Two Days, Three Nights

It’s been an unpleasant weekend for all of us here. I’ll spare you all the details, mainly because we’re all so sick and tired I can’t keep them all straight.

I have a terrible cold. Mike has a slightly better, but still terrible cold.

Gus is sick. Well, he has zero symptoms of being sick, but he is cranky and irrational (more so than your standard toddler irrationalness), and he’s waking up screaming all night long.

All fun toddler traits aside, that is not my child. He might whine a little about going to sleep, and refuse to leave the library on occasion, but he’s typically a very sweet, agreeable child, who blissfully sleeps through the night.

The only time he acts the way he’s been acting, is when he’s sick. Nine times out of ten, it turns out he has a double ear infection. Only this time? He doesn’t have a fever (and he always gets a fever).

And a week ago he actually was diagnosed with a double ear infection. He took a full course of antibiotics until the middle of the week. So now I’m wondering if it’s something else? Or maybe he needed a higher dose, or a longer course? Is it nightmares? Or molars? Or God forbid he’s not sick at all and this is just my life now, and Jesus take the wheel, because I’m gonna get a drink.

But despite being miserable (we’re all for sure miserable around 3 a.m.) he still says and does hilarious things.

The first night he rolled over, put his hand in mine, and laughed in his sleep for five minutes.

He brought me a can of whipped cream from the fridge and told me that he thinks it’s his favorite (and could he have some for dinner?)

He also baked me an imaginary pie, and when I asked him what he used for ingredients, he told me, “Sugar. Salt. And cake.”

And this afternoon he woke up from his nap, looked at me and said, “let me see your big booby.” (I politely declined)

12 more hours before we can get an appointment with our pediatrician, and hopefully get this poor child (and let’s be honest — the rest of us) some relief.

Next Steps

After our last (failed) IVF attempt, we’ve been talking about what our next steps are.

I’m definitely planning to try again, but the more I think about it, the more I’d like to take a few months off before starting again.

For starters, we’ve decided to have our remaining embryos genetically tested. While it doesn’t guarantee success, it certainly increases our odds (and the odds have not been in my favor). And despite the extra cost, the price is significantly less than it was four years ago when we started this process, so that was a pleasant surprise.

Then we have our annual family vacation coming up, and I would love to run, and jump and play in the ocean with Gus. I’d also like to take him on rides, and to splash parks, and eat (and drink) at all my favorite restaurants and bars.

After that, we have a destination wedding coming up in September, and making either 1) a long car ride, or 2) a plane ride with a toddler while pregnant and taking blood thinners was not something I was looking forward to. Now I just have to deal with the joys of toddler traveling, and I can drink away my feelings if that’s what it comes down to.

After THAT, my oldest, and dearest friend is getting married in the spring, and her bachelorette party is possibly happening in Vegas, in the fall, and now I can go and not be the sober party mom, and instead I’ll be the least drunk party mom. (Once the party mom, always the party mom.)

I don’t actually drink that much — despite my last three points being mostly alcohol related — I swear.

Our new house is pretty great, on the inside. But the outside? Needs some work. Like chopping down trees, and clearing overgrowth, and horrible gross outdoorsy-type work. Work I despise, but would like to do as cheaply as possible, and that means getting out there and doing most of it ourselves. I can’t really whack things with an axe on my best day, let alone when I’m super high-risk and pregnant.

And can we talk about Zika for a minute? Because it scares the bejesus out of me. I live in an area they’ve classified as low-risk, but those little bloodsuckers are nearby, and guess who has two thumbs and a giant reservoir in her back yard? This girl. So I’m ok with waiting for mosquito season to end.

And, maybe most importantly, I’m excited to spend a little more time with Gus —  just us. We’ve got a lot of things on the horizon for our little man in the next few months, and I had a lot of anxiety about how a new baby would change things for him.

We just started potty training. He’s starting preschool at the end of August. He’ll be a threenager, and probably transitioning to a big-boy bed in the fall. That’s not so much for you and me, but it’s a lot in a few months when you’re under the age of three. Add all that together, I’m ok with waiting a few more months.

Physically, waiting gives me more time to keep getting healthy. Selfishly, it lets me go on vacation and drink. Financially, it lets us save for the next cycle. And mentally, it’ll be nice to take a break from needles, and medicine reminders, and worrying about all the what ifs.

Potty Training: The Middle?

We’re two weeks into potty training, and I’m super proud of all of us.

We’ve gone on a few playdates, trips to tumbling and farm class, out to a fancy dinner for Father’s Day, hours at the pool, and countless walks and bike rides around our neighborhood — no accidents. None.

I’m sure I’m jinxing myself, but I don’t care.

Most of the time I’m reminding him to take a break and use the potty. There are usually a few times a day though when he does it all on his own.

We’re still using diapers for nap/bed time but he’s routinely refusing to sleep until I take him back to the potty at least a few more times. At first I thought it was just a ploy to avoid sleeping, but turns out he really needs or wants to go.

If you’re considering potty training soon, or thinking ahead, I highly recommend the Oh Crap! Potty Training Guide by Jamie Glowacki.

Potty Training: The Beginning

As of last Tuesday, we have entered the wonderful, weird, world of potty training. 

The good news? Gus is doing really well, has a really good grasp of peeing on the potty, and has minimal accidents. 

The less than good news? Poops are proving more complicated. But I’m sure we’ll get there, eventually. 

