Round 1: No Luck

Well, round 1 has come to an end with no luck. I am not pregnant. I knew that it was unlikely to happen the first month (statistically, it is unlikely to happen any month with a woman my age having less than 20% chance a given cycle), but I was hoping. Not just hoping, but longing for it to happen. I wanted to be one of those stories: well, we struggled with infertility with our first, but with our second, it happened on the first try! I guess not. Secretly, I was hoping it would happen this past summer when we were not as careful with our birth control as we could have been.

When I became pregnant with my son, I was giving acupuncture a try and also listening to guided meditation. I have read a lot this time about the mind-body connection. I get it, but here is my question: how do you stay positive and tell yourself that your body can do this when it failed you for so so many months before? I am so scared of getting my hopes up only to be dashed on the floor like last time. I want to believe but I feel guarded, like my infertility past is a haunting ghost preventing me from having full faith this time around.

So, I will try to keep my head up, try to believe and have faith in my body. I know that I can get pregnant. It will happen, I hope.

A son is a son until...

My head was groggy from multiple cries in the night of "momma, up pease."  The sun was just beginning to shine over the frost covered pasture and leaving my warm bed with a toddler, bottom up and hands tucked under him for warmth, was the last thing I wanted to do.  After 31 years, I know that the relentless march of the morning will not be stopped by hiding under my covers.  I throw back the white comforter (white because it can be cleaned, bleached if necessary) and reluctantly begin my day.  As I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, ready to begin the morning, I hear a soft voice from the center of the bed.  He has rolled onto his back, and looks up at me with a shy smile and says, "momma, cold."  I agree that it is cold and I take his commentary as an invitation to linger for just a moment longer.  I climb back into bed and wrap my arms around the little boy as he snuggles into my chest and sighs.  I sigh too, loving these moments where his happiness is my hug, my warmth and where I am the center of his world.

I have heard it said that "a daughter is a daughter forever, and a son is a son until he is married."  Perhaps that saying is why I push my husband to call his mother more.  "Call her, just tell her about your day," I prod.  "She doesn't want to hear about my boring day," he responds.  I stand there looking at my husband, and in his eyes, I see my own little boy and the toddler that my husband once was.  "I promise you, she would love to hear about your day." 

My little boy is going to grow up.  His world will slowly expand beyond our little family to embrace his schools, the state and then the world beyond.  I can't wait to watch him discover all that life has to offer.  I will watch from the center of the field and then from the sidelines as he learns the wonderful joy and sorrow that are present in our world.  I will slowly step back.  Today, I hold his hand and direct his life.  Tomorrow, I will let him walk on his own but still close by.  Someday, he will run far away from me and I will sit down, weary from years of chasing, directing and hand-holding.  I will await his return, *hopefully* content knowing that I did what I could.  I know that someday he will walk back towards me, holding the hand of someone who has stolen his heart.  I know that he cannot stay my little boy forever, but for today, I will wrap my arms around my ferocious and shy toddler, love and tickle him.

What You Need Now

My computer has this annoying habit where if I am on another website (for work or otherwise) and I receive an email, my email either pops open or the little internet explore icon in the bottom corner of my screen starts to flash.  Conditioned like one of Pavlov's dogs, I immediately click over to see what earth-shattering communication awaits in my email.  Nine times out of ten, I immediately delete the email.  It is an ad from a clothing store that I used to frequent when in private practice or an email about a symposium on some esoteric principle of law that I just! have! to! attend!  How about no.

 

Today, I was in the middle of reading a blog about how to simplify the holiday season and enjoy the true beauty of Christmas when the icon in the corner started to flash.  I raced over and opened my email.  The new email was from a shoe store claiming:  "What You Need Now..." followed by their cleverly named new collection of overpriced shoes.  While I normally delete these emails without a second thought, the title caught me off-guard today.  "What I Need Now:" More Shoes. 

 

I can think of a hundred and fifty things that I want right now:  prints from etsy, a new dining room table (reclaimed barnwood, please, sigh), barstools for our renovated kitchen, a new floor to replace the electric blue carpet from the 80s in our dining room, collared shirts that are not stained and, of course, shoes.  I want all those things, oh yes.  I long to hang new prints on the wall, to decorate and have a "perfect" house.  But "need," what do I truly need?  None of that.  I need food to eat, clothes to wear to work and air to breathe.  In honesty, I probably "need" far less of those first two things than I have or consume. 

