Nursery Reveal

Still here, still pregnant.  Totally ready for this little hapa to make her appearance.  Speaking of the word hapa, my in-laws have learned it.  Apparently there are quite a few at their church and they are totally hooked on how "cute" they are.  In fact, if I hear one more thing about the appearance of this child from my MIL, I'm gunna lose it.  Did I tell y'all she got the last ultrasound photo and told us she had a big nose?  Yeah.  She did.  Funny thing is I thought she had J's nose... which is the same as his mother's.  Anywho...

Without further adieu, the nursery is ready!  Here's what it looked like before, when it had no purpose outside of making us sad.

Now, let me take you on a little tour...

When you walk in, a ballerina greets you on the wall.  Now, I was a ballet dancer for a billion years.  It was really hard for me to stomach the fact that a ballet career is not realistic for one who is 4'11".  My mom started embroidering that picture for me when I was a kid.  Like most of her projects, it was put to the side for a long time and finally finished when I was in graduate school.  She hung it in the room I stay in when I visit her and I'd asked her to take it down and told her to give it to me when I had a daughter.  She gave it to me at my shower.

I'm really excited about this crib.  The top part folds down.  It's made with short moms and people with disabilities in mind.  I'm so psyched about being able to reach my kid in the crib.  After 6 years of working in the infant room of a daycare, I know it can be a challenge!

Since we have the birch trees and birds on the wall, J had the idea of putting the video monitor in a bird house.  Really!  He came up with the idea all by himself.  It's sitting on a faux crafty nest.

View from the other side.

We picked an embie photo and decided that was her.  We put it in a little frame to remind us.  We totally lucked out on the fabric for the glider.  We'd found the bedding we liked and then when we went to get the glider, we learned that Little Castle uses the same fabric manufacturer that the bedding people use.  I was also able to buy some of the same fabrics for some projects.

Projects like this one.  A bow holder! :)

We had a blast putting the decals up.  We were worried it would be hard and we would get frustrated with each other, but we had so much fun! There are little pink birdies flying around too.  We are also addicted to the totally ridiculous chandelier.

I made these book slings too.  Little Chimpunk is hooked up with the books!  Thankfully I work with a lot of speech pathologists who know what they are doing.  She even has the whole Harry Potter collection.  Really!

We stuck an extra birdie above the closet door.  I like how you can see the rainbows the chandelier throws in this picture.

Hope you enjoyed the tour!  Oh!  She has a name.  We went with Korean tradition and my father-in-law chose her middle name.  We'll reveal the whole kit and caboodle when she makes her appearance.

Because It Still Won't Be Over

There's a baby coming, which still blows my mind and it so beyond awesome I just can't handle it.  I'm still infertile.  My lady parts still need attention and I have to think about what I'm going to do about all that after our little Hapa Chippy arrives.

Now that I have an actual endo diagnosis, I intend to treat that bitch and not be in pain.  I'm breaking up with narcotics and I'm going to have a damn sex life again.  I am not going to be in pain or afraid of sex.  I'm not.  It's just not an option.  The problem is that treatment means that I won't be ovulating... which means there would be no hope of a surprise pregnancy.

Yes my friends, denial is still alive and well in my head.

We had crap fertilization with traditional IVF, top grade embryos have been known to be less than pleased about the prospect of implanting in my ute, and three months of menopause seems to be necessary to get me knocked up.  Yet, here's that little voice in my head still nagging, "but what if?"  I really do feel like I've come to terms with things.  I'm really okay with having an only child.  I'm really okay with my diagnosis.  I really am happy with my life.  So, WTF?  It all seems so silly.  We do have an embie on ice, but our RE didn't really have a lot of hope for it.  It isn't even from our successful cycle, it's the only extra from the FET and it almost didn't pass the freeze standards.  Our plan is to quietly do a transfer one day and just get closure.  So why on earth is that little voice upset that I have to not ovulate in order to avoid pain and enjoy sex?  I'm okay with not having another baby.  Right?

Then there's the prospect of where to go.  The world is not burgeoning with endo experts.  I haven't even talked with my OB about it, because as much as I like my practice, I sure don't see them as endo experts.  Mine does not seem to be a typical case and I'd really like to see someone who knows what they are doing, can look at MY case, and tell me what the best plan of action would be.  I don't want to just be handed a pack of BCPs and shoved out the door.  It was over 10 years ago that someone told me I probably had endo and not a single doc told me that I should take the active pills consecutively and not have a period until I ended up at an RE's office.  Not one.  I honestly think they didn't know.

My husband keeps reminding me that we still have that pesky cervical dysplasia thing to deal with too.  I keep forgetting about it.   Really, I do.  It seems so common that I think more run-of-the-mill gynes are able to deal with that than they are able to deal with endo.  Besides, I plan to ask my OB to stick a loofa on the Chipmunk's head once she gets to about 0 station so she can scrub that nasty shit off.  That'll totally work, right?

