Average Everyday Super Woman

so unbelievably funny

2011-03-03T16:44:00.002-06:00

Some girlfriends and I went and saw one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time this past weekend, a little flick called "Just Go With It," starring Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston. You might've heard of it, yes?

Anyhoo, the movie was hysterical. HYSTERICAL. I was laughing so hard I was crying. So hard, in fact, that I was a little nervous about triggering preterm labor. Suffice it to say that the film is F-U-N-N-Y.

As I tried to quell the post-movie giggles, I spent some time thinking about what exactly made the movie so hilarious. Of course, Adam Sandler is always a riot. His timing and delivery are exquisite, and much like his pal and fellow comedian Will Ferrell, sometimes you just have to LOOK at him to laugh in a scene. So naturally part of the humor can be credited directly to him.

That said, I think the scene-stealer of the film is a far lesser known actor who has appeared in bit parts in several comedic movies over the past 10 or so years. The one I remember him from specifically is "Blades of Glory," starring Will Ferrell and Jon Heder, in which he played the stalker of Heder's character, Jimmy MacElroy. This actor is a guy from the Midwest by the name of Nick Swardson. His character in "Just Go With it," Adam Sandler's character's best friend Eddie, was perfectly played, even the character-within-a-character scenes, by Swardson. And he's got it all: that slightly dopey & geeky look, the less-than-stellar physique, and one of those voices that can either be really funny or really annoying. But he was PERFECTLY cast in this film and had some of the funniest scenes of all. Kudos to whoever cast him!'

Jen Aniston had some great lines, some great scenes, but was sadly typecast as she is in most of her films. Still, as part of the ensemble, she hit it out of the park. Other actors with smaller roles in the film like Nicole Kidman and my favorite music artist Dave Matthews gave brilliant turns in their roles, which again added to the great ensemble performance. (Side note: I really REALLY hope to see Dave in more movies!) The only real dud in the film was Brooklyn Decker. Obviously she was cast for her body and sex appeal as the potential love interest of Adam Sandler's character, but her acting needs some SERIOUS work.

Anyway, if you're looking for a great laugh and you have 2 hours to spare, just go see "Just Go With It." You'll thank me for it.

37

2011-01-29T12:42:00.004-06:00

So... Happy (belated) birthday to me!

Yes, peeps, I am 37 years old as of Saturday 1.29. Hooray!

My day started off sweetly: Super Boy stumbled to my room to wake me up as soon as he woke up and serenaded me with a beautiful, sleepy version of "Happy Birthday," followed by a big hug and an "I love you, Mom." Really, people: It doesn't get any better than that right there!

It seems so strange to me, being 37, because on the inside I still feel like I'm 17 most of the time. Of course, my body says otherwise, but my brain is still stuck in a permanent state of 1991-ness. And that's mostly a GOOD thing.

But, really, being 37 isn't so bad. In fact, it's not bad at all. I think this is going to be a GREAT year for me, because so much of what I've waited and longed for is finally coming to pass.

For starters, I'm pregnant! With a girl! And she's joining us in May! That right there makes this a spectacular year. I waited for her to come to me for so long, it sometimes felt like it was never going to happen. Now, we're just 15 short weeks away from meeting our daughter. It's a miracle, and a very happy one at that.

And then, related to that, there's the fact that the rest my life is no longer in limbo. Now we KNOW we are having a second child together, and I KNOW that I want to be home with her for a certain period of time, and when that time is over, I will be able to move forward with other aspects of my own life, at long last. For example, my career. I have no regrets about leaving the workforce to be at home with Super Boy, and I fully intend to be home with Super Baby Girl for a time, and then I will be able to focus more clearly and positively on what comes next for me professionally. Sure, I worry a little about what the impact will be of my multi-year absence from the workforce (particularly in the face of this soul-crushingly bad job market). But I still believe I've been where I needed to be and I'm okay with that. What really makes me happy is just knowing that my train is back on the tracks and heading in a clear direction once again rather than continuing to meander aimlessly on a wing and a prayer.

It's going to be a great year, too, because my sweet Super Boy is just such a HUGE helper to me at 7-going-on-8, and he makes my life so much richer, sweeter and simpler. He's going to be an awesome big brother, and is going to be my little right-hand man around the house. It's great having a child that age with a new little one entering the picture. He's really come into his own as a person and is just the bomb!

So, here's to 37, and to 365 days of happiness, blessings, joy and good health for us all. Happy Birthday to me!

SW

a few of my favorite things TWENTYELEVEN

2011-01-03T12:33:00.007-06:00

I enjoyed putting together last year's list SO much that I had to do it again! I love it when I come across wonderful new products that make my and my family's lives easier, promote healthier, cleaner living, and come at a steal of a price. And I also love it when the simplest things in life can put a huge grin on my face and fill my heart with joy.

So, without further ado, here goes!

* I know this one is a little cheesy, but I can't resist listing it because it's true: being pregnant. :) I know some women will vehemently disagree with me on this, but I truly do enjoy being pregnant. I'm sure part of it is because we tried so arduously and waited so long for this that my sheer gratitude to be in my shoes right now makes me happy -- but I loved being pregnant with Super Boy, too. Other than the "morning" sickness of the early weeks with both pregnancies and my less-than-ideal long-ass labor with Super Boy, the rest is all good with me. I'm grateful to have the opportunity to experience pregnancy this one last time, and it truly is my most favorite thing on the list this year.

* Super Boy! He is the light of my life. I enjoy being his mom more than I can ever possibly put into words, and I get such joy and delight from watching him grow up and sharing each day with him. He is an exceptional kid, a beautiful human being, and I love him with all my heart & soul.

* Walgreen's Sinus Wash Squeeze Bottle Kit. This handy-dandy little kit is sort of miraculous, I have to say. Between me and Super Boy and our chronic congestion/sinus issues of the past several months, this is just about the ONLY thing that has given us any real relief. Which is a major godsend, both because I hate giving Super Boy medicine if he doesn't absolutely NEED it and because I am loathe to take medicines myself while pregnant unless absolutely necessary. And - bonus! - it's on sale right now for $6.99, down from it's regular low price of $9.99.

* Refinished wood floors (and having a super-handy husband!). We've lived in our circa 1895 house since June of 2001, and while Super Man refinished all the wood floors upstairs, the staircase and the office on the first floor several years ago, he never did the living and dining rooms, as those were in much worse shape and constitute a MAJOR part of our daily living space. Well, Super Man had the week off between Christmas and New Years and decided it was time to finish the floor refinishing. It took him a good 2-1/2 days of hard work, but the floors look spectacular. Way to go, baby - you're awesome!

* Friends. The true ones: those who are with you no matter what, through the good & the bad, the happy & the sad, the funny and the not-so-funny. Those who don't judge you, who have your back even when you do something incredibly stupid, whose loyalty is unwavering, whose caring support is there whether you ask for it or not. Friends that you can share your deepest, darkest secrets with and know they're safe. Friends that you can truly be yourself around and know you're still loved. While 2010 ended on a really sweet note for me, the first half of the year was pretty tumultuous, and I don't know how I'd have gotten through it without the good friends who stood by me through all of it.

* These fabulous, super-comfy and well-priced Emma Short Boots from Bearpaw. Seriously, they are so incredibly comfy that it's like wearing slippers while out and about. And they keep my feet toasty warm, even in really cold temps. (Note: You should treat them with waterproofing spray to help keep them looking great and performing well.) Although they look and feel like their higher-priced peers (i.e. Ugg boots), I bought them a few days after Christmas for $64 at The Shoe Box in Black Earth, Wisconsin, and I'm so glad I did. Go and treat your tootsies to these!

* Knitting. Oh, knitting, how I love thee! Great stress-reliever. Something that can be done while watching your favorite show in the evening, or listening to your favorite music, or sitting in a waiting room, or sitting in your car waiting for the kids to get out of school. And the added bonus is that you get a great sense of accomplishment and a handmade object when you're done with each project. In the past year, I expanded my repertoire to include felted bags, and I've really enjoyed tackling that challenge. I'm going to try some new bag patterns this year - can't wait!

* The Infiniti by Conair You Curl. This little styling tool is THE BOMB, baby. I wanted it all year long, and thankfully Santa brought it for me on Christmas morning (after picking it up on sale at ULTA). It seems to retail between $35 and $45 depending on the store and special sales, but it's worth every penny. I have very fine hair and used to have to resort to hot rollers to get a decent curl that would even sort of hold, and even then it was a long, arduous process to get them to produce decent curls. With this fabulous styling tool, I can get gorgeous curl in a fraction of the time thanks to the ceramic clamp-less wand and high-heat settings. I love, love, love this. Santa done me good!

* The nook eReader by Barnes & Noble. This was another post-holiday purchase I made with money I received from my wonderful mom and stepdad for Christmas, but better late than never! I purchased the basic WiFi-only model ($149), because it has all the features I wanted without any of the bells & whistles I DON'T need, and I am absolutely happy with it. With baby on the way in May, I will have one fewer hand available at any given time, not to mention all the middle-of-the-night feedings in my future, so this little lovely will be sure to come in extremely handy (pun intended).

* Summer, sweet summer! My entire life, summer has been my favorite season, hands-down. I had lost some of my enthusiasm for it all the years I worked full-time and missed out on so much of it, but the past few years of being a stay-at-home mom have renewed my love for summer all the more. I have my boy home with me from early June to the beginning of September, and our days are wide open, ready and waiting for new experiences & adventures. And this summer we'll have a tiny new adventurer with us, which will be even more wonderful!

* Groupon.com! If you haven't checked this site out yet, do it. Done. (Note that the link is for the Milwaukee area Groupon deals; you'll need to see if your location is Groupon-ready. I hope it is!)

* The Natural La Campagne Bakery's delicious granolas. I discovered this at my local Outpost Natural Foods store and fell in love instantly. My favorites are the Chocolate Cherry and White Chocolate Peppermint granolas. If you can't find them in your local stores, you can order online. Mmmm, mmmm. Get yourself some.

* Emerald Cocoa Roast Almonds, a perfect - and healthy - snack to ring in the new year! I discovered these in the past year and it was love at first taste. I often have one to-go canister in my van and one in the pantry, and it's one snack I don't mind giving Super Boy close to mealtimes. Almonds contain good fats, fiber and loads of Vitamin E - things we can all benefit from.

* An absolutely adorable 2011 desktop calendar by Delightfully Noted on etsy.com. Unfortunately, the calendar is sold out, so I can't share a link to it, but trust me when I say it is fun, colorful, whimsical and just right. This shop also carries sweet stationary, invitations, gift tags and more. Check it out!

* Honeycrisp apples. So juicy. So big. So delicious. If you haven't tried them before, try them now. You won't regret it.

* The Pioneer Woman's website. This woman is a dynamo: She is a ranch wife with four busy children (whom she homeschools) who cooks like an angel, has a knack for decorating and gift-buying, is a fantastic photographer, and still found time to build this spectacular blog from nothing. This is one blog I check religiously, every single day so long as I have internet access. I have tried countless of her recipes, all of which are easy to follow and turn out wonderfully, much to my family's delight. She's got a sparkling sense of humor, a huge heart, and a wonderful self-deprecating personality. Read and enjoy.

* Attending church. I'm not a hyper-religious freak or anything like that (trust me), but for as tough a time as we have getting our family up and out of bed and ready for church in a reasonable timeframe, when we finally get to church, I find myself really enjoying the service and feeling a great sense of peace and calm when it's over. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but for some reason, it just makes me feel better to go and commune with God for that hour each week. I only hope that - unlike our huge lapse in church attendance after Super Boy was born - we will stick with going most weeks once our new baby girl joins us.

My very best wishes to all my AESW readers for a blessed, wonderful, safe, healthy and Happy New Year!

Super Woman

**Disclaimer: I received none of the items above from their respective manufacturers; all were purchased by me over the past twelve months for my own personal use. In other words, this is not a paid advertisement for anything -- it is literally just a list of some of my favorite things. **

fa-fa-fa-freeeeeeezing!

2010-12-14T16:39:00.002-06:00

It is SO. FLIPPING. COLD.

Brrrrr!!!

Seriously, my teeth are chattering right now. And I'm sitting in my kitchen fully dressed with the thermostat set at 70 degrees.

Southeastern Wisconsin - and much of the rest of the country - is in the grips of a major deep freeze, making spending ANY time outdoors nothing short of painful. I dread every single trip out the door, no matter what it's for -- taking Super Boy to or picking him up from school, running to the store, taking trash to the bin. You name it, it sucks. It involves wearing no fewer than 2 layers of clothing, and that's not counting outerwear. And hats - don't get me started. It's not even worth doing one's hair when you have to jam your head into a hat every time you so much as run the garbage out to the bin.

And we live in one of those charming old houses (circa 1895) that has a regrettably detached garage, so even just to warm up the car requires getting full-on decked out in outerwear to trudge out to the garage, back the van out of the garage so it's right by the back door, and then letting it sit for a good 10 minutes to get toasty.

I'm not gonna lie: IT SUCKS.

And I've lived in Wisconsin - aka: The Frozen Tundra - my entire 36 years, so you'd think I'd be hardened to the frigid cold winters that last a solid five to six months by now.

Yeah. Not so much.

In fact, my greatest fantasy these days is moving away somewhere warm. I think back to when Super Man was laid off and interviewing with a Georgia-based company for awhile, and how STUPID STUPID STUPID I was not to encourage him to LEAP at the chance to relocate to the south! Of course, at the time, it was July. We were in the midst of a beautiful Wisconsin summer, and the thing I kept coming back to and that scared the bejeezus out of me as I pondered what life would be like in the southern U.S. was the presence of venomous snakes & spiders. All I could think of was that Super Boy and Super Dog would be dead within 6 months once exposed to completely foreign and deadly wildlife that we don't have here in Wisconsin.

As I sit here freezing my arse off, all I can think is ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Given the choice between snowy, -10 degree winter days and poisonous snakes in my backyard, OF COURSE I'll take the poisonous snakes! Hell, I'll even keep one as a pet! This shit is ridiculous!

Perhaps I'd feel differently about winter if I was a big winter sports fanatic. However, in case it wasn't blatantly apparent, I'm NOT. The only thing I enjoy doing in the winter is ice skating, and frankly, we have the Pettit National Ice Center 10 minutes from our house, so if I want to ice skate, I can do it when it's 90 degrees out and I want to cool off in July. Wretched winter weather is not required for me to experience the joys of ice skating. So really, as far as I'm concerned, winter is not required. EVER.

The only time - ONLY time - I tolerate winter is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. See, I'm one of those poor saps who is totally enamored with the whole notion of a white Christmas, having experienced a white Christmas pretty much every one of my 36 years. But up until 12/24 and from 12/26 on, I'm DONE with the cold and snow and ready to move straight into summer.

I think being pregnant this year has made me even more sensitive to the cold. I literally can't stand it. I shiver constantly, deep wracking shivers from the inner core of my body. I can't help but fear that it's going to send me into premature labor one of these days. I find myself dreaming of inventing a microwavable snowsuit that I can ensconce my expanding body in before I venture outside. If only it were that easy!

Anyhoo. Winter. I hate it. I'm dreaming of summer - CONSTANTLY.

Your freezing friend,
SW

he's growing up!

2010-12-02T09:53:00.004-06:00

My sweet little Super Boy is growing up so fast, it's making my head spin. He's 7-1/2 years old, and it happened in the blink of an eye, I swear.

Being pregnant again is bringing back all sorts of forgotten memories of Super Boy when he was a baby, and a toddler, and a preschooler and a little kid. And then I look at him and see BIG KID standing before me, when it seems like just yesterday I was gazing upon him for the very first time. It does NOT seem possible that the last time I was pregnant pregnant was EIGHT years ago.

And yet, here we are. And my boy is magnificent. He is truly, genuinely magnificent.

So, so smart. We just had his first second grade parent-teacher conference 2 weeks ago and his teacher had all great things to say about his progress in second grade. He is reading at an end-of-second-grade level. He's doing 5th & 6th grade-level math. His writing and spelling is great for his age/grade. And socially he's been making me proud among his peers. He's been a good listener and a leader in class, and he works conscientiously and with focus during work times. I love to hear that. I hope he maintains that focus and love of learning for a very, very long time. And I can't say enough good things about his teacher, either. She is fantastic, and such a sweet, nurturing person. It's easy to see why Super Boy loves school so much! We've really been blessed to have great teachers all along the way so far, really.

And my boy is tender-hearted. He has such strong feelings, and really loves his family and his friends. I love watching him with his closest friends, seeing how much he enjoys their company. He's protective of those who aren't quite as strong, and he's not afraid to stand up to those who bully him or others. I admire that in him. He's genuine -- what you see with him is exactly what you get. There's no artifice in him at all. And the love he shows to his family is just so sweet. He can't wait to see Super Girl and keeps track of when she's coming again, counting down the days and hours until she gets here. And when Super Man is traveling for work, he takes being "the man of the house" very seriously, protecting me and helping around the house more. But he's always thrilled when Daddy comes home, and loves to hang out with him for "guy time." That's another thing I hope he never outgrows -- his love of our family.

His sense of humor is well-developed, and his laugh is infectious. He loves a good (or bad!) joke, and is all about laughing and being silly. Despite the fact that he's very emotionally intuitive and sensitive to the feelings of others and can appreciate a range of even deep emotions, he's got such a sunny disposition and a true zest for life and fun. Spending time with him makes it near impossible to be blue for long.

And then there are the obvious signs that he's growing up. He has gotten so long, so tall in the past 2 years. His limbs changed from the plumpish & noodle-like toddler arms and legs to the broader, longer & more defined arms and legs of a bigger kid. And they went from hairless to hairy seemingly overnight, at least as far as his legs are concerned. His torso looks more like his dad's by the day, broadening and becoming less concave. His face is losing the baby sweetness and starting to resemble the future young man he will be. And the faint little beginnings of peach fuzz are showing on his upper lip, bringing tears to my eyes! Granted, some of that could be the fact that he's 50% Italian and is guaranteed to have plenty of facial hair later on, but still - he seems to little to be showing the faintest signs of a mustache.

The very latest development has been stinky pits! I noticed it first over the summer, but didn't think much of it because the boy was constantly on the move, and it was a hot & humid summer in our area, so I think I'd have been hard-pressed to find anyone who WASN'T stinky by the end of the day! I know I reeked at the end of each day, personally (not pretty). Still, his armpits were really smelling ripe, and this was even with showering or bathing on a pretty much daily basis. When we got into fall and soccer season, I continued not to be too surprised by it, because he was sweating a lot in practices and games, and it was still pretty mild for much of the fall, so between gym class and recess, it seemed to make sense. But now, in the frigid temps of winter and showering every 2-3 days, I'm still smelling the armpit stink, so we finally talked about it yesterday and I told Super Boy I was thinking of getting him a natural deodorant to try. He was wary at first, but then when we picked out a Tom's natural deodorant together, he seemed to be sort of excited at the thought of using deodorant like Mom & Dad do. :)

He showered last night before bed and put his deodorant on for the first time. He wasn't sure what to do with it, so I did it for him, and he was giggling and squirming like a worm, since his armpits are by far the most ticklish parts of his body! He said it felt wet & sticky, but it really smelled good! (We went with the apricot scent, which is nice and light.) All the way up until I tucked him in to bed, he was talking about how fresh and clean he smelled, and how he couldn't believe he was old enough to be wearing deodorant. It was super cute. I would bet anything he's sharing his big new news with his class today at school, with as much as he was bursting with pride over it! He even insisted that we call his dad (who is out of town for work ) this morning to tell him about it, since we forgot to tell Daddy about it last night on the phone.

I just can't believe he's at this point already though. I don't remember wearing deodorant until 4th or 5th grade, and he's only in 2nd. But he's a bigger kid than I was, and he sweats a lot in general, so I'm not inclined to be worried about it. I've heard of several other kids his age who are also using deodorant, girls and boys, so maybe it's becoming more common, too. But I felt better about using a natural deodorant for him than a run-of-the-mill commercial deodorant & antiperspirant; I'm not concerned about him sweating, I just don't want him to stink to the point where others can smell it.

Anyway, I know this is only the beginning. Pretty soon, he will be looking more and more like a tween. And that, too, will seem to happen in the blink of an eye. My baby is growing up.

Now, excuse me while I go enjoy a good cry... :)

Super Woman

tis the season

2010-11-05T09:19:00.004-05:00

Guess who has a sinus infection now?

ME!

Are you kidding me, Universe??

It all began last week Wednesday when I started feeling a lot of post-nasal drip and had a really weird cough where the congestion was, like, not at the surface (if that makes any sense) so I had to keep deeply clearing my throat to get to it, which was beyond annoying. After about 2 days of that, it was to the point where I had to cough hard to get to the congestion, and my chest felt tighter and tighter with each passing day, like all that coughing was doing absolutely NOTHING. My voice got hoarse, my ears felt plugged, and although I was sneezing like a maniac, it wasn't like a cold where the congestion settled into my head/nose at all. Still, I assumed it was just a cold, and was prepared to power through it with hot tea, cough drops and Robitussin (after checking with my OB-GYN to make sure it was safe while pregnant, of course).

By Monday of this week, I knew something more was going on. The cough wasn't getting any better, and my chest and sinuses felt far worse. At night I'd have a hard time falling asleep because of the cough, and then I'd find myself waking frequently during the night because the back of my throat was dry from mouth-breathing, which would set of new rounds of coughing. I was waking up in the mornings feeling like I'd barely slept at all.

I called my OB-GYN's office Monday to see if I should come in. The nurse called me back and told me to give it a few more days, since it hadn't been a full week yet. I hung in there another two days, but by Wednesday, I knew things weren't on the upswing, so I called again and they squeezed me in in the afternoon.

Dr. F listened to my lungs and didn't hear any wheezing, but after describing the course the illness had taken and the massive pressure-pain in my sinuses, she wrote me a script for the Z-Pack on the assumption that I've got a sinus infection.

While I was bummed about the sinus infection, it was actually fortunate timing because Super Boy was with me and, since I'd hit the 12-week mark in the pregnancy that day, I asked Dr. F if she could check for a heartbeat while we were there. She got out her doppler, put a little gel on my belly, and within seconds she captured the heartbeat of our baby!! It was so wonderful to hear, all 164 beats per minute. :) Super Boy's eyes got big and a huge grin spread across his face as he heard the sound of his little brother or sister's heart, and I was just breathing a huge sigh of relief to hear that little heartbeat.

Funny thing, I thought back to when we heard Super Boy's heartbeat for the first time, and I remember being so nervous and excited that I kept giggling, and my doctor couldn't hear anything because of all the noise I was making laughing! It took a solid 5 minutes for me to calm down enough for her to get it with Super Boy. I was so embarrassed, but couldn't help it to save my life. At least this time I managed to hold it together with the nervous giggling, because I really wanted Super Boy to hear it!

So, already I'm feeling better on my antibiotic. I hate taking medication when I'm pregnant, but in this case, it was warranted. I'm just praying that the rest of the winter is a healthy one!

SW

not good

2010-10-03T11:36:00.003-05:00

So, I wrote early last week about how Super Boy was diagnosed with his first sinus infection in about three years, and how I was really sad to hear he had one, given that he had ONE BIG NON-STOP sinus infection from the time he was a baby until he was about 3-1/2 years old. And I mentioned that his doctor told me that his cough should be gone by the following Monday, which is tomorrow, even though Super Boy will still have another week of antibiotics left to take.

Well, guess what?

That cough?

Still not gone.

Still sounds awful.

He's taken a week of antibiotics, of AUGMENTIN, no less, and he's still coughing like he was a week ago.

So does that mean it's NOT a sinus infection? Or just that the Augmentin isn't working?

Aaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. This sucks.

Will be calling Dr. O tomorrow morning. :(

not again!

2010-09-29T20:57:00.003-05:00

My poor little boy has been sick since mid-last week. It started with a little congestion and coughing that I first noticed last Wednesday. When he woke Thursday, it seemed worse, so I kept him home. I checked his temp and it was normal, but the cough was really bothering him, so I gave him a day of rest with Mom.

I kicked him out of the nest and back to school on Friday... and then got a call from the school secretary at 2:30pm saying Super Boy was in her office with a headache and low fever (99.6). I felt awful! What a MOM FAIL that was.

Super Boy continued to run a low-grade fever all weekend long, and into Monday. It never went higher than 101, but never lower than 99.3 (this was without any fever-reducer, as it didn't seem to warrant any given how low the fever was and the fact that Super Boy wasn't complaining). By Monday, I figured four days was long enough, and I figured it was more likely a bacterial infection of some sort than a viral illness because Super Boy ALWAYS spikes fevers over 102 with viral stuff and almost never does with bacterial infections.

We saw the pediatrician, Dr. O, on Monday morning. I LOVE Super Boy's pediatrician. He is one of the kindest, smartest, most thoughtful physicians I've ever met, and he LISTENS. He wants to know what I think about whatever Super Boy is experiencing, what I've observed, and if I suggest something, he addresses it without dismissing it. I respect him, and he respects me.

I told him I thought it might be walking pneumonia, because Super Boy's symptoms seemed to fit that bill. But after listening to Super Boy's chest, he said his chest actually sounded pretty clear. Unfortunately, after looking in his nose and throat, Dr. O said the words I had hoped never to hear again: "I hate to say this, Mom, but it looks like Super Boy has a sinus infection."

Ughhhhhh.... no, no, no!!

You might remember that my boy had a long and unfortunate history of chronic and recurring sinus infections earlier in his life. He started daycare at the age of 11 weeks, and no lie, from the time he was about 12 weeks until he was 3 years and 8 months old, my poor boy was on antibiotics for sinus infections more than he was OFF antibiotics. It was a vicious cycle: he'd catch a cold, it wouldn't go away and he'd end up with a lingering cough, I'd take him to the doctor, they'd diagnose a sinus infection, and he'd be on 2 weeks of antibiotics, and then we'd be right back there again within 2 weeks for the same thing, over and over and over... and over... again. We were seeing a different pediatrician for the first two years of Super Boy's life, and I grew more and more frustrated as he blew off my concerns that this COULD NOT POSSIBLY BE NORMAL. The one and only useful recommendation he made was that I remove him from the large daycare center he was initially at and move him to a much smaller in-home daycare. And despite that change, he was still sick almost non-stop.

I finally switched to our current pediatrician, and I never looked back. Dr. O agreed with me that it made sense for Super Boy to be tested for allergies, and to see an ENT to have his adenoids and sinuses checked rather than continue to prescribe antibiotics without knowing exactly what was causing the chronic infections or why they would never fully go away.

The allergist did skin testing for darn near everything. Nothing reacted. The ENT did sinus CTs, swabbed Super Boy's nasal cavities to find out exactly what bacteria were growing so he could prescribe the RIGHT medications, and he prescribed 21 days at a time to be sure the infection was totally gone. One of the CTs showed that Super Boy had enlarged adenoids, so he did an adenoidectomy, thinking that might help. Unfortunately, since Super Boy had been having sinus infections for so long, it was impossible to known if his adenoids were huge because they were chronically infected or if they were huge because it was a structural defect, but it made sense to take them out regardless. All of this made some difference, and seemed to help slow down the recurrence of the sinus infections, but only my getting Super Boy out of Petri dish that is daycare ended up putting a STOP to the infections.

And it was just that simple: After 3-1/2 years of nearly constant sinus infections and antibiotics, they just stopped once Super Boy was home with me and no longer at daycare. In fact, in the nearly four years since Super Boy has been out of daycare, he's only been on antibiotics twice: once for his one and only case of strep throat when he was 5, and then again as a precaution after he wiped out on his bike this summer and split his upper lip open, requiring stitches.

But the poor kid has a sinus infection again now. He's on two weeks of Augmentin, and it turns out that it's the one medication Super Boy hates with a fervent passion. He will take it, but it's a gagging, dramatic experience every single time, which means twice a day for 14 days. :(

I kept Super Boy home Monday and Tuesday, but sent him back today. He hasn't had a fever since Monday, and his cough - though still icky sounding - is actually getting better. Dr. O says it should be GONE by Monday. If it's not, the medicine isn't working. I'm praying that it is.

And I'm really, REALLY praying that this isn't the start of another slippery slope of chronic sinus troubles for my little boy but just an isolated incident in an otherwise really good, healthy year for him.

funny kid

2010-09-14T11:04:00.002-05:00

As Super Boy and I were brushing our teeth before bed last night, he looked at me in the mirror and - after spitting out his toothpase - said, "Mom... I can't believe you're in your thirties."

Me: "Oh, really? Why do you say that?"

Super Boy: "Because you look more like, um, 39 or 40." (Note: I'm 36.)

Me: "Dude! Thanks a lot!"

Super Boy: "What?? At least I didn't say you look like a man!"

Me: "And this should be a consolation becaaaauuuuuuuse....?"

Super Boy: "Because you DON'T look like a man -- you look like a girl!"

Me: "Gee, thanks."

Super Boy: "Well, at least you don't look as old as your mom."

Me: "Oooooo, I'm TOTALLY telling Grandma you said that! Your Super Cousin is going to be her new favorite grandson now."

Super Boy: "NO! Don't you DARE tell Grandma I said that! I'll give you THREE DOLLARS if you PINKY PROMISE not to tell her!"

Me: "Dude, you don't HAVE three dollars. I'm totally telling Grandma."

Super Boy: "All I was saying is that you're old but you don't look like a boy - that's a GOOD thing, Mom."

:)

back to school

2010-09-02T10:22:00.007-05:00

My beloved little Super Boy started second grade yesterday. :)

He was excited, and a little nervous. He confided to me when I woke him up in the morning that he REALLY wanted JUST ONE MORE DAY of summer.

I told him he'd get it on Labor Day.

He was so cute, getting his carefully selected outfit on. We made tie-dyed shirts together last week, and he wanted to wear one of the more colorful ones yesterday, with the spiral swirl (it turned out quite well, if I do say so myself).

He had showered Tuesday night, so after he ate his breakfast and got dressed, all we had to do was brush teeth, comb hair and wash face. He was ready before me; it was one of those rare school mornings when I opt to shower before dropping him off, which means I have to "get ready" (i.e., dry and style my hair, put on make-up, blah blah) before I drop him off, too, which takes FOR-EVER.

He patiently waited in the kitchen, watching his cartoons for a few minutes before we had to leave.

I took a few photos, like the one above, before we left the house. And then we drove the short few blocks to school. I had hoped we could walk or ride bikes, but it was raining (boo).

Super Boy could hardly wait to get out of the car when I pulled up to the curb. He was frustrated by the rain, which meant there wasn't going to be the usual level of pre-school day play on the playground, but still oh so eager to find his friends. I was able to snap this picture of him up on the playground. I love this picture, despite the rain.

I knew he wouldn't cry saying goodbye to me this year. He didn't cry last year, or the year before that, either. The only year he cried a little was junior kindergarten, and even then it was just a few tears to go with his big excited grin to be starting school. I'm okay with that. I'd rather it be this way than hysterical sobs of sadness and terror every year on the first day.

And I didn't cry either. This time. I did last year, but I didn't let Super Boy see me - I waited until I got to the car. The year before that, I cried a little, too, but also in private. Junior Kindergarten I really cried. Openly. My baby was going to school for the very first time! It was an emotional day.

So, we both got through it pretty well this time.

We had discussed the night before what he felt was and wasn't appropriate Mom-Goodbye Behavior this year, and he told me I could give him a hug, but no kisses. And I'm only allowed to call him by his full first name or his one self-approved shortened version of his first name in front of his classmates - I'm allowed to call him NONE of my myriad nicknames for him.

Thus, when it came time for us to say our goodbyes yesterday morning, I gave him a hug (not too showy though), told him quietly that I loved him, and bade him good day.

I fought the urge to yell, "Have a great day, Baba/Cute Butt/Poo!!"

But it was itching in the back of my throat the whole time, I tell you.

probably long overdue

2010-09-02T00:23:00.003-05:00

I wanted to let you all know that I decided to create a new blog this week, one that is specifically devoted to our struggle with secondary infertility.

I've felt for at least the past year that my AESW blog has become all about this segment of my life, and I wasn't really comfortable with that. Yet, my entire being has been very centered around this particular segment of my life during that time (I mean, literally, my first appointment with the fertility specialist was exactly a year ago today), so it does make sense that it was the thing I wrote about most.

