless. Nothing I am doing seems to be working so all I can do is provide my love, my breast, my bear-hug embrace and wait it out, as she must.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Music Together
We were finally able to attend the demo Mixed Ages class at the Princeton Lab East Brunswick location today. We've had to reschedule twice due to inclement weather and canceled classes so I'm doubly glad that I didn't sign us up for Winter Session. Also...did I mention there are 6 toddlers in the class? While I'm glad Tess has her shots up to date, I am happy to wait until after cold/flu season has run its course before making a commitment to routinely expose her to other kids' germs. But for today, everyone seemed happy and healthy. I brought my own blanket and rattle, just in case.
I knew more or less what to expect in terms of format from speaking with my Aunt Karen who owns her own Music Together franchise in Massachusetts. She couldn't say enough about the benefits of starting babies early, even if it might feel a little silly at times. She encouraged me to skip the babies classes and go for Mixed Ages because of the cognitive benefits to Tess being around older children. A semester of classes was her baby gift to us so she instructed me to research the most convenient location and attend a preview before making the final decision to enroll in the spring. Can't beat the commute! It's a 10 min drive out toward Oscar's vet and located just down the road from the Starbucks with the drive-through. (Lucky Mama.)
Boy, am I glad I decided to have that cup of coffee this morning. Classes are held in a dance studio next to the local Y. Now this isn't your average small-town dance studio. It's called Center Stage, scrawled in purple, jaunty font across the marquee. First of all, the space is so large that it's in an industrial park adjacent to a stone mason and something to do with plexiglass. Secondly, the windows are tinted so you can't see inside and I had no idea if the lights were on or if the door was unlocked from looking at it. You step into the lobby and there's an actual reception desk and signs pointing to male and female locker rooms, and all kinds of doors leading to various styles of studios (Tap A, Tap B, Ballet A, Ballet B, Jazz A, Jazz B, Gymnastics, Vocal Music, Stage Door, etc.) It was like landing in technicolor Oz. Holy cow, I suddenly wish I had stuck with dance because something about this level of unabashed competition just makes my pulse quicken and I get so excited that I can live vicariously through my own daughter when she -- oh, I'm just kidding.
But seriously, when Tempest is old enough, provided she has an interest, this is exactly the kind of place I'll take her first. Go big or go home. There were trophies prominently displayed, articles about that show "Dance Moms" because apparently in 2012, this place was featured -- which is kind of scary but it tells you how serious these tiny dancers are -- and information about their many performative offerings. They have posters of kids of both genders doing jazz hands and others featuring very young girls wearing far too many cosmetics, advertizing their "companies" (which is code for ability level-segregated classes.)
Before this post gets too far away from me (too late?) I have a confession: being in this performance mecca as a mom for the very first time brought out all kinds of feels. Parenthood continues to surprise me. Things you thought you were over or otherwise don't really think about on a daily basis bubble to the surface when you're looking at your own progeny and her future in a setting all-too familiar to you. Me? I loved tap. Loved the steps, the music, the fun (compared to ballet.) It was freedom and rhythm and athletic grace. Unfortunately, we kept moving during my formative years so I never got to stick with it consistently enough to progress so I switched my focus to ball sports and excelled there. I continued to perform in the theater but I know I could've been a triple threat, had I stuck with dance. Le sigh. I know the day will come when Tess will become a verbal child and she may ask to dance. If she does, she's going to try it all so that when she's old enough, she can choose whatever form of bodily expression suits her.
I digress. The reason I found myself at Center Stage with my almost-five-month-old: a mellow, welcoming, brain-boosting music class aimed at ages 0-3. No competition, no strings, just mama and baby out for a morning class.
Most of the other moms smiled, or at least made eye contact with me and cleared a place on the mat. One took it upon herself to tell me that my baby was cold because she was shivering. I very calmly explained that Tempest "shakes with excitement" in new situations, thankssomuchtho.
The first five minutes were like living in a Raffi music video and I didn't know if I had what it would take to keep it together. I can be a champion ham-bone with Tess in my own home but in a room full of strangers, it seemed very out-of-body. I quickly got over it. After all, it's like the first day of a new acting workshop where everyone is silently evaluating everyone else and you don't want to be the lame kid who doesn't fully participate.
