Miss E's Musings

Twins gone wild

The cramping was stronger and more menstrual-like yesterday, so this morning I called the ob-gyn office, and the nurse-practitioner said it was probably just uterine stretching but wanted me to come in for an ultrasound anyway. Thankfully there were still two heartbeats and two babies, measuring 1 day apart, who were punching and kicking and bouncing all over the place. "You're going to have your hands full with this pair," the nurse-practitioner said. "Bring it on," I replied (thinking they couldn't be much worse than my own twin brothers).

Re: the cramps, she said that the uterus is changing ahead of schedule to meet the demands of a twin pregnancy, and that as long as the cramps aren't accompanied by bleeding, spotting, or a fever, I should assume all is well in utero.

Also, I thought I spotted a little extra something between the legs of one baby. Hmmm...

And now back to our regularly scheduled Googling

Search: "normal cramping pregnancy."

For a few days I've had random twinges and pinching/stretching sensations, mostly very low, around my cervix. Occasionally they are strong enough to elicit an "oof" response, but they are nothing, I repeat, nothing like menstrual or stomach cramps. No spotting or bleeding on my very frequent TP checks.

Uterine growing pains, I hope?

All else continues well at 11 weeks. I've only thrown up once so far but frequently emit these weird little hiccuping belches, which amuses D. The babies are each the size of a fig.

Inside looking out

What a lousy morning. It's cold, raining, and blustery. There will be a lot of people shivering at brunch and garden shows today. I'm planning to stay inside and be cozy.

The shower was fine. It was obviously organized by a fertile person, from the stilettos-and-belly invitations and matching napkins (you all know how I feel about those) to the coincidental Mother's Day weekend date to the games played. The first game was -- gag -- measure the pregnant woman's belly. We all cut off a piece of pink ribbon and wrapped it around the guest of honor. I had about a foot of ribbon to spare. Oops. Then they passed around a tray of baby stuff and we had to write down as many items as we remembered. I didn't know what half the stuff was; I never do; I don't like that game. Just give me a damn word scramble.

But the food was good, and the guest of honor (D.'s cousin) was laidback and cheerful, and she had quite the long-distance turnout. Her sister-in-law came from Singapore, and a childhood friend came from NYC, and they both brought awesome gifts.

My MIL, who is usually reserved, made a point of saying to a lot of people, "Did you hear Ellen's wonderful news?" and then turning to me rather than going on to say, "She's pregnant with twins," so I had to fill in the big blank. I didn't want to be seen as stealing thunder and was rather embarrassed that my MIL made me announce it at the shower.

I don't think the guest of honor was annoyed, since she later sought me out to talk shop about how to get dogs used to babies, and she passed along some twin tips she had learned from a friend. We had a nice chat.

This is the first set of twins expected in D.'s family, and they were all excited and saying agreeable things like, "How are you going to carry twins? You're so little!" I don't think I'm that small at 5 feet, 2.5 inches, and size 6/8, but they are all tall German- and Polish-Americans and, moreover, they all are long in the torso and "carry" well.   

The BBQ was rescheduled for after the shower, so I got my pork steak after all. Plus grilled chicken, grilled corn and aspargus, and more potato salad than is good for anyone. I went back for thirds seconds and then dessert. The "young mommies" asked me to sit with them.

It seems I've been welcomed into the club that has often felt so exclusive. And yet the best part of the day was when D.'s cousin and his wife, who are experiencing secondary IF (they have a 7-year-old and are doing their third IUI this morning), sought me out to joke about Clomid rage and the walk of shame from the men's collection room into the waiting area. She told me about the boozy "Not-a-Mother's Day" margarita brunch planned by two of her fellow infertile co-workers. It sounded like a good time. Cheers to them, and to all those who are doing whatever it takes to get through this holiday.