Nonetheless, you can credit the fact that I'm feeling so strange about this being IUI #4 and us only having 2 IUIs left for the creation of the new blog. Despite my strong feelings of hope and optimism that we are meant to be parents to another baby, the fatalistic part of me is making me feel a little compelled to start thinking about what comes next in my life, if our remaining fertility treatments are unsuccessful. And one of the things that I think will come next is that I will be trying to raise awareness of secondary infertility. Maybe not on a grand public scale, but certainly through my writing. And, really, whether I end up with another baby or not, I want to continue to make a difference in this area. Creating a blog specifically about secondary infertility seemed like a good place to start.

If you're interested in checking out the new blog - called My Incomplete Family - I'd love to see you there. That said, I will still post - or at least link - here about the rest of our fertility treatment process, because it is still a component of my normal life.

On that note, thanks again for reading Average Everyday Super Woman!
SW

number four

2010-08-25T13:22:00.003-05:00

No, I'm not writing about Mr. I-can't-decide-whether-to-stay-or-go Brett Favre.

I'm writing about IUI attempt #4, which took place this morning.

As much as I've anticipated getting back on track with our IUI treatments since the miscarriage in May, I've got to admit that I was feeling really nervous this morning. All morning. And when I arrived at the doctors' office, my anxiety ratcheted up a bit more, which surprised me.

In retrospect, I think it was because today was the first time I've been back in their office since the day I found out my April pregnancy had stopped. Obviously, that was one of the worst days of my life, so I think it's only natural that I'd associate physically being in that environment with bad feelings and anxiety. Still, that obviously doesn't help a gal relax for the impending procedure when she's feeling phantom stress from the last time she was there.

To add to the situation, I had Super Boy with me. I'd forgotten to call around yesterday to see if one of my friends could watch him for 45 minutes for me, so he had to come along. Thankfully he's old enough to hang out in the waiting room and keep himself entertained, and the girls in the reception area were happy to keep an eye on him and chat with him, so I wasn't too worried about that. Still, he doesn't entirely get what goes on there, and given the nature of my doctors' specialty, the office doesn't have a big kid-friendly waiting room with toys or anything like that. As I sat there waiting to be called back, it also occurred to me that his mere presence there might bother someone else coming in for fertility treatment who has not been blessed with a child yet. While there was nothing I could do about it at that point, I was just grateful that he wasn't an infant or toddler still (because I know how hard that is for me to be around babies and toddlers after all this, and I have a child already), and that things were pretty slow while we were there and we only encountered one other patient.

** LITTLE SIDE NOTE **

As I have mentioned before, we've been pretty open with Super Boy about our desire to have another baby, and about the fact that we're having trouble getting pregnant and are seeing a special doctor and having some special procedures to help us. He knows some of what is going on, but obviously not all of it, and we don't know how much he really understands of what we have told him. He's a very smart kid, and inquisitive, so he asks a lot of questions, and we can only hope we're answering them in a way that he can make sense of.

For instance, he gets that in order to make a baby, there has to be a sperm and an egg, but he's not real clear on how they come together under normal circumstances. With our IUI, we've told him that the doctors have to get the sperm from daddy and then inject it into my uterus, where my eggs are, so that they can get together and form a baby. I also have a book called "From Conception to Birth", which Super Boy and I have looked through and talked about a little, so he's seen those awesome pictures of sperm penetrating egg, etc.

Anyway, when I told him he had to go to the doctor with me this morning, he asked what for. I told him that this is the baby doctor, and he asked, "Are we going to see a baby in your tummy?" I told him, no, that we're still trying to get another baby in my tummy, and that's what we were doing today.

He knew that Super Man had his appointment earlier (Super Man left the house later than usual this morning to make his appointment at the doctor's office, and when Super Boy asked why, we told him), and in his head, Daddy's appointment involved needles, which he knows Daddy doesn't like! So he said, "I bet Dad didn't like having to get poked with a needle to get the sperm out!"

I chuckled and said, "Well, actually they don't need to use needles to get the sperm, baby, so I think Daddy was probably okay."

He gave me a puzzled look and said, "If they don't use needles, then how do they get it?"

Oy vey.

I told him I'd explain that later on. Heaven help me!

Of course, as we were driving to the clinic and I was thinking about Super Boy asking me that question, I realized that at some point we are going to have to explain how babies are USUALLY made (i.e. sex) since the poor kid probably thinks that this craziness is just how it's done, with all these doctor appointments and medications and sperm extractions and sperm injections!

To feel it out a little, I just said, "Baby, I know that Mom & Dad have had to do a bunch of crazy stuff to try to have another baby, but just so you know, it's usually a lot easier and simpler for people to get pregnant and they don't have to go through all this. It was a lot easier when I got pregnant with YOU - it's just that this time around it isn't working the way it usually happens. Does that make sense?"

His response: "Mom, I know how people usually get pregnant."

*crickets chirping in the background*

"Really? You do?"

"Yep."

"Okaaaaay... tell me."

"Well, usually moms and dads have to do a lot of kissing to get pregnant, and that's how the sperm usually gets inside the mom. But you and Dad haven't been able to kiss a lot because Dad works so much."

(Oh, if only it were that simple!)

I figured that his version of events will do - for now.

** END OF LITTLE SIDE NOTE **

I brought my iPod along again this time, as I found it helped me to relax the last time, when I got pregnant. I had to wait a few minutes for Dr. R to come in, so rather than sit and fidget, I lay down on the table and listened to my "Mellow Music" playlist. Fortunately I wasn't kept waiting long.

Now, Dr. R was NOT the doctor who did my successful IUI back in April (that was Dr. S), but he had obviously heard about what had happened, so we talked about that a little bit and I was able to ask a few questions I'd had. Dr. R was the original fertility specialist I had seen when I first started going to this clinic back in September of 2009 (hard to believe we've been at this for a year...), and his original treatment plan for me only consisted of four IUIs before moving on to another treatment, namely in vitro (IVF). However, I ended up switching to Dr. S as my main fertility doctor (after having some issues with Dr. R early on), and while Dr. S knows that we won't be pursuing in vitro due to the financials involved, Dr. R did not know that. I told Dr. R that our insurance will cover up to six IUIs (but not IVF), so if #4 doesn't work, I want to exhaust the final two IUIs that insurance will cover since that will be as far as we go with treatment.

He said that he sets four IUIs as the standard plan because if it doesn't work in four attempts, it's likely not the best treatment for a particular patient, but since #3 was actually successful at getting me pregnant and we have no intention to pursue any further types of treatment, he had no problem following through with two additional IUIs if this one fails. That put my mind at ease.

Dr. R had a female med student with him today, and she is the one who started the procedure. Unfortunately, my pesky cervix-of-steel wasn't cooperating when she tried to thread the catheter through it, so Dr. R had to take over. And then even he ran into trouble with it, so I ended up needing a clamp of some sort to help get it in. This is not the first time Dr. R has had trouble getting the catheter in for my IUI, which sucks and is part of the reason I dread getting him for these procedures. The one time I got Dr. S for my IUI - the one that worked! - he got the catheter in right away and without causing me much pain. So I don't know what they do differently, but it's something, that's for sure.

Anyway, let me just tell you, folks, this is NOT a comfortable process.

We all know what it's like to have a bruised shin or a muscle ache or even a headache, and those aren't fun, but this particular type of pain - having something forced through your cervix - is really tough to explain. Rather than diffuse pain, such as you get with a headache, this is sharp, deep pain. It radiates outward from the cervix and all I can think of to describe it is that it's like super sharp knives or razor blades scraping something deep inside your abdomen. It's really not good. Not good at all. The only upside is that once the catheter is threaded, the pain ends and I can breathe again. Which is, of course, a good thing.

The other good thing is that apparently Super Man's count of "good" swimmers was 224 million this time, which is off the charts. They say they need a minimum of 10 million for the procedure, so obviously his is a very, VERY good number.

That 224 million is also the highest number we've had yet for all four IUIs. His last "record" was 133 million, and we thought that was great. In fact, Super Man was joking about getting personalized license plates with "133MM" on them.

Thank God he didn't order the plates yet.

Anyhoo, Dr. R injected the good swimmers straight into the promised land without incident. When he was done, I laid on the table for about 10 minutes listening to my iPod and silently chanting my little IUI mantra to the Universe.

I always get teary-eyed when I'm laying there meditating on my mantra, and this time was especially emotional, since it worked the last time I was there.

I couldn't help but think that if my April pregnancy had been a keeper, I'd have been 22 weeks this Friday and wouldn't need to be going through IUI again. I'd already know the sex of the baby and would be planning for its arrival and reveling in the beauty of second trimester pregnancy. Our family would be eagerly awaiting the new baby, showering my belly with love and kisses, so grateful for that little miraculous gift. I get a lump in my throat every time I think about it, and I ache for what was lost, especially because it took us 4 years to get pregnant again and we have no way of knowing if this or the final two IUIs will get me pregnant again.

Still. I still believe we're meant to have another baby. I still feel in my bones that we aren't done yet. So I have to believe that this or one of the final two IUIs will be the one that brings us another miracle.

When the timer went off and I got up and got dressed, I felt such a surge of positive energy, such hope. I went out to the waiting room to gather up Super Boy. He asked me if it worked, if I had a baby in my tummy. I told him I didn't know yet, that we have to wait two weeks to find out.

He grabbed my hand and looked up at me with his beautiful, solemn hazel eyes and said, "I really hope we get another baby, Mom. And I hope it's a little brother."

My sweet little miracle is praying for another miracle, and so am I.

Number 4, I hope you are the one. Universe, we're ready; we're waiting. We cannot wait to welcome another miracle into our family. We're ready.

hopefully,
SW

Facebook friend-iquette

2010-08-19T20:31:00.005-05:00

OMG, I love Facebook! So much so that I've been known to spend an inordinate amount of my online time on it, much to my own detriment at times. I've vowed to cut back, and I have a bit, but I have a ways to go before I will feel like I've achieved the right balance. (My husband will be so happy the day that happens!)

Given my love for Facebook, most of the time I view it as a really great invention. It has allowed me a much better, more convenient, and more interactive way of staying in touch with my family and close friends who don't live nearby, in that we can look at each others' pictures, chat, send messages and post on each others' Walls. Of course there is still a lot of value in talking by phone and - better yet - face-to-face, but when that's not possible or practical, Facebook certainly comes in handy.

It's also proven to be a really cool tool in that it has helped me reconnect with lost friends and coworkers, and former classmates from decades ago. I've reconnected with my oldest friend, whom I met when I was 4 years old and we lived across the street from each other, not to mention probably 3/4 (if not more) of my graduating class, and it has been so wonderful and fun to renew those connections and see what everyone is up to. I've been out of high school for 18 years now, and our class has only had two reunions in that time, neither of which I was able to attend. With the 20-year reunion looming large, I find myself really looking forward to it now that I've been in touch with so many people from my class through Facebook. How nice it will be to not feel nervous about seeing everyone again, because I can "see" them every day if I want to!

Then again, there are times when I think of Facebook as not so good a thing. I say that because of how easy it is to snub and hurt people in passive-aggresive ways. One of them is by ignoring friend requests, and another is by "unfriending" former FB friends. Given how prevalent FB is in the social stratosphere, having your friend request ignored or being unfriended is kind of a slap in the face.

I know that there are some out there who think it's absolutely INSANE to have hundreds of Facebook friends, and they will roll their eyes and gnash their teeth and grumble about how there is NO WAY that a person is REALLY "friends" with all those people, and say that those people only do it for the numbers, and they themselves would NEVER friend on FB anyone they weren't REALLY GOOD friends with, blah, blah, blah.

Well, sure -- that might be true in some cases. Absolutely. And if that's your personal policy regarding Facebook, that's great -- for YOU.

In my situation, I've got over 400 FB friends. I never set out to hit a certain number or anything like that. All I've ever wanted to do was connect with my existing friends and family and reconnect with old friends with whom I'd lost touch. The latter category just so happens to include childhood friends, former classmates, former neighbors, and former coworkers I had good relationships with, which makes it a pretty broad category, encompassing at least 30 years of my 36 years on the planet! These are people I never disliked or cut out of my life for any negative reasons; just people I drifted apart from due to moves, changes in life, changes in jobs, etc. and it would've been impossible to keep in touch with all of them in the old traditional ways of writing letters and making phone calls, in the pre-electronic age. The simple fact that Facebook now exists has made reconnecting and staying in touch stupidly easy, and for that I'm grateful.

Where I'm going with this is here: When I send someone a friend request, or I accept a friend request from someone else, it's because I have made the thoughtful, conscious choice to reconnect with that person, because I genuinely want to be connected with that person. It has nothing to do with wanting to have a certain number of FB friends or me just being nosey; it has everything to do with continuing or reviving certain relationships in my life. I would never want someone to accept my friend request or to request me as a friend on Facebook simply to snoop and be nosey, or so they can later snub me by unfriending me, although I'm sure it happens.

I've had a few friend requests ignored and I've been unfriended a few times, and bottom line, it never feels good. In fact, it sucks. And when I realize I've been unfriended by someone, I always find myself dwelling on WHY that person felt the need to unfriend me, especially if it was someone I was FB friends with for a pretty long time. And the crappiest part is that you pretty much have to accept that you'll never have an answer to that question, because who is really going to confront someone who unfriended them? Not this girl, that's for sure! No; in the end, I have to shrug my shoulders and figure I'm better off for it.

All of that said, I will admit that I, too, have ignored a few friend requests and unfriended a few people, but I do it very rarely and only for pretty clear reasons.

REASONS I'VE IGNORED FRIEND REQUESTS:

-- If I don't know you personally, chances are very good that I'm not going to accept your friend request. I don't need to expose myself, my family or my life to strangers. This is also why I've got my privacy settings locked up tighter than Fort Knox. The two exceptions I've made to this rule (and only in rare cases) are virtual friends I've made through my writing/blogging, and friends-of-friends to whom I've been virtually introduced and had a great connection with.

-- If I do know you but our relationship is definitely not good or I have reason to seriously question your motives for wanting access to me through Facebook, I'm going to ignore your request.

-- If I know you or know of you but you've weirded me out in prior situations, I'm not accepting the friend request. For obvious reasons.

REASONS I'D UNFRIEND OTHERS:

-- You're stalking me through FB. By this I mean chatting me every single time you see I'm online, or you're being inappropriate in your FB communications with me.

-- Your posts are all spam (like Farmville or any of the other annoying apps) and never personal thoughts or updates.

-- Your posts are creepy and/or disturbing.

-- If I find out that you're only FB friends with me to get information to share with others, not because you genuinely want to be in touch with me.

I don't like hurting other peoples' feelings. Have I done it a time or two in my life? Unfortunately, yes; I'm human. Usually it has happened because I wasn't thinking before I did or said something, and I've felt truly awful when it has happened. (Seriously, no one could possibly understand how much of a toll my own guilt or shame takes on me when I know I've hurt someone's feelings, and those who know me best will vouch for that.) Even in situations where I'm ignoring a Facebook request from someone I don't know, I feel a little bit bad for it because I know how it feels to be rejected in that way. But the bottom line with Facebook is that I have to look out for my own and my family's safety and well-being.

So, AESW readers, I'm curious to know what YOUR personal Facebook policies are, so please share in the comments section. Do you ignore friend requests and unfriend people, and if so, why? How do you feel when it happens to you? I think it will be really interesting to compare notes on this given how big Facebook has gotten and how many of us use it to stay in touch with people in our lives.

SW

when a leisurely family bike ride goes bad

2010-08-08T21:08:00.006-05:00

Oh, what a day.

It started like many others -- us sleeping in and missing Church (shame on us, shame on us), waking to the sound of rain on the rooftop and making pancakes for breakfast, which we ate in our jammies around the kitchen table. After breakfast, Super Boy relaxed and played some Nintendo DS while Super Man and I chatted, played a little Bejeweled Blitz and did a little picking up. Then we ate lunch.

Around 1:15pm, Super Man commented that the rain had stopped and the sun was shining and we should go outside to enjoy it while it lasted. I suggested we take a bike ride.

I suggested this because ever since Super Boy lost the training wheels back in June, he's wanted to go on bike rides almost every single day, and due to Super Man's long work days, he doesn't often get to join us. This was to be a fun family bike ride for 30 or 40 minutes before coming home, showering and getting on with our day. Super Boy had a sleepover planned at a friend's house (it was hopefully going to be his first successful one!), and I was going to see a movie with a girlfriend while Super Man relaxed at home and finished cleaning his office.

We got ready and headed out. I suggested we load the bikes in my Odyssey and drive down to the bike path Super Boy and I have been biking frequently lately, but Super Man thought we should bike there straight from our house. OK, fine. That was a mistake!

The bike ride through our neighborhood went fine. Super Boy made the corners beautifully, and we were all enjoying ourselves. We got down to the bike path, and things started off well. Until.

Super Boy started peddling really fast.

He lost control of his bike.

The handlebars turned to the side on a bumpy stretch while Super Boy was still propelling forward.

And Super Boy went face-first to the ground.

Thank God he was wearing his helmet (we require it EVERY time he rides, and we wear ours, too). As soon as he hit the pavement, he started screaming. Super Man and I leaped off our bikes and were at his side, lifting his bike off him, carefully turning him over.

Blood dripped from his face onto his clothes and the pavement. He was bleeding so profusely it was hard at first to tell where it was coming from, and his lip was hugely swollen. He was screaming, crying, hysterical.

Super Man held him and tried to calm him down while I dug furiously through my little backpack trying to find the little packet of tissues I usually keep in every one of my purses/bags, only to come up empty-handed. As a last resort, I found a stash of panty liners in my little inside zipper pocket and figured beggars couldn't be choosers. I held a panty liner on my son's mouth trying to staunch the flow of blood so we could see where it was coming from.

When I pulled the liner away, it was easy to see that he had split his top lip open, bad. His lip was so swollen already, though, that it was hard to tell if he had also bit it from the inside. He was still bleeding heavily. He was also bleeding from his right knee and right elbow.

We had to figure out what to do, as it was clear he couldn't get back on his bike and ride. Super Man said he'd ride like hell back to our house to get our Odyssey so we could take him to the ER, so I waited with Super Boy. Thankfully, as we were evaluating Super Boy, a man had been biking by and stopped when he saw our son bleeding. He said he was a former firefighter and EMT, and he volunteered to stay with me and Super Boy while we waited for Super Man to get back.

I don't even known the man's name. I was so concerned about Super Boy that I could barely think straight. The man did a great job of trying to keep our minds off the matter at hand, asking Super Boy what grade he's in and what sports he likes, and talking to us about his daughter and other things. He was so kind, and told me that he didn't think the damage was too bad. When the mosquitoes started eating Super Boy and I alive, and I debated moving Super Boy closer to the road and away from the trees, our helper moved our bikes for us while I just got Super Boy moved and settled.

Before we knew it, Super Man was there. I got Super Boy in the car while Super Man and our helper got the bikes in the back, and we thanked him profusely before speeding away to the hospital ER.

We spent 4 hours at the ER. It was apparent that Super Boy needed stitches, but the chief resident was not comfortable doing the stitches himself due to the fact that the split went from the middle of the fleshy part of Super Boy's lip above his lip line (they called it "the vermilion border"), requiring a more precise stitching to heal properly and symmetrically. So we had to wait for a plastic surgery consult, which came in the form of an ENT (ear, nose, throat) doctor, who handles all facial lacerations at the hospital.

Thankfully, the room we were put in at the ER had a video game cart in it already, and that helped tremendously to keep Super Boy's mind off his pain and what was going to happen. It helped pass the time in a state of less panic and fear, and that was a good thing.

When it came time for the ENT to come do her thing, Super Boy visibly tensed. They gave him some numbing gel to the lip to help take away the sting of the numbing agent they injected before doing the stitches, and he was not liking ANY of it. Still, he stayed calm, squeezed my hand and followed all their instructions. When he was suitably numb, they irrigated his lip, as he had fallen on a paved path and no doubt had some grit in there. When they began stitching, Super Boy became nervous, but soon realized that it was going to be quick and relatively painless.

He ended up with two stitches to the outside of his lip, one at the lip line and one just below it, and another two stitches to the inside of his lip, where it was discovered that his teeth had done some serious damage in the fall. I can't believe he didn't bite right through the lip. Thank God he didn't though.

We still don't know for sure whether he damaged his two front teeth -- they weren't cracked or chipped, but when the doctors pressed up on them or had him bite down hard, he said it was tender. That could just be from all the swelling, but we'll need to keep an eye on that. I sure hope the teeth are okay because they're his permanent teeth!

Super Boy has been such a champ through all of this. When we first got into triage at the ER, the nurse said he would probably need sedation before getting the stitches because of his age and how worked up he was at that point, but by the time he was actually getting stitched up, he was quite calm and just wanted to know what they were doing. So we avoided sedation, which was great. Still, by the time we got home, we were all exhausted. Super Boy took it easy, took a nice warm bath, rested, had a little cereal for dinner, and then had some ice cream later. He had some Tylenol, we dressed his skinned knee and arm, and then carefully brushed his teeth before putting some antibiotic ointment and a light dressing on his lip.

And then my little boy slept.

No parent ever wants to see their child get hurt or suffer. I know that this is small potatoes compared to what some parents endure with their kids. But I hope I never have to see my sweet pea bleeding like that ever again. When we got Super Boy out of his clothes before his bath, and later got out of our own clothes, I was astonished at how much blood was on them. And I was thanking God that the situation was as "good" as it was and not any worse.

with a truly grateful heart,
SW

i-ta-ly

2010-07-21T17:51:00.004-05:00

I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy today. Super Man's older sister, her three grown sons and my mother- and father-in-law are currently in Italy. My sister-in-law has been on Facebook posting pictures and status updates daily, and just seeing the beautiful pictures and reading her joyful updates warms my heart.

I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but in case I haven't, Super Man's family is 100% Italian. My father-in-law was born in the U.S. (his father was born in Italy), and he had never been to Italy. My mother-in-law was born in Italy, but her family moved to the U.S. when she was two or three years old, and she had never been back -- until now, 75 years later.

My father-in-law is one of the most laid back and easy-going people I know (Super Man gets it from him), but he does NOT like to travel, especially by plane. My mother-in-law has a far more adventurous spirit in that regard and has always wanted to return to Italy to visit the family members that stayed behind, but she had some unpleasant matters to deal with early on in the past decade and then has been plagued with some moderate health issues for the past few years, so travel wasn't high on her agenda.

But then my sister-in-law -- who has wanted to take a family trip to Italy forever -- finally convinced my mother- and father-in-law to go with her and her sons this year. When I heard the news, I couldn't believe that my father-in-law had actually agreed to go, but I was so excited that he had. I knew that my mother-in-law was thrilled, but I also knew she would be concerned about how she'd do physically, between the long travel days on cramped airplanes and then all the walking and traveling they'd do during their 10 days in Italy. Still, she refused to let it hold her back, and from the sounds of it, she's having the time of her life back in her home country.

The pictures have been beautiful - the weather is gorgeous (although hot), the sites they've seen have been amazing, and best of all was seeing the town where my mother-in-law was born, the church where she was baptized, and the tombstone of her maternal grandmother. I can just picture how happy she is there, among her Italian cousins, seeing the place her parents lived before moving stateside. And I've been relieved to hear that she's held up physically despite the long days of walking and sight-seeing.

I only wish we could be there with them! We thought about going with them, but it just wasn't going to work financially this year. Plus, with Super Boy being only 7, it might've been too much for him with the long flights and all the walking.

Still, though. The thought of Super Boy and Super Girl being able to experience Italy for the first time with their Italian grandparents is incredibly compelling. And while my in-laws are still active and in relatively good health, they're in their late 70s and this could very well be one of the last opportunities - if not the last opportunity - for them to take a trip of this magnitude. We just have to hope that maybe in another year or two the stars will all align again for them to make the trip and we can go with next time.

In the meantime, I pray that the rest of their trip goes as smoothly and wonderfully as the past three days have. I just love the idea of them in ITALY!

ciao-ciao
SW

i'm ba-aaaaaack!

2010-07-19T12:55:00.003-05:00

Irony kills me. Post-Miscarriage Period #1 showed up on June 15, exactly 1 month after the miscarriage actually began (May 15). Post-Miscarriage Period #2 showed up on July 14, exactly 2 months after I found out I was going to miscarry imminently (May 14). Hardy har har.

All that unpleasantness aside, I've been given the all clear to start trying again. This makes me happy!

When Post-Miscarriage Period #2 arrived, I called my Super Fertility Specialist (SFS)'s office and spoke to one of the nurses, letting her know it had arrived and I was expecting to re-start IUI this cycle. At first, she tried to convince me to wait yet ANOTHER month, because she claimed that the doctors prefer that a woman wait THREE cycles after a miscarriage. I tried to stay calm and not scream at her that I was SICK TO DEATH of waiting, after FOUR years and FOUR months of trying for another baby and one very sad miscarriage. I managed to calmly explain to her that my SFS had told me on the day we found out the pregnancy had stopped that he just wanted me to wait TWO full cycles, since my miscarriage was simply to expel a fertilized & implanted -- but EMPTY -- egg sac that stopped developing shortly after 4 weeks of pregnancy. It's not like I was 10 or 12 or more weeks and lost an otherwise live and growing pregnancy.

She resisted. I insisted she talk to my SFS and get back to me.

And, man, I LOVE my SFS because sure enough the nurse called back and said, "OK, Dr. _____ said it was fine for you to go ahead and start IUI again this cycle."

Ha! Ha ha HA!

I knew he would see it my way. I mean, honestly, I would've been happy to wait if my body had gone through a more traumatic miscarriage, but mine was about as simple and uncomplicated as they come (although it certainly wasn't pleasant going through it), so it seemed silly to wait "just because."

Unfortunately, as Super Man and I were looking ahead in our calendars at the week we'd be having IUI, we realized that the MAJOR-HUGE-STRESSFUL meetings he's spent MONTHS preparing for are all happening that week, and specifically on the day that I would most likely ovulate and need to have IUI.

Nonetheless, I will not be deterred. (I'm good that way.) I'm taking Femara again, as I did for IUI attempt #3 when I actually FINALLY got pregnant, and I'll start taking ovulation predictor tests on Sunday, and hopefully I won't ovulate until after Super Man is done with the meetings and can relax and make it to his part of the appointment for IUI. And, if he can't and the timing just won't work for IUI, then we're going to try like crazy on our own and hope that the pregnancy that didn't make it at least got all the equipment working again and makes it easier for me to conceive without us having to do IUI.

Either way, I'm cool with it. As long as we can try again, with or without IUI, that's good with me. I still believe our other baby is just waiting for the right time to manifest itself in my belly. So, I wait.

wishing on stars,
SW

bumps everywhere

2010-07-08T17:07:00.003-05:00

What the hell is in the water lately? I should say what the hell is in EVERYONE ELSE'S WATER, since it seems like everywhere I go and everywhere I look, there are women sporting baby bumps of varying sizes. I see them everywhere -- except when I look in the mirror at my own babyless belly. And it's driving me nuts.

I'm really not exaggerating this either. I see them EVERY SINGLE DAY, no matter where I go or what I'm doing.

I walk into the grocery store admiring the cute outfit on the woman ahead of me, and sure enough, when she turns sideways there's a baby belly.

I drive down the street and see a woman jogging along on the sidewalk, and as I pass her I see a baby belly. (Never mind that I don't even jog when I'm NOT pregnant.)

I'm innocently folding laundry and watching a t.v. show - not a cutesy-tootsie one, but like a CSI-type show, with blood and gore and crime - and one of the main characters (a serial killer, no less) is hugely pregnant.

I flip the channel and land on a commercial where there's yet another pregnant woman.

I log onto Facebook one night to find that one of my exes and his wife are expecting another baby (their first is 8 months old), and she's due a week before I was.

I go to a 4th of July cookout and find out that a neighbor is pregnant again.

I'm driving to the grocery store and I see a couple walking along pushing a stroller with a toddler in it and - oh, lo and behold - the woman is pregnant with another.

Super Boy and I go to the ice cream shop to get him a smoothie (just this afternoon, in fact) and there's no one in there but us. As we leave, a woman walks in sporting a good-sized baby bump. Oh - and bonus! - I passed another one in the parking lot on the way back to my van.

Honest to God, it seems like just about everyone is pregnant except me. First babies, second babies, third babies, fourth babies. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.

And all I can think about is that I would've been 15 weeks pregnant tomorrow, had everything turned out with my April pregnancy. I would've been past the first trimester, showing, and just about 4 months pregnant. I think about that every single day, and I'm sure I will until my due-date-that-was of 1/1/11 passes. Unless by some miracle from God I end up pregnant again by then. And even then.

Why does it have to be so hard???

What happened to me, to my body, that is making this so damned difficult??? It's supposed to be easier than this!

God, I think about all the years I spent trying NOT to get pregnant while I waited for "the right time" to start a family, and I desperately wish I could go back and rethink that whole thing and get off birth control and start trying sooner. What if I missed my window of opportunity by just a year even?

It's maddening, I tell you. I have no control over this, over my own frickin' body, and it makes me furious. Every time I see another baby bump I want to crawl into bed and cry. As it is, I immediately avert my eyes. I can't even stand to look at them because it triggers an actual physical ache in my body and my heart.

And don't even get me started on listening to nearly-due pregnant women who complain about how they feel or how they hate being pregnant. If I HAD a left nut, I'd gladly give it to be in their shoes. Gladly. Any damn day of the week. I LOVED being pregnant with Super Boy. Loved it, loved it, loved it, and truly couldn't wait to experience it again. To hear anyone complain about it makes me want to scream.

This is hell. Everyone has their own version; I accept that. This is mine.

beginnings

2010-06-22T20:44:00.002-05:00

I was out of town all last week, on our annual vacation to the northwoods of Wisconsin with my whole family, minus my youngest brother who lives out west and couldn't make it this year. I love that week each year, as it kicks off our summer perfectly. We all spend 11-1/2 months eagerly anticipating it, and then that single week always flies by way too fast. Still, we love it.

When we started doing this annual family vacation in 2005, we rented the lake house of a coworker of mine. The house was big and well-appointed although not fancy, and the lot, beach and lake were all fabulous for the needs of our group. We happily spent our first four vacations there, but eventually my coworker and her husband decided to sell the house as they weren't able to get up there often enough to keep up with the necessary upkeep, so we had to find a new place in 2009.

The house we rented last year was practically brand new and beautiful - but it wasn't right on the lake like the original lake house was, and the beach was shared with other cabins, so we didn't have the privacy we had come to relish either. That meant we all spent less time swimming and boating, and we were all disappointed by that. So, my parents booked a different house for this summer.

This year's house was much closer to town than the other two, and it was big like the original lake house and sat close to the lake like that one, but it still wasn't quite the right fit. Our biggest issues had to do with the water. The water inside, being well water, STUNK to high heaven of sulfur. I'm not exaggerating that one bit either, trust me. Anytime we showered or brushed our teeth, we had to hold our breath or gag through it. And when we did laundry, we quickly learned that the water also had a lot of iron in it, because our whites turned rusty orange. I was NOT thrilled about that, considering I had washed a brand spankin' new white cami and new white t-shirt in that load of whites and they were instantly ruined. Lesson learned! As for the water outside, despite the fact that the lake was just a few yards away from the house and offered GREAT fishing right from the dock, it was NOT good for swimming. The beach was mucky, the bottom of the lake was very silty, and there were weeds everywhere. I suppose we were fortunate that the weather was cold and rainy for more than half the week, and even when the rain stopped it wasn't so hot that we felt compelled to swim much. Thank God for the great fishing, at least -- Super Boy and my Super Nephew (who is the same age as Super Boy) both caught plenty of bluegills and perch right off the dock and were THRILLED by that.

My parents are now struggling with what to do for next summer. We either need to look for another place for next summer or my parents are considering buying a lake place in the southern half of the state, nearer to where they live. While I would really miss the fun activities offered in Minocqua (we LOVE to go go-karting and pony riding while we're there), I think we'd be far more comfortable in a house that my parents own that has the accommodations we value most for our vacations. So, we'll see how it all shakes out for next year.

Regardless of the accommodations, the trip itself is always wonderful. I pretty much only see my sister and her family at the holidays and on this vacation, as we live 5 hours apart, which means our little boys only see each other then, too. That makes us both sad because we were both so excited to find out we were pregnant just 3 months apart, and we looked forward to our boys being close cousins growing up. With the boys in school now and life being busy like it is, it's just hard to make the time to get together more than we do. No excuse, I know - we both ought to try harder - but it is what it is for now.

I see my younger brother more frequently, but the holidays and the vacation are the only times when we're all together, and that's special, too. We spend the evenings playing games as a family. The favorite is Texas hold 'em (my brother taught us all how to play and now we're all hooked!), and we introduced the family to Monopoly City this year, which was a big hit. The boys are now old enough that they can play their own games, or do puzzles together, and they're so cute working together on those things.