The instructor was a sweet-faced pregnant lady with a ukelele - yes, a ukelele - like something out of Sesame Street. The other moms knew the tunes and were clapping along while their toddlers seemed to whirl around to their own personal beats. There was a Cassandra, an Abigail, a boy named Effe (sp?), Aviva, Benji, and Narashti (such a helpful mom she has) and Aviva's little brother, 7-month-old Ishmael, (they called him "Ishy") who was the closest in age to Tess. Tess was more interested in 2-year-old Benji who gave quite the Tasmanian Devil impersonation, catapulting his body around the mat in between songs and trying to put his fist through the large drum in the center of the circle. His mother looked too exhausted to do much about it. Observation of toddlers: holy crap, is this what they're all like?
The class incorporates 45 minutes of music beginning with the roll-call "Hello, Everybody" song (so peppy, I'm literally still humming it) and various call-and-response songs with accompanying motions. Tess was all smiles watching the teacher with her exaggerated theatrical delivery. She was wonderful. From what I gather, when you sign up for the 10 weeks, you get a CD and song book to learn along with your child and they cycle through those exclusive songs for that entire semester so the lyrics and movement become familiar. Some are relatively famous ("My Bonny," "Des Colores," which was difficult to make out over the furious shaking of maracas) and others seem like Music Together originals. They all incorporate some element of music theory like tempo, pitch, rhythm, and are quite multicultural. There was some African music, some Spanish, French, Olde English folk tunes. It was clear that Tess was having a grand old time, even if we had to modify some activities since she's not walking (or jumping) yet. She may not be able to sing but she can blow spit bubbles and squeal like a champ.
About 30 minutes in, it became clear that every child over the age of, oh, 7 months, had checked out and would rather be running around the room, jumping over the hula hoops splayed out. This is also good to know for the future. Attention spans: extremely limited.
After the goodbye song, there was more disinfecting of instruments (did I mention that sanitary wipes are passed out after every song so you can wipe down your props?) and that was it. Music Together: mission accomplished. I think our by then 7-month-old will very much enjoy her musical education.
I knew more or less what to expect in terms of format from speaking with my Aunt Karen who owns her own Music Together franchise in Massachusetts. She couldn't say enough about the benefits of starting babies early, even if it might feel a little silly at times. She encouraged me to skip the babies classes and go for Mixed Ages because of the cognitive benefits to Tess being around older children. A semester of classes was her baby gift to us so she instructed me to research the most convenient location and attend a preview before making the final decision to enroll in the spring. Can't beat the commute! It's a 10 min drive out toward Oscar's vet and located just down the road from the Starbucks with the drive-through. (Lucky Mama.)
Boy, am I glad I decided to have that cup of coffee this morning. Classes are held in a dance studio next to the local Y. Now this isn't your average small-town dance studio. It's called Center Stage, scrawled in purple, jaunty font across the marquee. First of all, the space is so large that it's in an industrial park adjacent to a stone mason and something to do with plexiglass. Secondly, the windows are tinted so you can't see inside and I had no idea if the lights were on or if the door was unlocked from looking at it. You step into the lobby and there's an actual reception desk and signs pointing to male and female locker rooms, and all kinds of doors leading to various styles of studios (Tap A, Tap B, Ballet A, Ballet B, Jazz A, Jazz B, Gymnastics, Vocal Music, Stage Door, etc.) It was like landing in technicolor Oz. Holy cow, I suddenly wish I had stuck with dance because something about this level of unabashed competition just makes my pulse quicken and I get so excited that I can live vicariously through my own daughter when she -- oh, I'm just kidding.
But seriously, when Tempest is old enough, provided she has an interest, this is exactly the kind of place I'll take her first. Go big or go home. There were trophies prominently displayed, articles about that show "Dance Moms" because apparently in 2012, this place was featured -- which is kind of scary but it tells you how serious these tiny dancers are -- and information about their many performative offerings. They have posters of kids of both genders doing jazz hands and others featuring very young girls wearing far too many cosmetics, advertizing their "companies" (which is code for ability level-segregated classes.)
Before this post gets too far away from me (too late?) I have a confession: being in this performance mecca as a mom for the very first time brought out all kinds of feels. Parenthood continues to surprise me. Things you thought you were over or otherwise don't really think about on a daily basis bubble to the surface when you're looking at your own progeny and her future in a setting all-too familiar to you. Me? I loved tap. Loved the steps, the music, the fun (compared to ballet.) It was freedom and rhythm and athletic grace. Unfortunately, we kept moving during my formative years so I never got to stick with it consistently enough to progress so I switched my focus to ball sports and excelled there. I continued to perform in the theater but I know I could've been a triple threat, had I stuck with dance. Le sigh. I know the day will come when Tess will become a verbal child and she may ask to dance. If she does, she's going to try it all so that when she's old enough, she can choose whatever form of bodily expression suits her.