M-Day musings

Ah, Mother's Day is upon us. I feel that it's somehow not an applicable holiday this year, although Hallmark assures me that expectant mothers deserve a shout-out, and, being broke from heavy first-quarter expenses (IVF and a big tax bill), have decided just to do cards and phone calls on Sunday. I also told D. that I did not want any PG-related acknowledgment, and I meant it. It's unnecessary after all we have been through, and all we have received.

Usually we spend Mother's Day at his grandma's house, but this year it isn't happening, which kind of sucks, because I could really go for barbecued pork steaks. Instead all the women are going to a baby shower for his cousin on Saturday, and the men will have their BBQ and drink beer. Except for D., who has to work, which also sucks.

I don't know what to think about the baby shower. I don't like baby showers and have managed to drink my way through the past few. Pregnancy itself isn't a very effective tranquilizer, at least not after infertility. Mel said it very well in her BlogHer post. (Thanks for the quote, Mel!)

I wouldn't say I'm superstitious. We spread the news quickly, and whatever happens now does not have anything to do with our early announcement. If D. and I stop by Babies R Us and check out double strollers, which we totally did (and D. looked damn sexy test-driving those strollers!), or if we tell the carpet salesman that we're looking for something for a kid's room, we have not jinxed ourselves or the twins.

But many things feel totally off limits. Baby clothes being one of them, at least for now. And there will be baby clothes on Saturday. Baby clothes for a baby girl, which I would love to have, although I know I'm not supposed to have a preference. And little shoes. And probably a copy of Guess How Much I Love You. And sentimental cards. And all sorts of things that will make me smile shakily from both joy and fear. Joy that I am pregnant, finally. Fear that I might not have two babies in my arms a year from now.

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By the way, this week I read My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult for my library book club. It's about a 13-year-old girl, Anna, who was conceived using IVF and preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) to be a genetic match for her older sister, who has a rare form of leukemia. Anna's cord blood, leukocytes, and bone marrow have been keeping Kate alive long past all expectations, but now Kate is in renal failure and a donor kidney is the last option. Anna decides to sue for medical emancipation. I tried to overlook the fact that PGD was not easily available in the early 90s, as the book seems to suggest. (The first unaffected child was born in 1989 in London.) I really disliked the girls' mother from start to finish, but especially in two parts: Anna's birth (told from the mother's perspective) and her final courtroom speech about how people can't understand basically anything heart-wrenching or conflicting until they are mothers, blah blah blah. I've heard that before! And then the book ends with a very upsetting twist. I cried and screeched "Fuck!" So I'll be interested to hear what other book club members think about this book. They're a pretty outspoken, cynical bunch, but most are parents or grandparents, and they might find the mother more sympathetic.

It might be an interesting choice for the Barren Bitches Book Tour.

10 weeks

Let's hear it for the last day of progesterone and aspirin! My butt has been in recovery for a couple of weeks, as the RE let me switch to twice-daily Crinone, which is messy (especially during sex) but not painful. By some strange twist, our insurance wouldn't cover Crinone ($740 for 1-month supply) if I ordered it through the mail-order pharmacy I had been using for other fertility meds, but would cover it through a different pharmacy.

Last night D. and I met up with some friends at the Tegan & Sara show at the Pageant. It was a great show, and I thought with a little dorky pleasure of the twins' first concert (albeit in utero) involving identical twins Tegan and Sara. I wore a black empire-waist top from Banana Republic and my spring 2000 jeans "buttoned" with a black Bella Band. I have a feeling those jeans won't see the light of day for awhile to come, as they were tight in the thigh too.

By the way, my friend gave me quite a closetful of maternity clothes from her summer 2005 pregnancy! Check out my haul:

• 3 pairs jeans and denim capris
• 3 pairs black pants and capris
• 1 pair white capris
• 2 pairs khakis/capris
• 5 skirts
• 3 sundresses
• 1 special-occasion dress
• 2 jersey dresses
• 1 black cardigan
• 6 long-sleeve shirts
• 4 sleeveless shirts
• 3 tank tops
• 2 gauze peasant-style tops

Of course, since I work from home, my day-to-day wardrobe will be much the same as usual: pajamas until noon, track pants and t-shirt until bedtime.

