Christmas 2015

What a wonderful day! What a difference from the past two years. Two years ago, physical pain racked me from a killer strain of flu, and mental pain racked me from the loss of my baby. It was only a bearable day because I "knew" by 2014, I would be holding my next baby on my lap, or on the verge of giving birth. One year ago, there was even more anguish. There was the scary realization that all future Christmases could be spent childless. Avoiding and hating everyone and their familial happiness. Plying myself with alcohol and weed and Xanax and not feeling even a momentary buzz to take away the pain. Injecting myself with Follistim on that very day. 

This year, putting my boys in Santa suits. Trying to convince them to cooperate for photos simultaneously (a constant challenge with twins) but laughing all the while. Eating Christmas cookies. Opening gifts with and for the boys. Exchanging pictures with family and friends, feeling my heart glow at everyone's happiness. Walking around the neighborhood to look at the lights (A fell asleep, P loved it then fell asleep.) Even dealing with P's fussiness because of pre-teething was a blessing. Because I am a mother and my family is complete and happy. 

As I reflect on less stellar holiday memories, my heart aches for a good friend who still does not have her baby. And for all those who still yearn so badly to have a child. It sucks. I have no good advice at surviving the holidays because I could not handle things well at all. I

chose self-abuse, isolation and anger. Not really coping mechanisms at all. Just know if you are hurting, I understand and I am sorry. 

Thanksgiving As It Should Be

I cannot help but reflect on how different my life is compared to a year ago. At this time last year, I was in a depressive state. My husband was scared for my life, and honestly, with good reason. 

This year, I enjoyed my favorite holiday - Thanksgiving - by making a turkey and a few sides with C's help, and having one of our dearest couple friends over. Though I scarfed my food in order to enjoy it hot before babies awoke, it was still a lovely meal. 

The next day, C and I got our Christmas tree and opened our boxes of decorations. Because of the boys, it took two days to finish everything. My heart was full of joy and gratitude for my complete family, for the current and future memories with our children, the enjoyment of simple things like lights and food and music and laughter. I felt a beautiful warmth as we looked at our ornaments and reflected on their origins, and how we would get to share these memories with the boys - and many new ones as well. I feel so lucky that I am able to live again and live more fully than ever before. 

The boys are twelve weeks and I am continuously astounded by their growth. They interact so much more with us now. Conversing with us and even staring at us are preferred pasttimes over toys, though they each play so well on the mats now - and even independently. A enjoys tummy time, P not so much but I am slowly seeing him improve over the last few days.

They still sleep in bed with us, and the midnight crazies are only a few times a week instead of daily. Which means much better sleep at night. They are feeding much less at night now, too. Maybe they would not at all but when they stir I stick a boob in their mouth to placate them and to prevent them waking up and then they often eat a few minutes. I have gotten P to nap in the crib during the day but A not yet. A is much more the type to prefer falling asleep on me and often with his mouth on the breast. Moving him without waking him is tough. Plus, I like the cuddles. 

Since I have been home with them, we have not been on a strict schedule. This I assume will change quite a bit tomorrow when they start daycare. My heart is broken over leaving them. I have cried so much recently. They will attend a church based daycare even though C and I are not religious. It is a smaller place, not with a lot of bells and whistles, but seems like a close-knit staff and was personally recommended by my lactation consultant. Also, it is 3-5 minutes from my work so I can hopefully feed the boys and drop in unannounced occasionally. Furthermore, I will be working only til 1 daily so they will not be there too long each day. 

But despite all the pep talk, I am freaking out. Will they ignore my boys' cries? Will they sit in dirty diapers? Will they be stimulated and encouraged? Will they be safe? Will they refuse the breast since they will be getting bottles regularly? Will my milk supply suffer? (And if so, I will be using my pumping breaks to go there and feed. I really really want to breastfeed til six months.) 

I have to stop writing now because this is making me sad. So I will go now and enjoy my birthday, enjoy my family day with C and the boys. 

PS- I have nearly 1000 ounces of frozen breastmilk. Hope the boys will drink it.

Holiday Season Recap

The 2014 holidays are over and I am tired and relieved. Having company at our house for the days leading up to and including Christmas helped me from slipping into the depression that took hold during Thanksgiving weekend. It also helped me immensely to not participate in Christmas decorating or gift exchanges. I was still sad that day, as meaningless group texts of "Merry Christmas" littered my phone and no one was available to talk because they were so busy with their families, while I sat at home with only two others and pretended it was any other day but it was not. My own mom and dad did not contact me, nor other family members that we normally hear from. Sad on so many levels, but a relief at the same time. 

Two days after Christmas, while at lunch with C and his mom, alcohol took over and I started bawling at the table. C joined in. The grief of infertility combined with sadness that our one close family member was going back home and wouldn't see us again for a few months at minimum, was too much. We were hysterically crying and telling her how bad we actually are doing and how isolated and lonely we were. It was good in a way because it alerted her to how our lives really are, but it sucked since she had to leave right after this revelation.

The next day, I had an RE appointment for "day 12" ultrasound and bloodwork. The stair-stepped dose of 7.5 mg of Femara did its job and I had two 19 mm follicles, a 16 mm follicle and estradiol of 395. I was instructed to trigger that night and return Monday and Tuesday for IUIs. I think the E2 seems low given the number of follicles so I am not very positive but I am not as worried as I usually am. Probably because I am just so tired of this shit. 

On Tuesday we also had the financial consultation for IVF. I will write a separate post soon on this because it was a lot of information.

Yesterday, we went to a college bowl game and tailgated with my boss and his family, with whom we regularly attend sports events. I got too drunk and soon after kickoff started crying to C about infertility. My boss and his wife were right next to us and unfortunately heard us. They were very comforting, but damn, I am embarrassed!! 

The game ended around 11:45 so we barely got to our cars to ring in the new year. We kissed briefly but did not really absorb the moment. But that is ok. I probably would have ruminated on how disastrous 2014 was had I had the chance. 

Today, C and I are hung over and watching football. I am not lucid enough to think much about last year or this year yet. Obviously, I hope this is the year I get pregnant but I would also hope that I can become more at peace with this struggle if it does not happen. I hope that I can approach the inevitable pregnancy announcements with more grace. I hope that I have the strength to reach out to friends who are pregnant and support them and be happy for them. 

We'll see how it goes.