I digress. The reason I found myself at Center Stage with my almost-five-month-old: a mellow, welcoming, brain-boosting music class aimed at ages 0-3. No competition, no strings, just mama and baby out for a morning class.
Most of the other moms smiled, or at least made eye contact with me and cleared a place on the mat. One took it upon herself to tell me that my baby was cold because she was shivering. I very calmly explained that Tempest "shakes with excitement" in new situations, thankssomuchtho.
The first five minutes were like living in a Raffi music video and I didn't know if I had what it would take to keep it together. I can be a champion ham-bone with Tess in my own home but in a room full of strangers, it seemed very out-of-body. I quickly got over it. After all, it's like the first day of a new acting workshop where everyone is silently evaluating everyone else and you don't want to be the lame kid who doesn't fully participate.
The instructor was a sweet-faced pregnant lady with a ukelele - yes, a ukelele - like something out of Sesame Street. The other moms knew the tunes and were clapping along while their toddlers seemed to whirl around to their own personal beats. There was a Cassandra, an Abigail, a boy named Effe (sp?), Aviva, Benji, and Narashti (such a helpful mom she has) and Aviva's little brother, 7-month-old Ishmael, (they called him "Ishy") who was the closest in age to Tess. Tess was more interested in 2-year-old Benji who gave quite the Tasmanian Devil impersonation, catapulting his body around the mat in between songs and trying to put his fist through the large drum in the center of the circle. His mother looked too exhausted to do much about it. Observation of toddlers: holy crap, is this what they're all like?
The class incorporates 45 minutes of music beginning with the roll-call "Hello, Everybody" song (so peppy, I'm literally still humming it) and various call-and-response songs with accompanying motions. Tess was all smiles watching the teacher with her exaggerated theatrical delivery. She was wonderful. From what I gather, when you sign up for the 10 weeks, you get a CD and song book to learn along with your child and they cycle through those exclusive songs for that entire semester so the lyrics and movement become familiar. Some are relatively famous ("My Bonny," "Des Colores," which was difficult to make out over the furious shaking of maracas) and others seem like Music Together originals. They all incorporate some element of music theory like tempo, pitch, rhythm, and are quite multicultural. There was some African music, some Spanish, French, Olde English folk tunes. It was clear that Tess was having a grand old time, even if we had to modify some activities since she's not walking (or jumping) yet. She may not be able to sing but she can blow spit bubbles and squeal like a champ.
About 30 minutes in, it became clear that every child over the age of, oh, 7 months, had checked out and would rather be running around the room, jumping over the hula hoops splayed out. This is also good to know for the future. Attention spans: extremely limited.
After the goodbye song, there was more disinfecting of instruments (did I mention that sanitary wipes are passed out after every song so you can wipe down your props?) and that was it. Music Together: mission accomplished. I think our by then 7-month-old will very much enjoy her musical education.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Beta-versary
Holy cow. One year ago today was the big one, folks: our BFP.
(That's Big Fat Positive on my beta blood test.)
I had taken, oh, about three HPTs on January 31, my half-year birthday, as it turns out. Every single one showed at first a faint and then progressively darker line.
I'll never forget the flash of realization, followed by disbelief, followed by abject certainty, followed by disbelief, etc. etc. Because we did an FET without the inundation of hormones, it was technically "safe" to test at home and get a reliable result. No IVF nurse would actively endorse this practice but I just knew I was pregnant when I had the flushing and twinges early in the week so I had to be sure. I had secretly purchased several different brands, just in case. I got up early before school, careful to use the morning's first urine, and I peed on that stick. Within a minute, still sitting on the toilet, the awful deja vu of waiting, I saw the line emerge. I let out a gasp and yelled down to Rhett, "Come here! Come here!" He says he knew in that moment what I was up to. Oscar was so excited that he came running in to the hallway bathroom to hear the news. I whispered it to him. No reaction.
Rhett came upstairs and I couldn't contain myself. "I'M PREGNANT IT SAYS I'M PREGNANT LOOK THERE'S A LINE." We hugged and I remained elated all day.
I even called Nurse Anne and was like, "Oh, hey, by the way the HPT was positive and I'm having spotting. Is that normal? Oh, you mean you can move up my beta by a day? Awesome!"