 

Beyond the basics, I need to smell my little boy's hair as he slowly falls asleep on my chest at night.  I need time to connect with my husband, time to remember the man I fell in love with almost thirteen years ago.  I need to step outside these walls that contain me during the day and run so that I connect with the outside world and myself.  I need to linger over a cup of coffee with my mom, fostering my realization that she knows exactly what it is like to be a working mom and that she will always give me a hug and tell me that it is going to be ok.  I desperately need to figure out what I want to do when I grow up.  I need to show my son that he can believe in people and that there is goodness, hope and love, if you just look for it.  For none of those things are new shiny shoes required. 

 

Truthfully, it is so hard to break the old habit of see what I want and reflexively enter the credit card number that I still keep stored in my head.  For years, I told myself that I worked hard and so deserved that new pair of jeans or that piece of art or toy for my son.  It is tough and with a bit of ache that I struggle to remind myself that I do not need, I want.  And by saying no to the wants, I make it easier to address my true needs.

Here We Go Again (Part 3)

Cycle 3 of Infertility Treatments.  The cyst had resolved.  It was go time.  It was springtime in Boston.  I would go for my daily monitoring and enjoying walking the beautiful streets on my way to work.  The day of our procedure happened to be a Sunday.  Early in the morning, my husband went with me to the clinic.  We spent our waiting time in the English Garden.  We went home, crashed, napped and saw Iron Man.  In the midst of that cycle, I decided it was time to tell my family.  I needed the support.  I told my mom and my sister, in person.  I tried to tell them how hard the last many months had been.  They cried for me, but they had had no idea.  They both eagerly assured me that it was bound to happen soon.  My mother, a nurse, tried to comfort me and ask questions about the procedures.  I finally felt like I had a cushion of support.  I no longer had to make up reasons that we couldn't visit on the chance that a particular Saturday would be a procedure day. 

 

Cycle 3 also brought me to acupuncture.  I would have tried anything.  As one of my friends said to me,"if they told you to eat an orange Popsicle, upside down on Tuesdays and you would get pregnant, you would have a stash of orange Popsicles in your fridge within an hour."  She was so very right.  So I tried acupuncture.  The first guy I saw was horrid.  He told me that I hadn't tried long enough, that the procedure wouldn't work and that I was "too young" to go this route.  (The "too young" or "you have so much time" is one of my biggest pet peeves.)  I dropped him that afternoon.  Then, I found Josh.  He was wonderful.  Compassionate, caring and encouraging.  He let me talk or just stay quiet depending on what I needed that day.  He was wonderful.

 

Less than two weeks after the IUI, I peed on a stick first thing in the morning.  The faintest of two pink lines showed up.  The next morning, the line was stronger.  My husband sent me flowers at work.  I went for a blood test and ultrasound at the fertility clinic.  I had two primary doctors at the clinic.  Doctor 1 was a head RE at the clinic.  Doctor 2 was an RE earning her credentials.  Doctor 2 was young and did much of my monitoring, including the failed cycle, and the day before the IUI on cycle 3.  Doctor 2 did the ultrasound to check for a pregnancy.  We saw a heartbeat.  She hugged me, tears in her eyes.  She asked that we send a baby announcement after my due date, February 6.    

 

Three years ago, my husband and I were so desperately trying to get pregnant with our first child.  That period of my life -- where we were trying and unable to get pregnant -- was one of the toughest of my life.  Every month was filled with excitement, hope and devastation.  And it is with excitement, hope and trepidation that we start walking down that path again.  Only this time, I hope and pray that the path is so very much shorter.

Here We Go Again (Part 2)

My husband and I undertook our first cycle with trepidation and excitement.  This was it.  We were sure this would work.  I stopped running.  I started doing yoga.  I endured my first cycle, complete with shots and early morning appointments for the monitoring.  No one knew.  I was careful to ensure that the daily appointments did not interfere with my work.  I wore long sleeves so that people could not see evidence of the every-other day blood draws.  Even though I could have done the injections myself, I asked my husband to.  He was gentle and compassionate (from a guy who is a type 1 diabetic) about sticking me with a needle (sometimes two) every day.  The month went by, and ... nothing. 

The day that my second cycle was to begin, the doctor came in whom I learned to loathe.  She had a med-student with her.  When they began the monitoring, she turned to the med-student and said, "see, this right here is why we cancel some cycles.  She has a cyst that hasn't resolved.  It will in a month or two."  And then she looked at me and said, so call us next month.  I was dumbfounded.  I cried on my way to work.  A month may not seem like that long, but when you have watched so many tick by with nothing, each month becomes an opportunity.  Each month hat goes by with nothing is a loss.  After a rough day, I decided to say screw it for a month. 

