And then there were two

Thursday morning, while scrambling some eggs, I peed myself in the kitchen. But did I? Usually the "totally normal amount of accidental urine leakage for a second pregnancy" is accompanied by a response to stop the pee. I had no sensation of peeing or of trying to stop peeing. I was just wet on my thighs and underwear.

"I think my water just broke."

Scully looked at me blankly. I don't think it was disbelief. I think it was more in fear that this was another great labor pronouncement that would end in more disappointment, particularly for me. We would have to ride along together through the roller coaster of excited and panicky only to end up with irritation and disappointment.

The doctor says to go on in and have the nurses check me out. Khubz is dropped off at gramma's house, Scully & I buzz down to dsm to the hospital. One hour and a pelvic exam later it is determined that I have pissed myself while scrambling some eggs. See ya. Really the professional medical opinion? You pissed yourself.

Hold that thought, though.


In truth the nurse, Nancee, was very nice. She said things like, stop writing down all your contraction times. You're only making yourself crazy. When you double over or can't stop yourself from moaning--then write it down. That was freeing in a way. She also advised that I should try to "relax into the contraction" so it would actually have an impact on my cervix.


Still, I was extremely disappointed. I was no more dilated than I had been at the doctor's on Monday. It was now Thursday and I had spent all of Wednesday walking my ass off. All for nothing. Oh well. Scully and I left the hospital and stopped at the Mexican neighborhood where I ate roasted chilis in the hope that our bean would get inspired.


Later that night Khubz was tucked in bed, my mom called and I tearfully asked her to come over. Scully, Mom & I sat in the living room watching british drama (Foyle's war, of course) and I decided my "last meal" could really come at any point. It was time to begin the buffet.


I sat down to eat a mango. It may be the best mango I had ever eaten. It was perfectly ripe without being squishy. It was firm without being stringy or fibrous. It even peeled nicely. So I had some mango and was cajoled into walking around the house a bit between bites. Not that it was going to do me any good, right?


Five minutes of walking and I returned to my sweet tender mango. Oh, cherished mango, you are the only one who really understands me, I cooed to it while Mom & Scully asked if I shouldn't keep walking.


So I took another bite and there was this audible "pop" followed by a swoosh. I gasped and asked Mom & Scully if they'd heard it too. They hadn't heard the pop but the entire couch was now clearly wet. This was not accidental urine leakage. "My water just broke!" Scully grabs a towel and runs outside to start the car. My mom hops on the phone to rally the tribe. I sat on the couch wet and stunned.


Mom reported this to one of my sisters. "Her water just broke! Really! All over the couch. How does she feel? She looks a little bit in shock. And wet."


Scully bundles Khubz into Gramma's van. Khubz will stay at Gramma & Grampa's. We dropped Khubz off, picked up Tia Lila and off we went: Scully, me, Gramma and Tia Lila. The Bean moved his head at one point and everyone could hear another woosh of fluid dripping all over the passenger seat and onto the floor. Um. Sorry about that, Mom.

On the way to DSM my contractions were four, three, sometimes two minutes apart. At the hospital the admitting nurse asked if I was sure my water had broken and I informed her that I was and, actually, I was dripping all over her floor. Another sister, Tia Teefa met us at the hospital a bit later.


That was all about 9 o'clock at night. Five short hours later our son came screaming into the world. Screaming.


I know that I regularly complain about Khubz taking 52 hours to come into the world. That was a bit excessive, no? But five hours. Five hours was a whole different kind of hard.


I did use some pain meds this time. Something that starts with an F that they give you in an IV. I refer to this as my "shot of tequilla." It was nice for about 20 minutes. The only drawback was that ever after I could not open my eyes without getting dizzy and nauseous.


With Khubz, I did a lot of focusing away from pain by gazing and staring at Scully. Since I couldn't do that I squeezed the fuck out of her hand. I did not notice (it was reported to me later) that she took off her ring in fear that I would bend it. Since I couldn't see my mom or my sisters either I would periodically call out, "are you guys still here??" The nurses answered with a resounding, "YES! We are here! :) " No, not you--but don't you leave either!! I wanted to shout back.