Growing up, we never had the money to take vacations as a family, so we really value this time together now. I hope we'll do this always, even after our parents are gone. As I said, it's the perfect way to begin our summer each year!

I had another beginning last week: As I'd half hoped and half feared, my period finally decided to show up, last Tuesday. June 15th: ironically, exactly one month since I started my miscarriage.

I had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of my stupid period for a change, wanting to get it over with so we could move forward, and it stubbornly refused to show for four straight weeks following the miscarriage. I felt kind of crummy Sunday and Monday, but wasn't sure if I just had a touch of a stomach thing or something else, and then Tuesday it showed up and I realized that's what was making me feel lousy.

Nonetheless, I was glad to get it finally. Now I just have to wait until after my next period to start IUI again, which means we should be on track for July, as I'd hoped we would be. Hopefully that will have given my body enough time to heal and prepare for the possibility of another pregnancy.

On that note, I received a beautiful little note from Sister A from our church in today's mail. She has been praying for a baby for us since we began IUI in December, and was so excited when I'd shared the news of the pregnancy with her. After telling her about the miscarriage, she was very consoling and urged me to keep faith that God has a plan for us. Much to my sadness, she's leaving this week to return to her mother house for 2 months before beginning a new position in Kentucky. I will miss her terribly, but I know we will stay in touch. Anyway, her note this morning was two prayers: One for trying to get pregnant, and one for pregnancy. She is so sweet and thoughtful. Just knowing that she's sending up her prayers for us makes me feel like God is really listening, to her if not to me. I pray that the power of all our praying will bring us the miracle we've waited so long for.

That's all for now. I'm just so glad that it's summer. This is my favorite time of year, the season I love best, and I want to really make the most of it this year. Hooray for summer!!

Yours always,
SW

a big day

2010-06-10T15:50:00.007-05:00

Today is a pretty significant day for our family. Well, I suppose I ought to include yesterday in this, as well. Let's say it was a pretty significant TWO days for our family.

First off, yesterday: Super Girl graduated from 8th grade! Yes, folks. This means we have a high schooler on our hands.

Lord have mercy.

We live about 50 minutes away from Super Girl's school - and that number is considering average traffic, not rush hour traffic - so naturally with the graduation ceremony last night being at 6:30pm and both of us driving in rush hour traffic to get there, I didn't make it until 6:45 and Super Man strolled in a good five minutes after I did. Thankfully they had barely gotten started yet, so we were good to go.

The ceremony was very nice, very touching, and with her class being fairly small - about 40 kids - it didn't take crazy long to get through. Super Girl looked so nice in her semi-formal dress, as the graduation dance was immediately after the ceremony. We took a few pictures after the ceremony before taking our leave,and when I looked at them last night, especially on of her and Super Boy, I was struck by how much Super Girl has grown up over the past year. She looks like she could be 17. It happened in the blink of an eye, people.

CONGRATULATIONS to Super Girl on finishing middle school and taking this next huge step into high school!!

As for today, two things make it a big day:

1.) It was Super Boy's last day of 1st grade!

2.) It's my and Super Man's 10th wedding anniversary!

We'll start with Super Boy's big day. My little man is done with school today, and next fall he'll be a big 2nd grader. I cannot - CANNOT - believe it. I still swear that it was just yesterday that I was holding my little 8 lb. 10.5 oz. baby in my arms. It is IMPOSSIBLE to think that he's 7 and going into second grade already. And yet, he is. And he couldn't be happier about it.

I asked him on the way home this afternoon how he felt about it being his last day of school. He said he's part happy and part sad. Happy because he's a SECOND grader now, but sad because it was a good year and he's going to miss seeing all his classmates over the summer. I told him that I am determined (you're all my witnesses) to make sure he sees at least one or two classmates a week this summer, not counting the weeks we're out of town or he's in camps. I will admit to doing a woefully inadequate job of this last summer, and I don't want to repeat that mistake this summer. He needs to have that social time with other kids, especially since he doesn't have a sibling around all the time to hang out with in general, and frankly, I need some time to myself to get things done! Last summer was NOT a very productive one for me, and it was my own damn fault.

Anyway, CONGRATULATIONS to my little boy on completing a great year of 1st grade!!

As for us... well. What is there to say? Ten years. TEN YEARS!!

We've certainly had our share of ups and downs, and this year has already been full of them all on its own. That said, I think we've weathered the storms pretty well overall, and we're just grateful and thankful for the life we share together.

Are there things I would change? Sure. I'd love it if Super Man was home more and worked a little less. I'd love it if we weren't feeling a pinch financially with me not working. And, of course, I'd love it if we had another baby joining our family. I'd like our house to be on a quieter street, in a neighborhood, preferably closer to my family. I wish we could travel more together, the way we used to.

Are there things I wouldn't ever change? Absolutely. The way Super Man looks at me. The way he says my name. The feel of his strong, soft, warm hand in mine. The fact that he calls me pretty much every day during his lunch hour just to say hi and see how my day is going. That he says he loves me every time we get off the phone and before he leaves for work in the morning. That he's always willing to do something I want done but can't do myself or help me with something if I ask. I love his patience, his kindness and friendliness, that he doesn't sweat the small stuff or let cruel or insensitive people get him down.

There is no one I'd rather lie down next to every night or wake up beside every morning. There's no one I'd prefer to go through life beside, to grow old with. He's my other half. And I love him.

Happy 10th Anniversary, CH - I love you!!

With a happy heart,
SW

falling

2010-05-27T10:36:00.003-05:00

I had to go in last Wednesday and again yesterday for follow-up blood tests to make sure my hcG level is dropping to reflect a completed miscarriage. It was 193 last week, and fell to 11.4 yesterday. Hopefully this means I'll be at 0 for next week's blood test.

The sooner the better. I want to put this behind me, to have tangible closure. I'm eager to move forward, to get to a good place again, emotionally just because I need to get there again and physically so that we can try again. I don't want to rush things, of course - but I do want to move forward.

I feel like we've spent soooooo much time in holding patterns throughout this whole process. The first year we tried to conceive, we assumed things were fine and we just weren't getting the timing right. We waited to seek help. The second year we tried to conceive, when I was really starting to get concerned, we sought some help but our insurance wouldn't cover ANY fertility testing, much less fertility treatment, so we just kept trying and praying. The third year we tried to conceive, Super Man lost his job due to layoffs, so we stopped trying for four months and waited for him to make his next career move, not wanting to get pregnant if we had no income and no insurance coverage. Thankfully, Super Man accepted a fabulous position at a great company that had excellent insurance, insurance that covered fertility testing and treatment up to and including IUI. Even then, however, we had to wait to see the specialist, wait for more testing to be done, wait for my surgery to remove the uterine polyps, wait to heal from that, and then wait to see if each month of IUI worked.

It's one thing to wait 9 months for a baby to be born; it's entirely another to wait, and wait, and wait just to get pregnant. My patience - already thin and patchy for, oh, my entire life - is virtually non-existent now. I know I can't control this, at all. As frustrating as that is, as much as this body belongs to ME, I have no control over what it does in this regard. The sooner we can get back on track with our fertility treatments, the sooner - hopefully - I will be pregnant again. That is worth the wait. That and that alone.

I can't tell you how grateful I am that this is all going on now, in late spring going into summer. I've always had issues with seasonal affective disorder (undiagnosed, of course - but I hold a degree in psychology and I know the symptoms) in fall and winter, and I know that if this were happening then I'd be in utter despair. At least I have sunshine and warm weather and fun activities to distract me from some of this, and that's huge for me.

Things will be okay. Each day that passes will get me closer to where I want to be. I am holding onto that.

With greatest hope,
SW

big boy

2010-05-25T10:28:00.005-05:00

This past Sunday was Super Boy's 7th birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUPER BOY!!! :)

This child is:

- a miracle.
- incredibly sweet, loving and nurturing.
- funny and charismatic.
- clever, witty and wise.
- very intelligent and articulate.
- a social butterfly and chick-magnet.
- the most beautiful human being I've ever laid eyes on.
- the very center of my universe, the core of my soul.
- so much Super Man.
- so much me.
- truly my little Italian angel.

I never knew it was possible to love someone else so thoroughly and completely and unconditionally until I had my little boy seven years ago. And that's saying something because I adore my husband, have been madly in love with him since 1998. This child, our child, just takes my breath away and he has since the moment I laid eyes on him.

I can't believe he's already seven. I can close my eyes and picture and feel his tiny but sturdy little body in my arms on Day One, and when I open my eyes and behold the big boy he is now, it's stunning to me. The time went by so quickly, and he changed so imperceptibly from one day to the next. Seven years go by in the blink of an eye.

I have been so amazed by everything my son has learned over the years, and especially just by what he's learned this year alone. He's so smart... I can't believe how much he knows, by how inquisitive his mind is.

I'm overwhelmed by his capacity to love and care for those around him, by his intuitiveness and instinct in his relationships. He is so loving towards his family, and towards me in particular. I hope he never loses that. He is so sensitive in good ways, yet strong and assured in others. I'm impressed by him and his character, every single day.

I want such a great future for my boy. I picture the things that will unfold in his life from this point forward, and I just want all his dreams to come true. I want him to live an extraordinary life, surrounded by extraordinary people, and I have every belief that he will. He's a charmed little boy, blessed by angels. I absolutely adore him.

Happy birthday, my sweet boy. I wish only good things and happy days for you, lovey!!

With all the love in my heart,
Your Super Mom

waiting and thinking, thinking and waiting

2010-05-19T09:31:00.006-05:00

Well, I think the worst has passed physically, in that my cramping is very minimal and the bleeding is trailing off. Emotionally, on the other hand, I still feel like a train wreck.

I am numb. It takes so much energy to get excited about anything right now, to hold a conversation with someone, to remember details, to even put a smile on my face when I'm spending time with Super Boy so he knows that yeah, Mommy is sad but everything is okay. I feel like I'm going through the motions of my normal life but the meaning is lost right now. I know this will pass, but it's unnerving. If I could give in to my urge to crawl into bed and stay there indefinitely, I probably would. I suppose I'm grateful that my "real life" beckons, and I have to take care of my son and my dog and my house, at a minimum, so I simply can't let myself get sucked into a major depression over this.

But friends call or email and want to get together, and I can't. I just can't. I know it might make me feel better to be able to talk about it with them (especially those who have gone through it themselves) and cry on their shoulders a little bit, but honestly, I feel like my grieving process is the only private thing I have left with this. I realized that I've shot myself in the foot, so to speak, by talking so openly - here, on Facebook, on my mom websites, and in person with people - about our whole struggle to conceive. I felt obligated to tell everyone that I WAS pregnant and then to inform them that now I'm NOT. I can write about what it feels like, what I'm going through, but to actually sit with someone and cry about it with rivers of tears and snot running down my face, my arms wrapped tightly around my middle to keep it from falling apart, and let people see me in the midst of the mourning is just not something I can do right now. This is all I have left.

I had to go in for a follow-up hcG test this morning. My doctor didn't mention that when I was in his office last week, but when I spoke with his nurse Monday, she gently told me that I will have to go in weekly until the number is below 5 again. I sat there in the blood draw this morning thinking that the last time I was there, I got the best news ever a few hours later, that my hcG was 99.6 and I was definitely pregnant, at long last. I know the news this time will not be happy. My hcG should be dropping. While that is what is "normal" in this situation, it makes me miserable to imagine it.

I'm restless. All I can think about is getting back on track for IUI #4. If my hcG goes down fast enough, there is a possibility that we could try again in June, but then again the rational side of me knows that I should let my body rest, and wait until July. There's also the pesky matter of getting my period again at some point. Must have that before I can have another ovulatory cycle. I know my more practical side will prevail, but I'm not a patient person by nature, so the next 6 weeks (or more) of waiting will be torture.

And then I find myself trying to caution my heart into not getting its hopes up that IUI #4 will be our salvation. Just because #3 technically worked doesn't mean #4 will. I may end up disappointed again when that cycle comes to an end. Still, I can't help but hope. And - as stupid as it might sound - I hope that now that my body has finally accomplished getting pregnant again, maybe the skids are greased to make it easier to achieve again on one of our future attempts, you know? You hear about that happening sometimes.

Hell, I just read this morning that Kelly Preston and John Travolta are having another baby -- she is pregnant, and she's 47. If she can do it at 47, surely I can manage it at 36 with the helpful medical intervention of my fertility specialist! Right? Right?

aaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhh....

And then I have other situations that I don't know how or whether to deal with. Rather than go into detail about the situations (trust me, I've learned my lesson with that), I figured I'd post a few tips for people on how to help someone around you who is going through or has recently been through a miscarriage, now that I'm living it first-hand.

-- No matter how early the miscarriage happened or whether it was a blighted ovum or not, don't ever tell the person that they weren't "really" pregnant. If the person went through some form of fertility treatment to get pregnant and then miscarried under any circumstances, don't tell them that the treatment didn't work. If you've ever been pregnant before, you know that - deep down - when you see that positive pregnancy test or hear the doctor or nurse speak the words YOU'RE PREGNANT, you are all-in. There is no "kind of" or "not really" or any middle ground. Pregnant is pregnant, whether it continues to a healthy baby being born or not. And when it doesn't result in a healthy baby being born, you need to show compassion and respect for the pregnancy that failed. When fertility treatment is involved, saying the treatment didn't work only discourages the person from trying it again, which is not helpful because a person going through that needs all the faith they can muster to get through those treatments, and the reality is that the treatment DID work; the pregnancy didn't.

-- Everyone is different, so just because you may have been through a miscarriage yourself doesn't mean that the person next to you going through it is going to have the same exact experience with it that you did. They might be in more or less physical pain than you were (pain is a very subjective thing), it might take longer for their miscarriage to wrap up than yours did, they might take longer to heal or "get over it" emotionally than you did. You shouldn't judge them for their experience, nor can you push them into getting through their process any faster than they can get through it. You're only going to make the person feel worse - and angry - if you try to force them to "perk up" or "move on." Just let them be and be supportive.

-- Don't talk about the miscarriage behind the person's back. She may have told a million people already, but it's not your place to tell anyone else about it, or to discuss it with other people regardless. This is a heartbreaking situation, and if you're truly a friend, you've got to show respect and care.

-- Don't use meaningless platitudes like "I guess it wasn't meant to be" or "it's God's will" or "I'm sure you'll get pregnant again" when offering your condolences. If you don't know the "right" thing to say, just tell the person that you're sorry for their loss and will keep them in your thoughts or prayers. Really, just that means so much to someone who is hurting and mourning that loss.

-- Don't bring the person's age or other qualifying factors into your condolences. We know how old we are and the rates of miscarriage for our age groups, we know that we may have had fertility problems, and your bringing them up isn't making anyone feel better. Just say you're sorry for the loss and leave it at that.

-- Be gentle. Be respectful. Give us time to heal.

I'm going to take my dog for a walk somewhere today to enjoy the sun and clear my head. And then I might do some weeding in my yard that's LONG overdue. I'm in a very solitary place right now; I really need this time to myself. I'll be better soon enough, I'm sure. But right now, this is what I need.

Introspectively yours,
SW

miscarriages suck

2010-05-17T10:40:00.003-05:00

There's not much else to say besides that, but you know I'll say it anyway.

Friday was a nightmare. Never in my life have I gone into ANY appointment thinking it was going to go one way only to have it veer off in completely the opposite direction. Hearing the news that my baby wasn't there, that my pregnancy stopped at some point and I would miscarry imminently was quite literally the biggest shock I've ever had in my life. The wind was instantly out of my sails, my big giant red balloon of happiness and love and hope was instantly popped, and my heart literally broke into a thousand pieces as I stared at the empty circle on the screen.

Worse than that, when my doctor left the room so I could get dressed and get myself together, I tried to call my husband to tell him the horrible news -- and I couldn't get a hold of him. He knew what time my appointment was at, and he has his work cell phone on him at all times, and I kept hitting redial redial REDIAL and he wasn't answering. (Turns out, he was in meetings all morning in a conference room where he had no cell signal.)

I was furious. Furious and heartbroken and stunned by the whole situation. I called my mom instead, and from two hours away she had to listen to me sob about how my baby was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of crying, disbelief, phone calls, well meaning family and friends sharing their condolences. Eventually, a phone call from Super Man, who hadn't heard my message yet and still thought everything was fine. He was shattered by the news that it was NOT fine.

I was numb. I still didn't believe it. I had no bleeding. No spotting. Everything still felt the same inside.

Saturday morning, Super Boy had a soccer game. I had started spotting that morning, but didn't feel too bad just yet, so I went to the game. He played so well, my little guy, and even though they lost their game it was just so nice to do something NORMAL. To be living life with my beautiful boy and my husband. We went home and had lunch. And then the pain and cramping started.

I was curled up in bed all afternoon and evening. I was told it would be like a slightly-heavier-than-normal period. It is definitely like that. Times ten. The cramping is awful. Not just in my uterus, but in my lower back. It feels like back labor, and I'm still having it today, two days later. The bleeding hasn't been so bad - I was told that if I was soaking maxi pads within an hour to go to the ER, but it's nowhere near that bad. And while I've passed a few clots, they're small: nickel- or quarter-sized, and only a few. No, the pain is by far the worst part. Tylenol will work for a little while, but it doesn't keep it fully at bay.

I literally spent the entire day in bed yesterday, moving my electric heating pad from my lower back to my belly and back again, all day - and all night - long. I woke up Sunday morning at 5am feeling sick from the pain, and nearly passed out. My stomach has been upset and I've had ZERO appetite. I keep drinking fluids and Gatorade, but I don't want to eat, feeling like this.

I can't tell you how much I want this part to be over. I pray for it to just be done. It's such an insult to injury to have to find out you've lost a pregnancy and try to process that emotionally and THEN have to physically endure the loss of what was. I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up in 3 days and have it be over and done with.

Clearly, this is the first time I've experienced this. Knowing now that this is what it is like, I think about the women whose fertility problem is repeated miscarriages, inability to maintain a pregnancy, and it makes me feel a little bit grateful that my fertility problem has been a sheer inability to get pregnant again. I cannot imagine going through the emotional and physical pain of this over and over again. That thought makes my heart absolutely break for women who have and do struggle with recurring miscarriages.

Someone on one of my local mom websites said to me after I shared the news of my miscarriage that she thinks it's admirable that I haven't wallowed in asking "why me?" over the past 4 years of trying to conceive, and especially now after this. She's only partly right, because of course I think that from time to time. Of course I've thought that in the past 4 days. But I don't voice it, and I don't allow myself to linger on that thought when it does cross my mind. Because as bad an experience as this has been for me, I know it could be so much worse. I know that millions of other people in the world have it so much worse than I do. Is this sad and frustrating and "unfair?" Sure; yes. But there are many sadder, more frustrating and infinitely more unfair things that happen to good people every single day. No matter how low I feel, I know that to be true.

And the truth is, I'm BLESSED. I am married to a wonderful man who loves me and provides for our family. I have a beautiful, smart, funny little boy, who I have come to see as even more of a miracle because I haven't been able to give him a little brother or sister and I now FULLY understand just how miraculous it is that I was able to have him. I have a loving, wonderful stepdaughter who has become like my own daughter over our years together. We have a roof over our heads, food on our table, beds to sleep in, families and friends who love us and care about us, and we enjoy a life that many, many others in the world do not. Things could be so much worse. For that reason, I'm grateful that this is the worst thing I've ever experienced.

Things will get better. I will feel better physically. I will make peace with it emotionally. We will move on. We will try again. And I believe that, eventually, we'll have another miracle. And we'll appreciate it that much more for having gone through this.

One day at a time.

With my heating pad on my back and hope in my heart,
SW

the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away...

2010-05-14T14:03:00.002-05:00

Oh, God...

I had planned to write a much different post here today than the one I find myself writing now. A much different post.

I don't know how else to say it, so I'm just going to come right out and say it.

I found out on Wednesday 4/28 that our third IUI attempt worked: I was actually pregnant, after 49 long months of trying. I was sooooo excited.... It took every ounce of restraint I had not to scream it from my rooftop and tell everyone I'd ever met, not to mention write post after post about it here. As it was, I told a dozen people over the past 2 weeks, many because they asked how our third IUI attempt went and I didn't want to lie to them considering that I've been SO open and forthcoming with information on every step of our journey.

I started going through Super Boy's baby things, checked his old car seats to see if they were still usable (they have expiration dates, apparently, of 5-6 years, so NONE of them are still "good" from when Super Boy used them), and even started buying some summer maternity clothes from eBay because all the maternity clothes I have are cold weather clothes, as I found out I was expecting Super Boy in September and had him in May. I knitted my first two baby hats, and have been working on a baby blanket. I shifted everything in my world to focus on preparing for a new little miracle to arrive.

I had a 7-week ultrasound today with my Super Doctor, expecting to see my teensy-tiny growing baby (or babies) and see at least one heart beating. Instead, as soon as he found the egg sac, I knew something was wrong. There was only an empty circle -- no baby or anything else inside it. My heart sank and I fought back tears, hoping and praying he'd find another one somewhere else in my uterus with a baby growing in it. He didn't.

It's called a "blighted ovum" and is considered a miscarriage. I've had no spotting or bleeding of any kind. I've had swollen, tender breasts for weeks. I've had nausea so bad I've been back on my old morning sickness cocktail of Vitamin B6 and Unisom for nearly 2 weeks already. I've been exhausted and emotional. I was pregnant.

and now I'm not

My Super Doctor offered me three options:

1) Wait and let it pass on its own, probably in the next 2-4 weeks.

2) Put me on an intravaginal medication that will make me cramp and bleed heavily to force it to pass.

3) Schedule a D&C.

He recommended option #1, which is the one I was more comfortable with anyway. I don't want to be incapacitated in any way because Super Boy's 7th birthday and party are next weekend, and I don't want this to ruin that at all. So now we wait for the empty egg sac to go away on its own, and then give my body a month to rest, and then re-start IUI again.

I'm devastated. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I've wanted this so much, for so long, that to finally hear the words, "You're pregnant!" again was literally magical, miraculous, insanely wonderful. To find out that, yes, I was pregnant but something didn't work out right was just heartbreaking. God bless my doctor - he was so kind and sensitive in talking to me about it and discussing what will happen and how we proceed, that that alone made me cry. He hates delivering this kind of bad news, and I can't blame him one bit. He sees those of us who have agonized and tried for YEARS, and to finally give good news and then have to give condolences can't be easy. Regardless, this is going to be a very hard, very dark day for me.

On the other hand. As I was talking to my doctor, I asked him: "Despite the fact that this didn't stick, it IS a good thing that SOMETHING happened this time, right? I actually did get pregnant - it just didn't make it. So this isn't all bad, right?"

He said that as ironic as it sounds, yes - this actually is a good thing. We now know that I CAN get pregnant. We also know that we had the right components this last time we did IUI, with the new medication that I tolerated so well. He feels very optimistic that once this situation is behind us, we can resume IUI and get the outcome we really want: a healthy baby.

So despite the fact that I'm devastated and heartbroken that this baby wasn't meant to stay with us, I firmly believe that it was a little angel letting us know that we shouldn't give up, that our miracle is still out there. And I feel hopeful that maybe next time will be the right time, and the right baby.

With a heavy heart,
SW

why

2010-04-23T09:26:00.005-05:00

Things are not looking good for IUI attempt #3. And, to be honest, I'm genuinely surprised this time. Which only makes it hurt that much worse.

I've felt like I was pregnant, since about a week after IUI. My breasts - normally small and normal - have been HUGE (for me) and painful since then, and I've been feeling nauseous frequently throughout the day for the past week. When I feel hungry, it's not just a little hungry, like usual: I'm instantly ravenous. My mouth has been watering like crazy. I've been tired.

I'd been feeling so ill that I thought maybe I'd get an early positive. With Super Boy, I didn't feel ill until I was about 6-7 weeks pregnant with him, so I thought that if I was feeling sick before even missing my period, maybe it could be two babies, since they say your hcG levels are much higher with more than one baby. So, I took a test on Tuesday, just to see. It was negative, but I wasn't totally discouraged since my period wasn't due until yesterday and today was technically 14 days post-IUI.

I took a test this morning. It was negative.

I know it's not over 'til Aunt Flo sings. But having been down this road 49 other times and having it end the same way each and every time, I'm not feeling terribly hopeful that this time will be different.

I can't lie: I'm heartbroken. Especially because I really thought we had finally cracked the code this time. I've been feeling so positive and hopeful about this attempt, and I really thought this was it. We tried the new medication this time, everything looked ideal at my mid-cycle ultrasound, I ovulated naturally and we timed everything as perfectly as possible with IUI, etc. There's no reason it shouldn't have worked.

But it appears that it didn't. And I just want to know why. That's all - I just want to know WHY.

We have three shots at IUI left. I've got three more months of hoping and praying and waiting. I can't think about what happens if they all fail; I'm not ready to face that yet. And, honestly, I can't go into them believing they'll fail or else... what's the point of going through them at all?

I see pregnant women everywhere. At school, in the grocery store, at Super Boy's swim lessons, walking past my house. I want so badly to be one of them again. My heart remembers what it was like to have a little life growing inside me, but my body can't seem to remember how to do it.

Just one more time. That's all I'm asking: just one more time.

I look at Super Boy and I can't believe how blessed I am to have him. I've always known he was a miracle, but I feel it even more now, because he's it: he's the only piece of Super Man and I that we have, and he's so incredibly amazing and special and wonderful and I love him more than I ever imagined I could love someone. I want another baby as much for him as for us, because he will be the best big brother in the history of big brothers.

So, my heart hurts today. I'll live; it's not like I haven't been through this before. I just need some time to get my head back in the game again.

Please, pray for us. Send us babydust, good juju, whatever might help. And thank you. Thank you for following our journey, for listening to me hope and grieve over and over again, for supporting us. I can't tell you how much it means.

xoxo
SW

so much to do, so little time

2010-04-14T13:40:00.002-05:00

I'm starting to feel like a broken record apologizing for not writing lately. I'm usually not a terribly busy person, but lately I've just had a ton going on!

Just got off spring break. We went and spent one day at a waterpark hotel in Wisconsin Dells, and that was fun. Super Boy had never been to the Dells and got a HUGE kick out of it. Chula Vista Resort is the bomb, baby. I hadn't been there since college, when I went to a formal dance for my ex-fiance's frat/co-op. Needless to say, my memories are a bit hazy of that visit, but at least I remembered the name of the joint.

Also just had round three of IUI last Friday. We're crossing our fingers big time and hoping it worked. I took the new medication for this one, after having scary vision problems on Clomid the last time I took it (in February), so I was thankful to tolerate the new meds (Femara) much better. I feel really optimistic about this attempt. I guess time will tell. In the meantime, I've been really good about "letting go and letting God."

Our weather is getting nice and warm again, after a fairly dismal spring break week of cold, rainy weather. We're supposed to hit 70 today and the sky is gorgeous! I love this weather. It'll be perfect for Super Boy's first soccer practice this evening, too, which I love.

That's all. I've got nothing else to say, except that I've missed you!

Ciao,
SW

stuck on repeat

2010-03-17T15:40:00.003-05:00

Every winter, I promise myself that I'm NOT going to let Super Dog's pony-sized piles of poop linger in the yard all winter long, in the hopes of saving myself from hours of poop-scooping after the snow (finally) melts.

EVERY YEAR I SAY THAT.

But guess what?

Yeah. You got it.

But... it's so COLD and SNOWY in the winter! Can you blame me for just leaving it to "deal with later?"

Ha. Yeah. I think not.

Yesterday I spent approximately two hours outside scooping up dog poop. I filled two 30-gallon garbage bags with dog poop.

And then I had to spend another hour in the yard this afternoon scooping up the rest. In another 30-gallon garbage bag.

I'm finally done. (I think.)

From now on, I'm going to revisit this post I wrote back in Spring of 2008 about this super-fun experience to remind myself not to let the biting cold and thigh-deep snow of November, December, January and February keep me from staying caught up on picking up the poop.

I swear, one of these years, I WILL get this right.

attempting haiku

2010-03-09T19:33:00.002-06:00

I have a friend who is a brilliant but as yet largely undiscovered writer who has this blog, done all in haiku form. I've always enjoyed the haiku style, but I have to admit that I haven't written a haiku myself since a high school writing class.

That said, I so enjoy reading my friend's blog that I've decided to attempt writing some myself. So.... here goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disappointment reigns
Expect diff'rent behavior
Some things never change

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How will she make it
When no one is there to push?
Bad habits are learned

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No one is perfect
Sometimes we do stupid things
Thank God for mercy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So sweet is my boy
Precious face, heart, innocence
Bittersweet; he grows

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten years! How did we
make it this long? I don't know.
But I'm glad we did!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was fun! :)

SW

oops i did it again

2010-03-01T19:39:00.003-06:00

That is to say that I forgot to post! For a few weeks! (Ack! Ack!!)

Sorry about that, friends. I have no good excuse for my lack of writing - I guess I just didn't have much to say. (Shocking, I know!)

Anyhoo, now that I'm back...

-- I have no new baby news. My period was two days late, but it arrived on Friday, much as I expected it would. Not quite as disappointed this time as I have been in the past, but then again, we didn't do IUI in February due to the other crap we had going down that month, so I figured our shot at conceiving was less if for no other reason than that alone. Furthermore, we've decided to take off another month from IUI, as Super Man has a crazy CRAZY few weeks coming up at work, and we don't want to waste any of our attempts by going through them when we're really not relaxed at all.

-- This month marks four years -- FOUR YEARS, PEOPLE -- since we started trying for Super Baby #2. Do you have any idea how depressing that is? Or how many negative pregnancy tests that comes out to? We could've taken a European vacation - or two - just with the money we've spent on pregnancy tests for FORTY-EIGHT MONTHS. Sheesh.

-- Super Girl turned 14 yesterday! I can't believe that the little girl I met at two-and-a-half years old is now a 14-year-old, starting high school in the fall. There are times when I look at her and I still see that little girl, and then I'll look at a recent photo of her and be startled by the young woman I see looking back at me. Of course, even when my eyes see the little girl, I can't help but sense how much of a rush she's in to leave childhood behind and grow into an adult. Her struggle is nothing new: we've all been there. I know exactly how it feels to want to be free of your parents' rules, the drudgery of sitting captive in classrooms learning things you may or may not ever have a need to know, and not having the freedom to do whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it. On the other hand, I also know that all that impatience to grow up was time wasted -- because, soon enough, I did grow up, and becoming an adult - while exciting at first - was really nothing to write home about. In fact, it was a lot harder than it looked from the perspective of a 14-year-old, not to mention that once you ARE an adult, there's no going back. The comparatively "easy" and magical years of childhood and seemingly endless possibility are lost, and all that's left is a lifetime of adulthood, with all its responsibilities. As such, when I see how impatient Super Girl is to grow up, I find myself wanting to tell her to slow down and cherish the next few years. Sure, she still has rules and we still have expectations of her, but at least she has more freedom and privileges from this point forward than she did in the past, and the ultimate goal is to make sure she knows how to make it in the world once she actually does reach adulthood. Mostly, I hope she will avoid making the same mistakes that all of us, her parents, have made. Of course, I realize how futile that is. And, even more, I realize that a lot of what made us the people we are today is the mistakes we made along the way. "Live and learn," isn't that the saying? Anyway, I wish my stepdaughter a blessed and wonderful 14th year and I hope that she continues to grow and mature at a reasonable pace and without testing the boundaries overly much!

-- I found this fantastic blog -- http://www.999reasonstolaugh.com/ -- that I wanted to share with any of you who are also struggling with infertility, whether it's primary or secondary. I know it's not always easy, but I too have found that it helps make it hurt a little less to have a sense of humor about things. The frustration can eat you up otherwise.

-- I started working out again today. Ouch. 'Nough said.

-- I've been seeing a chiropractor for the past few weeks and I am LOV-ING it. I feel better than I have in a long time, and the best part is that I haven't had any of my killer headaches, even during my period. I can't believe I waited this long to see a chiropractor, because I've had a few people recommend it over the years, both because of my headaches and because of our fertility problems. I have no idea if it will help on the fertility end of things, but I can tell you right now that it has helped with my headaches. And I feel more energetic generally speaking having better alignment and no nagging neck, back or head pain.

Alright. That's it. That's all I've got.

Other than this: I've missed you. I will try not to stay away so long again!!