So far we’ve stuck close to home, but have successfully ventured out for walks around the neighborhood. We’re also only focusing on daytime training at the moment, because dear god I can’t even imagine. 

If you’re considering potty training soon, or thinking ahead, I highly recommend the Oh Crap! Potty Training Guide by Jamie Glowacki. It breaks the process down into blocks, and is genuinely entertaining to read. 

Relief

Today was my D&C.

My husband has a wonderful, and inappropriate, bedside manner. Like, after he used my purse to modestly cover my crotch while I was climbing onto a gurney in my assless gown, he only referred to my purse as my “goody bag.” He also said a lot of other things I shouldn’t repeat, and then called himself a “selfish Patch Adams.”

I’m sad, and tired, and sore. But I’m also relieved.

I’ll explain.

One of the cruel realities of a missed miscarriage, are on-going pregnancy symptoms. I’ve spent the last four days, nauseous, tired, short-of-breath, and achy (in addition to sad!) — only this time I knew it was all for nothing.

And I’m sure there are lots of experiences in life that cause as much anxiety as pregnancy after recurrent miscarriage does. But those things are probably like, oh I don’t know, being kidnapped. Or dangling over an Indiana Jones-esque pit of snakes. Or being repeatedly bumped by something you can’t see in the ocean. And then doing any of those things for 10 months straight.

I’ve spent the last 9+ weeks agonizing over every twinge, cramp, pull, and ache, and frantically checking every square of toilet paper for any signs of trouble. And then, God forbid!, there are actual signs of trouble, and the Prophet Of Doom takes over in your brain, and obviously everything is ruined!

It’s been a few hours, and my ever-present nausea? Is already gone. The aches and pains I’ve been dealing with? Well, they gave me Vicodin, so those are all better too.

I’d gladly deal with all this craziness, and more, if it meant we could undo what’s already been done, but since that’s not the case, I’m relieved to know 1) my body* and, 2) my mind** will get back to normal soon.

And by “normal,” obviously I mean *chubby, and **full of annoying children’s songs.

An Unexpected Surprise

There’s a longer version of this story, and maybe I’ll feel like telling it later, but right now, I don’t.

Today I went to the doctor for an ultrasound, because I was almost nine weeks pregnant.

Was, being the operative word here.

After several successful betas, and TWO previous ultrasounds that showed a growing, healthy baby with a very strong heartbeat, today we saw a baby that was measuring a week behind.

No more heartbeat.

We knew that was always a possibility, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve been overwhelmed with warm, fuzzy feelings for the last nine weeks.

Instead, I had a growing, lingering, dreadful sensation that something was wrong.

Luckily, I don’t believe in self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve been down this road before.

I am surprisingly ok. I know there’s nothing I could have done differently to change this outcome. I am a little surprised, only because we had two wonderful ultrasounds in the last few weeks, and the odds were (not, it turns out) in our favor. But then the spotting started, and the panic set in.

Initially I thought, I can’t go through this again. But then this morning, after talking to my nurse, I knew I wasn’t finished. My family is lovely, and whole, but still not complete. We will try again.

We were, and are, very sad. But we’re also so lucky to have each other. We hadn’t even made it home from the doctor’s office before we were laughing.

Mike asked if I wanted to help with the yard work, now that I can get Zika. Then I made him stop for a drink full of caffeine. #silverlinings

Say what you will about using humor as a coping mechanism, but it sure is effective.

But I think it’s much easier this time, because I have Gus, the original rainbow baby. A sweet little boy who came to see me last night while I was laying in bed and said he was going to give me a check-up.

Then he laid his head on my chest for a minute and said, “your heart sounds really good.”

And it is. 

Career Training

I think a lot about the sort of work I’d do, when I do go back to work-work, whenever that is.

Last night I realized I have acquired a new set of skills (not unlike Liam Neeson), spending my days with an irrational, adorable, button-pushing little two-and a half year-old — and I’m pretty sure I’m now well-qualified for a variety of new positions.

Hostage Negotiator. It’s 4 a.m. You need to listen to a list of ridiculous demands (“I want water! I don’t want to sleep! I want to read! There’s a crab on my floor, get it out of here! I don’t want THAT water!”) and then convince someone it’s a good idea to go back to sleep. But you also need to make them think that it’s their idea, and that’s what they’ve wanted all along. Bonus points if everyone makes it out alive.

Chambermaid. This, unfortunately, is not that funny. But I can change a set of bedsheets in a flash.

Close-up Magician. What’s that? You want to play with this valuable/expensive/irreplaceable thing we own. But what’s this ovvverrr herrreeeee?! Ahhhhh, look at what I’m doing with my hands!, and listen to the interesting story I’m telling you!, and WHAT IS THAT BEHIND YOUR EAR?!

Slapstick Comedian. Toddlers (especially boys) think you falling and/or hurting yourself is hilarious. And if you smell something stinky? Oh man, it’s all over. At least once a day I’m always a few minutes away from a Chris Farley-esque fall onto a breakaway coffee table, or hitting myself with a fake bottle.

Animal Control Officer. Successfully changing the diaper of someone who DOES NOT want their diaper changed right now, can’t be that much more difficult than say, catching an opossum in a cage, or a snake in a net.

I’m lucky I can stay home with Gus for the foreseeable future. I can’t even imagine what else I’ll be able to add to my resume.