The doctor still wasn't there. As the contractions mounted I informed everyone that I was "feeling a lot of pressure." That was not, apparently, enough to alarm them. " THIS BABY IS COMING! I HAVE TO PUSH!" I was at 10 centimeters. This is when the room filled up with nurses. The doctor still MIA.


The commandment came down: don't push! My feet were locked together to try and keep this baby inside. I needed my socks taken off because they were making my feet slip. Scully was momentarily released from my death grip to remove my socks. I saw a slight grimace as she pulled them off my feet. "I know, I know. My feet stink. I'm sorry, okay?!" Actually, it was that my socks were sopping wet with amniotic fluid. Way past stinky feet grimace.


Another urge to push. "Blow it away. Blow the pain away." Scully, just as we had practiced, was puffing and blowing. "You're taking all my air!!!" I shrieked at her. This was a replay from Khubz's birth. I heard some chuckling from the peanut gallery and began yelling "Don't laugh at me! You don't get to laugh at me!!" At another point I turned to Scully and told her, "Okay. I can't actually be here. I have to leave actually. I can't be here." Where is she planning to go? one of the nurses asked Scully. Anywhere but here, perhaps.


While I was resisting the urge to push, my mom and the sisters were resisting the urge to shout, "just push that baby out! you don't have to wait for that doctor!!" I should have, too. It felt like hours later and the doctor came. He walked in the door and started putting booties over his shoes. I don't care about your shoes! This baby is coming!


A few short pushes and our son literally ran out into the world.

Mashallah.



There are lots more stories, and many thanks for the congratulations and well wishes. The boychild is getting hungry so I'll write more later.



We are all doing well, though. Khubz is amazing even though this is a tough adjustment. Scully and I are doing much better figuring things out than we did the first time round. But stay patient with us. There's not a lot of sleep in casa de fruitbasket right now. But there are these wonderfully, bleary eyed moments of tenderness. Just take a look.

queen of prelabor

Let me tell you how I really feel. Sigh. I am having contractions but they don't seem to be going anywhere. You remember that movie the Blair witch project? They were lost in the woods the whole time and you kept yelling at the screen " just follow the fucking river already!! You will stop going in circles and we can all get on with the fucking movie! "

this is about about where I am. We all know there will be an exciting climax. In my case labor. Inthe case of the movie, a bloody, badly acted death scene. Both exciting to be sure. But how much do we all have to suffer before getting to it???

We know the main event is coming. Now we just have to wander aimlessly through the woods for a while with all sorts of teaser moments to keep things exciting. Really, the mini faker climax has just never been my thing.

Two new things

I found my potato masher!!

And i was up last night for a couple hours with intermittant contractions!!!!! Real ones!!! I know that cld go on for weeks but it is still pretty exciting!

10 Week Countdown

Scully and I got to hear the Bean's heartbeat yesterday. Everything is looking good, hamdillah, and we've got 10 weeks left to go.

I've already got $20 bucks riding on Jan. 7th, though, instead of the 14th.

But one way or the other we've got about 10 weeks to go. This demands some list making.

Goal for week 30 (next week)

• Clean my hole of an office. And for anyone I work with: I will not appreciate the humor in any cynical "when hell freezes over" comments
• Get my hair cut. Trimmed at least.
• Polish the kitchen cabinets. It is a small kitchen and I always complain that there's not enough cabinet space so this should be a snap!

Goal for week 31

• Back up the photos from our computer onto a flash drive.
• Clean out the door of the fridge. The fridge will be a more complicated cleaning project than my office so we best divide this up over a couple weeks.
• Purchase a new top that I can breastfeed in and wear comfortably in front of my father.

Goal for week 32

• Reevaluate the logic of publicly listing tasks like this that I am most likely to never, ever complete.
• Connect with other women about the value of getting through the day over the value of a completed to-do list.
• Go downstairs to back up the photos and spend the whole time shopping online for (but never purchasing) a top I can breastfeed in.

Goal for week 33

• Clean out the fridge for godssake. Just clean it out!!
• Decide that is enough for the week

Goal for week 34

• Sort through infant/newborn clothes
• Decide that this is enough for the week

Goal for week 35

• Resist the urge to go back in the blog and delete this post.

awesome

A friend sent me this link.
Lovely!
Thanks Mick!