On Sunday, February 2, Groundhog Day of 2014, we drove to Basking Ridge for the 2 minute blood test and waited an agonizing three hours for the phone call. I was confident but nervous. Anne shared the news and yes, indeed, I was pregnant.
Hard to imagine that was exactly one year ago today, especially when I'm looking at this little goober rolling around on the floor next to me. I can hardly imagine my life before her and I could never imagine my life without her.
(That's Big Fat Positive on my beta blood test.)
I had taken, oh, about three HPTs on January 31, my half-year birthday, as it turns out. Every single one showed at first a faint and then progressively darker line.
I'll never forget the flash of realization, followed by disbelief, followed by abject certainty, followed by disbelief, etc. etc. Because we did an FET without the inundation of hormones, it was technically "safe" to test at home and get a reliable result. No IVF nurse would actively endorse this practice but I just knew I was pregnant when I had the flushing and twinges early in the week so I had to be sure. I had secretly purchased several different brands, just in case. I got up early before school, careful to use the morning's first urine, and I peed on that stick. Within a minute, still sitting on the toilet, the awful deja vu of waiting, I saw the line emerge. I let out a gasp and yelled down to Rhett, "Come here! Come here!" He says he knew in that moment what I was up to. Oscar was so excited that he came running in to the hallway bathroom to hear the news. I whispered it to him. No reaction.
Rhett came upstairs and I couldn't contain myself. "I'M PREGNANT IT SAYS I'M PREGNANT LOOK THERE'S A LINE." We hugged and I remained elated all day.
I even called Nurse Anne and was like, "Oh, hey, by the way the HPT was positive and I'm having spotting. Is that normal? Oh, you mean you can move up my beta by a day? Awesome!"
On Sunday, February 2, Groundhog Day of 2014, we drove to Basking Ridge for the 2 minute blood test and waited an agonizing three hours for the phone call. I was confident but nervous. Anne shared the news and yes, indeed, I was pregnant.
*
Hard to imagine that was exactly one year ago today, especially when I'm looking at this little goober rolling around on the floor next to me. I can hardly imagine my life before her and I could never imagine my life without her.
The Litte Mermaid
We have another swimmer in the family!
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Miss Tempest took to the pool like a newly-hatched tadpole. She was all kicking legs and splashing arms, desperate to swim free from my grasp but since this was her first time in the water, I kept a firm grip on her.
I couldn't have been more proud. She is, as the instructor, Erin, said, "a natural." Not scared, not timid, not the least bit startled by total submersion. She's certainly got the body for competitive swimming (or water polo, come to think of it) so I'm pleased she's getting a head start. Our water baby is going to be the belle of the Plantation pool, come May. By then she'll be in floaties and able to maneuver a little more independently but for now, it is such a joy to hold her and float her around the warm pool as an introduction to more advanced aquatic feats.
Miss Tempest took to the pool like a newly-hatched tadpole. She was all kicking legs and splashing arms, desperate to swim free from my grasp but since this was her first time in the water, I kept a firm grip on her.
I couldn't have been more proud. She is, as the instructor, Erin, said, "a natural." Not scared, not timid, not the least bit startled by total submersion. She's certainly got the body for competitive swimming (or water polo, come to think of it) so I'm pleased she's getting a head start. Our water baby is going to be the belle of the Plantation pool, come May. By then she'll be in floaties and able to maneuver a little more independently but for now, it is such a joy to hold her and float her around the warm pool as an introduction to more advanced aquatic feats.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Taste test
After Dr. John gave us the green light to go ahead and introduce "solids" once Tempest appeared interested, we thought long and hard about the pros and cons of giving a 4 month old anything but breast milk. This was not a decision we undertook lightly. There's all kinds of misinformation out there on the interwebs and even in books written by - gasp - medical professionals. (Rice cereal is good/bad/causes obesity. Start with fruit purees! But no, they have sugar. That will make your kid obese. Start with oatmeal because it's gluten free except no, don't, because it's constipating!)
Is your head spinning yet?
We watched Tess over a period of a week leading up to her 4 month appointment because I had suspected that she was curious about the food I was putting into my mouth and possibly ready to give it a go herself. She'd started reaching for utensils and would stare at me chewing, sometimes for uncomfortably intense periods of time, before busting out laughing. Eating is hilarious. Who knew?
