That hateful wench, hope

We have two embryos frozen. I think about them often but keep the idea of trying for another a distant faraway thought, one I don’t fill with hope or fantasize about coming true. It’s easier that way, safer for my heart. 

And then, a few weeks ago, a pregnant coworker and I were talking about what we’d do differently knowing what it’s like to be a mom. How we would have stressed less about this and worried less about that. And then the words came out like I was a normal, fertile woman: “when we have another, I won’t be as scared to go out with a newborn.”

::squealing of brakes::

My brain stopped in its tracks as the words came out. I should have said “if we are lucky enough to have another…” but I didn’t. And then I knew how badly I wanted another baby. And that’s hard to admit because given the odds and my fertility and miscarriage history, it’s not so easy. 

Today, my period came. I was 5 days late. And for the first time in over two years, my heart sank when I saw it. Disappointment. Not pregnant. And we weren’t trying so I should not have expected anything. Except hope has planted her dangerous roots in my heart again. Dammit. 

Update on eye surgery 

I’m super behind on blogging and I have a lot I want to say, a lot I want to share, and not nearly enough time to share it all. 

We went to the big fancy eye specialist for the surgical consult for my son and after 4 long hours of testing (yes, four delightful hours of testing a toddler), they determined he does not need surgery! Hallelujah!

He only has farsightedness and not the added muscular issue our pediatric ophthalmologist thought. I’m so relieved! I think part of this discovery was the dr’s bedside manner. She was so sweet and patient with my son, singing to him, saying the light she was shining in his eyes was a camera and he was going “cheese!” and smiling at her. This is a stark contrast from his regular eye doctor who is brusque and not the warm and fuzzy type. I often have to hold my son’s arms while he scream during those exams. I know she was able to have a better exam simply because my son was calm and letting her do the tests. 

All in all, it was a very long but good day where we found a new doctor for my son and don’t have to think about him having surgery. 

To top off the day, my brother is the head chef at a super swank restaurant that was 5 mins from the eye center so we got to have lunch with him and it was DELISH! 

Hooray for food and good news. 

Guess who’s back

Back again. 

I’m in the waiting room at our infertility office after over two years. I’m seeing Dr. G today. I used to dread these appointments, I would sit here with sadness following me like a cloud wondering if I’d ever become a mother. But not today; I walked in with my heart pieced together by the miracle boy Dr G helped make a reality. 

I’m here because my cycles are outta whack…9 day heavy periods every 16 days. Yeah, not normal. Dr. G indicated he thinks I might have PCOS given my infertility, weight, and gestational diabetes so I’m here getting blood work drawn and an exam. He suggested metformin (which I’ve heard terrible things about) so that’s not something I’m looking forward to taking. 

My goal is to get my cycles sorted out, lose about 50 lbs before year end, and then transfer our last two frozen embryos in hopes of bringing home baby 2. I haven’t thought much about how I feel if that doesn’t work out. I’ve learned with infertility that I can’t lose myself in the what ifs of the future. So I’m here today fixing my cycles. I’ll cross the next bridge when I get there. 

Surgical consult

Today was not what I wanted to hear but what I prepared myself to hear. My son’s follow up with his eye doctor resulted in a referral to the nation’s leading pediatric eye institute for a surgical consult. 

The silver lining to this news is this medical center is less than an hour away from where we live. We are fortunate enough to live so close to the best care for my boy. Thank god for that. 

Our doctor said we have two options: a surgical consult at his office or sending us down to the eye center. He said “this is not about my ego, this is about what’s best for your son so I suggest you go for the consult due to the advanced research grade technology they have there.” From there we can decide if we want to have surgery down there or with our doctor’s office with the technology report from the eye center. Our doctor is one of the leading pediatric opthamologosts in the area so we are in good hands all around. My guess is I’ll opt for surgery at the eye center given their resources and ratings.

There is a chance they will tell us he won’t need surgery which I pray like mad is the case. He has partially accommodative esotropia. Basically, he’s both terribly far sighted AND has muscular issues in his eyes. The surgery would correct the muscular issue.

So now we wait for the eye center to have an opening for our appointment which could be a few months. As for positive news: he’s doing great and his doctor is pleased with how he responded to the latest prescription in his glasses. 

After our appointment, we were near a children’s art museum he loves so we spent the rest of the afternoon playing. Seeing him have a blast helped take the stress of the appointment off and we made some memories today. 