Down the rabbit hole

I had to go to Babies R Us this morning to buy a gift for next weekend's baby shower (brilliantly timed with Mother's Day!). For the past few years I've been buying nearly all shower gifts online, but I thought I could shop in store this morning and maybe even check out a few things for ourselves. I was particularly keen to see if the store carried the Maclaren Twin Techno stroller that Baby Bargains raves about and D. has declared to be "awesome." (They did not.)

But as soon as I walked into the store, I was ready to leave. I hadn't set foot in a baby store in so long, and I had forgotten how totally overwhelming it can be, with everything so bright and plastic and cluttery. Plus, all the most expensive, adorable clothes were front and center to grab at the heartstrings and wallet. And pregnant women were everywhere, of course. I felt a little panicked, and then I remembered, "I'm pregnant now, too; I can be here." But it was too soon. I couldn't, not yet. I felt like Ellen in Bellyland, wondering if things would turn on me and sensing that an invisible cat was smirking high upon the shelves. It was all ridiculous, impertinent, even malicious.

I wandered about, lost in a maze of Fisher Price and Baby Einstein, and finally found the overdesigned bright plastic bathtub from the registry and headed for the checkout. Then I went home to finish folding the full summer maternity wardrobe that a friend has lent me and will probably be called into action soon. I already have a little bump. Curiouser and curiouser. 

Tie a pomegranate ribbon

This weekend I drove up to visit my parents and attend a bridal shower for my cousin's fiancee. It was a very (in)fertility-full weekend, as many bridal showers tend to be, with the mother of the bride loudly demanding grandchildren, specifically grandsons, ASAP (to the 25-year-old bride's obvious irritation) and a close tally of ribbon-breaking. For those who are fortunate enough to not know this superstition, the idea is that the number of ribbons broken as the bride opens her shower gifts represents the number of children she will have. It's kind of obnoxious and almost always ends in "how many kids, and how soon" chatter. I glanced around the room and noticed frozen smiles on the faces of two cousins, both involuntarily childless. My mom looked annoyed and later, on the way home, criticized the bride's mother for acting so entitled and embarrassing her daughter. "She was very pushy. It's not her place." A pause. "And what if they find they can't?"

My mom wants grandchildren, too, and she couldn't be happier that our IVF worked. But thankfully I've never had to put up with great expectations on that head. On Saturday night, I went out to dinner with my parents and their close friends, who are very attractive, energetic, and childless. From what I know of their story, they tried to conceive for several years in the late 70s and early 80s but were never tested for a diagnosis -- probably not uncommon for a working-class couple in the upper Midwest, hours from the nearest medical research centers. They rarely mention their own struggles but, according to my mom, have been very interested in our treatments and are excited that we've found success. After dinner, I sat in their comfortable living room and read magazines while they planned a summer vacation with my parents. They have a lovely house -- the husband is an extremely talented woodworker -- and I noticed all the heirlooms, family pictures, and the bulletin board in the kitchen that was covered with pictures of other people's children. I thought of what might have been for D. and myself on the flip side of the IVF/childfree coin. This couple has carved out a considerable amount of happiness. They are actually radiant. My parents really admire them, and so D. and I had a lot of support while we were considering resolving infertility without children.

But they say they do regret not investigating the cause of their infertility. It's hard to live with a big unknown. And I considered that while contemplating IVF. I wasn't satisfied with our vague combined-infertility diagnosis and IUI treatments. I was pretty sure that our problem was somewhere in the fertilization area, and possibly my egg quality wasn't super fantastic. And those hunches turned out to be correct, as our RE only does ICSI if absolutely necessary and none of our other embryos made it to blastocyst stage.

My mom told me that another neighbor, who has one 21-year-old child, had an unexpected reaction to learning of my IVF pregnancy. "I wonder why it worked for her," she said. "They wouldn't let me try. They said my eggs were bad." My mom explained that a lot had changed in IVF technology in the past 15 years: ICSI, more careful hyperstimulation, more refined embryo culturing, etc. And of course donor eggs.