The bottle thing is not getting any better, that's for sure. She'll selectively take formula as long as it is heated to warmer-than-body-temp but never in any great quantities. I think the record is maybe 1.5 oz at once. So maybe this is a good opportunity, we thought, to broaden her horizons and try a little sample of what's to come? We ran it by the pediatrician and got her blessing. She gave us the guidelines: one ingredient every four days, no more than one feeding per day of "solids" (I put that in quotes because we're talking a soupy mess of three parts breast milk to one part of whatever fruit/vegetable we steam and then puree. Think the consistency of melted ice cream.) We weren't specifically instructed to begin with any one food. They more or less leave that up to the parents as there are cultural differences. Some people puree scrambled eggs and others serve up some delicious avocado smoothie. Neither would be my first choice but to each their own.
We settled on sweet potato because our sweet potato would undoubtedly take to the root veggie for which she is nicknamed. In retrospect, orange slush stains like a champ but our hunch was correct. She likes it! There was some curious lolling of the spoon at first but it was flexible silicon and good for her to gnaw as she learned how to get the food into her mouth more efficiently. She probably took 6 bites but the rest of the batch, about half a cup, is frozen in the individual portion trays for the week.
We put the whole thing on GoPro but have yet to figure out how to share the file with others. Currently troubleshooting that so stay tuned. :)
The highchair, it should be noted, is the only one we found that has three reclining positions and a removable infant pad for younger babies like Tess. She absolutely loves this thing. It's the Chicco Polly, which we had our doubts about, given the reviews that complained about washability, but people, it's plastic. You wipe it down. No washer needed. There are also seven height positions so you can adjust it to scoot up to kitchen island level if you'd like a tiny helper when prepping dinner. It fits nicely in our breakfast nook and so far, Tess has enjoyed her new throne, even if she's still slightly reclined for extra head support.
Oscar has taken to the new seating arrangements, as we knew he would.
It's kind of nice to be able to include both children at mealtimes now without having to play pass the baby between us. And we are beyond thrilled that Tess took to her first puree with equal parts pleasure and concentration. While it may be early by some standards, our hope is that by safely exposing her to a variety of flavors, we'll broaden her palate and by the time she's ready for second stage solids, she'll eat a greater range of foods than your typical toddler.
Is your head spinning yet?
We watched Tess over a period of a week leading up to her 4 month appointment because I had suspected that she was curious about the food I was putting into my mouth and possibly ready to give it a go herself. She'd started reaching for utensils and would stare at me chewing, sometimes for uncomfortably intense periods of time, before busting out laughing. Eating is hilarious. Who knew?
The bottle thing is not getting any better, that's for sure. She'll selectively take formula as long as it is heated to warmer-than-body-temp but never in any great quantities. I think the record is maybe 1.5 oz at once. So maybe this is a good opportunity, we thought, to broaden her horizons and try a little sample of what's to come? We ran it by the pediatrician and got her blessing. She gave us the guidelines: one ingredient every four days, no more than one feeding per day of "solids" (I put that in quotes because we're talking a soupy mess of three parts breast milk to one part of whatever fruit/vegetable we steam and then puree. Think the consistency of melted ice cream.) We weren't specifically instructed to begin with any one food. They more or less leave that up to the parents as there are cultural differences. Some people puree scrambled eggs and others serve up some delicious avocado smoothie. Neither would be my first choice but to each their own.
We settled on sweet potato because our sweet potato would undoubtedly take to the root veggie for which she is nicknamed. In retrospect, orange slush stains like a champ but our hunch was correct. She likes it! There was some curious lolling of the spoon at first but it was flexible silicon and good for her to gnaw as she learned how to get the food into her mouth more efficiently. She probably took 6 bites but the rest of the batch, about half a cup, is frozen in the individual portion trays for the week.
We put the whole thing on GoPro but have yet to figure out how to share the file with others. Currently troubleshooting that so stay tuned. :)
The highchair, it should be noted, is the only one we found that has three reclining positions and a removable infant pad for younger babies like Tess. She absolutely loves this thing. It's the Chicco Polly, which we had our doubts about, given the reviews that complained about washability, but people, it's plastic. You wipe it down. No washer needed. There are also seven height positions so you can adjust it to scoot up to kitchen island level if you'd like a tiny helper when prepping dinner. It fits nicely in our breakfast nook and so far, Tess has enjoyed her new throne, even if she's still slightly reclined for extra head support.
Oscar has taken to the new seating arrangements, as we knew he would.
It's kind of nice to be able to include both children at mealtimes now without having to play pass the baby between us. And we are beyond thrilled that Tess took to her first puree with equal parts pleasure and concentration. While it may be early by some standards, our hope is that by safely exposing her to a variety of flavors, we'll broaden her palate and by the time she's ready for second stage solids, she'll eat a greater range of foods than your typical toddler.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Heureux Anniversaire
January 25, 2014 - hmmmmm, now what were we doing one year ago today?