XOXO,
AESW

a possible snag in the plan

2010-02-04T20:43:00.001-06:00

After getting my period last week, thereby marking the unsuccessful close of IUI cycle #2, I was once again heartbroken and disappointed. After crying most of the afternoon, I spent a lot of time that evening talking with Super Man about the whole situation.

What we've gone through so far, where we're at right now, and where we want to be, ideally. We talked about how we both feel like this process has become way more clinical than we wanted. After all, the way it's gone down the past two months is that Super Man has gone into the doctor's office early in the morning before work, done his part, and then driven the hour to work, while I would arrive 2 or 3 hours later, have the IUI procedure - alone - and then we'd spend the rest of the day apart, with him at work and me doing what I do. It might have been different - and felt more... I don't know... normal - if Super Man could've been with me for the IUI, but he couldn't.

In addition, the doctor doing my actual IUI procedures both months has been the one I don't care much for, and I think that's making me more tense during the procedures. One thing I know for sure is that I want to get my regular doctor for our final IUI procedures, even if it means that Super Man has to make some additional changes to his workday on those days.

So, we started talking about making some deviations from the original plan. And then I spoke with a nurse from the fertility specialist's office to see if we'd be okay to make our proposed changes for this month, and to ask a few other questions.

We got the go ahead we were seeking. Instead of doing IUI attempt #3 this month, we opted to skip the IUI but still use Clomid and just try the old fashioned way. After all, it's the Clomid that gives us the best shot of conceiving anyway: the IUI alone only increases the odds about 4%, whereas the Clomid increases our odds of getting pregnant by about 20%. The only consideration is that my doctor doesn't want me on more than 5 consecutive months of Clomid as a precaution, so that has to be factored into our future plans, as well.

HOWEVER....

After three days on Clomid for this cycle (Monday 2/1 - Wednesday 2/3), I woke up this morning with a brief sharp pain above my right eye and then had an incredibly bizarre visual problem. When I opened my eyes and went to get up, I had my eyes on my hands as they pushed the covers off my body, and as my hands moved, I saw a bunch of... "afterimages" of that movement. I stilled, blinked hard, and opened my eyes, passing my hand in front of my eyes. Same thing happened. It was like a weird psychedelic special effect, only I couldn't get it to stop. I instantly started breathing fast, panicking that something was SERIOUSLY wrong.

I squeezed my eyes shut and slowly lay back down, trying to breathe and relax. I left my eyes closed for a few minutes, and then slowly sat up and opened my eyes again. It was still happening, but not quite as dramatically as it had at first. I got up, walked across the room to my alarm clock and turned it off. As I walked around a bit more, it gradually stopped happening. I have no idea why, and I had no idea what it was or what caused it.

I waited for it to start up again as the day went on. It did not.

Instead, after putting in my contacts (brand new, in my new prescription following my annual eye exam last week) and wearing them for an hour, I felt like I couldn't see properly - my eyes felt really strained and my vision blurred, so I took the contacts out and wore my glasses instead.

And then, I ended up with yet another skull-crushing headache by late this afternoon, same as I've had every day since Sunday, with the sole exception of Tuesday (who knows why?).

And then I started thinking... maybe it's the Clomid.

I remembered reading that one of the possible, but rare, side effects of Clomid is "visual changes or disturbances." And I already know that when something's not working right between my eyes and my brain, I get horrible headaches. I learned that little tidbit the hard way after trying to repeatedly view 3-D videos at the Shedd Aquarium last August during a trip our family took with friends, only to end up with a raging headache and seriously upset stomach (like motion-sickness).

So I did some more research.

The blurred vision is fairly common, so that wasn't terribly disturbing, because wearing my glasses helps with that and that symptom usually stops after Clomid is stopped. On the other hand, the bizarro image-replicating side effect I had going on this morning - called palinopsia - is pretty rare. And it can be irreversible.

IRREVERSIBLE. In fact, I found several mentions online of people who developed it while taking Clomid - who still had it several YEARS after stopping treatment.

Can I just tell you how much that thought freaks me out? If it had me panicked and hyperventilating after only a few minutes, can you imagine how I'd function if it never went away???

Unfortunately, I had my little revelation after my fertility specialist's office was closed for the day today, so I left a message on the nurse line explaining what happened and letting them know that I was NOT taking today's dose (or tomorrow's!) until I can speak with them about this. It sounds like some patients who had this side effect were pulled off the medication by their doctors, and I'd rather play it safe, frankly. Heck, even if they try to tell me tomorrow that it's okay and to keep taking it, I'm not sure that I'm convinced that it's really okay. I'm definitely not okay with the possibility of having palinopsia for several years, in case that isn't abundantly apparent!

I just think it's bizarre that I didn't have this problem the past two months, or when I took Clomid in September, but now I have it this month. Why? WHY?? Is it due to a cumulative effect? Or... what?

So, then the question is: If I can't continue Clomid, then what else can I take, if anything, to help me get pregnant? I'm pretty sure the answer is "nothing." And if that's the case, then... what? What do we do?

I hate to even put this thought into words, but I can't help but wonder if the universe is trying to send me a message and I've just been too blind, deaf and unwilling to get it.

Maybe we're supposed to give up. Maybe it's not meant to be, us having a second baby together.

Think about it....

We've tried for four years now without a single pregnancy. It's not that I can't keep a pregnancy -- I can't even GET pregnant this time around. This after conceiving our son in 3 months without any assistance or intervention.

Last February, a mere few hours before I was supposed to have one of the BIG and more invasive fertility tests (the hysterosalpingogram, to check my tubes for blockages), and while my husband was halfway around the world in France for work, I fell down my back stairs and severely sprained my ankle/foot, leaving me unable to have the test done that day. I wasn't able to get in to have it done until June.

I've had almost every conceivable fertility test, and Super Man's been tested, too, and everything appears to be perfectly fine. And yet, I'm not getting pregnant again.

The only thing they've found that was even remotely "problematic" to us conceiving were the two benign uterine polyps, which I had to have surgery to remove in November. And this after thinking we'd be starting our IUI process in September.

I've had two IUI cycles now, where they've put the BEST swimmers RIGHT IN THERE with my extra eggs, and neither IUI attempt worked.

It seems like it's always something. Is it coincidental? Or is God literally slapping me upside the head trying to get me to pay attention and just STOP?

I don't know.

...

I don't know.

Hopefully I'll have at least a few more answers tomorrow.

With a troubled heart,
AESW

negative

2010-01-28T13:12:00.003-06:00

IUI attempt #2 definitely failed.

I tested yesterday - cycle day 29 - and got a negative, but my period hadn't shown up yet, so I thought *maybe* there was still hope.

My period just showed up, exactly 2 weeks post-IUI.

My heart is broken, again. You'd think that after 46 months of failure to conceive, I'd be used to it by now.

And I do feel a little bit numb to the full intensity of the grief. But not as much as I wish I were.

I can't fix this; I can't change it. All I can do is keep moving forward, move on to the next IUI cycle in February and pray that - as so many people keep saying - the third time is the charm.

Two down; two left.

God, please give me strength, peace and grace. Please, please, please...

keeping safe our children

2010-01-24T12:50:00.005-06:00

This morning at the Super Family's church, a class was held for the younger aged kids and their parents on keeping the kids' bodies safe. I was happy to see that the family ministry committee makes this a focus of their teachings because it's such a critical topic to address - and keep addressing - with children in age-appropriate ways as they venture further into the world and are exposed to more people, often without their parents present. Even - and, perhaps, especially - in a church setting. Because, as we know, even there - in that most holy of places - there are unfortunately adults who prey on children.

I have never been a victim of sexual abuse, but I've known others who have been, and my heart breaks for the trauma it has caused them, trauma that lasts a lifetime, even with counseling and support. What's worse is that not everyone who sexually abuses is punished for their crime -- in fact, many are never caught, never put behind bars, and they go on to hurt more innocent children.

As a human being who understands the value of my life and my body, and particularly as a parent of another human being whose life and body I value even more than my own, I have fiercely strong feelings on this issue, and I've been talking about it with my son since he was barely more than a baby. I never wanted him to feel like he had to keep any kind of secret from me, particularly one as awful as that, and I've always wanted to make sure he knows that he can come to me with ANYTHING. I was really glad to see that this particular point was emphasized in today's teachings, with us parents telling our children that they can ALWAYS come to us if this happens to them, no matter what has happened or who has done it.

Still, as a parent, you wonder how much sticks in the mind of your young child. Super Boy is nearly 7 years old, and he certainly understands that there are parts of his body that are private, and after years of talking about keeping his body and himself safe, I sincerely hope that he knows that even when we aren't discussing it. But there's always that nagging fear deep down that forces me to consider what would happen if he ever did suffer sexual abuse and was too afraid to tell. It literally breaks my heart to think that.

There is nothing more important to me than keeping my child safe. Truly. I would take a bullet for him; I'd take a thousand bullets for him. I would rather die than see him suffer. I think most parents feel this way about their children. So I just want to share a reminder with all the parents who read my blog that if you have not talked to your child/ren about this topic before, please do so now.

Yes, it can be awkward and uncomfortable, but only if you let it be. My goal in starting to talk to my child about this when he was SO young was to make it a normal conversation for us to have, and to touch upon again at regular intervals. We've been talking about this for so long now that it isn't uncomfortable for either one of us.

Here are some of the key points to address in discussing this with your child:

1.) Their bodies are their own, and certain parts of their body - those that are covered by a bathing suit - are private.

2.) If anyone ever touches their private parts who shouldn't, or in a way that makes them feel uncomfortable or bad, they need to say NO!, get away from the person, and they need to find an adult they trust to tell. And if that person does nothing, they need to keep telling until someone helps them.

3.) They should not feel guilty or as though THEY are responsible for the actions of the person hurting them. They also should not believe the person abusing them if they say something bad will happen if they tell.

4.) Parents need to remind their kids that they will ALWAYS want to know if they are being hurt this way, even if the person doing it is someone they know and like.

Again, please: If you have not had this talk with your kids, please do so, today. Better to share all this information with them BEFORE something life-altering happens than to wait until someone has already hurt them and they don't know how to handle it.

And to all those who have suffered sexual abuse, my prayers, love and thoughts of healing are with you. No one deserves to be treated that way, and it is NOT your fault. If you haven't already, please talk to someone about what happened to you and get the help you need.

As always,
Average Everyday Super Woman

sorry, it can't be helped

2010-01-15T21:03:00.004-06:00

Yes, folks, I'm writing about our fertility treatment process again.

Sorry. Really, I am. You have NO IDEA how much I wish this situation weren't still at the forefront of our lives. But, alas, it is.

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it is particularly relevant in my life this week, so I can't NOT write about it. (Yes, I know that's a double negative. What can I say?)

So, without further ado, here's where we're at...

For our last IUI attempt in December, my Super Doctor had me take 5 days of Clomid (100mg per day on days 5-9 of my cycle), go in for a mid-cycle ultrasound on day 13 of my cycle, and since everything looked good there, he gave me an HcG shot that day to force me to ovulate, and had me come back the next day, day 14 of my cycle, for IUI.

We waited two long weeks to find out it failed. That was two weeks ago.

As directed, I took another 5 days of Clomid earlier this month, days 5-9 of my cycle. However, instead of having me come in for another ultrasound on day 13, my doctor told me to start ovulation predictor tests on day 11 of my cycle and continue them until I got a smiley face, indicating that my LH level was surging and ovulation was imminent. (I guess I didn't need the ultrasound because he already knew that I respond well to that dose of Clomid.) I got my smiley face on Wednesday (day 15) and Super Man and I had our second IUI attempt yesterday, on Thursday (day 16).

I'm not going to lie: It hurt. Very unpleasant. I don't know why it hurt so much this time when it wasn't all that painful or uncomfortable last month. I guess the doctor had a tough time threading the catheter through my cervix this time. Which isn't all that surprising, I guess, considering that my OB-GYN told me during an endometrial biopsy I had two years ago that I had a SUPER tight cervix, like that of an 18-year-old, most likely because my one and only child was delivered by C-section, and my cervix was left relatively untraumatized.

Still. I figured since it went pretty well last month, with me feeling just a twinge of pain during the procedure, I was in for more or less the same experience yesterday. I was wrong. So very, very wrong. The multiple attempts to pass the catheter through my cervix felt like someone was raking a serrated bread knife repeatedly across those incredibly tender internal tissues. Not something you ever want to experience.

Trust me.

I spent the afternoon curled up in the fetal position (ironic, I know) on the couch, trying to ignore the lingering abdominal pain, with a heating pad on my left shoulder where I ended up with a gigantic knot in my muscles from all the tension I was pitifully attempting to reign in during the procedure. That was all cool until 3:05, when I had to pull my shit together enough to pick Super Boy up from school. I managed that okay, and came home and lay down for another half hour before I had to get it together again to take Super Boy to swim class. Once Super Man was home from work, I spent the evening in bed while he pulled Super Dad duty. Thankfully, I managed to get a great night's sleep, and woke this morning feeling a million times better all around.

Yesterdays pain aside, I feel good about this attempt. My Super Doctor said that when they let a woman ovulate naturally, they sometimes get a better result with IUI. I hope that's the case for us. In addition to that, the total count of Super Man's "good" swimmers yesterday was nearly double that of last month's attempt, so we're hoping that extra boost of swimmers makes a difference, too. Especially because this is a special month for me -- my 36th birthday is coming up on January 29th, and I'll find out whether I'm pregnant by January 28th. I can't imagine a better birthday gift than a positive pregnancy test.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Hope is a very fragile thing. But I have it, and I'm holding onto it.

Before I sign off, let me also say a few words about the tragedy in Haiti, the devastation left in the aftermath of the 7.0 magnitude earthquake that hit the Port-au-Prince area earlier this week. As anyone who has seen any of the photos or video footage from the region already knows, the people of Haiti are suffering horribly right now. Many lives have already been lost, and more will follow because of the total devastation of even the most basic of support systems in the area. I'm so proud of our country for responding so quickly to the tragedy, from the highest level of government down to all of us at the grassroots level, and I'm also enormously grateful for the presence of the Internet, as it has made it so simple and easy for those of us touched by the tragedy to do something to help.

If you would like to help, there are many legitimate organizations that are ready and waiting to take your donations to help the people of Haiti. If you check out Charity Navigator, it can help you find a suitable organization to support. You can also check out this post from fellow blogger Chris Sacca, which outlines some simple ways to make a difference.

My thoughts and prayers are with all those in Haiti, their loved ones and friends worldwide. I pray that God will heal the injured, give peace to all the survivors, and provide for the people of Haiti in their hour of need.

from the heart,
Average Everyday Super Woman

a few of my favorite things TWENTYTEN

2010-01-07T11:03:00.006-06:00

* hugs and kisses from my two favorite guys.

* spending time with family and friends.

* laughing.

* playing board games. My faves are Life, Monopoly, Scrabble and Bananagrams.

* puppies. Sweet little Golden Retriever puppies. Like one named Jack. The one I wish I'd dognapped when I had the chance. And like Super Dog, crazy girl that she is.

* granite. We just got a new granite countertop for our kitchen island and I am in. Love. With. It. We chose Imperial Brown granite, from Italy, as it will tie together our charcoal gray concrete countertops (made by Super Man) and our shades-of-brown tiled floor (installed by Super Man). And we scored a great deal on it, as it was a remnant. I love it when that happens!

* Wellspring FlipNotes. I came across these little beauties while on vacation in Minocqua, Wisconsin and bought this one for myself. It just might be the best $9.99 I've ever spent. I love everything about this product. Obviously the price is ideal, and the icing on the cake is that they sell replacement note pads and pens very cheaply as well. And the size makes it ideal for slipping into a pocket, any of my purses (even the tiny ones!), a backpack or even one of the little cubbies in my Odyssey's dashboard. I bought one for Super Man, too, and it fits in the inside pocket of his sportcoats and suit jackets. He's as hooked as I am. It's great for jotting down things on the fly, and as a mom, it's great to always have a pen and paper handy when Super Boy and I have to wait in doctors offices, etc. (Can you say "impromptu game of hangman?") If you don't own one, get one. You won't regret it.

* birds. I just love birds, of all kinds.

* my new favorite drink, Canada Dry Sparkling Green Tea Ginger Ale. It is fab-u-lous. Super Boy and I discovered it while grocery shopping yesterday and that was one impulse buy I absolutely won't regret! I've always loved ginger ale; the green tea just makes it that much better. Quite refreshing, indeed.

* etsy. 'Nuff said.

* 2010 Desktop Calendar by twosis on Etsy. Beautiful color and illustration, very bright and whimsical, and I love the way it looks on my desk. I treated myself to this for New Year's, but at $20, it's a great gift to give a special someone in your life. And the packaging was adorable! Trust me.

* sushi! Oh, sushi, how I love thee... Thankfully, my love of sushi has rubbed off on all the others in the family, including little Super Boy. One day a few weeks ago while grocery shopping, Super Boy and I strolled past the sushi bar in the store and Super Boy asked if we could get some. I'm usually leery about supermarket sushi, but this is literally fresh-made each day by a sushi chef, so I figured we'd give it a go. Was sublime. As such, on Monday of this week, while picking Super Boy up from school, he asked if we could get some more sushi this week. We did it yesterday. And, again, it was awesome.

* We purchased last night's sushi from our local Sentry grocery store, but our absolute FAVORITE place to eat sushi is at Nanakusa, the restaurant we love most in Milwaukee. I have always had superb dining experiences there, without fail. The food is second to none, literally - we've eaten sushi on both coasts, in the Caribbean and elsewhere, and both Super Man and I agree that we've never had better sushi or other Japanese food than we have at Nankusa. The atmosphere is chic and metropolitan, the staff is friendly, knowledgeable and highly skilled, the owners have become friends of ours, and it's an experience we always look forward to with anticipation.

* Wii Fit Plus, which Santa brought me for Christmas. Good stuff, I tell you. Good stuff.

* Cooking! I never thought I'd say that. I mean, seriously, if you had asked me 10 years ago if I liked cooking I'd say, "HELL NO!" (and I'd scream it in all caps like that, too). But over the years - and especially after I left my job to become a stay-at-home mom - I've found that I really do enjoy cooking. I think it's because I have more time to look through recipes, grocery shop and prepare the food. I now find it relaxing, where it used to just be a source of stress. And I love finding recipes on some of my favorite websites, like The Pioneer Woman and her other site called Tasty Kitchen, allrecipes.com, cookinglight.com, and epicurious.com.

* this apron from Williams-Sonoma in the gorgeous yellow color, a much-loved Christmas gift from Super Man.

* my '06 Honda Odyssey. It's not brand-new and shiny anymore, but seriously, I wholeheartedly embrace that vehicle. Safe, comfortable, great gas mileage, well designed, and R-O-O-M-Y.

* fish. Betta fish, specifically. Talk about the perfect pets: they require a bowl, some gravel, some water, a little water conditioner, teensy-tiny pellets of food, and you just have to clean the bowl every few weeks. They are also very affordable pets, and don't require annual vet visits and a half dozen vaccines and medications a year. They don't poop all over your yard, burn your grass with their urine, or wake you up whining to go out at 6:30am or barking just when you've nodded off for a nap. They don't rip your curtains or furniture to shreds, track litter all over your floors, hawk up hairballs on your carpet, or hiss at small children for no good reason. And they're very pretty, coming in varied colors. Our two bettas, Lola and Bluie, have been with our family for almost a year now and we love them. To sum up: Bettas are awesome.

* Sorel Caribou Winter Boots have made existing in Wisconsin during the long, long winter a little bit more tolerable. They keep my feet warm and dry and will probably last my entire life. Best part? While they typically retail for about $110, I picked mine up BRAND-NEW on eBay with free shipping for $50 back in the fall. Again, I love it when I get a great deal!

* Disaronno. I'm not one to drink much or often, but a small glass of this delicious, silky amaretto Italian liqueur on the rocks really hits the spot, especially on a cold winter's night. And a bottle lasts a long time (at least in our house!), so it's got a very palatable price tag, too, around $20.

* reusable bags like these from Chico Bag. A friend turned me on to them a few years ago, and I ended up buying 5. At $4.99 each, it's silly NOT to get a few. The ingenious design allows you to tuck the bag into its own built-in pocket for tiny storage, making them great to toss in a purse or your car's glovebox, and they also have a built-in clip so those who don't carry purses can clip them on a belt loop or whatever. A great way to help save the environment and save some money yourself, as many grocery stores now give you a small rebate for bringing in your own bags. They also carry other product lines that look seriously cool, like the MESSENGER rePETe. Might have to get me one of those...

* HAND SANITIZER!!! H1N1, colds, seasonal flu, pink eye, strep throat, stomach viruses... Yeah. I'm a HUGE fan of hand sanitizer. I even keep a pump-sized bottle in the door of my van. I'm hard-core.

* chewable Vitamin D from Rainbow Light. Living in Wisconsin where we have about six months of winter weather and little sun, Vitamin D supplements ought to be required. This is my first year taking them, and they've definitely helped boost my immune system.

* Women's Health Magazine. I discovered this last year, can't remember where, but it's now one of my faves. It's a great magazine to keep in your car or purse for when you have those unexpected waits as it's full of short but info-packed articles and blurbs.

* Real Simple magazine. I'm not a subscriber (yet), but I always check the covers for interesting and relevant articles, and I'm almost never disappointed. At about $24 per year, it's probably a worthwhile investment. Great tips for paring down, paring back and keeping life, well... simple. That's something this girl needs, stat!

* The Fragrance Collection by Glade's Lotus Bamboo soy-based candles. Wow... the scent is wonderfully fresh and light, perfect for any room in the house, and they have a clean, minimalist look. I loaded up on them a few months ago. My house smells great!

* and speaking of scents, here's my new favorite perfume, Kenzo Amour, another Christmas gift I received this season. It smells divine - unlike any other scent I've ever worn. Sensual, soft, woody Asian florals. Mama likes!

* my favorite planner, the Her Point of View classic wire-bound weekly calendar from FranklinCovey. While I know many people have ditched paper planning systems, I really can't ever see myself parting with mine. There's just something about writing things down in a calendar that makes them... stick a little better, I guess.

and last but not least...

* Burt's Bees products. Dear Lord, they are wonderful. I've used the lip balms for years (Beeswax Lip Balm, Replenishing Lip Balm with Pomegranate Oil, Honey Lip Balm, Lip Shimmer), but only discovered their fabulous skin care products in the past year. And I adore them. My faves are the Garden Tomato Complexion Soap and Garden Tomato Toner, along with the Beeswax Moisturizing Day Creme. My skin is ridiculously sensitive, and was scarily problem-prone prior to using these products. Since I started my Burt's Bees kick, my skin has looked a million times better, fresher and healthier. And the kickers are that the products are almost all-natural and they cost just a fraction of the price of other skincare regimens. They have a customer for life with me. Seriously.

I hope you can find a few new things to try from this list, and I'd love to hear some of YOUR favorite things, so please post 'em if you got 'em!

Happy New Year!

Average Everyday Super Woman

a fond farewell to the old and celebration of the new

2010-01-02T10:54:00.004-06:00

Reading back through the past few months of my posts here on AESW, it's become completely and embarrassingly apparent to me that I've been utterly - and probably OVERLY - focused on writing about just one aspect of my life. (And, in case anyone has been away from the planet since, oh, September, and missed what that one aspect is, it's my and Super Man's struggle to have a second baby.) In all fairness (to myself), it has been the biggest thing going on in my life lately, so I suppose it's only natural that it should take top billing.

But it's not the ONLY thing that has been going on in my life, and even I am tired of that one thing overshadowing all other things. It's not healthy. And I'm sure that my dwelling on it so much isn't helping my body do its thing. You know, like that saying "a watched pot never boils"?

So, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the holiday season, because it was a good one, for me and my family, and just the right way to send off 2009 and ring in 2010.

For starters, we spent our second Christmas at home this year, in our own house, and it was lovely. To top it off, we had Super Girl for Christmas this year, and this was her first time celebrating it with us at our house as a family. Super Man and I prepared a lovely Italian meal of his signature lasagna with prosciutto, garlic bread and salad. It was delicious. We listened to fun holiday music during dinner, and then all cleaned up together. To my utter and delighted surprise, Super Boy wanted to wash the dishes (!), and he did a spectacular job. I dried them while Super Girl and Super Man put them away.

We spent the evening in the living room by the fire, playing a game of Monopoly City. Despite only being 6 years old, Super Boy does quite well at this game, and it's been a huge bonus that it's helped him learn to count money and understand a little more about both money and real estate!

We allowed the kids to each open one gift that night, and then they had to prepare a plate of cookies and a note for Santa before we shuttled them off to bed. Super Girl is no longer a believer, but she's done a great job of keeping the magic alive for her little brother, for which we are very grateful.

Christmas morning was magical. Super Boy couldn't believe all the presents Santa brought, and he was thrilled to see that Santa brought most of the things he had on his list. Even our stockings were full of all the great little things we each love, like iTunes gift cards, great socks, and our favorite treats. Once all the gifts were opened and the wrapping paper had been gathered up, Super Man made a delicious breakfast for all of us while I finished laundry and started packing for our trip to my parents' house that afternoon.

When we arrived at my Super Parents' house, we were delighted to find that my sister and her husband and young son had already arrived from northern Wisconsin, and my younger brother was there, too. Super Boy and my Super Nephew - the same age - fell into step seamlessly, as though they'd just played together the day before, when in fact they haven't seen each other since June, during the annual family vacation. It was great to see. And Super Girl, being nearly 14 and increasing in maturity all the time, spent the time catching up with my siblings and parents, as she had not seen them in a long while either.

I helped my mom finish preparing the dinner, and we sat down to a veritable Christmas feast. It was fabulous. And the conversation flowed like wine, with lots of laughs, as is the usual with my family.

After dinner, we opened more gifts, then cleaned up and did dishes before sitting down to play Texas Hold 'Em while the boys played my Super Parents' new Wii, given to them by all of our families. Super Man and I were on a mission to win, as we swept the Texas Hold 'Em marathon played at my parents' house over Thanksgiving, and we wanted to keep the winning streak going. As it turned out, our family continued to dominate when Super Girl won two games in a row that evening. She was elated, particularly because my Super Brother is a tough one to beat!

The next day, my other Super Brother arrived from Chicago, where he had been visiting his mom and sister and other family. We were super excited to see my brother, as he now lives out west and we haven't seen him in quite awhile. Plus, it didn't hurt that he'd brought along his sweet new little puppy, Jack. Jack is a purebred Golden Retriever and about the cutest puppy I've ever seen. And well behaved, too, for only being 12 weeks old.

I fell instantly and madly in love with little Jack, and started plotting my Christmas weekend dognapping, despite the fact that my Super Brother was on to me and my plans. (Maybe because I kept telling him I was going to take his dog home with me. Might've tipped him off.) I stuck to Jack like glue, and thankfully he wasn't too annoyed by that. He let me snuggle him, pat his belly, play with his toys, give him hundreds - if not thousands - of kisses, and carry him around like a baby. (Sorry for that one, Jack - I've got baby-on-the-brain!) Lucky for me, my Super Brother was heading to Green Bay on Sunday for the Packer game, so I barely had to share Jack at all on Sunday. And it would've made my dognapping plans much easier to execute, except that I couldn't bear the thought of poor Jack pining for his master after seeing the way my favorite little puppy slunk off to sit by the front door after my Super Brother left, and fell asleep with his little puppy back pushed up against the door. :( Or the way he walked around the house all day searching for signs of his favorite person. So, to make up for it, I just had to snuggle Jack a little extra, so he wouldn't look so sad. I miss that dog like crazy though.

I've already told Super Man that if IUI fails us and we're done trying to have another baby, I am TOTALLY getting a Golden Retriever puppy.

So, yeah. Super Man is ready to head for the hills. :)

In all seriousness, I've been pondering the second dog idea for awhile now. With our Super Dog getting on in age (she's 8-1/2 years old, and for a purebred Lab that means she's got maybe 4 good years left), I'd really like to get another puppy at some point, to help keep our Super Dog "young" a bit longer, to ease the transition of a new puppy into our home and to help us cope as our beautiful Super Dog eases over to "the other side." And we had talked about getting a Golden Retriever when we were looking at dogs back in 2001, but settled on a yellow Lab because we thought the coat would be easier to manage (little did we know Super Dog would shed like a beast year-round). Turns out that the coat is going to be an issue regardless, and I love the disposition of Goldens just as much as I love that of Labs. So, at some point we will get another puppy, it just remains to be seen whether it will be in 2010 or not.

Saying goodbye to little Jack was sad. I had to fight the urge to stick him in my coat and make a run for the car. But fight it I did, and I was told that Jack was delighted when my Super Brother got home the following day, so happy was he to see his master again. Unfortunately for little Jack, he ended up having unexpected surgery this past week while in Madison after a cyst he'd had on his back burst, due to an abcess. Thankfully my Super Brother had some extra hands to help care for Jack (those being attached to our Super Parents), so Jack's recuperation went quite well, and now he and my Super Brother are on their way back out west today.

Our weekdays spent at home were sublime with Super Boy off school. We slept in, stayed in our jammies for most of the day, played outside in the snow a bit, did some things around the house. It was heaven. Well, except for Super Man: he developed an abscess in one of his molars over Christmas weekend and was in misery until Monday when the dentist confirmed the abscess, and then again until Wednesday when Super Man could get the offensive tooth pulled. But that didn't stop him from his usual activities: he repainted our kitchen! It's taking a little getting used to, but so far I'm diggin' it. We went from a deep barn red and light tan to charcoal gray and orange, so you can see why it's a bit of an adjustment!

Super Man picked Super Girl back up on Wednesday, and we've enjoyed spending a few extra days with her. For New Year's Eve, we brought the kids to our Super Friends' house, where Super Girl and two same-aged babysitters watched Super Boy and all of our Super Friends' kids while us grown-ups went out to eat at a good local restaurant. It was a blast, and then we regathered at our friends' house for another hour or two of fun before heading home to ring in the new year in our jammies in bed. Super Boy almost made it to midnight, but couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and Super Man was out by 11:30, so Super Girl and I wished each other a Happy New Year and then went to bed.

All in all, it was one of the best holidays in recent memory, spent with each other, my family, and great friends. We missed spending time with Super Man's family in Michigan, and my Super Dad & Stepmom in northern Wisconsin, but were thinking of them and able to wish them all a Merry Christmas by phone.

Going into the new year, I'm filled with a sense a wonder, hope, optimism. While I know many have felt otherwise, 2009 was not a bad year for me or for my family. Super Man's job has been a huge blessing and great success, our children have been happy and healthy, we have lived a reasonably comfortable and good life, and we had no major disasters, really. 2010 is going to be the year when many of the unknowns that have lingered over the past few weeks, months or years will be resolved, finally. While the resolutions may not all be what we hope for, at least things will be laid to rest, so we can make new plans and experience new adventures that we haven't been able to experience while living in our odd limbo. I'm excited about that, truly.

So, with that, I bid you all a very Happy New Year! I pray that you and your loved ones will have a blessed, spectacular, miraculous year full of good people, good times, good health and good living.

Yours,
Average Everyday Super Woman

-

2009-12-30T15:52:00.003-06:00

IUI attempt #1 failed. No wonderful baby news with which to kick off the new year, much to my profound sadness.

As Super Man dried my tears this afternoon, I realized that we've been at this now for around 45 months.

That's 45 months of trying. Hoping. Wondering. Medical tests and procedures. Pregnancy tests. Mourning.

And no second baby for us.

Three more tries at IUI before we pull the plug. We're praying that a positive pregnancy test exists somewhere in there, with a second amazing miracle waiting at the end of it.

always,
SW

wondering

2009-12-29T14:56:00.003-06:00

Hello and Happy Holidays, friends!

I'm so sorry for not posting lately. I've had a lot - A LOT - going on in the past two weeks. My stress level has been inordinately high, too, but that's another story for another time. And, really, I'm sure many of you have experienced higher-than-usual levels of stress lately, too, what with the holidays and all the usual gatherings and all.

But I can't blame my absence entirely on holiday busy-ness and stress; I've also neglected my writing lately because I just don't know what to say. I've been in a bit of a limbo the past few weeks.

As you know, Super Man and I went through our first IUI procedure on December 16. It's been a long two weeks of waiting to see if it worked, and I still don't know. I'm not supposed to test until tomorrow, and then only if my period hasn't come.

I'm nervous. Anxious. Hopeful. Cautious.

Friends and family ask me if I "have a feeling" one way or the other. It's hard to answer that question. Because I WANT to have a feeling that I'm pregnant and, I don't know about you, but when I want something badly enough I can convince myself that I feel something I may not really feel, you know?