Euphoric Recall & Cervical Pride

A friend was over the other night & was talking to me about "euphoric recall" when we have romanticized remembrances of what was actually difficult, painful or traumatic.

"I think I know what you're talking about" I told her. "Like the other day when I told Scully I was actually looking forward to the birth."

Um, YES. Euphoric recall, much?

In truth I kind of am looking forward to it. I quite like our doctor and she hasn't made any references to wanting to cut me. I also like thinking about the fact that I have an idea of what was previously unimaginable to me. I think about using a mirror this time so I could see what was going on (maybe not. maybe? maybe not.)

I think about watching my mom and my sister Kirsten's face when I was crowning and Khubz's face appeared in the world for the first time. I wonder who will be at the birth this time? Will the weather be clear on I-35?

I think about being anxious to get to the hospital so that something would happen and being sent home three separate times. And this time, will I have a better idea of what is happening and when to go? Will I be able to tell? Will I feel more easy being home longer without any monitors or machines?

I think about being at the hospital with the petocin taking over my body and how I turned my head to the side to make eye contact with Scully for one last time before I died.

Okay, so it's not all euphoric recall.

Really, I don't think of myself as physically accomplished in any way (except that I actually have amazing upper body strength--no one ever believes me! I chalk this up to assumptions about fat women and femmes. . .grrrr) but I do sort of marvel at the accomplishment of my cervix dilating to 10 centimeters.

Please don't mishear me. I'm not making any comparisons between my experience and any other woman's birth experience or choices. But simply for myself and in thinking about my own body, it is nice to feel proud of my cervix.

what we have

single healthy embryo

alhamdillah

This is not a diet blog

Please don't feel any fear.

I have been fat all my life.

I remember being in second grade and being told I had big boobs. I didn't have big boobs. Actually, I was just fatty. Everywhere. Including my quite prepubescent chest.

I actually enjoy roundness, including my own.

I met the venus of willendorf when we came back to the states to live. I was 12. My witchy sister who had been living here for years was living in a small apartment with her partner and her ferrets and her cat. I came to her house to hang out and the only spot there was for me to pray was right in front of her witchy altar. And there was the venus. I prayed before her with arabic words, muslim ritual form and complete devotion to her.

I loved her for her round form, her stance, all the places where she curved and poured. It was impossible to ignore her. I loved her large legs, her sagging breasts, her distinctly drawn labia. I was lost in her face--a maze of anything i needed.

I have loved her ever since. I was raised with the idea that I am sacred. But it was the first conscious moment where I knew that my body as it is might just be sacred. And I trembled with the thought that I might worship that which was like me.

I have a necklace of the venus in bronze. "Is that Buddha?" I was constantly asked. "Look closer" I offer them the perfect view of her cunt.

Writing from KY, I am wearing the small silver labrys I've worn the last 8 years. And I'm not trading in the labrys for the venus--so please no worries of prioritizing identities. But I think I need her now. Distinctly.

Being such a large woman now pregnant with twins means I am acutely aware of gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, diabetes in general, worried about throwing my back out when I'm only 4 months along. . . . you can all guess. I've also been reading that some of the best indicators of health for twins is the mom's nutrition and steady weight gain throughout the pregnancy.

And 120 grams of protein a day.

So I find myself charting what I eat, how much, it's calorie content, protein content, whether it is a good source of fiber, folic acid or calcium. This is not my natural state. So I want the goddess with me, right with me, alongside me, dangling over my throat, my heart, above my belly. I'm not trying to get away from her. I know I am her. While all this change is swirling around me, that is not going to change.

She has plenty for me to hold on to. Joyfully.

Additionally

I know it is not at all obvious in my previous spinning post but I am really very happy about having twins. I already wonder who these little people will be when they come into the world. Who will we meet? How will the world change? I think Scully & Khubz & I are all up for it. And my mom is shrieking with joy. Shrieking. Joyfully.



I am feeling better about Khubz, too.



I think in the previous post I was really adjusting to the idea, unsure about all the things that would change and unable to picture anything at all. I have some more ideas now and have been reassured that Khubz & I will not be lost to one another. We'll be tired for a while. That's okay. Sometimes the mommies just are tired.