Oh, right!
Acupuncture in the morning, followed by the longest drive of our lives through the snow to Fortress Ovum for a 1:00 PM date with destiny.
It's the anniversary of your conception, Sweet Potato. Happy Transfer Day!
Every January 25, we'll make you a tiny blastocyst-shaped treat to commemorate this very special day. And today was extra special on this already red-letter occasion.
Almost as if you planned it, this was the morning when you decided to come out of hiding and roll freely and frequently in front of us. No more stealth baby! We've got Tumblin' Tess, the most prolific back-to-belly roller in the East.
Of course we've known you could do it since December 23 but it always seemed like a fluke when you found yourself turned over. And of course we always seemed to miss you in action and would find you flipped in the middle of the night or we'd walk back into the room after getting a snack or throwing a load in the laundry and say, "Wait a minute, wasn't she on her back earlier?"
But now? Oh, now you are unstoppable, child. You straight up refuse to lie still anymore. Put you on your back, you're rolling. Put you on your belly, you're kicking and grunting and trying desperately with every muscle in your body to roll. You're propelled by some invisible force to flop yourself over and over again, Xena, Warrior Princess screams and all. (Honestly, do you have to yell every single time? We get it. You're enthralled by your superpowers but Oscar is not.)
It's fascinating to watch you on the move, but a this is a turning point for us and for you. Nevermore will you be a babe at rest. You'll be keeping us on our toes from here on out.
I could watch you roll all day. I've probably used up half the memory on my phone trying to capture it on film before now but finally I have several clips of you like, "oh, this? yeah, I can do this in my sleep." At the moment, I notice that you only roll to your right and only from your back. You become extremely frustrated when you get stuck attempting to roll from your tummy time. You make it 2/3 of the way there but can't quite free your arm for that final push over. We know you'll get the hang of it some day far too soon so for now, please, relax, take a chill pill and enjoy the back-to-belly fun. Getting you down for naps and to bed will never be the same...
It is only fitting that your efforts today conjured up a snow storm - nay, a blizzard - of historic proportions, Miss Tempest. Looks like the four of us will be spending the next few days rolling in harmony, barricaded inside against the many feet of snow.
Oh, right!
Acupuncture in the morning, followed by the longest drive of our lives through the snow to Fortress Ovum for a 1:00 PM date with destiny.
It's the anniversary of your conception, Sweet Potato. Happy Transfer Day!
Every January 25, we'll make you a tiny blastocyst-shaped treat to commemorate this very special day. And today was extra special on this already red-letter occasion.
Almost as if you planned it, this was the morning when you decided to come out of hiding and roll freely and frequently in front of us. No more stealth baby! We've got Tumblin' Tess, the most prolific back-to-belly roller in the East.
Of course we've known you could do it since December 23 but it always seemed like a fluke when you found yourself turned over. And of course we always seemed to miss you in action and would find you flipped in the middle of the night or we'd walk back into the room after getting a snack or throwing a load in the laundry and say, "Wait a minute, wasn't she on her back earlier?"
But now? Oh, now you are unstoppable, child. You straight up refuse to lie still anymore. Put you on your back, you're rolling. Put you on your belly, you're kicking and grunting and trying desperately with every muscle in your body to roll. You're propelled by some invisible force to flop yourself over and over again, Xena, Warrior Princess screams and all. (Honestly, do you have to yell every single time? We get it. You're enthralled by your superpowers but Oscar is not.)
It's fascinating to watch you on the move, but a this is a turning point for us and for you. Nevermore will you be a babe at rest. You'll be keeping us on our toes from here on out.
I could watch you roll all day. I've probably used up half the memory on my phone trying to capture it on film before now but finally I have several clips of you like, "oh, this? yeah, I can do this in my sleep." At the moment, I notice that you only roll to your right and only from your back. You become extremely frustrated when you get stuck attempting to roll from your tummy time. You make it 2/3 of the way there but can't quite free your arm for that final push over. We know you'll get the hang of it some day far too soon so for now, please, relax, take a chill pill and enjoy the back-to-belly fun. Getting you down for naps and to bed will never be the same...
It is only fitting that your efforts today conjured up a snow storm - nay, a blizzard - of historic proportions, Miss Tempest. Looks like the four of us will be spending the next few days rolling in harmony, barricaded inside against the many feet of snow.
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