It's also hard to answer that question because I don't trust my "feelings" on this subject. Not one bit. Why, you might ask? Because when I was trying for Super Boy, it went like this:

Month #1: Was 100% convinced that I was pregnant and had all the standard pregnancy symptoms. Yet I was not pregnant.

Month #2: Was 100% convinced that I was pregnant and had all the standard pregnancy symptoms. Yet I was not pregnant.

Month #3: Was 100% convinced that I was NOT pregnant, and had all the usual PMS symptoms. Yet I actually WAS pregnant.

So, you can see that I'm not the best at gauging how I feel physically when it comes to guessing whether I'm pregnant or not. I've been trying to avoid doing that as much as possible the past few weeks.

(I do have SOME sense of self-preservation, despite all indications to the contrary.)

That said, I have been bone-tired, completely exhausted and could fall asleep at the drop of a hat for the past week. Could be baby-brewing, but could be the stress.

So I'm sitting here on this frigid, sunny late December afternoon, wondering. Am I pregnant with another child? (Or two?) (...Or more? Eeek!) Or am I going to be disappointed another month running because IUI failed this month?

The thought of us welcoming a new member to our family in late August or early September sure is sweet. I hope it is a dream come true.

Let me say now - just in case - that if it turns out that I AM pregnant, I haven't yet decided whether I'll post it here right away or not. My personality is such that I was virtually unable to keep the wonderful, blessed news a secret when I was pregnant with Super Boy seven years ago, and thankfully it didn't present a problem for me then because the pregnancy stuck and was by all accounts a great success. But I know that's not always the case. And after all these years of trying for another baby, I'm not sure if I could take announcing the happy news only to have to retract it due to miscarriage in the early weeks. I guess I'll make the decision once I know the news myself. But if I do withhold the information for a little bit, I hope you'll understand that it's not about me not wanting to share it with those of you who have followed our journey and wished us the best. Again, it's just that self-preservation thing I mentioned earlier, and needing to protect my heart just a little bit.

As 2009 winds to a close I wish you all the happiest of New Years, and pray that all your dreams come true in 2010!

With love,
Average Everyday Super Woman

at last

2009-12-15T17:52:00.004-06:00

After nearly four years of trying to conceive, and after four months of seeing our little team of fertility specialists, we're finally at the good part of the whole process: ACTION!!!

After my successful surgery last month, I was put on 100mg of Clomid again from Monday to Friday of last week. This morning, I underwent a mid-cycle ultrasound to gauge whether the Clomid did its thing and we could proceed with IUI.

And the answer is YES - the Clomid worked (I had one large follicle, 2 medium follicles and several small follicles on my right ovary, and another good sized one on my left ovary), and my uterine lining was appropriately thick, so we're good to go!

Because everything looked so good, I got an HCG shot in the buns before I left the office today, which will force ovulation within 24 hours, so we're scheduled for IUI tomorrow morning. Super Man will take care of his end of things first thing in the morning, and I'll go in at 10am for the insemination. I've got to admit, it's a little odd to think that the moment of truth will happen when my husband is an hour away from me, bustling away at work, but hey - whatever works at this point!

I can't tell you how excited I am right now. I realize that this could all end as the past 45 months have ended, with me not getting a positive pregnancy test and feeling devastated. But I am hoping for the absolute best. And the fact is that this month will be completely different than all 45 months behind us, because the components will have all been primed and put as close together as they can get short of doing IVF, so if anything is going to give us a good shot at success, it's this.

I should know by New Year's Eve or New Year's Day whether we'll be adding to the Super Family nine months from now. If my test is positive, what a wonderful way to ring in the new year! And, if not, then we try again in January, February and March and pray one of those months brings us the news we so want to hear. I have such a good feeling about 2010... I hope this is the reason why!

Wishing you all a blessed holiday season!
SW

baby steps

2009-12-01T16:27:00.003-06:00

We're one step closer to the goal, friends! While our progress may be slow, we are one step closer.

I had my post-op appointment with the fertility specialist today, and it looks like IUI Attempt #1 will be kicking off on or around December 19th. I cannot begin to articulate everything I'm feeling right now.

Certainly I'm excited. Ridiculously, perilously excited. This is it. After nearly three and a half years of trying, trying, trying on our own without success, and three months of general (and largely unpleasant) STUFF under the care of the fertility specialist, we're finally at the doorstep of the only fertility treatment we plan to pursue, the one we're hanging our hopes on. All of our hopes.

For that reason, I'm also scared. Because, ultimately, my Super Doctor said that we have a 20% chance of achieving pregnancy in any of the four months we plan to do IUI. During those four months, 50% of couples will conceive and 50% won't. If we're in the 50% who don't, that's it. The end of the road. The natural pessimist in me fears we'll be in the latter group, but I'm trying to ignore that side of myself and just hope.

Hope. Yes, I'm hopeful. I'm tremendously hopeful. All of the tests that have been done on both me and Super Man have come back normal. We're in that 15-20% of infertile couples who have infertility with no known cause. Which could simply mean that the problem for us is not one of the mainstream easily identifiable problems, or it could mean that we just haven't gotten the stars to align correctly doing our own thing, and by bringing all the players closer together, throwing in some Clomid, and timing the heck out of the process, we might finally hit the jackpot. I'm inclined to HOPE for the latter scenario!

I'm also incredibly emotional right now. Heck, as a Catholic, I can't even think about Christmas marking the birth of BABY JESUS because that alone makes me cry. Seeing babies (or pregnant bellies), hearing about babies (or pregnant bellies), seeing pictures of babies (or pregnant bellies), thinking about babies (or pregnant bellies)... all of it reduces me to a teary-eyed mess right now. I suppose that's as it should be, since it totally reinforces for me and the rest of the world that I want a second child so badly that the sheer wanting of it is painful and heart-wrenching.

And there is a small part of me that is relieved to be at this part of the process, finally. Regardless of the outcome, this will give me the answer I've been seeking for so long now. Will our family expand one last time, or will it remain as it is? So much of my life has hung in the balance waiting for that answer - and that's no way to live, take it from me. The "what if" is always hanging in the back of my mind, coloring every decision I have to make about the near - and far - future. If I achieve and sustain pregnancy from one of the four IUI attempts, at least I know how the next few years of my life will be spent. If I don't achieve or sustain pregnancy, then everything is up in the air, open to change, a book yet to be written. I've spent so much time dreading the latter outcome because it's not what I WANT, but it's come to the point where I've had to make peace with the fact that it might BE the outcome. And, if it is, I need to embrace that and accept it and make my peace with it, for my sake and that of my whole family. So, while I pray that this will end with another healthy, wonderful baby, I will feel some sense of relief just to have a clear sense of direction to my life after years of waiting for the answer to be revealed.

I'm also finding myself daydreaming about how Super Boy and Super Girl would handle a new addition to the family. Super Boy has longed to be a "big brother" for so long now that I know he will be ecstatic to finally fill that role. On the other hand, I have no doubt that it will be a big adjustment for him. He's been the baby of our family for six and a half years, and he LIKES being the baby - most of the time. He's used to having my undivided attention as the major focus of my life. I think he will struggle a bit to pass the mantle on to a new baby, but hopefully he will quickly learn that my love for him can never be diminished or divided. He will always be my first baby, my angel, my boy. As for Super Girl, who will be 14 in a few months, she keeps saying she hopes I have twins! She's all for us having another baby, and - at her age - she understands that we've faced challenges in trying to achieve that. I know she will be helpful again, as she was with Super Boy - and even MORE SO now, since I could probably get her to change a poopy diaper this time! She was only seven years old when Super Boy was born (the age Super Boy will be when I would deliver another baby, if this all works), so she was pretty dead-set on only helping with the occasional "pee only" diaper changes. ;)

So, that's where it's at right now. A whirlwind of stuff this month, and I couldn't be happier!

Love and kisses,
SW

where did it go?

2009-11-30T15:52:00.003-06:00

I'm referring to 2009. Seriously - where the heck did it go?

Honestly, I was just starting to get the hang of writing "2009" on checks and correspondence, and now I'm mere weeks from having to start all over again with 2010. Maybe that'll catch on a bit quicker for me. Then again...

It seems like we just wrapped up a holiday season a matter of a few months ago, snow and ice and all.

And it seems like Super Boy was just finishing kindergarten and we were excited with anticipation over the three months of summer vacation - FREEDOM - that stretched before us.

And it had to have been just yesterday when summer was winding to a close and a new school year was beginning, with Super Boy starting 1st grade and Super Girl beginning her final year of junior high.

How can it be time for Christmas once again??

I swear, I've hit a worm hole in time or something and jumped forward somehow.

My grandparents always said that if I thought time went quickly as a young person, wait and see how fast time seems to go by as you get older. At this rate, each year will literally seem to pass in the blink of an eye by the time I'm 75.

Ah, well.

I truly love this time of year, the holiday season. Complete with the lush, fresh scent of an evergreen tree in the living room, pretty presents waiting to be opened, lights decorating the house, yummy holiday baking, and time spent with family and friends reminiscing on the blessings in our lives and the wondrous year that has passed.

And so, if time must insist on passing so quickly, I'm glad it's brought me once again to this time of year.

Wishing you all a blessed and wonderful holiday season!

Super Woman

lighter

2009-11-19T16:01:00.006-06:00

I meant to post the evening of my surgery to let you all know how it went, but the day got away from me, and then I had a few rough days after that, so I'm just now getting to it. My apologies!

Tuesday morning, I woke up after an okay night's sleep feeling fairly calm, but I could sense the jitters lying in wait beneath the surface. So, I did what I always do to take my mind off things: I cleaned.

Between my cleaning rampages of Monday and Tuesday, my house is looking pretty good.

I cleaned right up until my mom got to my house, around 11:30am. Then, while she made herself lunch (I couldn't eat - I was banned from food after midnight Monday - so I couldn't bear the lure of yummy food), I went up and took a long, hot shower. The upside was that I didn't really have to do much to "get ready" after my shower; I wasn't allowed to wear make-up - or jewelry, or nail polish on my fingernails - for the surgery, so I just dried my hair, got dressed and was done in record time.

That left me just enough time to let Super Dog out one last time, check email and Facebook one last time, throw a few post-surgery must-haves into my bag, and head out the door to the surgery center.

Thankfully, my wait at the surgery center was mercifully short, because I could really feel the anxiety setting in once we arrived. They shuttled me into pre-op, I got into my gown and booties, and they hooked me up to an IV in short order. My anesthesiologist, a vivacious and funny woman, then came in and introduced herself.

She was awesome. She asked me all the necessary questions, after which I somewhat sheepishly shared with her my concerns about getting nauseous or vomiting from the anesthesia. She talked to me about the special "cocktail" of meds she could use to minimize the potential for nausea and vomiting as much as possible. Needless to say, I was totally on board - and in love with her - by the time that conversation ended.

Interestingly enough, I went into that day thinking I would want to remain awake for the procedure (similar to the level of anesthesia I had for my colonoscopy, where I was awake and talking, but feeling no pain or discomfort and a little bit loopy), but after talking to the anesthesiologist, I realized that I was probably better off letting her knock me out. The cocktail of drugs she was talking about using on me couldn't be used if I wanted to remain awake, and using the more standard drugs to keep me more awake would increase my odds of nausea and vomiting. Also, because the procedure to remove fibroids and polyps is more... physical than a colonoscopy, being more awake for this procedure would have also meant that I'd be likely to feel more, and that might have made me feel nauseous, too. Bottom line? Best to be asleep!

Once all the formalities were taken care of, the anesthesiologist gave me a little Versed to mellow me out (oh, how I love thee, sweet Versed!). It seemed like just minutes later they were wheeling me into the operating room. I remember boosting myself from the gurney over to the operating table, and I remember someone removing my glasses. After that - nada. I was o-u-t!

Next thing I knew, I heard someone say my name. I felt like I had taken a SUPER long and restful nap and was in the middle of a very bizarre dream when I suddenly heard my name. I opened my eyes; I was being wheeled out of the OR and into recovery.

I asked the recovery nurses how things went, and they said everything went very well - no complications, no problems. This was, of course, great news.

But for some reason, it struck me as incredibly funny.

I started giggling. I couldn't stop at giggling. Next thing I knew, I was full-on belly laughing.

Clearly it was a side effect of the anesthesia wearing off!

The nurses left me for a few moments, during which time I managed to convince myself that the single funky and beautiful piece of art on the wall was actually several matching pieces of beautiful art. I was actually surprised later when I realized that it was, in fact, only one piece of art. Like I said, the anesthesia had definitely done a number on me!

My mom was led into the recovery room, where she got an enormous kick out of my post-surgical silliness. I kept repeating the same questions, talking about the same things, giggling. In short, I think it reminded her of when I was four or five years old. Good times.

At some point, my doctor came in and talked to me about the surgery. He said he did see the fibroid and polyp and was able to remove both without any issues. He said they looked fine visually, but would still have to go to pathology to be checked, just to be safe.

By this time, my giggles were subsiding, and I remember feeling an enormous sense of relief. I survived the surgery, and all went well. Amen!!

As the anesthesia wore off, I realized that I felt really quite well. No pain, no nausea, and I was more alert than I expected to be. I drank water, drank apple juice, got up to use the bathroom, got dressed, and was ready to go home within about an hour.

Once I got home, I felt almost completely like myself. I say almost because the one thing I noticed that evening was that I had some pain when I peed. Not much bleeding though, and just a little bit of very minor cramping, not even enough to take Tylenol. All in all, not too shabby.

I took it easy, of course - ate a little chicken noodle soup and had some ginger ale from the comfort of the couch, watched some t.v. for an hour or so, and then played Monopoly City with Super Man, Super Boy, and my Super Mom for a few hours. When bedtime rolled around, I was still wide awake. The anesthesia left me so rested that I didn't feel at all tired that night, unfortunately. I read until 1:30am and then forced myself to fall asleep.

I slept poorly Tuesday night, probably because I wasn't at all tired when I finally fell asleep. It didn't help that Super Boy ended up sleepwalking in the middle of the night, either!

Despite a poor night's sleep, yesterday started off with me feeling fairly energetic and well overall. I took Super Boy to school, stopped for a coffee at Starbucks, came home and visited with my Super Mom for a few hours. When the surgery center called midday yesterday to see how I was feeling, I mentioned that I felt great other than the pain when I was experiencing during urination. I assumed that might be normal, considering that the bladder sits right in front of the uterus/cervix, and that area was obviously traumatized during surgery. Turns out, however, that it might actually be a bladder infection from the catheterization I had during surgery (which I didn't know I'd had - it was done, and removed, all while I was under anesthesia), so they said that if I still felt the pain today, to call my doctor's office and let them know.

My mom left around lunchtime because I was feeling pretty well. But as the day went on, I found myself feeling really tired, almost like I was coming down with something. After I picked Super Boy up from school in the afternoon, we came home and I laid down and fell asleep for two hours. When I woke up, I felt even worse. I was supposed to go to the book fair at Super Boy's school with Super Boy and Super Man last night, but I figured I should probably stay home and take it easy.

I called the doctor's office this morning to let them know that I was still having pain when I urinate, and they wanted me to stop in to the lab to give a urine sample, to be safe. I should hear about that in the morning. (Update 11/24/09: Did hear from the doctor on Friday; was definitely a bladder infection. Hooray! So, I'm on day 5 of an antibiotic now. Amen.)

So, aside from the unexpected bladder infection, the whole thing went FAR better than I imagined it would. I say this facetiously, but I feel lighter since the surgery. Knowing that it's behind me, that the fibroid and polyp are out and that we can move ahead with IUI in December has just lifted a huge psychological burden off my mind. I feel optimistic and hopeful again, knowing that I'm physically primed for everything to come together for another baby.

I also feel very happy and confident in my decision to switch to my current doctor at the Reproductive Medicine office. He did a great job with my surgery, has been honest and thorough in explaining things to me throughout the process, and he's hopeful that we will achieve the pregnancy we so badly want. I'm glad I trusted my gut and switched to him.

So, now we move on to bigger and better things! I will meet with my Super Doctor again on 12/1 for a post-op check-up and to set the schedule for IUI in December. I will of course update again then. Thank you for all thoughts and prayers you've sent along the way, and please keep your fingers crossed that things continue to go as well as we move forward!

With love and hope,
SW

a few words of thanks

2009-11-16T21:08:00.004-06:00

Well, this is it, kids - tomorrow is the surgery I've alternated between dreading and eagerly awaiting just to have it behind me. Barring any unforeseen problems, twenty-four hours from now I should be back at home, resting comfortably, minus one fibroid and one polyp. And within the next forty-eight hours, you should see an update on here letting you know how things went.

I feel an enormous sense of calm tonight. Probably because I've resigned myself to the fact that there's nothing good that can come from turning back at this point. The best possible thing I can do is just stay positive and get it over with. Because once this is behind me, we can look forward to the good part of this process - the IUI. Which isn't to say that that part of the process will be FUN - no, after taking Clomid in September, I think I can safely say that it won't be FUN to have to take that again! - but at least it's forward motion, and forward motion toward our ultimate goal at that. And the bottom line is that the IUI is the best shot we have at getting the end result we most want: another child. I try to keep thinking about that whenever the anxiety about the surgery creeps back up on me again. It helps.

That said, I would be remiss if I didn't pay proper respect to the fact that surgery - ANY surgery - comes with inherent risk. This one is no different. Obviously, my biggest concern is that something will go SERIOUSLY wrong and I end up falling under that <1% of people who DIE from complications. Highly unlikely, yes; but possible. That thought lurks at the corners of my mind every moment leading up to this surgery, I will admit it. But I try not to let it steal the show. Anything else that could go wrong would be small potatoes compared to that, so if SOMETHING must happen, I just hope it's something minor in the big scheme of things!

I will only say this. IF something goes horribly wrong ...

I want my family to know how much I truly and completely love them all. My husband, my son, my stepdaughter. My mom, my dad, my stepdad and stepmom. My brothers and sisters, nieces & nephews. I am who I am because of all of you, and I love you more than I could ever possibly hope to express in words. I will trust all of you to carry on and help Super Man raise Super Boy if something happens, and I hope you will talk about me with my little boy often so he never forgets me. And a special shout-out to my mom, who has been my best friend and who is always there for me (as she will be tomorrow!) no matter what - I love you so much, and am so thankful for all you are and all you do!

To Super Man, you are my soulmate. I knew shortly after I met you that, right or wrong, good or bad, I was in it for the long haul with you. We've certainly had our ups and downs, but I still look at you and thank my lucky stars that God brought the two of us together. You have made my life fuller, better... more. You made me a mom twice, first by sharing your child with me and second by creating a child with me. I can't thank you enough for being my partner in life. I love you, baby. Always.

And to Super Boy, you are the most amazing miracle of my life - the greatest thing I've ever been a part of creating, the most rewarding job I've ever had. The sun, the moon the stars and everything wonderful and sweet and extraordinary and beautiful is all wrapped up in you. It has been an enormous honor and pleasure being your mommy; I wouldn't trade one second of it for anything in the universe. I love you with all of my heart and soul, in every cell in my body. Whenever my number is up, I want you to know that I will always be with you, will always be watching over you. I love you, more than the whole wide world, forever and ever, no matter what.

To Super Girl, I want you to know that I love you, and I'm grateful for the gift of our relationship. I never imagined that I'd become a parent by being a stepparent first, but I'm glad that it happened the way it did, and that YOU were my stepchild and not anyone else. You're a wonderful young woman, with a big, bright future ahead of you. I hope that some of who I am and what I value has rubbed off on you over the years, and that you make good choices and be the best person you can be as you make your way into the world. I want only the best for you; don't ever forget that.

And to my very best friends - you know who you are - I can't thank you enough, for everything. For all the good times, for putting up with my crazy ass over the years, for supporting me even when you thought I was making mistakes, for being there when I had great things to celebrate, for not abandoning me when the chips were down and I needed you most. I hope I have been able to give to each of you what you needed when you needed it, and that I've had a positive and lasting impact on your lives, as you have on mine. I love you!

I have been so blessed, and am grateful for every minute I've had in this life. While I firmly believe that this is not the end for me, I wanted to make sure I shared those things, just in case. Because you just never know, and I'd hate to go without saying them.

On that note, please wish me luck tomorrow, readers. Say a prayer, send good juju, think positive thoughts - whatever floats your boat! :) I am most grateful and appreciative, as always.

I look forward to sharing news of a successful and uneventful surgery in the next day or two!

With a full and grateful heart,
Super Woman

and the wheels are moving again!

2009-11-09T17:27:00.003-06:00

I'm relieved - and, yes, a little bit nervous - to report that a date has again been set for my surgery. Barring any new illness or disaster of some sort, I'll be going in for my hysteroscopy on the afternoon of Tuesday, November 17th to remove the suspected fibroid and polyp from my uterus.

As I think I mentioned a month or so ago, we had to cancel the original surgery that had been scheduled for October 21st because I ended up catching the respiratory virus that Super Boy had the week prior, and the doctor wouldn't do the operation with me still being congested due to the risk of me developing pneumonia from the anesthesia. I'll admit that a part of me was relieved (I really wasn't READY-ready to face the prospect of surgery), but a bigger part of me was super discouraged by yet another unexpected delay putting off the start of our IUI treatments.

Knowing that we've got a date on the calendar again, and that it's just a week away, I'm praying now that all goes well and that we can manage to stay healthy so I can just get this over and done with. Assuming all goes well, I'll be on the path to IUI for December, which means so much to me, I can't even say. I'm ready for that to begin, have been ready for that since September. So I'm trying to focus less on my fear and anxiety over this surgery and more on my eagerness and excitement for getting to the GOOD part of this process!

To all who have been following along on this journey, and especially those who have expressed support and offered your assistance to me and my family, thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Will continue to update as I have more to share...

Your hopeful pal,
SW

My Grampa

2009-11-08T18:57:00.005-06:00

November is such a bittersweet month for me each year.

Generally speaking, on the one hand, it marks the end of the comparatively warm, bright days of early fall and sets the stage for the onslaught of the long, cold, snowy, miserable winter, which I find utterly depressing. On the other hand, it marks the beginning of the Christmas holiday season, which - despite the cold and snow - is my favorite holiday of all.

On a more personal level, my Grampa H. - my father's father, with whom I was very close - was born on November 1st, making that day one of celebration every year. Unfortunately, he died on November 20th, back in 1998 after a short but devastating illness, making that a day of mourning and somber remembrance ever since.

I was with him when he died, in a hospital room, in the middle of a cold and snowy night, with my dad and stepmom beside me. It was an unforgettable moment, one of few such moments in life, and I was transformed by it. Completely and utterly transformed.

My Grampa was the sweetest man to ever walk the earth. He was tall but not imposing, sweet but not a pushover. He had a voice that was deep, rich with texture, and an infectious laugh that was part chuckle and part giggle. He always had a twinkle in his eyes, and he would fascinate and amaze my older sister and younger brother and I as children by wiggling his ears. While he could at times be stern and raise his voice, he was also the sort of grandfather who would happily play with us grandkids as children, and he took endless delight in watching us grow.

He loved the circus, baseball (the Brewers were his favorite), the Beer Barrel Polka, playing pool and cards, and us grandkids.

My father was an only child; as such, we were the only grandchildren. After my parents' divorce, when us kids moved with our mom to a town six hours away, we saw my grandparents only a few times a year for the rest of our childhood. My grandmother died a year after we moved away, but my grandfather lived for many years beyond. I was 24 when he died; he had lived to just past his 82nd birthday.

I, like most kids, took my grandfather for granted when I was growing up. He was so good and kind and sweet to us, but he was just "Grampa" for many years. It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized how truly blessed and lucky I was to still have him in my life. He had lived through so much that I couldn't even begin to fathom, and his life had been more complex and had contained more heartache than I ever realized until I took the time to really get to know my Grampa.

We became pen-pals toward the end of my high school years, and that continued until he passed away. We would write letters to each other every few weeks, and his always came ensconced in a sweet card of one sort or another. I'd write about my boyfriends, about my general activities, about school, and eventually about work. He'd write me about his weekly pool (billiards) group, about how all the women in his retirement apartment community were after him - one woman in particular kept leaving her "unmentionables" in the dryer when she knew my grampa was doing his laundry. And he'd also write about his health, which right up to the end had been quite good, all things considered.

He always had the right words to cheer me up or the right advice to help me make a tough decision, and no matter what, I knew that he was always in my corner. His letters were written with such love and in such detail that I could hear his voice in my head as I read each of his letters. I think that as long as I live I will never forget the sound of his voice. It was - and remains - always a comfort to me. In fact, there is a priest at the new church we've been attending for the past few months whose voice and patterns of speech remind me so much of my Grampa that I often find myself closing my eyes and smiling at the sound of it, and I've remarked to my husband a few times how much Father Larry reminds me of my Grampa.

One of the sweetest things my Grampa did had to do with my business cards. When I got my first job out of college, as an executive secretary, he had my business card laminated and he would show it to all of his friends and tell them that his granddaughter was "an executive." He was so proud!

One of the toughest things about losing my Grampa when I did was that he never met Super Man, or Super Girl, or - especially - Super Boy. He would've loved them all, and he would've loved to see me happily married with a family of my own. One of the things that drew me so to Super Man was his sweet, humble nature; it was a quality that my Grampa had, too, in spades. He didn't always approve of the guys I dated, but I think he would've loved my husband.

We had started dating several months prior to my Grampa passing away, but we weren't yet serious enough that I would bring Super Man "home" with me to meet him. I regret that often. Then again, the timing wasn't right for it then, and I had no way of knowing that my Grampa would die so soon.

When I was pregnant with Super Boy, once we found out at the ultrasound that he was a boy, I told Super Man that - no matter what - his middle name had to be my grandfather's name. As it turned out, the name we chose as Super Boy's first name - Super Man's paternal grandfather's name - ended up fitting perfectly with my grandfather's name. Super Boy knows who he was named after, and why. He likes that his names are special, that they are of his family.

And once Super Boy's personality started to show, I had the oddest feeling that my child, who is and has always been so indescribably perfect and in sync with me, was hand-picked in heaven by my Grampa. While they may not have met on this side of life, I believe with all my heart that they met on the other side. Super Boy has so much of my Grampa in his personality, as well, and it charms and enchants me to no end.

Fortunately, it is not only my son who shares many of my Grampa's traits: my younger brother looks exactly like my Grampa did as a young man, and my brother is also one of the sweetest people ever to walk the earth. I'm so glad that the best parts of a great man still live on in our family today. It comforts my soul.

I miss you much, Grampa. I think of you often, I see you and hear you often, and I know that you are my and my family's guardian angel, always.

With all my love,
SW

BlackBerry, CrackBerry

2009-10-21T10:48:00.004-05:00

Yes, folks, your old pal Super Woman has finally - FINALLY - entered the 21st century.

I got a BlackBerry Curve last week!

A little background...

Two years ago when my trusty old phone was limping along with its poor cracked screen, almost perpetually drained battery and archaic features, I realized I had to get a new phone. However, at the time, money was tight, I wasn't into texting, and I was perfectly content to use my laptop to access the internet and our great little Canon digital camera to take any pictures. So, when I was looking at new phones, I ended up just getting the most basic - and FREE - phone that Sprint (my long-time carrier) offered. It made phone calls, stored my contacts and COULD access the internet and all that, but there was no built-in camera, no good keyboard, and no bells and whistles.

Don't get me wrong, it too was a great phone. It was slim (I could fit it in my pocket), the battery held a charge for a respectable period of time, and it did what I needed it to do.

Except that when I started to receive texts from people and wanted to text back, it took me in the neighborhood of five minutes to formulate a reply using the standard phone keys. And I was getting texts more and more frequently, but we didn't have texts included in our service plan, so I was paying a premium each time I replied.

It occurred to me then that my two-year contract was coming up again this fall. So, one day I went to the local Sprint store, just to confirm when I would be able to upgrade and renew my contract and to look at the current offering of reasonably priced (or free) phones.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that they had a few BlackBerry phones for under $50, after rebates! Seriously, I was shocked: I always thought they were at least $150, if not more, and had never considered spending that kind of money for one in the past, especially because I never really needed to look at them before.

I left the Sprint store that day without getting a new phone, but armed with information about how we could change our service plan and add a data package and still SAVE money with me upgrading to a BlackBerry Curve at the end of the billing cycle. And then I went home and did some more homework.

I found that BestBuy had the same phone on special with Sprint for $19 with a two-year contract renewal or new contract. So, I went to the local BestBuy store to make sure the price was accurate given my circumstances, and to make sure they could do all the service plan updating I needed done with Sprint if I were to get the phone there. They assured me that they could, so I decided to go back there at the end of my billing cycle to get my new phone. And so I did, last Friday.

So now I'm a BlackBerry user.

It's different; I will definitely say that much! It's like having a little computer with me everywhere I go. Which is great, but so much more complex than the simple little phones I've used for the past half-decade. I discover something new about the BlackBerry every day.

The one thing I DON'T like is that my battery drains quickly. The phone guy at BestBuy warned me about that, given that it's working harder because of the internet access, etc., so it wasn't completely unexpected. It's just an adjustment. I have to make sure I charge it at least every other day, or I'll find the battery is dead when I go to use it.

I have to laugh, because I was told to give it a solid five days before making a decision about it one way or the other, and I can see why. It's not as intuitive as my old, basic phones. But I can see how it's addicting. I've been told I won't go back to a "regular" phone after having a BlackBerry. We'll see.

What I really wanted was an iPhone, but even though they've dropped in price, they're still $99, and I'd have to switch to AT&T, and I really don't want to spend that much for a phone or leave Sprint. So, maybe in a few more years. We'll see how this whole CrackBerry thing pans out. :)

Technologically yours,
SW

finally sinking in

2009-10-12T18:15:00.004-05:00

My hysteroscopic surgery is scheduled. It's happening on the 21st of this month. And, as I fully expected of myself, I'm freaking out over it.

I mean, sure, I've been thinking about it ever since the words "you need a hysteroscopy" left my original fertility doc's mouth. But meeting with my new fertility doc this afternoon for my pre-op appointment - and, specifically, having to sign the consent form, which was riddled with words like "complications may include uterine performation, perforated bowel, stopping of the heart, massive blood loss and DEATH" - really made the reality sink in. Deep.

First, it's SCHEDULED now. It's not a theoretical possibility left hanging out in space anymore; it's actually on the books. And I've actually signed a consent form. One with the words POSSIBILITY OF DEATH on it.

Second, I've now talked to the doctor who will be performing the surgery about what said surgery will entail. In detail. And about the risks. In detail. I know pretty much exactly what's going to happen and how it's going to happen - provided everything goes off as expected - and while I'm okay with all of it in theory, the reality is that the only surgery I've ever had is the one that delivered Super Boy into the world, and I really had NO choice but to go ahead with that one because he was stuck.

But the thing is, while I am CHOOSING to have this surgery to give my reproductive organs a better chance of getting pregnant again and sustaining a second pregnancy, there's also a part of me that feels I don't have any other choice but to have the surgery.

I say that because as the doctor and I were taking a close look at my ultrasound results today, and looking at them from several angles and depths, etc., he noticed that there is another unusual thing in my uterus that he now also wants to check out during my hysteroscopy. He thinks it's a polyp.

Of course (and as usual), my mind immediately screamed CANCER! (I'm sorry; I can't help it.) But when I was able to form the question to ASK if that was a possibility with a polyp, my doctor said that yes, it's POSSIBLE, but for a woman my age who is NOT post-menopausal, it's highly unlikely. Won't know for sure until next week though.

And that's why I no longer feel like I have a choice BUT to have the surgery. If I opted not to do it now (purely out of fear, in case that wasn't clear), what if that other thing we see on the ultrasound IS cancer - and I didn't find out now and deal with it? The fear of THAT outcome is greater than my fear of having surgery, no question about it.

I just can't think too much about the risks. For what it's worth, the doctor said that the above mentioned complications arise in less than 1% of people who have this procedure, so that's reassuring. Odds are strongly in my favor that I will go in for the procedure, all will go well, and I'll be out and on my way within a few hours. I'll be visualizing that, anyway.

On another note, in a totally bizarre twist of fate (considering that I was meeting with my doctor for my pre-op appointment this afternoon), while I was waiting for my drink at Starbucks this morning, I just happened to glance at the cover of today's New York Times -- which I NEVER do at Starbucks, for whatever reason. Anyway, front and center on the cover is a story about the risks of IUI for those struggling with infertility.

WHA...?

What are the ODDS of that?!?

I couldn't resist - I had to spend the $2 for the paper so I could read the story and find out more about what I'm getting myself into with all of this.