So now we're browsing the double strollers and looking for one that has a "rumble seat" where Khubz could ride as well. Also, she'll be two and a half. It will be the middle of winter. By the time spring comes around we will have had some practice. And we are totally practicing the "hold mommie's hand" when we walk. She is a very good girl.



I am missing her. And Scully. And I also love being pregnant. I love the idea that what will grow into my children are already with me. That as I was eating my yummy spinach salad there were these two embryos very excited about the iron and "leafy green"-ness of it all. And I talk to them.

I should also tell you that we have nicknames. So Khubz was "zygy" when she was in utero. Zygote turned into zygy and that stuck even after she was waay past zygote and even once she was a fetus. We dropped it as soon as she was in the world. She was immediately "Khubz" for us.

So we were looking again at all the points of development and I said "blastocyst. cool." And Scully dubbed my pregnancy "blasty." And now it's Blasty squared. And you know what that makes me? That's right! I'm Masterblaster! who knew that Mad Max would be such a longlasting theme in my parenting?

I will say that the beds are very nice here. I am sleeping well and I am really excited that I get to go to bed as soon as the meeting is over each day! 6 o'clock bedtime, here I come!

Additionally, check out the beautiful fruit we had on the breakfast buffet this morning. The pic doesn't do it justice, but it's not bad for a camera phone.

amost live blogging

Well, i'm here in KY, Louisville specifically. Lovely city. We've had amazing food. Very kind people. 16th largest us city, did you know? So my problems are not about louisville or ky even. It's just that

i'm away from my family for a week. Blech.

Khubz has an ear infection, again. We are taking her to an ENT doc next to talk about tubes. This is her seventh ear infection since last september.

it's primary night in ky and where is hillary holding her primary night gala?
at. this. hotel.
for. real.

We've all been issued wrist bands to prove we're in the country (hotel) legally. Secret service are crawling all over this place, which frankly is fucking creepy enough all ready because the fucking NRA is having some sort of meeting here today. THE HOTEL IS GOING ON LOCKDOWN THIS EVENING.

I feel like in some ways this may be a missed opportunity for live event blogging but I don't think I'd be able to stomach it.

Instead let me widge on about my pregnancy. I'm feeling much better, not nearly as naseuas this week. We found a great bistro a couple blocks from the hotel and I had an amazing salad of spinach, walnuts, strawberries and goat cheese crutons. YUM. I also had some salmon. I get to check off 3 major food groups: leafy greens, protein, & omega-3 fats. Great.

I cannot wait to talk to a nutritionalist about what I should/not be eating during this pregnancy. Mostly because I want to actively avoid gestational diabetes and I would like these babies to come safely into the world and I would like to stay safely in the world. I have obligations already, you know?

Alright, I'm signing off. Thanks for listeneing.

Quickie Update

Hello fruity blogosphere!

Thanks for all the congratulations & good wishes. We are thrilled here at the fruit basket. So much is still unknown so I am trying to chill out (I suck at this, btw.) So what are we waiting on now?

The results of my beta HcG & progesterone tests. The first one was good. I should have results from Friday's test soon.

A sonogram where we find out exactly what our lives may look like. Or, really, not exactly. I had three follicles that were ready to go when we inseminated. Anything is possible. It is possible that not all the follicles had eggs. It is possible that not all the eggs were released. It is possible that not all of the eggs were fertilized. It is possible that not all the eggs implanted. I have been bleeding & spotting on & off quite a bit so it's also possible that not all the eggs have hung around. We won't know how many we're talking about until the sonogram. I am super excited about finding this out.

We (of course) will take anyone the universe sends our way, with gratitude. It does feel like something important to know, however.

In other news, we had a great mother's day weekend. Joe & her husband & MajPaj all came down and we enjoyed Mexican Mother's Day on Saturday and another Mother's Day on Sunday. Just another benefit of twice the mommies.

I don't have tons of time right now but I encourage you to hop over to QWoC and check out the top 8 things folks of mixed race do not want to hear. Nicely done.

The Verdict!!!!!!!!

Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

while we're waiting

Implantation
Within 24-hours after fertilization, the egg begins dividing rapidly into many cells. It remains in the fallopian tube for about three days. The fertilized egg (called a zygote) continues to divide as it passes slowly through the fallopian tube to the uterus where its next job is to attach to the endometrium (a process called implantation). First the zygote becomes a solid ball of cells, then it becomes a hollow ball of cells called a blastocyst. Before implantation, the blastocyst breaks out of its protective covering. When the blastocyst establishes contact with the endometrium, an exchange of hormones helps the blastocyst attach. Some women notice spotting (or slight bleeding) for one or two days around the time of implantation. The endometrium becomes thicker and the cervix is sealed by a plug of mucus.
Within three weeks, the blastocyst cells begin to grow as clumps of cells within that little ball, and the baby's first nerve cells have already formed. Your developing baby is called an embryo from the moment of conception to the eighth week of pregnancy. After the eighth week and until the moment of birth, your developing baby is called a fetus.

Still here

Still waiting. Waiting. Waaaaiiiiting.
For lots of things.


For Bush to be out of office.


For the us to be out of iraq.


For our student loans paid off.

For a good time to pee on a stick.


Please forgive my irreverance. I'm not trying to minimize anything; just to give you a sense of what perspective is like for me right now.

follicle spotting

she once was
just as small
as this
but this was
never all she
was & now
she is the sum
of all the world
for me &
all that will ever be
for me is
changed by her
even when she
was as
small
as this
& i am
left to
wonder how
the world
may change
again &
again by one
beginning
as small
& possible
as this

Good News

Day One!

Day One!

I got my period today!
Unmedicated!

Yea!!

Apparently the trick is to stomp around the statehouse all day with only one tampon tucked away in your purse.

There's more work to be done but this is great news.

Let's get started, I say! Um, really? Asks my genius sister.

Listen to your sister, says my genius partner.

So we're waiting at least a month. This will give me time to continue getting my body ready (inshallah), we can save a bit more money (thanks for all the ideas!) and we can see if I can get my period again & how long the cycle is.

I have a progesterone prescription & Scully got it filled for me. So if I don't get my period in a timely way I can always use those meds.

Quick call to Target

And the cost of Bravelle is actually $85 dollars a vial. Not $50.

Sometimes I feel a bit fucked.

$1500 in my closet

Yes, there is $1500 in my closet. And it's not enough.

I make a quick call to the fertility clinic to brush up on the cost of everything. My memory of what we did before was a sort of a blur of periodically shelling out $300 to the clinic here & there.

Cost of the insemination procedure? $206
Cost to wash (separate the tail from the core) the sperm? $60
Cost of the sperm? $400-$500
Cost of the crazy woman juice? $2250

This is for one cycle. . . one try. . .one month.

How did we do this before?
Insurance covered the cost of the fertility drugs.
And my policy now does not.

Will it cover the lab work? The sonograms? The progesterone? The hCG shot?

Scully and I talked through a couple silver linings to this really big problem.

• If we were only going to get insurance to cover one round of trying to make a baby, alhamdillah, they covered the first round. We know so much more. We won't be wasting time, money, meds, treatments just trying to figure out what kinds of help i need.
• We found this out before we incurred any costs. This relieves a lot of pressure.
• This means after I have my second child, inshallah, I can make a decision about whether and where to work based on what is best for my actual family, rather than wondering if I should stay somewhere for the fertility coverage while pondering whether to try for#3.
• I am totally proud of how Scully & I talk about money and I do believe we'll find a way to swing this.

Of course any silver lining is attached to a cloud: I still haven't gotten my period despite my best efforts to sabotage all my attempts to get my period back

All this is to say, how did we find $1500 in our linen closet? We have 5 boxes of Brevelle, each with 5 vials. Those suckers are $50 a piece. The vials. Not the boxes. We have 25 of them. Anyone want to check my math? $1500, right?

Yea us!

I mean, sure, they expired in December of'06, but the dr at the clinic said they should still be good. And so we're going to use them.

That gives me 7 days of treatments. To conceive Khubz I was on the meds for 15 days (3 vials a day.)

So all I need to do is figure out how to make a cool thousand and we'll have our first round financed. To celebrate, I went out and bought a $70 turkey. I know. Don't worry. It makes sense to me.

30 lbs later

In an entirely separate vein from my last post, I did have an amazingly successful visit at the fertility clinic. They have moved to a different building (different city, actually) but there was still plenty of nostalgia.