Thank you for your prayer yesterday.

Tornadoes all around

I’ve been a horrible blogger. I, for starters, haven’t actually blogged in a while. Or with any consistency. I’ve also neglected to comment on posts I’ve read simply because there is not enough time. But I read them and I pray for those who are having a rough go. You know who you are and I’m thinking of you. Constantly.

And it seems more and more that I am surrounded by sadness. For the past few months, there’s been an oppressive cloud of shit dousing people with crap. (Don’t even get me started on the state of current political affairs.) It’s like I’m surrounded by a bevy of tornadoes swirling all about, watching as they destroy those around me. A friend’s husband had recently passed away at age 37. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she finds out she has cancer. And another friend put his son in hospice this week. At 7 years old. And they wait day by day for an end to his suffering. Yet they dread knowing what’s coming and try to enjoy each fragile moment with him while he’s still here. I can’t fathom being faced with that decision and my heart pains for them. And my childhood best friend’s son starts experimental chemo next week for his terminal illness. He’s 15. And a co-workers 6 month old just has his SECOND open heart surgery. WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. GOING. ON.

My heart is so, so heavy for these friends. And despite all they go through, I selfishly  worry about my woes. Tomorrow, we have another pediatric ophthalmology appointment for my son where we find out if he will need eye surgery. His glasses are at the highest prescription for his age and we were given 3 months to adjust to new lenses. His eyes still cross (less but they are not 100% better) and I am dreading tomorrow’s appointment because I feel in my gut they will bring up the ‘S’ word. And despite knowing that eye surgery is worlds better than the hell my friends are going through with their families, it’s still surgery. On my baby boy. And I am not ok with that.

So if you’re the praying type, please send up one for my boy tomorrow…and if you could send a few more up for our friends, I’d be most grateful.

 

I’m not proud to be an American today

My son just woke up crying as if he knew what happened in the election. I had hoped I’d tell him when he woke up that we were part of history, that love and hope and progress still prevail, that bullies don’t win. I can’t tell him that anymore. I hold him now sharing his tears and weeping for our nation…Worried about a future with such anger and hatred bubbling in our country. 

My God bless America, we sure need it. 

October 15.

It’s the day I met my husband for our first date 11 years ago.
It’s the day the world remembers my lost two pregnancies. Two hopes that never came to be.

It’s the day – two years ago – I got a sign from God. When I was a week pregnant, I prayed to God to give me a sign that this time would be different because my heart couldn’t handle another loss. A balloon then floated over traffic and landed in front of my car. It was a teddy bear holding a sign that said “it’s a boy.” My son is now 15 months old and I cant help but feel grateful to have been given that sign.

And tomorrow marks one full year since I lost my nana. I miss her hard and often. So many times I go to call her or think “I should bring this to nana, she’d love it” and then I stop in my tracks because she’s gone. She loved my son during the brief moments she had with him. I cherish that memory. I can hear her voice in my head like I heard it yesterday. I can see the planes of her face as clear as day. Her crystal blue eyes. How she smiled and thrummed her fingers on the kitchen table ever so lightly when she was content. Her kitchen smelled of newspapers, coffee, and home.

I remember holding her hand in the days before she passed and how soft they felt. I hated seeing a woman so strong and fierce rendered so feeble. I wonder if she would think I am a good mother. I hope she would.

While I try my hardest not to be, I find that I am angry. My nana helped raise my brothers and I while my mom worked. She was our second mother. She was the person I came home to after school, who cooked me dinner, did homework with, taught me life lessons, kissed our scrapes and looked at us with unending love in her eyes. I am mad about that because my own mom accepted a job in MEXICO and while I never expected my mom to retire to take care of my son, I also never expected her to uproot her life away from him.

I am hurt because my son wont have this relationship with his nana. It wont be the same, it can’t be the same if she’s away. I am sad about that because of how important my nana was to me in my life. And if I’m honest, I am selfishly sad, too. I will miss my mom. I will miss having her nearby, having a little help when my son is sick, having her be a part of the boring day-to-day life we live because life happens in those everyday moments. He wont feel the love of two mother figures in the same way I knew it. Plus, I worry about her safety because Mexico City isn’t know for being particularly safe.

Tomorrow will be a tangled mess of emotions as I remember the balloon and meeting my husband and seeing my beautiful nana take her last breath and asking her to take care of my two lost babies in heaven.