Big mistake!

Suddenly, instead of envisioning the SLIGHT (7-8%) risk of possible twins instead of a single baby, I'm scaring the pants off myself at the thought of somehow ending up pregnant with quintuplets or sextuplets! I'm optimistic that we could manage with twins, but there is no WAY we could manage with five or six babies.

No. Way.

Needless to say, I had to discuss this article with my doctor today.

Now, let me just say that even I picked up on the fact that the focus of this article was on injectable fertility medication, not on oral Clomid (which is all I've taken - and all I will take). After discussing my concerns with him, my doctor assured me that the risk of more than two babies being conceived at once on oral Clomid is less than 1%, and the risk of twins is about 7%. I can deal with that. I think.

What I did not realize, however, is this: While I've been panicking a bit over the risk of ending up with MANY babies as a result of IUI with Clomid, I didn't know that the odds of IUI with Clomid working for me in any given month is only 20%, because of my age. Without the Clomid, the IUI has a 5% change of getting me pregnant in any given month. Without the IUI, I have a 3% chance of getting pregnant in any given month.

Three percent. No wonder all our efforts over the past three and a half years have been unsuccessful.

Even with IUI and Clomid, I'm looking at a 20% chance. And my doctor said he would try four cycles of IUI on me. In those four cycles, there's a 50% chance I will get pregnant - and a 50% chance I won't.

Am I ready?

I sure hope so.

SW

a sick boy and a plea to parents

2009-10-08T11:37:00.006-05:00

This has been a rough week. After a busy, action-packed weekend spent in good health, Super Boy woke up Monday morning with a headache and a low fever. No other symptoms, but already the alarms were starting to go off in my head because that was exactly how Super Boy started off when he had strep for the first time in the spring: headache and low fever and nothing else.

I waited for some other symptoms to kick in as the day progressed, but none did. The Motrin would take his fever down and have him acting his usual self until it wore off, and then he'd have a headache and fever again. Because of the ongoing fever, I knew he'd be home from school on Tuesday as well, but wasn't sure what the next day would actually bring.

After sleeping well through the night, Super Boy woke up Tuesday in much the same way - a low fever and a headache. Because of the H1N1 hysteria, I figured a call to his pediatrician was in order to see if we needed to be concerned/tested/treated. The nurse assured me that while it didn't sound like H1N1, strep is going around and because he was having the exact same symptoms as when he had strep in the spring, they wanted us to come in to swab his throat. Quick-strep test was negative, but they were going to grow the culture and see what happened (should hear today). The doctor felt that the culture probably won't grow strep, as there are also some viruses going around that have these same symptoms (and, incidentally, which he said are lasting up to a week in some kids), so it was a "wait-and-see" sort of deal.

Anyway, Tuesday was almost a mirror image of Monday except that his fever actually stayed away after his afternoon Motrin wore off, so while I was still planning to keep him home Wednesday (after all, they're supposed to be fever-free for 24 hours before returning to school), I was hopeful that he'd be able to go back today, just in time to make his class field trip to the local book store, which we'd both been looking forward to!

No such luck.

Wednesday went pretty well at the outset - he woke with NO fever, feeling pretty good other than being a bit congested in his head. But he was playful and active and his usual bubbly self most of the day, so I felt very good about his planned return to school today.

Until he ran another 99.9 fever yesterday evening.

Now I know that there are parents out there who won't consider their kids to have a TRUE fever until they're over 100 (and some even stretch that further, for reasons I can't fathom) and will still send them to school (most often pumped full of fever-reducer so they won't get sent home), but I'm strongly of the opinion that if my child is running a fever, he's staying home. And he's one of those kids who is almost ALWAYS an exact 98.6 sort of person, so when he's got a temp of 99.9, I know that he's not healthy.

He fell asleep fine last night, slept well, but again woke super congested and hoarse. No fever, no headache, but he said he felt lousy (and he sure looked lousy), so the poor kid stayed home again today and missed his field trip.

He's frustrated about missing out on seeing his friends, missing his field trip, and missing his favorite class - gym - but even he knows that it's better for him to stay home and get healthy and NOT infect his classmates than to go back before he's really feeling better and get everyone else sick, too.

And that has definitely been on my mind the past few days, too - the issue of parents who send their still-sick kids to school without any apparent regard for the other kids. Because I'm 98% sure that's where he picked up this little gem of a virus.

I get that I perhaps err more on the side of caution than others when it comes to gauging how sick my child is, but there are two reasons for that: (1) Super Boy was CONSTANTLY sick in daycare (and I'm NOT exaggerating that) and it took a major toll on his immune system, so I'm very sensitive to his health after all of that, and (2) I AM concerned about the health of the kids he plays with, or went to daycare with, or goes to school with and I don't want them to get sick, too.

I know that not all parents are stay-at-homes like I am right now, but I lived the full-time working mom scenario for the first four years of Super Boy's life, through his chronic & recurring sinus infections that went on for the better part of four years. I know that it IS hard to juggle work schedules with sick kids. That said, we all have to suck it up and do what we have to do for our children, even when it means seeing if we can work from home or having to use our vacation time and sick days for our kids' illnesses.

When parents send their kids to school knowing full well that they are still sick - and contagious - whether it's with a fever or anything else, those parents are knowingly and willfully sending their kids to school where they are going to get other kids sick. It's not even a question of maybe; it's a guarantee. Especially in a first grade classroom.

I'm sorry, but even the most frequently reminded of kids that age generally are NOT good about keeping their hands out of their eyes/nose/mouth (especially if they have boogers or runny noses, come on!), and they're also NOT good about always washing their hands or using hand-sanitizer after they've picked/wiped their noses, and they DON'T always cover their coughs and sneezes, etc. You get my drift.

So, to all the parents who read this blog, PLEASE do all of us a favor and keep your sick kids home until they are (1) fever-free for 24 hours, (2) clearly feeling better and past the worst of it, and/or (3) the doctor has said they're no longer contagious and can go back. Especially with H1N1 going around, I beg you to consider the health of the other kids in your child's classroom and just keep your sick kid home until they're truly well enough to return. Think about how much less time EVERY parent would have to take off in the long run if all of us just did the right thing when it was our child who was ill?

And to all of you who have sick kids at home right now, I feel your pain and I hope your kiddos feel better soon!

Your germ-conscious pal,
SW

turning the page

2009-09-30T10:19:00.007-05:00

Earlier today, I received a phone call from a nurse at the fertility specialist's office, with a message from my doctor.

Apparently, he wanted me to go on THE PILL.

...HUH????

Yes; I was supposed to wait until my period, go on the pill "to thin the lining of my uterus before the procedure," and then have the hysteroscopy before day 10 or 11 of my next cycle.

Which - YES - would mean that I would lose another potential IUI cycle.

I was beyond perplexed/frustrated/pissed.

I told the nurse that Dr. ____ TOLD ME last Wednesday that he wanted to do the hysteroscopy ASAP so we COULD try next month. Why would he tell me that?!?!?

She didn't know. This is standard procedure, apparently, so he should've set my expectations accordingly. But he didn't.

I cannot tell you how maddeningly frustrating that was. The LAST THING I want is to go on BIRTH CONTROL when I'm trying to GET PREGNANT! Sure, it might help him see my uterus better for this procedure, but isn't this contrary to the ultimate goal of GETTING ME PREGNANT?!?!?

Aaaaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

I realized then that it was time to put a call into the Clinic Manager to share my concerns about the major detour my care has taken and my concerns about Dr. _____ continuing to provide that care.

The Clinic Manager was a godsend. She sat quietly and listened to me as I shared with her my concerns about the way things have gone over the past week, from the botched prep for my HSN last Wednesday to the complete miscommunication about how we would proceed from this point. She expressed concern - and rightfully so - over the iodine situation, and sympathized with me for how frustrating the process had become since the HSN.

I told her what I wanted.

- For Dr. ____'s partner (the head of the clinic) to review the sonogram from my HSN and give his opinion as to whether the hysteroscopy was really necessary.

- To know if I absolutely MUST be put under general anesthesia for the hysteroscopy or I could do "twilight" sedation, as was done for my colonoscopy, where I was awake but loopy and felt no pain the entire time. Or do an epidural and appropriate pain meds, as was done with my C-section.

- I wanted to know what the ACTUAL timeline of events is going to be from this point forward, and whether that is consistent with the standard of care or not.

- And, ultimately, I wanted to see if I could switch from Dr. ____ to Dr. Head of the Clinic.

The Clinic Manager assured me that she would look into all of it and get back to me, and she apologized for the direction things had taken, as she wants all their patients to feel good about the quality of care and their experience with the clinic. I felt better just to have gotten it all off my chest and to know that someone was going to DO something about it.

Within an hour, Dr. Head of the Clinic called me to talk about my concerns. I was floored.

We discussed his opinion of the HSN results and the need for the hysteroscopy (he concurs that it's most likely a fibroid inside the uterine cavity - as opposed to the uterine wall - and should be removed). We discussed my allergy to iodine and the mistake Dr. ____ made by prepping me with iodine last Wednesday - and my concerns about what might happen if Dr. ____ does my hysteroscopy and forgets about my iodine allergy again. We discussed the ACTUAL timeline of what will happen going forward, according to the standard of care. And I ultimately asked Dr. Head of the Clinic to take me as a patient to put my mind at ease, since I simply felt more comfortable with him and his style than I've come to feel with Dr. ____.

He said yes.

So, this is what's going to happen now.

I'm going to schedule a pre-op appointment with Dr. Head of the Clinic for next week, so he can meet me in person and we can go over ALL my questions about the hysteroscopy.

I'm going to wait until I get my period, then call his office to schedule the hysteroscopy. He is NOT going to put me on the Pill, because he prefers not to do that. Doing the surgery between days 7-10 of my cycle will keep my uterine lining thin enough for him to see adequately during the hysteroscopy.

I will have the hysteroscopy between days 7-10 of my next cycle, in mid-October, under "twilight" sedation. If it IS a fibroid, he'll remove it. If it's just a distortion in the wall of my uterus, then nothing happens and the procedure is over. Either way, I will still not have IUI in October, to let my uterus heal either from the removal of the fibroid or just from the trauma of the hysteroscopy.

Assuming the healing goes as expected, I will start my first FULL IUI cycle after I get my period in early November.

And - hopefully - I'll find out that I'm pregnant in early December, just in time to be the perfect Christmas present. I know that it may not go down that way, but here's hoping that it does.

Can I tell you how much better I feel knowing that I'm going to be seeing Dr. Head of the Clinic from this point on? I've spoken on the phone with the man twice now (he was the one on call when I called about my abdominal pain/bloating on Monday night), and just in the span of those two phone conversations I have such a different vibe from him. He DOES take the time to explain things, to answer questions. He's not operating independently of me and my needs or feelings, and he's still able to set my expectations realistically. Yes, this means I definitely WILL lose another potential IUI cycle in October, but he explained WHY that's in my best interests. I think we'll get along much better and that I will feel infinitely more comfortable in his hands than Dr. ___'s, particularly for the hysteroscopy.

So, while the train is moving again - albeit more slowly than I had expected - I believe it's now headed in the right direction. And now I'm just going along for the ride.

Hope is back, baby! Hope is back.

Yours always,
SW

frustration

2009-09-29T20:28:00.005-05:00

I've been having a frustrating past couple of days. I sat down to write blog posts twice in the past three days, and ended up not being able to hit "publish" either time because I wasn't really saying what I wanted to say.

And what I want to say is this: What an effing rollercoaster ride this whole fertility treatment business is!

Sheeesh.

Where's this coming from, you might be wondering? Well, it's coming from a few places.

First, the Clomid has been messing with my body and my emotions for the better part of the past week. And I was under the impression that if I didn't experience any issues while I was actually taking the Clomid for those five days then I wouldn't have any issues after those five days were done. I had asked my doctor what I could expect on it and all he said was that I might experience menopausal-like symptoms (like hot flashes, mood swings), "but most people tolerate it fine." Well, the day after I stopped the Clomid, I was up in the middle of the night with hot flashes and feeling nauseous. I felt okay the next day, but as the week went on, I started getting bad headaches that Tylenol wasn't helping. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I had bad headaches like that, and I was completely beat. I also had heartburn all of those days, despite not eating anything that would've been an obvious culprit. And I also cried at the drop of a hat all week long. It didn't occur to me until yesterday, when I was able to add consistent aching abdominal pain and bloating to the list of issues that it occurred to me that MAYBE it was the Clomid.

I got on Google and started trying to track down whether or not the issues I was experiencing were typical on Clomid. Everything I saw about abdominal pain and bloating indicated that a call to my doctor was in order, as there was a risk of OHSS (Ovarian Hyper-Stimulation Syndrome, which can be life-threatening).

It was 9 o'clock at night though. And I learned that my doctor was out of town all week when I spoke with his office earlier in the day (I'll get to that in a minute). Still, my nerves prevailed and I called the doc-on-call, who happened to be my doctor's partner and the head of the clinic. He said that all the things I was experiencing were totally normal - if unpleasant - side effects of Clomid and asked whether my doctor had gone through any of that with me. "Yeah - no - otherwise I wouldn't be calling you!" Nice.

Second, and this sort of ties in with the first point, I've lost some faith in the doctor I'm seeing. Things started off so well at our first meeting, and I was really on-board with how swiftly he was moving things forward after that meeting, but the experience I had at my HSN appointment last Wednesday - and the things that have happened since then - have really called my opinion of him into question.

For starters, something happened at the HSN appointment last week that surprised and concerned me. My doctor came into the procedure room late and apologized for being late, saying that he'd run into a "complication" with his last procedure. Within 5 minutes, my feet were in stirrups, he'd inserted the speculum and I could feel him swabbing my cervix. It occurred to me then that I ought to ask whether he was swabbing it with iodine, to which I have an allergy.

I asked; he said yes, he was using iodine. "Why?"

"Well, because I'm allergic to it, that's why. It's in my chart."

"Oh." He used some other solution (saline?) to swab off the iodine before proceeding, as I sat there freaking out a little, wondering if I was going to have a reaction or not. I didn't - thank God - but still. He must've been freaking out about it, too, because he gave me a script for Benadryl "to be safe."

That shouldn't have happened. And I can't help but wonder if it happened because he was flustered from the complication with his last procedure (which in and of itself is not cool) or if he makes a habit of NOT checking the file - or asking the patient - about allergies before beginning procedures (which is even LESS cool). That troubles me in particular because he wants to put me under for the hysteroscopy, and if I'm unconscious then who's going to tell him not to prep me with iodine?

The other reason I'm questioning his suitability to be the doctor who assists me in this journey is that he indicated when we were wrapping up the HSN last week that he wanted to get me in "as soon as possible" to have the hysteroscopy, so I'd have time to heal and we could proceed with IUI in my next cycle, and yet I still haven't been able to get the damn thing scheduled.

He had told me that if I hadn't heard from his staff by Friday, to call them to inquire about setting the date (remember, my HSN was on Wednesday). I waited, anxiously, until Friday morning, at which point I left a message saying we needed to schedule the surgery and asking someone to call me. No one called me. I called back late that afternoon only to find out that the person who schedules the surgeries went home sick earlier in the day. I was told to leave her a message and that she'd get back to me Monday.

I left a message. And then I waited until Noon on Monday for her to call me, and when she didn't, I called her. She proceeded to ask me if I was on birth control.

"Uh.... no? Because we're trying to get pregnant? That's why I'm at your clinic seeing Dr. ___!?!?!"

"Right..."

She then informed me that Dr. _____ typically schedules all surgeries for days 6-10 of the cycle, to ensure that the patient isn't pregnant.

Uh... come again???

I immediately objected, telling her that the doctor himself had told me that he wanted to get it taken care of as soon as possible so I'd be ready to try IUI next month and we wouldn't be wasting another cycle. And I specifically asked him if Super Man and I should "abstain from all activity" from that point forward in addition to Dr. ____ canceling our IUI attempt for this month, and he said yes. And I'm an instruction follower, to the letter, so I assured her that she had no need to fear that I gone and gotten pregnant on my own (that would've been the miracle to end all miracles, at this point). And I stressed again that I was very eager - VERY EAGER - to get this scheduled and over with so I could stop thinking and worrying about it and so that I'd be ready to go through the full IUI cycle next month.

Still, she said that she had to see what Dr. ___ wanted to do. "And unfortunately he's out of town this whole week, so unless I can reach him by email, we'll have to wait until he's back to see when he wants to do the surgery."

Uh... come again?!?!?! Are you freaking kidding me??!?

Now, I'm not saying that the man doesn't deserve to take vacations, or that he should plan his vacations around my cycle and my needs. (That would be nice though.) But are you KIDDING ME?!? He didn't say a word to me last Wednesday to indicate that he'd be unavailable to do the surgery he wanted to do "ASAP" until NEXT week, which is TWO WEEKS after the HSN! And I'm a little put off by the fact that he didn't tell the scheduling person to make it so I could get in for the surgery while I'm still in my current (already wasted) cycle, even if he couldn't do it this week.

You know, I realize that I'm not his only patient, but I have to admit, I have definitely felt like once it became clear that I wasn't going to be an IUI patient for this month, I fell off his radar screen entirely. And - I'm sorry - but I am entrusting this person to help me on what is one of THE most important journeys of my life, not to mention entrusting him WITH my life, so I expect him to be sensitive to that fact and treat me like I matter regardless of whether I'm actually having a costly treatment this cycle or not.

So now I'm waiting yet again.

But I may be waiting for different reasons now.

I'm considering asking to switch to the other doctor - the head of the clinic - instead. Considering the experiences I've had with Dr. ____ so far, and me feeling less-than-confident in his ability to treat me safely and expeditiously, I feel like I either need to see the head guy in the clinic or I need to go somewhere else entirely. And I'd rather not jump ship without seeing if the other guy is better. I just wish it hadn't come to this.

Anyway, that's where things stand right now. I have no idea when I'm having the surgery - or even IF I'll be having the surgery, as I now want the other doctor to weigh-in on whether HE feels it's necessary based on the HSN. If I DO have to go through with it, I don't know WHO will be doing it, or who I'll be seeing from this point forward. And the Clomid is making me feel like shit, all for nothing since I wasn't able to go through with the IUI attempt this month, and it will continue to make me feel like shit until I get my period. In nearly two weeks.

Needless to say, I'm not pleased.

Here's hoping that things will take a turn for the better very soon. Will keep you posted!

As always,
SW

faith

2009-09-27T15:07:00.006-05:00

We've been going to church every week for about the past month. This is odd only because - while we certainly have gone to church before - we usually make it only once every few weeks (or months). It's also odd because we've been attending a church that is not our own.

There's a reason why we've been going to a new church every week for the past month. (And, no, it's not because we've become religious zealots in our spare time.) It's because we wanted to enroll Super Boy in a Sunday School program, both so he learns more about what it means to be Catholic and to help prepare him for his First Communion next year. Unfortunately, Sunday School is no longer offered through our regular church (where Super Man and I were married and where Super Boy was Baptized), and because we didn't want to be hypocrites about "forcing" him to go to Sunday School while we slacked off in observing our faith, we're determined to attend church before (or after) Sunday School each week, too. We want Super Boy to really understand what he's learning and why it's important to his life, and to us as a family.

Super Man and I have talked about our lack of commitment to church attendance quite a bit over the years. After those conversations, we might occasionally get on a good streak where we'd attend more regularly than usual, but we'd eventually revert back to our old ways. So, yes, the impetus for this regular church attendance was the Sunday School thing, but I think it was exactly what we needed to get us to "do the right thing," so to speak.

Because, really, there's been no GOOD excuse most weeks for why we haven't attended Mass. Sure, occasionally someone is sick or we're out of town or whatever, but by and large, we're around, home and just sleeping in rather than getting up and going to church.

Anyway, as more frequent attendance at church often tends to do, I've found myself spending a lot of time lately reflecting on my beliefs, both those I've been taught and those I've acquired, and on my concept of spirituality in general.

While I can't really call myself a highly religious person, I consider myself a very spiritual person. I believe in God, a higher power, forces at work that we can't see or touch but that absolutely direct the path of our lives. And as long as I have that, the specific details of my religion - or any others - don't really bother me too much.

For what it's worth, I'm Catholic. I don't necessarily believe everything I'm supposed to believe in order to call myself a "good" Catholic, and I struggle with that, but I consider myself Catholic nonetheless.

Does it make me a hypocrite to call myself Catholic even if I don't believe everything I ought to as a Catholic? Sometimes I believe that it does. Then again, there are times when I think that it's not about exactly and precisely fitting the mold of a model devotee of a certain faith and is more about finding the faith with which you most closely identify. I believe that I'm most closely identified with Catholicism... then again, I must confess that I'm not entirely sure.

I was Baptized Catholic. I had my First Communion as a Catholic. But then my parents divorced and my mom - the one who had ensured we received religious education and took us to church every week - stopped attending church, so hurt was she that her church would turn its back on her because she divorced my father. So for years - like a dozen years - I either didn't attend church, or we went to a Lutheran church, because my stepdad is Lutheran, and theirs was not as exclusive as the Catholic church was at that time.

Needless to say, I didn't go through CCD or Confirmation with my Catholic classmates in high school. They envied me for not being forced to participate in a Catholic ritual they didn't really give two hoots about all the while I envied them for at least being a part of something spiritual.

It wasn't until I was planning my first wedding - The Wedding That Wasn't - that I had to really confront the question of my religion. My fiance at the time was a Confirmed Catholic, and in order to be married in his church, I had to be as well. I definitely wanted to be married in his church, but I wasn't sure whether I really wanted to go through Confirmation after having been "away" from the Catholic church for so long. All that I'd learned about Catholicism as a young child was virtually gone from my memory by that time, and a part of me felt like I'd only be doing it to get a green light to marry in the church. I didn't want to do it for the wrong reasons.

I had a few long conversations with the priest from the church and shared with him my conflicting emotions about the whole situation. He was a young priest, and fairly progressive for the late '90s, and he assured me that I was still Catholic despite having been "away" for so long. He also told me that it wasn't necessary for me to believe EVERYTHING the church felt I ought to believe, as long as I believed that Jesus was the son of God, and that he was divine. After much consideration, I ended up enrolling in the RCIA program and became confirmed at the age of 23, just in time for The Wedding That Wasn't.

Despite the fact that the wedding for which I'd gone through Confirmation wasn't to be, I was glad I'd ultimately made the choice to be Confirmed in the Catholic faith. And I was fairly good about attending church from time to time going forward, although I will be the first one to admit that I've never been an "I go every week" kind of gal. I will also be the first to admit that it was my faith in God, and my belief that He had a different and better path in mind for me, that I survived the very difficult choice to call off The Wedding That Wasn't, move out of the apartment I shared with The Man Who Was Not to Be My Husband, and move on with my life.

Through all of the difficult times in my life, I have turned to God. To be fair, I also turn to Him during the good times, to thank Him for the blessings I've been given. But I especially turn to Him when I'm facing challenges or I need help making decisions about something important. Yes, there have been times when I've felt that He wasn't listening, or wasn't helping, or had abandoned me. It's hard to maintain faith during those times, no question about it. But then I remember that even when I've not been able to see what He wanted me to see right away, the thing He wanted me to see always revealed itself in time.

When I called off The Wedding That Wasn't, I agonized over the decision. I loved very much The Man Who Wasn't to be My Husband, but it had gotten to the point where I felt physically ill at the thought of spending my life with him, only I couldn't fully articulate WHY I felt that way. I knew it wasn't just "cold feet" but I didn't know exactly what it was. I just knew that I couldn't go through with the wedding and I couldn't stay with him because I felt in my gut that we were not right for each other. I felt it in my bones even as my heart ached.

It was hell for the first few months, trying to sort out my life and figure out my feelings and come up with a new plan for myself. Should I stay in the city to which I'd moved for my ex-fiance or move back to the city I had grown up in, to be near my family? Should I leave the job I loved, or stay and hang on to that one thing that felt right about my life in the new city? I wanted God to show me the answers, and to do it quickly, so I could KNOW whether I was making the right choices or not.

Of course, He wasn't giving me answers on demand. He let me agonize and drift aimlessly for a few months. He let me be alone for awhile. And, see, at that point in my life, I didn't do alone very well. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me. I feared that I'd never find someone to spend my life with and that I'd always BE alone. But as the pain gradually lessened, and the fog that had become each day of my life started to lift, I started to feel semi-alive again. I wasn't just going through the motions day in and day out, but I was starting to feel normal and okay and, yes, hopeful again. I found myself feeling really glad that I'd chosen to stay in the new city, at the job I loved.

And then out of nowhere it occurred to me that I had managed to get through one of the hardest times of my life on my own. I hadn't run home to let my parents help fix it, fix me - I had toughed it out alone, and I was starting to figure out what was to come next in my life. So even though I didn't really get answers from God at a time when I thought I needed them, I got what I needed most from Him - some faith in myself. He was there all along; he just stayed quiet to let me figure out that I was going to be okay and that I could take care of myself.

A year later, after a few miserably failed attempts at dating again and when I least expected it and wasn't really looking, I met Super Man in a most serendipitous way. It was almost accidental, really - although I tend to believe (to borrow a line from the epic film "Kung Fu Panda") that "there ARE no accidents." I think God was waiting for me to stop waiting for someone, and then He sent me just the right person for me.

Maybe He knows that patience is unfortunately NOT one of my virtues, and this is His way of trying to teach it to me, the hard way. It's very hard for me to not feel like I have some control over my life, and I think it shows in my super-low level of patience. I actually think it's kind of funny that I am SO impatient, and yet I have this total trust in God to reveal His plans for me when He's ready, not when I want to know them.

I have to keep reminding myself of that lately, as I continue on this journey to have a second baby. I've found myself questioning whether God thinks I'm a bad mother, since He's chosen to withhold a second baby from me. I've wondered if maybe He doesn't think I'm ready yet, and He's just waiting until he sees that one thing that will show him that I AM ready. I've wondered if we haven't tried hard enough the ENTIRE three-and-a-half years we've been "trying," and thus He thinks we need to try harder. And, yes, I have wondered if He will punish me in some way for turning to science to help me get around the fact that my body doesn't seem to want to do this naturally.

Ultimately, I know He has a plan for me. It may or may not include a second child. Only time will tell. Obviously if it does, I will be ecstatic, and I will be thanking him again for another blessing and miracle. But as much as I would hurt if it turns out that I will not have a second baby, I also believe deep down that the reason for it would become clear eventually. And, as I have in the past, I believe that I'd see the reason one day and KNOW deep down that THAT was why it didn't happen, and I'd be able to make peace with it on some level. This is why I have said of this journey that I will survive it either way.

Because I know that - no matter what - even when I'm alone in body, I'm never alone in spirit. God is there with me, even when he's quiet. He's always leading me where I am meant to go, even if the path - and the destination - are completely foreign and unknown to me. And I also believe that the spirits of my family and friends departed are right there with us, every step of the way, as my guardian angels. I'm never truly alone.

Being reminded of that is one of the reasons why I really do like going to church on a regular basis. It's an opportunity for me to quiet all the chaos inside my mind and body and soul and just enjoy the peace of giving it all over to God. It reminds me to let go of the petty things that I allow to influence me from one day to the next and focus on the big stuff instead. It really brings me a sense of peace and well-being.

I hope that my son and stepdaughter are learning the true importance of having faith in God, both from what we teach and from what they learn in church and in their respective religious educations. I fear that they will end up, like so many of my peers did, feeling disconnected from it while growing up because it's been fed to them, not sought out by them. That was the only reason I felt "fortunate," if that is the right word, for not being "forced" to go through CCD and Confirmation as a teenager. Because I honestly wouldn't have gotten it then the way I did when I had to make the decision of whether or not to go through it as an adult. Regardless of whether the kids ultimately choose to remain Catholic or find their place in another - different - religion, I just hope that they will always be spiritual, and that they will always know that they are never really alone.

Peace and love,
Super Woman

a bump in the road

2009-09-25T10:15:00.003-05:00

I'm a little late in putting out an update from my hysterosonogram (HSN) appointment on Wednesday morning, so I apologize if any of you were waiting for it. I just needed a few days to process the information from that appointment before I could write about it.

Obviously, based on the above AND the title of this post, we've hit a little bit of a setback, such that we will NOT be going forward with IUI this month. Understandably, I have some very mixed - and strong - feelings about this change in plans.

My reproductive medicine specialist believed going into the HSN that he'd get a good look at the supposed uterine fibroid that the radiologist saw during my HSG appointment in June, and that it would most likely be a non-issue since the radiologist said it was "small." I think both my doctor and I expected this to be a simple peek to make sure it wasn't a big deal, and then we'd be good to move forward with my IUI this weekend.

Unfortunately, the ultrasound didn't give him a very good or complete look at what is going on in my uterus, so it looks like I'm going to need to have surgery. The procedure is technically called a hysteroscopy, which basically means that the doctor will insert a scope with a camera on it into my uterus (transvaginally) to actually be able to "see" what it is that he saw on the ultrasound.

As far as I know, the question is whether it actually IS a uterine fibroid or it's just a distortion in the wall of my uterus, because apparently I have a slightly twisted uterus. I never knew that before, so that was new news to me. And since the appointment, I've come up with a bunch of questions about that, too, but I'll get to those later.

I presume that if it IS a fibroid, he'll remove it as long as he's in there. I believe that can be done hysteroscopically. And, frankly, if it IS a fibroid, I'd prefer that he get it out while he's in there, since I've been reading that fibroids can be very pesky pains in the butt, both during pregnancy and otherwise. No sense leaving it there if it doesn't have to be left there, as far as I'm concerned. If it is a fibroid and he does remove it, then I'll have to recover, and then - hopefully - we can start a real, full IUI cycle after my period in 2 weeks. And hopefully removing the fibroid will give me better odds of conceiving, as they can sometimes interfere with conception.

If it's NOT a fibroid, then I don't know what happens. If it's just a distortion in the wall of my uterus due to it being twisted, I don't know what that means in terms of my potential for pregnancy, etc. My doctor seemed pretty nonchalant about that being the case, so I presume that we'd be okay to plan on doing IUI next month, but I'm not positive.

But I find myself wondering about this whole "twisted uterus" business: Has it ALWAYS been twisted? Was it like this before, when I got pregnant with Super Boy? I didn't have any issues getting pregnant with him, and my pregnancy went swimmingly, so I'd have to think that either my uterus WASN'T twisted then or it was and it's just not a big deal. If it twisted since my pregnancy, how did that happen, and can it be... untwisted? Can they fix that? And DOES it matter in terms of my ability to get pregnant? Will or might it cause problems if I DO get pregnant? Any big risks I need to know about? I'm chock FULL of questions about that, so I definitely need to talk to my doctor again.

And then there's what I'm calling the third possibility: That the thing he's seeing in my uterus is neither a fibroid nor a simple distortion of my uterus. Of course, I'm automatically freaking out thinking "CANCER!" but I don't know whether that concern is warranted or not. It certainly crossed my mind, but I don't know if it has crossed the doctor's mind. I know it's not really worth spending too much time worrying about at this point, and I'm trying REALLY HARD not to worry about it, but it's hard. I'm a mom, and a wife. I'm 35. I'm not prepared for that.

Anyway. So, the surgery... I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before but I've never been put under general anesthesia. My only surgery was my C-section with Super Boy in 2003, and I was awake for that with an epidural and pain meds.

The idea of general anesthesia completely - COMPLETELY - wigs me out. There are risks with that. Bad risks. My worst fears are DYING while under (top worry), or waking up from the anesthesia but being sick as a dog with vomiting (many, many thanks to my vomit-phobia for that). I look at both as unacceptable risks!

And I find myself wondering if they can't just give me an epidural or do it the way my colonoscopy was done (with Versed and fentanyl), so that I can be kept conscious for the hysteroscopy but not feel anything or be stressed and anxious during it. Can they do it that way? MUST I be put under for this? Because I'm telling you right now, if they MUST put me under for it, then we better get the friggin' surgery scheduled SOON so I don't have too many more days to spend freaking out over it, and they'll probably want to put me on some anxiety medication leading up to it so I can keep from climbing the walls until the day rolls around. I'm dead serious about that.

The only - ONLY - upside to the procedure Wednesday was that the doctor was able to see how well the Clomid was working. Both of my ovaries had several visibly developing egg follicles, so I definitely responded well to the medication. That's a good sign. Assuming we're able to go ahead with IUI next month - or ever - that is.