The rundown:

• I am 30 lbs heavier now than I was last time. This is not great and it would be super for me to drop some weight. This is not news to me. They're not requiring me to lose the weight before trying, they just think it would be a good idea to lose some weight. This is not news to me.


• They are going to let me start back at the same level of fertility meds that were successful in conceiving Khubz. (YEA!!!!!!!!) They are already calling the prescriptions in and we should have a box of crazy-woman-juice delivered to our house in the next week.


• I missed my period in December (thanks a lot, Christmas cookies) but they're not too worried about it.


• I got a prescription for metformin (i lost 10 pounds the last time i started on metformin) which is an insulin-regulating med. Some women with pcos get pregnant just from using metformin. Not me. But i think it helped.

This is all extraordinarily good news, also unexpected. I was thrilled and shocked that it wasn't a fight to get me back on the Bravelle. I can't believe we might start trying as soon as February!

Many thanks to folks for the encouragement, fertility boosting tips and mymonthlycycles.com There are so many things that are different this round, some things that are still there but altered and then some things that haven't changed a bit.

Totally different: The stakes. The very question before us. What happens next does not determine whether Scully and I will become mothers, whether we will get to parent.

There but altered: The process. We still won't have much control over what happens (all likely to still be crazymaking) but we have so much more information than we ever did before.

Not a bit different: Their sensitivity. I met with a very nice nurse who started right after I got pregnant. Her name is Judy. She was great. Taking my vitals she said, "Oh I love your necklace. Do you go to a lot of renaissance festivals?" "Um, yeah, sometimes. But this is actually a lesbian-feminist symbol." "Oh really? Well you learn something new everyday. And that's just great, honey" all said in a sweet southern drawl while patting my shoulder "we love lesbian feminists around here so you just go and wear your necklace!" This was a pretty good (if funny) sign and she seemed very nice and with that accent she had me at "My name is Judy. Please get on the scale." But then I ran in to lots of folk who had been there when I was last there and I showed everyone the picture of Khubz. They oohed and ahhed as they should over my truly spectacular girlchild. And then Judy says, "well you have just got to bring her during one of your appointments so i can pinch those cheeks myself!" Nice sentiment. Meant to be welcoming. At the same time I wanted to say : Don't you know that you have a roomful of often traumatized women?? And while not everyone sitting in that room is on the verge of emotional crisis but at any given time there's a good percentage who are! And it doesn't make anyone feel hopeful to see someone with a babychild while you're sitting in the waiting room praying and begging your follicles to ripen. And it's really not hopeful after you've had a sonogram and now know that your follicles are not responding to treatment but you have to go sit in the waiting room before talking to the doctor because they need the exam room for someone else--it's really not helpful or hopeful then. So with all that in mind, I thanked Judy for complimenting my beautiful child and agreed that her cheeks are luscious. I think they need more information about trauma. I'm just not the one to give it to them.

Totally different: I know I'm not the one to give them that information. I know what supports I need in order to get what I want from the clinic even though they don't have all the knowledge I would like them to have.

There but altered: I got there at 2:30. My appointment was at 3 pm. The nurse saw me at 4:15. I waited some more. The doctor saw me at 4:45. What was altered? I spent the time looking at a picture of my daughter.

Not a bit different: I spent the entire drive from the clinic on the phone with Scully, my mom (my awesome mom who says kick-ass things like, "will they let scully be the one to inseminate you again?" I completely LOVE her!) and my sisters.

Totally different: I don't have to do a lot of the preliminary tests like the HSG test (if I'd had a c-section they would need to do it again) or take an HIV test or have Scully drive in for an HIV test. And we don't have go get "approved for parenthood" by that great big FUCK of a psychologist who makes a living gatekeeping for the patriarchy. (they had a stack of her business cards and I almost wrote on them, "you don't have to give this asshole your money! just tell her to fuck off!!" but I decided I needed to be a more compliant patient than that)

There but altered: I'm not writing crazy tomes of emails about this process. Now I've got a blog. :)

Not a bit different: I obsessively share details most friends would like to be shielded from. Look forward to blog posts like, "yes, in fact. gooey is an apt descriptor" or "so that's what Kirsten meant by egg-white consistency!"