I learned on Sunday that another cousin, also on my dad's side of the family, is gearing up for an IVF-donor egg cycle. My grandma is troubled by all this infertility and admits she can't relate to it as the mother of 8 children. "I cried when my period didn't come, not when it did," she says. But she is trying. I remembered at my bridal shower, the ribbon on her gift was tied very intricately and was one of the ones I broke. Her gift to the new bride had a simple adhesive bow.

Friendship, take 3

Most of our friends and relatives know our good news, with one glaring exception.

My college roommate V. is dead last on the list. Come the end of the first trimester, she'll probably get cc:'d on an email to various other acquaintances.

Since I called her in January and told her that I was going to try IVF this spring and learned that she was pregnant, I have not heard from her, despite her pledge to keep in better touch. I sent her 2-year-old both a Valentine's card and a birthday card, neither of which were acknowledged. I also went through a very stressful and painful medical procedure. Everyone else who knew that we were doing IVF, even if they only had a vague idea of the timeline, checked in at least once to say "How's it going?" or "Thinking of you." And at this point, I can't chalk it up to "pregnancy sensitivity toward the infertile" or even "working mother stress," as she has not initiated contact since the beginning of last August.

There is a good deal of anger mixed in with my hurt. The only thing I could have possibly done to offend her was be matron of honor in the wedding of our other roommate, with whom she had a falling-out several years ago.

People who know both of us remind me that V. has always been rather territorial and grudging. (My dad has another word for it.) Now I seem to be playing that Queen Bee game too, deliberately excluding her from my bit of happiness. But the fact is, I don't trust her response to be sincere. I don't know what's going on. She has shut me out. I no longer miss her. And when I thought that her due date in August would probably prevent her from attending an out-of-town baby shower for me, my response was more like relief than disappointment.

Yeah, I'd say that this friendship has reached its expiration date.

You say goodbye, I say hello

A very pleasant last appointment (knock on wood) with the RE. He was very encouraging for the continuation of my pregnancy, complimented my pregnancy glow (aka bronzing powder), and thanked me for a couple of referrals. I really like his bedside manner and am going to miss him and his nurse.

The ultrasounds were fun and a lot more detailed than yesterday's. Babies A and B are closer in size and have almost the same heart rate. I think we have a little gymnast in the making: Baby B was hanging upside down at the top of the sac. D. and I are big fans of the musical "Bat Boy," so I can't wait to tell him about our own bat baby!

The ultrasound also showed a tiny bit of uterine bleeding, away from the fetuses and closer to the cervix. It is not critical. The RE said I will probably have a little spotting at some point and should be prepared. Sex is still approved. One of my ovaries continues to be enormous. But the twins are doing great. Their hearts are chugging away like engines, and that's the most important thing.

It's odd to go from an IVF schedule to a pregnancy schedule. I don't see my obgyn again for 4 weeks. Eons, really. Not much to do other than continue PIO shots (until May 5), make plans, and count my blessings.

OB-la-di, OB-la-da

I had my first obstetrical appointment today, at 8 weeks 1 day. It went well, but I'm heading into the "dead zone" of my day and am too tired to make much of it. In summary, I had another ultrasound, there are still two heartbeats, everyone was very excited, I was much relieved, and I got a big bag of brochures, prenatal vitamin samples, coupons, and magazines that appear to have a 6:1 cord blood bank ad:editorial content ratio.

The nurse-practitioner decreed that I cannot use even gradual self-tanners this summer, which kind of sucks. Bronzer is OK. Also, I have to work on my protein intake.  And I have already gained 3 lb, probably almost entirely due to the sourdough pretzel nuggets that comprise my anti-nausea "diet."

Final RE appointment is tomorrow AM. No puking yet. The embryos become fetuses this week and are developing tongues and bones. Illustrated, they look like aliens, all head and eyes. This is all marvelous and a little bizarre.