In the meantime, Super Man and I have been instructed NOT to try to conceive this month on our own and the IUI has been postponed. I can't tell you what a let-down that was for me when I heard the news. Here I had already taken 5 days of Clomid and gotten all jazzed up over the good test results that were coming in, and then the brakes were slammed on the whole thing due to the HSN. If all had gone well on Wednesday, I'd have had my mid-cycle ultrasound this morning, might've gotten an hCG shot today, and would've been going in for IUI tomorrow or later this weekend. I might've gotten pregnant this month. It's SO HARD to not feel sad knowing that. My mind was ready and my body was ready, but for the stupid uterine thing.

But then I think about the fact that I've been waiting, waiting, waiting for nearly four years now. Thinking about it that way, another month isn't the end of the world. Not really.

Still though... it's hard. Because after all those years worth of months spent waiting, for the past few weeks things have FINALLY been moving forward, quickly and well. I have felt positively elated the past few weeks, filled as I was with new hope and optimism. It felt sooooo good to feel that way again...

For me, hope for another baby has become SUCH a fragile and rare and blessed thing. I have to have reason to hope, because without it, I feel so empty. I don't want to feel empty.

So I sit again and wait. Wait for the doctor's office to call to schedule the surgery. Wait to find out what the issue with my uterus is. Wait to find out if I can even keep trying to have a baby or whether we've hit the brick wall I've been dreading.

I wait.

Please, whatever good thoughts and prayers you can send, please send them. And I am begging - literally, begging - God to give me strength and patience and peace with whatever comes next.

With hope,
SW

something new

2009-09-22T20:35:00.003-05:00

I learned something today that I didn't know before, despite the fact that the subject has been of increasing importance to me since about the age of 27.

Why 27? Because that's how old I was when I had my FSH (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) level tested for the first time. And I had it tested then because of my family history of premature menopause. See, Super Man and I planned to start trying to conceive the following year and I had spent the prior 12 years on the Pill, so my OB-GYN and I wanted to be sure I hadn't gone through premature menopause, the symptoms of which would've been masked by the effects of the Pill.

I've known all along that FSH is one of the best predictors of female fertility, but I didn't really understand what the numbers meant. When I had my first test at 27, I never thought to ask what my actual number was, only whether it was "normal" or "abnormal." It turned out to be normal (and, thus, we conceived Super Boy several months later). I didn't give it a second thought again, until we started trying for another baby.

I'm not sure what my FSH level was when I had it tested back in 2006; again, I only heard that it was "normal." Again, I didn't think much about it, because I thought that was sort of all set.

It's only been going through the process of a Clomid challenege that I've really started wondering WHAT DO THE NUMBERS MEAN?!?

My Day 3 result was 7.8, which my fertility specialist said was great, as they like to see values less than 10.2. I took Clomid from Friday of last week until yesterday (Monday), and had another FSH test - Day 10 - this morning. The result today was 7.4, and again, I was told that this was "great," and "exactly what we wanted to see."

But I didn't understand WHY this was great and what they wanted to see, so I asked. The nurse told me that the whole goal of the Clomid is to drop your FSH number by a few tenths of a point. They would've been concerned if it had stayed the same or gotten higher, but a drop is exactly what they wanted to see.

All of a sudden, this lightbulb went on in my head and I asked the nurse if a woman's FSH level steadily increases through the course of her life. She said yes. So now, of course, I'm wondering what my 2001 and 2006 levels were! I'd love to see how much lower my FSH was, especially in '01, to really get a sense of how much my fertility has declined in the past 8 years, from 27 to 35.

And it also occurred to me that the goal of the Clomid - in a way - is to cause your body to act more like it did during a more fertile time. Almost like turning back the clock just a tiny little bit. While the net effect was only .4, that could make all the difference in the world. It could cause my ovaries to release that one extra mature egg that will make the difference between me getting pregnant and me NOT getting pregnant. It's staggering, if you think about it.

It's frustrating though, because I'm trying to find some information on the Internet showing what "average" FSH levels are in women of different ages (say, from onset of menstruation through old age), but all I'm finding is that a result less than ___ (my doctor uses 10.2, but others say 9, and some even say 12) is normal, and then they talk about the approximate FSH levels based on the different "stages" of reproductive capacity. In a nutshell, by the time a woman starts menopause, her FSH levels will be around 30, and that will increase to a level that eventually tops off somewhere between 50 and 70, when menopause is complete. I never knew that bit of information either, so I guess I learned TWO things today.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this business of assisted reproductive medicine is a whole lot more complex than I ever imagined. Sure, specialists do a lot of different test and ultimately what matters is a result of "normal" versus "abnormal," but it helps to understand the actual numbers and to get a sense of the big picture. And FSH is only one part of the equation; other hormones like LH (leutinizing hormone), progesterone, estradiol and prolactin also have their own impact on fertility. For my purposes, those numbers all look good for me, so that obviously makes me pretty happy. I just hope that it's enough to lead us to another baby for our family.

Next steps for me are as follows:

TOMORROW: Hysterosonogram to check my uterine fibroid AND I start using the Ovulation Predictor Kit. Assuming all is okay on the fibroid front, we move forward. If my fertility doctor feels that the fibroid has to come out, then the IUI is put on hold until next month and I schedule the fibroid removal surgery instead. Here's hoping it's the former and not the latter, as I'd hate to see this put on hold now that we've come this far!

THURSDAY: Day 2 of the Ovulation Predictor Kit.

FRIDAY: Day 3 of the Ovulation Predictor Kit AND a mid-cycle ultrasound to see how many egg follicles - and, specifically, mature egg follicles - are developing. That will help them assess whether the IUI is likely to succeed and whether my body is ready for a shot of hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) to force ovulation to occur the following day. If the follicles are ready, I MAY get the shot and then we'd have our first IUI (intrauterine insemination) procedure on Saturday. If the follicles are not ready, then they'll give it an extra day or two, MAYBE give me the shot of hCG and then do the insemination the next day.

About the hCG shot: I really don't like to take any medications that I don't "need," so I'm hoping that my Ovulation Predictor Kit will indicate on Friday that my LH surge is happening the following day so that I'm ready for the insemination on Saturday WITHOUT needing the shot on Friday. That said, if I forego the shot on Friday and still don't have a smiley face on my Ovulation Predictor by Sunday, I'll have to get the hCG shot on Sunday and we'll have to do the IUI on Monday. And that will be a "must" by that point because Super Man has a business trip early next week and we could miss the very narrow window if we wait for me to ovulate naturally. We don't want that to happen!

SATURDAY or SUNDAY or MONDAY: IUI

So, whenever I actually end up having the IUI done, that's sort of the end of the action. And then... we wait.

Two. Long. Weeks.

I think I'm going to have to do some SERIOUS fall cleaning and purging and reorganizing during those two weeks to keep my mind and body occupied while I wait. Otherwise, I'm likely to drive myself and everyone around me bonkers. (You know it's true.)

Keeping my fingers - and everything else - crossed that this all goes the way we hope and pray it will. Will keep you all posted. And hey - thanks SO MUCH for all the support. Whether we have another baby or not, we are so blessed.

Love,
SW

my little experiment

2009-09-22T09:34:00.003-05:00

So, I may have posted on my blog awhile ago that I was considering a return to school. Right? Hm... let me check...

Ah, yes - here it is.

When I last wrote about my little contemplation, I neglected to say what my desired field of study would be. Not sure WHY I was being all mysterioso about it, but whatever.

What I'm most interested in learning is graphic and web design.

Wanna know why? Well, the reasons are several.

First and foremost? Given that you're reading this blog that I write, I'd love to be able to make my blog look the way I REALLY WANT IT TO. Which is not the way that it looks right now. I'll be honest: I use the standard layout that Blogger provides, and then I get my free backgrounds from Aqua Poppy. I love the backgrounds (most of the time), but I really don't love the layout of the blog. I'd love to know how to write the code to design my own blog, and then also have the graphic design skills to make my OWN backgrounds, etc. I feel like a technological moron about these things, and I'm really tired of that. So, yes, making my blog TRULY reflect what I love and what I'm about is the primary reason I want to learn these skills.

A very close second is that I have a super strong gut feeling that learning how to create beautiful graphics and web pages would be one of the very few ways in which I'll ever be able to truly show my artistic side. Because I can't draw - or paint - for shit. And I mean that, literally. My 6 year-old son draws and paints better than I. But to have the power of the KNOWLEDGE of the mighty design software products on my side could unleash all the great works of art I've had pent up inside me for nearly 36 years. Alright, I might be over-dramatizing this just a smidge, but there is definitely a kernel of truth at its heart.

Third, I know that I will not be working in my prior field of study: Psychology and Social Welfare. I have no desire to go back to school for a Master's Degree or PhD at this point in my life. Which means that I need to think about what the next half of my career is going to be about. And I really can't imagine a more fun form of WORK than creating things that are artistic and new for myself and others. Not to mention that this is a great field for freelancers, and I'm all about the freelancing movement.

Anyway, I'm saying all of this in part to draw your attention to something NEW on my blog, something you haven't seen before. Something that I managed to create with my own mouse-clicking hands, after a brief software tutorial the night before from Super Man, the graphic design guru of my world.

Don't know what it is?

Oh, come on - sure you do! Look closely....

Got it?

My new TITLE LOGO!! Yes, friends, your old pal Super Woman made that. And I was SO proud of it after I managed to MAKE it and then figured out how to size it to get it to FIT in my header!

I started with a photo that I took of one of the mammoth sunflowers in my garden, Photoshopped it a bit to brighten it up, increase the contrast, and then do some more artistic stuff to it, and then I created the text and situated that in the picture the way I wanted it, and PRESTO - I was done.

I'm not kidding you, I was LITERALLY bursting with pride over this. I couldn't wait to show Super Man that I had actually learned something during his teaching session with me the night before.

So, when Super Man came home and I giddily dragged him by the hand over to my laptop to show him, his response was NOT what I expected.

He said that the picture looked great... BUT - I could sense the BUT coming even before he spoke it.

BUT you should never stretch a font ("Average").

BUT you should never use more than two fonts (I used four).

BUT you shouldn't constrain everything to a rectangular shape. (Self-explanatory.)

BUT you should've blocked out the red windowsill and other colors in the background on the lower left of the picture because they compete with the main image too much and draw the eye away. (Oh, shut up.)

My elation vanished. I wanted to stick my tongue out at Super Man. (Okay, fine, I actually did stick my tongue out at him.) I told him he was mean.

His signature brows shot up as he said, "Honey, if you want to become a good graphic designer, you're going to have to accept 'constructive' criticism! I'm SUPER proud of you for even attempting to do this, much less doing it - I just want to teach you the proper ways to design graphics, that's all."

My response?

"Well, for your information, I INTENTIONALLY used four different fonts, because I wanted the logo to reflect the eclectic, quirky nature of my blog and what I write about. And I personally LIKE the background colors in the picture - I think they add something to the photo. And I WANTED the logo to be a long rectangle, to fit nicely in the space of that yellow petal of the sunflower. And I LOVE the way 'Average' looks stretched. So leave me alone. Meany."

He hugged me and said, "But I still think you should try again, and just follow my suggestions and see what you come up with."

I said, "Fine. But not right now. I like this the way it is for now, I really do. Maybe next month."

"But why?" he asked, clearly not thrilled with my choice.

"Because it took me two and a half hours to do THIS, dude. Now get off my back."

So, here's to my little graphic design experiment. Whether you love it or hate it, I love it. And I made it all by myself. Good, bad or otherwise. :)

Maybe my October attempt will be more successful...? Then again, maybe not!

Peace out,
SW

7.8

2009-09-16T17:53:00.003-05:00

7.8

That was my FSH level as tested yesterday, on Day 3 of my cycle. And that's effing AWESOME!

My fertility specialist wanted it to be below 10.2, or 12 at the very top, but we don't need to worry about that now, because my number was TOTALLY NORMAL. As were the other blood tests they ran yesterday.

What does that mean?

That means that Mama starts clomiphene citrate (aka: Clomid) tomorrow and takes it until Monday.

That means that - hopefully, if my repeat FSH next Tuesday AND my hysterosonogram next Wednesday both look good - we'll be doing IUI next weekend or early the following week.

That means that - hopefully - I'll be getting a plus sign on my pregnancy tests in about four weeks.

I don't remember who said it - Dickinson, perhaps? - but "hope is the thing with wings."

How true, how true.

Much love,
SW

an ending and a beginning

2009-09-13T12:28:00.003-05:00

I got my period today.

When it didn't come on the 28th day - yesterday - as usual, I caught myself feverishly hoping that I would be one of the lucky ones to which my fertility specialist referred at my appointment last week. Meaning that I hoped that my period wouldn't come because I somehow managed to conceive during the past month, that my body had been scared straight at the mere threat of fertility treatments after laying stubbornly dormant for three and a half years.

Eh, no.

My heart - dangling tenuously since last night on a teensy-tiny thread of hope - dropped when I saw the telltale red, and I closed my eyes and cursed my body for betraying me yet again.

But then I remembered that seeing red isn't so bad this time around. Because this time, it marks a new beginning.

The beginning of a new road that might - MIGHT - end without me seeing red next month.

Now that I've gotten my dreaded period, I can proceed with the tests the fertility doctor wanted me to get.

On Tuesday, I'll have the Day 3 FSH test, and if that goes well, it'll be checked again on Day 10, after I take a Clomid Challenge. In the meantime, later this week or early next, I'll have a hysterosonogram to check the fibroid in my uterus. And - if all of these things go well - we'll try our first insemination cycle later this month.

I could be pregnant at this time a month from now.

Hope is a dangerous, dangerous thing after all this time; believe me, I know that. But how can I not hope when the whole situation is going to be different this month? Besides, people are always talking about the power of positive thinking; if it's true that positive thinking can help attract what you most want in your life, then how could I do anything other than hope?

And so I'll embrace this unwanted red - this time. Because it marks this new beginning. The new beginning that will hopefully lead me to a better ending in October.

I pray, I pray, I pray...

Hopefully yours,
SW

P.S. I know that a vast majority of my recent posts have focused on my struggles with secondary infertility. I'm sure many of you are fine with that, but there are probably some who aren't, for whatever reasons. I can't apologize for that because it just so happens to be a major focus of my life right now, and my life is what I write about. I will, however, give you my word that this blog is NOT becoming a Capital I Capital B "Infertility Blog". It has always been - and will remain - a blog about a little of everything. So please have patience as I get through the next several weeks, and we'll see where we end up. Thanks in advance, readers!!

Secondary Infertility: First Doctor Appointment

2009-09-08T16:07:00.002-05:00

First step: Done! Today I met with a fertility specialist for the first time.

Holy nerves, Batman! All morning I was a mess, anticipating both the best - and the worst - of what could've come from today's appointment. I didn't answer my phone, I didn't call my mom or my husband to speculate about what the appointment would hold.

Instead, I spent the morning (a) having a long - and tear-filled - conversation with God and (b) taking Super Dog for a good long walk to clear my mind and calm my nerves before showering and heading to the appointment.

Still, when I sat in the consultation room first meeting with a resident to go through my history and prior test results and then waiting for the doctor to come discuss my options (praying that he'd use the plural and not the singular - or worse), my palms sweat and my heart pounded while my lungs would not fully inflate. That's always fun.

When at last the doctor came in, I found him to be not overly warm, but definitely focused and straight-forward, which I appreciated. And here's what he said.

A large chunk of what may or may not come hinges on the results of one particular test: the FSH test. It's a test I've had twice before: first, in '01, the year before I conceived Super Boy, and second, in July of '06, a few months after we started trying to conceive a second time. Both times I had this test, it was to determine whether or not I had gone through premature menopause because, as you might recall, my mom and paternal grandmother both went through it very early, which may have a significant impact on my own fertility. Anyway, I'll be repeating this test early next week.

Assuming, that is, that my fickle reproductive system didn't suddenly decide to WORK knowing that my visit to the fertility specialist was imminent! Apparently this doctor has had that happen with two patients in recent months. Here's hoping I'm the third! We'll know this weekend, as my period is due on Saturday. (Wow, aren't you glad you know that about me? Don't worry - I'll wait while you go bleach your brain. ... Good? Okay, let's proceed.)

FSH, for those who are not well-versed in the language of infertility, stands for "follicle-stimulating hormone." FSH is a hormone found in the blood that helps control a woman's menstrual cycle and the ovaries' production of eggs, and hits a peak each month just before a woman releases an egg from an ovary. It also helps doctors determine a woman's egg supply, or ovarian reserve.

I'll need to have this blood test on Day 3 of my cycle. What we want to see is a number that is no higher than about 10-12. If the number is greater than that - specifically if it's a LOT higher than that, then we might be at the end of this journey to have a second baby short of trying IVF (in vitro fertilization), which we've decided we aren't going to pursue. If, however, the number is less than about 12, that's a GOOD sign. (This, obviously, is what we're praying for.) The doctor also wants to check my prolactin level, which seems to be the one blood test my regular OB/GYN did not order over the past few years. I think this will be done at the same time as my FSH.

If we end up with the GOOD FSH result, then the doctor will next do a Clomid challenge. This means that I'll be put on oral clomiphene citrate for about four days in the hopes that the medication will stimulate my ovaries to release a few good eggs during ovulation. Next, the doctor will re-check my FSH level at Day 10 and, assuming my level looks good, will then try IUI, otherwise known as "intrauterine insemination."

Think turkey baster! Well, not quite a turkey baster - more like a syringe filled with a "cleaned" concentration of Super Man's swimmers that will be injected straight into my uterus, bypassing the usual cervical route and giving the guys a better chance of hitting their intended target (... or targets!).

Yes, that's correct: The procedure could result in multiples. The doctor said it happens in about 7% of cases, with the majority of those being twins. Frankly, I'd be okay with that. I always imagined myself having three or four kids but Super Man and I agreed on two when we met and got married, because he already had Super Girl. So, if we end up with one more than we hoped to have, it's far better than the other alternative of NO more, and it's just an added blessing in our book.

One potential snag in the plan - aside from my FSH level being high at the Day 3 test - is the uterine fibroid that the radiologost found during my HSG (hysterosalpingogram) back in June. The radiologist said it was "small", but neglected to take or provide measurements on his report of the procedure, so the fertility specialist wants to take a better look at that by way of a hysterosonogram (a trans-vaginal ultrasound of the uterus following the injection of saline into the uterus). That will take place late next week or early the following week.

Apparently fibroids can interfere with conception if they're of a certain size, and depending on their location. If after the hysterosonogram the fertility specialist wants to remove the fibroid to improve my odds of conceiving, the IUI may be put on hold until next month so I can have surgery (laparoscopy) to remove the fibroid first.

That's all of my required tests/procedures, but Super Man has a little work to do, too. Although, as you might imagine, his "work" is slightly more fun than mine! ;)

Super Man has to provide a new "sample" later this week so they can verify the results from earlier this year (which were analyzed by an outside lab, not their own), and then - assuming all checks out as expected and he really does have Super Sperm - he'll have to provide another "sample" when they do the IUI. His good swimmers will then be separated out from all the other junk and injected straight into the Promised Land, where they will hopefully accomplish their intended purpose. So, yeah, the dude TOTALLY got the easy end of this deal! ;)

I can't tell you how relieved I am at this moment. I realize that this is not the end of the journey; and for that, I'm truly grateful. I'm just glad to know that we still have reason to hope. I tried my best to prepare myself either way, and we may still come to an unwanted end of the road. But that didn't happen today. And I'm so very, very glad.

Peace and love,
Super Woman

a step in the right direction

2009-09-02T16:30:00.005-05:00

Next week marks the beginning of a new phase in my and Super Man's journey to have a second baby together: I'll be seeing a fertility specialist on Tuesday afternoon.

As you might expect, I'm a jumble of emotions right now as next Tuesday draws near.

On the one hand, I'm obviously extremely excited, hopeful and optimistic: These are the folks who have worked miracles for many others in our position. They know what to check for and what to do if they find fertility problems. Up to this point, all our tests have come back normal, so we don't technically have a specific fertility problem that they know of, but clearly SOMETHING is not right somewhere in the mix because I'm not pregnant! I want to put total faith in this doctor, and believe that he will give us another little miracle. I do. (I do.)

On the other hand, however... I'm scared. I'm scared that since these ARE the experts, and they WILL be doing more tests, they will find the thing that's not working right that will explain all of this. And I'm afraid that it won't be something good. Or fixable. In other words, I fear the worst.

It's like we've come to a fork in the road and while either path we wind up on will lead us to an end of the road, one of those ends is NOT the one we want to come to. That's the one where we have no more choices, no more options, where this decision will be made for us. The one that means our family is staying the size it's at right now. Only I want to be on the path that takes us to the GOOD end, the end that results in me conceiving and giving birth to another healthy and wonderful baby in the near future.

It's hard to think about that. And yet, there's a part of me that has grown weary of the giant question mark hanging over our lives. I've lived with that question mark for the better part of four years now, and I know I can't bear it much longer. I'm at the point now where I want answers. I need them.

Even if the news is not what I want to hear, I need to hear it so I can close this chapter of my life and move forward once and for all. I'm under no illusion that it will be an easy thing to do, but do it I will if that's the only option left.

But I hope it doesn't come to that. I catch myself day-dreaming about how this will all end, and in my day-dreams, the fertility doctor does a few more tests, says, "Oh, it's just _____, and we can do ____ to correct it, and you should be pregnant very soon!" And then I picture myself pregnant again, feeling a new little life move in my belly as my body grows round and lush, and I picture Super Boy welcoming a new baby into our family with excitement and love, and his excitement and pride at becoming a big brother. And then I picture myself happily packing up my maternity clothes for the last time and sending them on to the next mom-to-be.

Realistic? I can't say. But I can't help it. Without that hope, what's the point?

I beg you... please send prayers/good thoughts/baby dust this way that we will get the happy ending that we're hoping for. Please.

You know that I'll keep updating as I have more information. In the meantime, I thank you again, as always, for reading this blog and for sharing your comments, support and experiences. It means a lot to me to know that the things I write about here touch others in ways that are meaningful and useful, and I'm always grateful to find out that there are others out there who have walked in my shoes, whether it's with the fertility stuff, the blended family stuff, the wacky vomit-phobia, or anything else I've shared here. It's always easier to deal with something difficult when there's someone walking beside you. So THANK YOU!

Truly,
SW

mixed emotions

2009-08-26T22:34:00.002-05:00

For the past two summers, I've struggled with the start of the new school year.

One part of me is terribly excited for Super Boy to embark on another fun adventure of learning, apart from me and life at home, where he's becoming his own person. He loves school, loves his classmates, has a passion for learning, and does just fine. I also enjoy having my days to do housework, run errands, meet friends for coffee, workout, and write.

The other part of me feels sad at the prospect of not having my little buddy with me all day everyday, and hates the coming-to-an-end of summer and losing the freedom of doing whatever we want with our days as we go back to having a set schedule for nine solid months.

Today was "Meet the Teacher" day at Super Boy's school. It went well. He didn't get the teacher he was hoping for, but the teacher he got is a fine teacher, nonetheless, and I'm sure he'll end up being very glad he is in this class once he's into the swing of things.

It's always strange to adjust to a new teacher and a new classroom though. For Super Boy and for me.

I'm trying something a little different this year as far as my involvement in school is concerned. For the past two years, I've been a co-room parent; this year, I opted not to sign up for that position. That said, I noticed as I was leaving this afternoon that no one had signed up yet, so I told the teacher that I was available to do it if need be, but I intentionally wanted to leave the opportunity open to other parents this year.

Instead, I signed up to help out in other ways in the classroom: helping with library time (which I also did in Sr. Kindergarten), bringing in supplies or treats for the class parties, etc.

I have mixed feelings about my approach for this year, because I really liked being a room parent, and I know Super Boy liked having me as a room parent and frequently seeing me in the classroom. It also seems like few parents really want to take on that responsibility, for whatever reasons. I guess I'm odd in that way. Part of me hopes that the teacher ended up having two other parents sign up for the spots, and yet another part of me hopes that he still needs someone to volunteer so I can continue doing something I've enjoyed.

Either way, the new school year is starting next week. Ready or not, here it comes!

Best wishes to all of your children as they embark on another year of learning!!

Super Woman

oh, sweet summer

2009-08-17T21:36:00.003-05:00

I'm not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.

You are the one season I look forward to during all the other cold months of the year. While the leaves fall, and the snow flies and the rain comes down in sheets, I dream only of you.

You are lovely, lush, abundant, warm, inviting. You make it possible for me to wear shorts and tank tops and swimsuits every single day. Because of you, I can feel the warm sun on my bare skin and take a dip in the cool waters of a pool or lake or pond. I can nap in my (new) hammock in the sun. I can spend LOTS of pleasant, comfortable time outdoors.

When you are here, I can walk barefoot. I love the feel of soft, hot sand or warm, verdant grass between my toes, cushioning my step. (Except when there's dog poop in the area, which is pretty much ALL THE TIME in my backyard. But that's another story.)

When you are here, it means that Super Boy is home with me all day, every day. I love that. During the blissful days of summer, we are able to fly by the seat of our pants, explore what we want to, when we want to. We can be lazy out in our own yard, or have picnics or go swimming or play at a park. Super Boy loves you just about as much as I do, although the lure of snow still calls to him in winter, the season I most dread. Of course, that's probably because I'm the one doing the majority of the shoveling and snow blowing, so really, who can blame me?

Speaking of Super Boy, as you draw to an end, o inimitable summer, it also marks the return to school for my little man. It's always a bittersweet thing for me, sending him on his way for another school year. There's of course some excitement in it, because I know how much Super Boy misses seeing all his friends all day long five days out of the week, and because he so enjoys learning new things and being able to tell me all about them at the end of his days. But there's sadness in this return as well, because it means that we're tied to a schedule again, we must wake up early and go to bed early again, and our days are no longer our own.

As always, dear sweet summer, I will continue to honor you until you blow your last warm breath (which, hopefully, won't be until end of October... I beg you) by leaving my moonroof open until it's too cold to bear it, sleeping with my windows open at night so you can continue to caress our sleeping forms, and spending as much time in anything other than jeans and real shoes for as long as my delicate, tender skin can take it.

I love you, summer. Please don't leave me.

Passionately yours,
SW

I've become "that" woman...

2009-08-17T21:34:00.000-05:00

The one in the room full of wonderfully, blessedly fertile woman who everyone else looks at with pity and discomfort immediately after another of their ranks announces she's pregnant. It's even worse when the newly pregnant have already "lapped" me in pregnancy before.

It's awful and awkward. It's incredibly, unbelievably uncomfortable. I don't know how to look back at everyone upon hearing the wonderful news and adequately express my genuine happiness and joy for the newly pregnant one without betraying the sadness and shame and embarrassment I feel inside for not being "one of them." And I don't know what to say or how to say it to put them at ease either. I know that my inevitable "Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations!" comes out sounding just a little bit too cheerful, but I can't help it - I'm obviously over-compensating because I don't WANT to be the one no one wants to tell that happiest of news to.

It is, in a word, a nightmare.

Nonetheless, after three-and-a-half years of trying to conceive a second child without success, I knew it was bound to happen eventually, my metamorphosis into "that" woman. It was easy enough for everyone to hang with me in optimism and hope through the first year that we tried to conceive, and even through most of the second year. Almost that entire time, everyone who knew me felt totally comfortable and at ease asking me how that was all going and where we were at, etc., as the inevitable question came up often by the time Super Boy was 18-24 months: "So, are you guys planning to have more?" It was a perfectly reasonable question and I had no problem answering it, thinking as I did that it would happen "soon."

But I actually had my first taste of being The Last One to Find Out about a new pregnancy last year after a friend got pregnant with her third baby in a half-dozen years. It hurt being the last one to hear the great news, and yet it was precisely because of my struggles to conceive that she didn't want to tell me, in the hopes of sparing my feelings.

I know that those around me who know how long we've tried and how much I've agonized over this care about me and Super Man, and would love nothing more than to see us get our wish of another child. I think that most people don't try to be hurtful when it comes to that issue, and I'm enormously grateful for that. I just wish there was a way to make them understand that by treating me ANY differently than anyone else in sharing their pregnancy news only makes me feel worse, different... other. I want to be able to celebrate with them and share in their joy without having to feel like the pink elephant in the room.

Because the thing is, I never in a million years thought I'd find myself here, being "that" woman. We conceived Super Boy in three months, for crying out loud! And I was only 32 when we started trying for a second baby, when Super Boy was three, so we had every reason to believe that it would only take a few months to conceive again.

I cannot tell you how surprised I was when six months had gone by with no second pink lines or plus signs showing up on my pregnancy tests month after month. Or how absolutely flabbergasted I was when TWELVE months of the same had gone by.

By 24 months, I was definitely feeling some despair, both because I was still lacking the thing I want most, and because our insurance at the time was abysmal and wouldn't cover any testing to figure out what the problem was. It felt like the worst kind of limbo at the time, but I've come to find out that this new place I'm in is definitely worse.

After 36+ months of trying, even I feel more than a little pathetic, and like maybe this is hopeless. Despair doesn't even begin to cover how it feels. How can I blame anyone else for thinking that when they look at me after another friend or acquaintance announces their good news?

Since changing insurances, we've been fortunate to be able to pursue fertility testing, but the results have been "good news/bad news." The good news is that they're not finding a clear problem to pin the lack of conception on. The bad news is that despite the good news, they can't tell us why we're not getting pregnant after more than three years of trying.

This troubles me. This gnaws away at me month after month as I try to somehow pay closer attention to my body during what is supposed to be my "fertile time." Frankly, I'm wondering if I even HAVE a "fertile time," because it sure doesn't seem like I do! We've tried to target every day, every other day, every three days, starting a few days before, and continuing to try a few days after the supposed window... Nothing has worked.

I've laid in bed for 20 minutes afterward with my legs in the air, pillows under my ass, in crazy yoga poses with my feet all the way over my head and NOTHING.

I've tried Reiki, putting special stones that are supposed to enhance fertility over my abdomen, prayer and NOTHING.

All of this nothing is hard for an aging girl to take, I've gotta say. Between being 35 now and the potential for premature menopause breathing down my back due to the family history on both sides, with each month that ends in bloodshed my hope dwindles more.

It

is

Hell.

I see my ob-gyn again in a few weeks for my annual. While she has been the one to order all of my and Super Man's tests and has run the show thus far, I'll be asking her to recommend some fertility specialists now. While I appreciate the steps she's taken, I feel like we're spinning our wheels and getting nowhere while the clock keeps ticking away. I need someone who can HELP us figure this out, to tell us what's not working and help us find the solution to the problem. If there is one...

And, if there's not, I just want to know. I need to know.

At this point, EVERY other aspect of my life is hinging on the question of second baby or no second baby. I feel more in limbo in my own life now than I ever have before. Because this is a HUGE chapter of my life, and it's one I'm not mentally ready to close the door on yet. If that door is closed for me, due to some problem that is out of our hands, that changes things. But until I know one way or the other, I cannot close that door yet.

I envy the women who had the precise number of kids they wanted to have and then made the CHOICE to be done, to "get fixed" or have their husbands fixed. They got the family they wanted and were able to prepare themselves for and come peacefully to the decision to close that phase of their lives. They were able to pack up and get rid of all the maternity clothes, the baby clothes, all the baby gear, all the random sippy cups still hiding in the corners of their kitchen cabinets. They were able to ditch the electric breast pumps, the bottles, the bibs. They could give away the potty seats/chairs, the sweet little baby bathtub, the infant car seats and strollers. They could take a few nostalgic photos and then paint over the nursery walls and move on to the big kid decor once and for all.

For me, I expected to follow in those footsteps. I expected that we would have the family we envisioned as we planned our life together all those years ago, to savor the two healthy, successful pregnancies we wanted. I thought I would get to care for two newborns, to nurse two babies, to raise two children together. I envisioned us bidding our farewell to all of the baby business and STUFF eventually, feeling content with that decision, that choice, even if it was a bit sad to think there would be no more babies.

To know at this point that I don't HAVE that choice, that I can't DO all of that, is frustrating. I feel cheated. I loved being pregnant with Super Boy. I LOVED it. Not the nausea those first few weeks, but EVERY other aspect of pregnancy was magical to me. I have always looked forward to experiencing it a second time. Especially these last two years of me being at home, because I could enjoy a more leisurely pace without a full-time job in the mix, and I could help ease Super Boy into being a big brother. I also looked forward to it because I'd be able to be home full-time with a second baby now to really experience all of the firsts this time, which was not my experience with Super Boy, much to my sadness. I don't want to move on from that hope until I'M ready to.