I really just wish I could hug my baby and ignore my ute for the rest of my life.  I've had enough of her drama.

Out From Under A Cloud

Some of the most recent comments on my blog encouraged me to share my joy... so I will!

Last week, I was able to get together with Laura, todayiboughtwaterproofmascara, and our favorite cheerleader and supporter, Monika.  We got to meet Laura's sweet little one and celebrate "today" and me landing safely into the last stretches of our pregnancies.  It was so awesome.  We laughed, ate, and passed the baby.  It was so wonderful to just be full of joy.  There was no pressure to act like "typical" new moms or moms to be.  No one was talking about whether or not to breastfeed, or stay at home, or sleep train, or whatever.  We've all learned the hard way that judging others' family related choices is nothing but hurtful.  Instead we shared our excitement, relief, and remaining anxieties.

I was talking with Laura about how I'm slowly rediscovering the person I was before infertility changed my life.  It's not that I'm leaving behind the lessons I've learned.  Not at all.  It's just that I hadn't realized how sad I had become and how that sadness permeated absolutely everything in my world.  My mom has commented on how she forgot I was funny and she thinks I'd forgotten too.  I find myself spending more time sitting on the floor with my patients and chatting with their parents.  I had gotten so uncomfortable being around young children and I hadn't really realized it.  I've crept back onto Facebook and don't find myself as annoyed by fertile ramblings as I was.  Still annoyed, mind you, just not as much as I was when in the thick of things.

Watching J has been the biggest joy ever.  The way he grins like a complete goof at every milestone, kick, and wiggle.  I can't say it makes up for the pain I saw in his eyes every time the stick was negative, but it is so amazing to watch him fill up with happiness.

The one thing I'm still struggling with is holding other people's babies.  I don't know what it is.  It almost feels like I have all of this pent up love and I'm afraid of what's going to happen if I pick up a little one.  All the crazy might leak out or something.  So I didn't hold Laura's little one.  I guess I'm just saving up the crazy to let it rip on my own kid.

36 weeks and I'm at 1 cm.  The Chipmunk is going to make her appearance before we know it!

33 Weeks

Really.  I'm 33 weeks pregnant, and by all accounts there is a healthy little Chipmunk in there.  We are so incredibly lucky.  Pregnancy is by no means sunshine and rainbows.  Sleep is elusive due to the most insane heartburn I ever thought could happen.  My hips hurt so badly sometimes that I can't even walk.  My asthma has flared and my cervical issues have evolved into actual dysplasia.  But you know what?  None of it matters.  None of it is worth even thinking about in light of how lucky we are to have this little one doing so well.  She can do whatever she wants to my body as long as she stays healthy and cooking.

And that's why I haven't posted.  I feel like pretty much anything I write smacks of insensitivity.  So many of the women who have been so supportive of me are dealing with some real shit.  I don't want to waste your time with bump-dates when you should be reading them and sending good thoughts and support to them.  So please go do that if you haven't already.

An Open Letter

To All The Parents Who've Spotted My Belly,

It's the first question you ask when you recognize my bump as a something more than just too many cookies.  "Is this your first?"  Such a loaded question.

Yes, it's my first pregnancy.  I'm so blessed.  So many women having babies after loss must have a much harder time with this question than I do.  Still, it's a tough question to answer.

My first child?  Well yes, kind of.  She's my only, she's a culmination of years of struggle and pain, she's a gift, she's my everything.

How do I make you understand that without letting you into my private world?  I'm pregnant, but I'm infertile.  I know this may be an oxymoron to you.  Just by virtue of having a disease, I feel like I need to educate you and show you how hurtful your off-handed comments can be.  I know you mean well, and I'm not offended by your question, but it still stings.  Asking if she's my first is expecting that there will be more and my baby collection is just starting.  I know I can't make you understand that this is it for us.  If I tell you she's our only, you'll ask why.  If I tell you how lucky we were to get this one, you'll tell me about your cousin's best friend's sister's hairdresser who got pregnant naturally after IVF.  It's great that you have hope for a miracle, but my husband and I have accepted this life we've been given.  When you insist that other children will come, you're suggesting that what we have isn't good enough.  It's more than good enough for us.  It's wonderful.

I don't want to tell you that my eggs can't be fertilized without having a doctor inject them with a chosen sperm.  I don't want to tell you that my embryos need help to hatch.  I don't want to tell you that my body has to go through three months of menopause before my lining is receptive to implantation.  I don't want to tell you that I have to be on birth control despite my infertility just to avoid constant pain.  I don't want to tell you because I'm tired of telling you.  I've been sticking up for my limping womb for years and I need a break.  I just want to look forward to being a mom.  A mom to one amazing little gift.

So just smile and say that she's our first while I listen to your war stories on birth and parenting, but I wish you really knew.  She's so much more than a first.