Is this a decision I can control? Well, sure - I suppose I could just say, "You know what? Forget it - I'm done with the drama of this. I will CHOOSE to be done having children." But in my heart of hearts, I know that I'm NOT done. And as long as I'm still fertile - and Super Man (who is older than I) still wants to tackle the whole newborn thing with me - I don't think I can make that choice to stop trying. Heck, even if I COULD do that, with my luck, about three years AFTER THAT would be about the time my body would stop screwing around and I'd get pregnant!

I do not wish any of this on anyone, be it those trying for their first, their second or their sixth. To ever want a baby and not be able to have one is a unique brand of heartache. It's different for each of us experiencing it, to be sure, but there is nothing like the feeling of that hole, that place where something - someone - is missing in a woman's heart.

For all of you who struggle with fertility problems, my thoughts and very best wishes are with you. While my "baby dust" doesn't appear to work very well, I send you what I can, and I hope that it's what you need.

Lots of love,
SW

How Much is Enough?

2009-08-03T15:58:00.002-05:00

Super Boy is six. Since he was about 12- or 18-months old, we've had him in classes of one sort or another, in part for education and in part for pure enjoyment. Obviously, as he's gotten older, the number of things he's interested in has increased, so choices often have to be made about which classes to "invest" in and which to leave for another time. The question is, how much is enough?

I found myself in a tough spot a few summers ago after signing Super Boy up for too many activities and classes, to the point where I felt like I had to schedule the rest of the summer around the classes. NOT good.

Then last summer I pretty much went too far in the other direction with not quite enough to do to break up the monotony of the normal day-to-day stuff. I can't even tell you how many times I heard the phrase every parent dreads and despises: "I'm BORED!"

This summer, I think I finally hit the sweet spot, so to speak. Hooray for me!

Super Boy has had a few all-day education classes - three, to be precise - on neat topics at our local zoo, and he took a martial arts class through the local rec department that was twice a week for six weeks, and now this week he's enrolled in a nature class through the parks department that takes place each morning for three hours. It's literally been the perfect mix of opportunities for Super Boy without dictating every minute of our days. After this week, he has absolutely NOTHING on the activity schedule until the start of school, and that's just fine by me!

We've been somewhat lucky, in retrospect, that June and July were cooler than average in our area. That's not to say that we haven't been to the pool or beach at all, but I will say that we've been there less than I originally would have liked. That said, with the bulk of Super Boy's activities taking place in July, I'm actually glad that now we'll have the month of August to just play and fly by the seat of our pants without classes interrupting the day. And I have a feeling that the temps will heat up a bit this month, making journeys to the beach and pool much more enjoyable.

As I look ahead to fall, however, I find myself wondering if my luck will hold up in terms of knowing just the right balance of activities to complement school and normal life.

Super Boy is already registered to participate in U7 soccer for the '09-'10 season; he's been playing since the ripe old age of 3, but the '08-'09 season on a U6 team was the first where actual games were played, and it's only going to get more technical and time-intensive as Super Boy advances through the ranks. I'd also like to get him back into swim lessons, which thankfully are only once a week, but the trick is registering for the prime class (the weekday afternoon) before all the slots are full. I'm usually woefully late and miss out on that class, and we end up either passing on that seven-week session or taking a spot in the middle of each Saturday afternoon, which I loathe.

But I have NO IDEA what to expect in terms of homework with Super Boy entering first grade this year. He rarely had any in Senior Kindergarten this past year, but he had occasional homework in Junior Kindergarten the year before, so I'm at least expecting some this year. I just want to be sure that we set the right tone now that school and homework come first, and if activities must be cut to keep up, then so be it.

We've witnessed first-hand Super Girl's struggles with finding the right balance, and we really hope to avoid that with Super Boy. Super Girl's mom has always enrolled her in multiple activities at a time, and that's fine while kids are trying out different things to figure out where their interests lie. However, a few years ago when Super Girl got into volleyball, basketball AND softball, there was significant overlap in the seasons, particularly when she started playing on a club (or select) volleyball team on top of the school and/or Y team(s). It got to the point where she rarely had a free afternoon after school or a free weekend day to just be a kid and relax or spend time with friends, and it was also having a major impact on our schedule with her, seeing as how we only have her every other weekend and she was in select tournaments or had practices to attend nearly every weekend. It also started to affect her grades in school for the worse, and it ultimately boiled down to making Super Girl choose which sports to invest her time (and her parents' money) in going forward, based on which activity(ies) she enjoyed best and showed the most talent at. Volleyball is her clear favorite, followed by basketball, so that's what she's focused on now, and it's helped tremendously for her to pare back a bit and really work on growing her technical skills, etc. instead of participating in a lot of different things without full effort.

I'm curious to hear from you readers about how you find this balance with your children, and how you help them manage their responsibilities to school, sports and other activities and still enjoy a normal childhood.

Thanks again for reading, and enjoy the rest of your summer!!

Your pal,
SW

Ah, summer....

2009-07-21T09:12:00.002-05:00

I love summer. I ADORE summer. I actually spend the other many loooonnnngggg - and, sadly, COLD - months of the year impatiently waiting for summer to come around.

But... when it's actually here, I sometimes find myself unmotivated to find new and exciting ways to enjoy it.

Heck, sometimes I even find myself unmotivated to find basic, SIMPLE ways to enjoy it.

Yesterday, for example. It was a beautiful day - mid-70s temps, blue skies with the occasional passing cloud. A perfect summer day, in other words. Want to know what Super Boy and I did?

N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

Yep, that's right - NOTHING!

I felt really agitated about that, but at the same time, I wasn't agitated enough to change it.

For starters, we had a busy weekend with lots of running around, so I think we were both a little bit pooped and in need of a day of rest. So, there was that.

Super Boy also had a headache during the day, and didn't feel like going to the park or on a long walk with the Super Dog, and I know how I feel when I have a headache, so I didn't push the issue.

The thing is, now the forecast for later this week is all RAIN and GLOOM, and I'm pissed at myself for squandering one perfect day yesterday knowing that THAT is what awaits us.

Our Wisconsin summer goes by way too fast, so I'm vowing - VOWING, people - to not let that kind of squandering happen again, unless it's intentional. Yesterday's squandering was more of an apathetic variety, and that's just not cool!

Off to wake the Super Boy, take a shower, eat breakfast and go enjoy the day!!

Your nutty pal,
SW

the best laid plans

2009-07-15T07:13:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I thought about how nice it would be to go to the beach with Super Boy today, since he's been wanting to go swimming for the past few days but I had too much to do for us to be able to go.

Anyway, I looked at today's weather forecast yesterday, thinking perhaps we could do it today. I was delighted at what I saw: "partly cloudy and 86." Perfect for a day at the beach, right?

So then I woke up this morning to find cloudy, gray skies and wet.

...What?? Where's my "partly cloudy skies?" Where's the sun!?!?

grumble, grumble, grumble

Maybe the sun will decide to stop by later on and we can just make it a half-day at the beach instead...?

Or maybe we'll just have to go tomorrow or Friday. That is, if I can have a shred of hope that the forecasts for either of those days will be accurate.

Not bloody likely.

Back to School

2009-07-13T11:50:00.002-05:00

I've been doing some thinking lately. Longer than lately, but still. I'm thinking about going back to school.

I've thought about it before, but never seriously. This time, however, I'm serious. And I've gotta admit, I'm a little excited at the thought.

Back when I was 27 or 28, I actually applied to law school, thinking that was the route I wanted to take in my career. I did okay on the LSAT, was wait-listed for several weeks at the one law school in my area to which I had applied, and then received a rejection letter when all was said and done.

It was devastating. I felt like a huge failure, even though receiving that news opened the door for the other major pursuit I'd been considering at the time, which was starting my family. Had I gotten accepted to law school, I'd have put off trying for a baby for another few years, and given what I'm going through now trying to have a second baby, God only knows if I'd have gotten pregnant. So, really, I'm glad that all worked out the way it did. Plus, after working closely with attorneys for a handful of years, it struck me that it really wasn't a profession I wanted to pursue. I enjoyed my role working with them, but ultimately decided that I didn't want to be ONE of them.

The whole subject of returning to school was then put on the back shelf for many years. Just a year or so ago, I finally came across that thought again. I dusted it off, examined it cautiously with a hint of interest, but felt that the timing just wasn't right. So back on the shelf it went.

But then, over the past few weeks, I've found that the thought has wriggled off it's shelf in the back of my mind and crept it's way up into my daily thoughts. Who knows, maybe it began its journey when I started becoming aware of feeling incredibly restless and trapped by my own intertia, and felt it had to do something to rescue me from it. Whatever the case, I'm glad it came back to the foreground of my thoughts.

My original Bachelor of Arts degree is in Psychology and Social Welfare. I worked not one moment in either of those fields. I just think that's important to point out.

Instead, my career path was a long and winding one that spanned 12 years prior to my leaving the workforce to stay at home and tend to Super Boy and our household. I don't regret that; not really. I learned SO much along the way, and found that one of my best qualities professionally is that I'm extremely adaptable, in that I'm not afraid to tackle new things and uncharted territory and make something great out of it.

That said, there are times when I kick myself for not being more thoughtful in choosing my major(s) more carefully the first time around. But, at 18, who REALLY knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives? At the time, I felt fairly certain that I wanted to be a pscyhologist and work with families and children. Unfortunately, I didn't realize at the time that I'd have to go on to earn a PhD in order to actually DO that. There was simply no way that I was going to spend another several years in school at that point, both because I was flat broke (and, more accurately, in a decent amount of debt) and I was burned out after being in school from the time I was 5 until I was 22. I wanted to experience life NOT in school.

Well, I've done that now. And I'm ready to go back. Only this time, my interests are a bit more artistic and technical in nature. I won't elaborate other than to say that I feel pretty confident that this time around I would actually be working in my field of study when all is said and done!

Here's hoping that all the planets align properly to make it doable.... Cross your fingers for me, readers.

XOXO
SW

Paper, Paper and More Paper

2009-07-07T16:02:00.003-05:00

I've got a confession to make. (And for what it's worth, yes, I do realize that this is probably my umpteenth confession, but I don't care.)

I HATE PAPER.

Not the pretty decorative type, like what one would use for scrapbooking or card making. Nor do I hate lovely stationery, or cool little notebooks or notepads. LOVE those.

No, the kind of paper I hate is the kind that accumulates. The random bits and pieces that we (I) feel the need to hold onto for one reason or another, be they bills, old investment statements, insurance documents, receipts, interesting articles, Super Boy's first forays into writing. That sort of stuff.

I realize, of course, that SOME paper must be held onto for tax purposes and other common-sense reasons. But my hoarding of paper has far exceeded the required "must hold onto" rules. And it's simply inexplicable.

Many people have ZERO shredders in their homes; I have two. And their baskets are perpetually full. So it's not that I don't WANT to rid my life of the paper. It's just that the darn stuff multiplies like bunnies when left unattended for a few weeks (or months). It's insane.

That said, please excuse me while I go shred another enormous pile of useless and unneeded paper... And then file another enormous stack that I've let grow out of control.

Aaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh....

Signed,

Your Paper-Hoarding Pal SW

I LOVE Summer!

2009-07-06T10:14:00.003-05:00

Friday: Ran errands with the Super Family. Bought a hammock (FINALLY!), put it together in under 10 minutes, and relaxed for a good 30 minutes in it before Super Man and the Super Kids wanted in.

Friday night: Milwaukee's lakefront fireworks. Gorgeous. A little ill-timed this year, but still fabulous.

Saturday: Local 4th of July parade with our neighborhood friends. Men saved the seats early, women & kids joined 30 minutes before the parade started, kids had a blast, we enjoyed the tradition. Then went to some Super Friends' house for a great cookout, conversation and fun for the whole fam. Came home and napped in the afternoon.

Saturday night: Our local fireworks display, seen from our favorite not-so-secret-now location out of the fray with our favorite neighborhood friends. Was truly a spectacular display that did our community proud and a wonderful way to cap off the glorious Independence Day.

Sunday: SUMMERFEST!! (Need I say more?)

Party on...

Good news: Funky heartbeat issue is "normal!"

2009-06-28T11:26:00.004-05:00

Yes, it's true!

After wearing a "loop recorder" for a month (and having a few unfortunate mishaps wherein I inadvertently and unknowingly kept deleting the events I was recording...), and ultimately transmitting a handful of recorded events to my cardiologist, it has been determined that my funky heartbeat thing is what are called "PVCs."

For those of us non-cardiologists, that translates to "premature ventricular contractions," or what my cardiologist's nurse practitioner referred to as "early heartbeats." According to Wikipedia, this essentially means that instead of the heartbeat originating in the sinoatrial node of the heart, it's initiating in the ventricles, which are the lower chambers of the heart muscle (the upper chambers are atria).

That premature heartbeat triggers that feeling of a heart palpitation or fluttering, which is exactly what I was feeling. Fortunately, my PVCs are very brief and they generally aren't continuous (although I sometimes will have 2 or 3 in a row), so for me they are considered simply a "normal variant."

My cardiologist will sometimes treat PVCs with medication, but usually only if the PVCs are disrupting a patient's life or making them severely anxious. My anxiety from my funky heartbeat was pretty much purely over not knowing what it was or what was causing it. Now that I know that it's not a serious, imminently lethal heart problem, I'm feeling much more okay with it, and the instances of it don't really disrupt my life or anything like that. However, if I ever do get pregnant again, the PVCs may also become more frequent, so if that does start making me anxious or affecting me physically in terms of making me lightheaded, etc., then I will most likely get on medication to control it for that period of time.

Bottom line, as far as the PVC thing is concerned, as long as it's not having a major impact on my daily life, I don't have to see the cardiologist again and I don't require any treatment for it.

That said, there's still the other cardiac issue of my near-fainting episodes during the '07 triathlon and the '08 fitness boot camp, in addition to my heart rate clocking in at 220 during one of my normal workouts back in February. The cardiologist is not seeing anything that would explain that from my echo or my EKG, so he wants me to get back in to see him right away if I have any other instances of near-fainting or my heart rate monitor picking up crazy-high heart rates, and then he'll have me basically go through a stress test to see if the high heart rate can be induced while I'm being monitored so they can see what's going on. I'm hopeful that this won't come to pass (after all, the fact is that the near-fainting episodes happened during two EXTREME physical activities for me, activities I'm not likely to participate in again!), but if it does, at least I know that they will look into it again quickly.

At 35, I've got to say that these weird heart issues I'd recently begun experiencing really had me pretty freaked out, especially considering that I'm not in bad shape for my age. I'm glad I got them checked out and that I have some answers as to what's going on, and some reassurances that these are generally not serious issues. I'll sleep easier knowing that my heart is not a ticking timebomb!

For any of you readers who have unusual heart issues, go get them checked and get yourself some peace of mind. I want you all to be healthy and well, so even if you aren't inclined to do it for yourself, do it for me!! :)

Peace out,
SW

Celebrities die, too.

2009-06-26T22:26:00.003-05:00

What a week it's been for Hollywood: First, Ed McMahon dies. Then, in the same day, both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson bid the world farewell.

It's craziness, I tell you. What is happening to the world when three beloved members of the Hollywood elite pass in the same week?

Where Ed McMahon was concerned, I will admit that he was most famous to me for the Publisher's Clearinghouse commercials. See, I wasn't a big watcher of "The Tonight Show" when Carson was the frontman and McMahon was the sidekick, so I sort of missed his glory days. But I know how famous and popular that dynamic duo once was, and after years of watching Ed McMahon make people's dreams come true through the PC, he was like a long-lost member of the family. Of course, I'd have been willing to call him Grampa if he'd ever delivered a million dollar prize to OUR door, but I digress. The loss of that man was a great blow to "old Hollywood."

Then there was Farrah. The beautiful, ethereal, feathery-voiced and, yes, slightly ditzy Ms. Farrah. I think every one of my boyfriends from junior and senior high had at least one of her posters up on his wall, and she was one of those women who girls like me could simply NEVER live up to. No matter what. No amount of eye make-up or hair feathering was going to make ME look like HER - no way, no how. Still, I was in total agreement that she was gorgeous.

I loved her in "The Burning Bed," and I thought she did a fantastic job in some cheesy TV movie called "The Substitute Wife" in which she played a prostitute in the Old West who a dying farm wife (played by Lea Thompson) chose to be her replacement with her husband and children. Despite her somewhat ditzy personality in live interviews, the woman could act - there's no denying that.

As Farrah's battle with anal cancer became public and her health slowly declined, I found myself inexplicably drawn to her story, fascinated by her strength and courage. I know some people criticized her for being so public with her battle, claiming she was seeking attention, but I admired her for choosing to take her fight against cancer public. There's no denying that when celebrities take their health struggles public, it makes some of us little people sit up and take notice and pay a little more attention to what's happening in our own bodies, and it's no doubt saved a few lives. Given her generous, loving spirit, I'm sure it was a great consolation to her in the end to know that her choice to battle cancer publicly may have saved a few lives, even if not her own. I hope that her passing was peaceful, and that her loved ones can find their peace in this loss, as well. Especially her son, Redmond. That boy has some serious issues to work through. I only hope that he truly seeks to resolve them rather than bury himself further in his drug addictions to seek solace.

And, last but certainly not least, MJ. Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. Oh, Michael... Such a tortured soul of a man, and yet one with immeasurable God-given talent. I remember "discovering" Michael Jackson when I was in probably third or fourth grade, when "Thriller" came out. In fact, "Thriller" was either my first or second album purchase ever (the other was Crystal Gayle!), and I LOVED that album. I played it over and over again, even when the song "Thriller" came on and scared the bejeezus out of me time and time again. And the video... don't even get me started. I loved it in the movie "13 Going On 30" when Jennifer Garner's character does the Thriller dance at the company party. That was simply awesome.

Watching MJ self-destruct over the last two decades was painful to watch as he went from being an enormously talented young man with the world at his feet and the respect and adoration of millions upon millions to a strange, physically self-mutilated recluse and late-night joke, who may or may not have been a child molester and seemed to have some serious psychological issues. It seemed as though his social oddities and early affinity for plastic surgery at first just made people confused and uncomfortable, but they were willing to overlook that - for awhile. When the accusations of child sexual abuse entered the picture and his surgical adventures left him look less-than-human, I think it all added up to have a tremendously negative impact on his career, which seemed to in turn send him on an even deeper downward spiral.

After the announcement of his unexpected death yesterday, I know I spent time reflecting upon how I came to know - and love - MJ, and how far I'd drifted away from being a fan over the years. Hearing the radio stations today playing old Jackson 5/Jacksons and MJ songs in honor of his life really reminded me of what an amazing talent he possessed, and what a fundamentally pure-souled person he was. The world definitely lost one of music's most talented people ever yesterday.

I hope this is the end of the Hollywood celeb death cycle for awhile. They say these things happen in threes, and that was certainly the case this week. Very, very sad.

RIP Ed, Farrah and Michael. Rest in peace.

I felt the need for speed.

2009-06-19T11:33:00.003-05:00

Have you ever gone go-karting? If not, I highly recommend going out and finding yourself a go-kart track where you can give it a whirl.

It's fun. It's really, REALLY fun.

Expensive, too, at least in this neck of the woods this year. Is it due to rising gas prices? Not sure. But it was $2 more per ticket than last year, which sort of sucks.

In any case, this is an integral part of our annual Super Family family vacation up in the northwoods of Wisconsin, and it's just soooo much fun.

Wait, did I say that already?

The cutest part of this not-to-be-missed annual family ritual is watching Super Boy and my Super Nephew eagerly run up to the "You Must Be This Tall To Ride Alone" sign to see if they've yet hit the mark. You can see the hope-mingled-with-anxiety in their eyes as they spot the sign and race towards it, their adorably muscular little 6- and almost 6-year-old bodies pushing the outer limits of their abilities to see which of them will get there first. Invariably, it is my slightly younger Super Nephew who is a virtual powerhouse of an almost 6-year-old who stands a good inch-and-a-half taller than the already 6-year-old Super Boy.

But Super Boy doesn't care. All he cares about is whether he can ride a go-kart alone yet.

The boys butt their little butts back to the wall and try to stand as tall as they possibly can without cheating and tip-toeing to see how they measure up. In years past, they fell way short of the line, much to their mutual disappointment. This year, they were both just a few inches shy of the line, to their extreme mutual disappointment.

But wait, we tell them. Look how close you are - you two will probably be able to ride alone next year!

Their eyes light up again as this information sinks in, filling them with hope once again. They can hardly wait for next year's vacation, and this one has scarcely even begun.

Given that the boys could not ride alone, the jockeying began to see which of them would get to ride tandem with Super Uncle T. The boys LOVE riding with Super Uncle T, because Super Uncle T goes FAST. My Super Nephew won the first round, because Super Boy rode with Super Man. When my Super Nephew had to ride the next round with his mom, my Super Sister, he told her that she drives like a baby and that he wanted to ride with Super Uncle T because he goes REALLY fast. (Heaven help us.)

Super Boy rode with Super Man, Super Grampa, me and Super Uncle T., and I think I'm the only one who failed the speed trials being unofficially run in Super Boy's mind. Oh well - it's my job to keep him safe, right?

There's nothing like go-karting. The loud rumble of the engine at your back, the wind flying through your hair, miniscule bits of the track being kicked up into your face as you jockey for position with your family members on the track, the herky-jerky steering as you round the tight corners at top speed. It's exhilarating, and for those of us chickens who prefer to stick with vehicles of the four-wheel variety and to moderate-to-fast speed versus balls-out FAST, it's a very safe way to fulfill that occasional need for speed.

I think between me, Super Man and my Super Mom, we took a solid 100 pictures at the go-kart track this week. I can't wait to print them and put them in this year's vacation photo album. They always make me smile. It's a long year waiting for the next annual vacation to roll around again, and it's the pictures of moments like this that make that long wait just a little more bearable.

Speaking of pictures, I can already picture the little boys a year from now, eagerly running up to the sign to find that they've just hit the mark and then delightedly racing to the cars for their maiden solo voyages. Scares the hell out of me a little, to be honest with you, but I know they will be so amazingly proud to finally drive their own go-karts, and they'll have so much fun doing it. I know that with Super Boy's fledgling competitive spirit, it will give him enormous joy to finally race against the rest of us instead of tagging along for the ride, and I'm pretty sure that my Super Nephew will feel the same.

I love family vacation, and I love go-karting. I highly recommend them both.

Happy Summer!

XOXO
SW

a wedding, a honeymoon, a house, a dog, a baby and nine years later...

2009-06-10T11:27:00.015-05:00

Good afternoon, lovely readers. Did you know that today is my and Super Man's 9th wedding anniversary?

Well, it is. :)

Nine years.... Boy, it hardly seems like that much time could've passed since the day we vowed to love one another for the rest of our lives, through thick and thin, ups and downs, sickness and health, good times and bad. And yet, that much time has passed.

On this day nine years ago, I was a blushing bride of 26. I was equal parts excited beyond all possibility to be marrying the wonderful, sexy, smart, funny, humble, intelligent man of my dreams and mate of my soul and terrified of all the unknowns lying in wait for us.

Was I REALLY AND TRULY READY to be getting married and would I be a good Super Wife? Could I handle the pressures of being a Super Stepmom to a four-year-old child I had not created or even known existed until two years prior? Would our marriage - being a second marriage for Super Man - survive the rough early years of marriage and beat the odds on second marriages?

I couldn't know at that precise time what the answers to any of those questions would be. I had to have faith, to take a gigantic, enormous, huge leap of faith.

And so I did.

All these years later...

our engagement 07.04.99

our little soon-to-be family of three... 1999

man and wife 06.10.00

our trip to Paris and Italy 05.01

our "new" house 06.01

summer fun 08.01

our new dog 09.01

ahhh... pregnant 01.03

really REALLY pregnant 05.03

welcome to the world, little Super Boy 05.23.03

the Super Family 04.04 (i think)

a bit o' Halloween fun 10.05

summer vacation 2008

our "new" - and improved - house 12.08

the Super Family at Christmas 12.08

the Super Family at Super Boy's 6th birthday 05.23.09

Super Man & Super Woman 05.23.09

...here we are.

Nine years of wedded bliss. Or something like that, anway.

Nine years of perfection? No; nothing in life is perfect.

Nine years of happiness, overall? Absolutely.

Nine years full of rich, wonderful-if-sometimes-sticky life? You betchya.

Nine years full of love, despite the occasional bumps in the road? Indeed.

I feel so fortunate. I married my soul mate and best friend. And I can truly say that I love this man more deeply and honestly today than I ever have. Because he has stood by me through thick and thin, ups and downs, sickness and health, good times and bad. He is as ready and willing as I am to do what needs to be done to keep our marriage strong and happy and fulfilling, and to create a home for our children that is always warm, loving, safe and secure.

I love you, Super Man. With all my heart, forever and ever, no matter what.

~ Your CW Super Woman

Revisiting the classics.

2009-06-05T13:46:00.004-05:00

While strolling through the aisles at my local Barnes & Noble bookstore yesterday, a familiar old title caught my eye.

Are You There God? It's Me Margaret by Judy Blume.

Oh. My. God. Talk about transporting me right back smack dab to 1988.

I stopped dead in my tracks and perused the much-loved and familiar titles of one of my all-time favorite YA authors.

Forever

Just As Long As We're Together

Deenie

Then Again, Maybe I Won't

To me, these books will forever be classics. They defined my adolescence, for crying out loud! They were some of the only - if not THE only - books that really got down to the nitty-gritty about the issues that girls - and boys - have to deal with as their bodies and minds start to change from children into young adults.

I don't know how other girls in my generation felt at that age, but my mom was not one to sit with me and have big heart-to-hearts about the changes I was going through and the things I was feeling, so I either had to turn to my older Super Sister (can you say "mortifying?") or turn to books. (Well, and my friends - but they were equally as ill-prepared to answer those questions as I was!) So THANK GOD for Judy Blume!

Anyhoo, back to the bookstore. As I stood there browsing the familiar titles, I wavered between kicking myself for ever selling my original paperback editions in a rummage sale long ago followed immediately by an intense longing to buy up every one of my old favorites. And then, after I did a little of the former, I did a little of the latter.

I bought two of my old favorites, and I started re-reading Just As Long As We're Together yesterday afternoon, for the first time in nearly 20 years. How odd a feeling it is to reread that book as an adult, with all sorts of wisdom (hey, even I use that word loosely!) under my belt that I simply didn't possess back then.

Reading about Stephanie's crush on Jeremy Dragon made me feel 12 years old again, with a crush on a cute boy and accompanied by a whole host of hormone-driven longings and confused emotions. The sheer innocence and drama of it put a smile on my face, because I can still remember what that felt like as though I was just in Stephanie's shoes yesterday. Maybe I'm also feeling more connected to and reflective about that time in my life because it's the stage of life that Super Girl is in as I speak. Seeing her deal with all the issues that come part and parcel with adolescence reminds me constantly of what my life was like back then, only it's SO much easier to revisit it now in memory because of the experience and perspective I've gained since I lived it.

Judy Blume's books covered all the big adolescent topics: changing bodies and poor body image and self-esteem, young love, lust, the difficulties of female relationships, changing family dynamics, depression. The books could've been leather-bound and grouped together as an "Encyclopedia for Teenaged Girls," as far as I'm concerned.

As I'm reading Just As Long As We're Together, I'm of course acutely aware that the setting (the mid-'80s) is rather different from the world that today's adolescents are growing up in, and that makes me a little bit sad because I think that Super Girl probably won't get into these books in the same way that my friends and I did, if she'd read them at all.

I hope she will though. Regardless of the point in time that the books take place, the messages are the same - all of your peers are going through the same changes, feelings and issues, whether they'll admit it or not, and you just have to make the best of them and keep moving forward. I know it always made me feel better reading the Judy Blume books to get a sense that SOMEONE understood what it was like to be in my shoes.

Anyway, I'm going to make it my mission to get my hands on and re-read all of my old Judy Blume favorites this summer. I can think of no better or more apropos time to undertake that little challenge, since summertime always makes me think back on when I was in junior and senior high school and since Super Girl is in the midst of that time in her own life.

Just so you know, I'm positive - I mean, absolutely TOTALLY positive - that I'll be writing more posts about the Judy Blume classics over the next few months, and I really and truly hope that you, my lovely readers, will join in my adolescent reminiscing through comments on those posts. Just think of how much fun that'll be!!

For starters, I hope you'll comment on this post to share what YOUR favorite Judy Blume book (or books) was. I'll reveal my favorite later on... ;)

Here's to summer, to adolescence, and to Judy Blume!!

Peace out,
SW

Now that wasn't so bad, was it?

2009-06-01T19:05:00.004-05:00

I went in this afternoon for the much anticipated and once delayed HSG (hysterosalpingogram) appointment that was unfortunately postponed from its originally scheduled date in early February.

Make no mistake, I was nervous as hell.

And I wasn't just nervous about having a foreign object jammed through my cervix (yet again - remember the endometrial biopsy I had last August?) and then having normally benign but, for me, potentially deadly dye injected through it into the recesses of my uterus, although that was quite enough to make me hyperventilate just a little bit.

No, I was also nervous about the curse that ruined my last scheduled HSG attempt rearing its ugly head again and thwarting my current attempt to just get this thing DONE. You know - because when I first scheduled the appointment for February, I had the NERVE to attempt to vacuum my back entryway 3 hours before the appointment and ended up falling down the stairs leading to the back landing and severely spraining my foot, and having to make a detour to the ER at a different hospital instead of going to the Radiology Department at my usual hospital to get the HSG done.

But you know what? I decided to LAUGH in the face of that curse: I managed to preoccupy myself this morning by - wait for it - CLEANING AND VACUUMING this morning to forget some of my nerves in advance of the appointment. Yes, I carried my vacuum down those same back landing stairs - WITHOUT falling and hurting myself, I might add. And then I pushed my luck even further by carrying my vacuum up the 15 stairs to my 2nd floor, vacuuming up there, and then daring to carry it back DOWN those 15 stairs, and I managed to do THAT without wiping out and breaking anything, too.

Can you say "awesome?"

It was so nice to get my house cleaned and, in the process, distract myself from the nerves I had over the impending appointment. And it was also nice to know that I really WASN'T cursed, that the Universe WASN'T trying to tell me that I shouldn't be pursuing this fertility test, and to realize that I'm not ALWAYS a clutz of the highest magnitude. ;)

So, back to the test itself.

It was partially what I expected it would be in that I had a good understanding of the basic mechanics of it, although I thought it would take quite a bit longer than it actually did. However, I expected it to hurt like hell (sort of like the endometrial biopsy, but worse), and I was also nervous about the iodine in the dye potentially giving me an anaphylactic reaction, despite the fact that they premedicated me again with a combo of prednisone and Benadryl.

Imagine my very pleasant surprise when it really wasn't painful! And when I didn't die from the dye! It was like a dream come true, I tell you.

Yes, it was uncomfortable - having anything jammed through your cervix isn't very pleasant, but it was literally just uncomfortable, sort of like normal menstrual cramps.

Once the tube-thingy was through my cervix, the radiologist inserted and inflated a little balloon to hold my cervix open before injecting the dye. He had warned that I might feel some pressure when they inflated the balloon, but I didn't (amen). He also warned that I might feel a strange sensation when they injected the dye, but again, I didn't (amen).

Then they moved the little x-ray-type machine thingy over my abdomen to watch what happened to the dye once it was injected.

It was flat out WEIRD to watch the screen as the dye spread like wildfire through my uterus and started its journey through my fallopian tubes. He said it took a little pressure to get the fluid through my tubes, but it did go all the way through and out the ends, which is what they want to see, so there weren't any full blockages. And this is good news!

The only questionable thing is that the doctor saw what he believes to be a benign fibroid in my uterus. He'll of course be sending all the info to my OB/GYN, and he said I'd have to follow-up with her on the fibroid as far as whether or not she wants to remove it. He did say, however, that the presence of the fibroid wouldn't be preventing me from conceiving, but I would imagine that its presence could have an impact on the amount of room for the baby to grow if I were to get pregnant again. I'd be cool with removing it, but I guess we'll see what my OB wants to do.

It was all over in a matter of about 10-15 minutes, and though I expected to be in some pain afterward, I really haven't had anything worse than minor menstrual-type cramping and spotting. Thank heavens! I'm exhausted, but I'm sure the whole thing took a lot out of me mentally and physically, so that's no big surprise. It'll be an early bedtime for Super Woman though, I will say that!

In any case, there is nothing obvious going on as far as why I'm not conceiving, and hopefully now that I've had my tubes "flushed," I'll have some good news sooner rather than later.

Send me some baby dust, readers!! Whatever you can spare, that is. ;)

Peace & love,
SW