Our second bedroom had remained unfinished and unloved for years, in hopes that a baby would some day give us reason to decorate.  The day my second cycle was cancelled, I decided that I would no longer let that room taunt me.  That weekend, we ran off to IKEA and bought a room's worth of furniture.  We stopped at home depot and bought paint (but mind you, paint that would also go with a nursery, just in case).  We turned our blah office into a gorgeous guest room, with yellow walls, white furniture with black and gray accents and our charcoal paintings of New Orleans on the wall.  We lounged in the room and I loved that it became a place of happiness instead of a place that taunted me.  That month, I didn't want to think about or care about getting pregnant.  I didn't pay attention to anything that was going on with my body.  It was a huge relief.

Here We Go Again (Part 1)

No.  I am not pregnant.  Dare to dream.

But, we have decided the time is right to begin trying to add number 2 to our family. 

Last time, it wasn't so easy.  Last time, I was so excited to start trying.  I was sure that I would see a happy face, two lines, or whatever the correct symbol was to let us know that our tiny family of two would soon be three.  And then six months went by.  My sister had her baby.  I hid the sorrow on my face as I held my tiny nephew.  I was elated for my sister, overwhelmed with love for my nephew and, though I felt horrible to admit it, jealous that my husband and I were not expecting our own. 

At six months, it was time for me to "read up" on this business of getting pregnant.  I devoured six, maybe seven different books on getting pregnant.  I lingered over TTC boards.  We changed the way we were doing a few things.  We kept trying.  I tried charting my temperatures.  That whole process completely stressed me out.  I quickly realized that I could manipulate the thermometer, and I could never quite figure out the results.  I added in OPKs (ovulation predictor kits).  My life was run by when those lines would show up.  Don't get me wrong, my husband and I had fun in the process, but at some point, my heart began to ache.

At nine months, I had my annual physical.  I casually mentioned to my doc that my husband and I were trying to get pregnant.  She patted me on my knee and reassured me that it would surely happen soon.  I mentioned that we had been trying "a while."  She stopped, cocked her head to the side?  Nine, almost ten months I mumbled.  I saw her glance to my chart.  Yup, I was only 27.  She smiled at me, a knowing smile that I came to recognize in the months that laid ahead.  The smile that said: it should have happened for you by now.  She wrote me a referral to the hospital's fertility clinic. I was relieved to have the referral.  It meant that I wasn't crazy for thinking that it should have happened.  It confirmed that maybe, something just wasn't quite right. 

I was shocked to get a call from the fertility clinic a few weeks later, saying that they had my referral and asking when I would like to come in.  Tomorrow?  Part of our struggle was that my husband and I hadn't told anyone -- ANYONE -- that we were trying.  We had been together for seven years, married for five, and as I later found out, our families were making peace with the possibility that he and I may not have wanted children.  If they had only known the truth.  A few months of testing, and..... nothing.  There was nothing obviously wrong with either of us. 

The hardest part of our "unexplained infertility" diagnosis for me was that I had to cut back, if not cut out completely, my running.  Two days before we received the diagnosis, I ran my fastest half-marathon ever.  I had worked so hard to get faster, and it felt so good to hit those miles minutes faster than I had just a few years earlier.  In hindsight, perhaps running 30-40 miles per week was not the best for getting pregnant.  Some women can, I cannot.  I understand that now.  I was also advised to find other ways to handle my stress.  During this time, I was working at a super intense, stressful, time-consuming and life-sucking job.  If you have ever read any book about how to create a good work environment, my job was the antithesis to any advice in that book.  The only upside to the life-sucking job was the insurance.  It was fabulous and covered everything with the infertilty treatments.

Finding an AP Friendly DayCare

As a working outside the home mom, my world rises and falls with my childcare situation.  I returned to work when Liam was 5 months old.  My husband stayed home with Liam for a month, and then we had to find childcare.  My "ideal" child care situation has evolved with time and Liam's age.  As a young baby, I felt that he was best attended to by a nanny who was in our home.  As a toddler, I think daycare is the right place for him. 

At each of those points -- and many in between -- my concern was finding a childcare situation that was in tune with my parenting and child development beliefs, i.e. I was looking for a nanny or daycare that was attachment-parenting friendly.  For me that meant finding a place where my child's needs would be attended to quickly, where compassion and empathy for my child would be without limit and where the childcare providers would seek to establish a connection to my child. 

Disclaimer:  Below is what I have found based on having several child care set-ups, interviewing numerous nannies and touring many day care centers, but there are always exceptions and each child and daycare is unique.

Tips For Finding An Attachment-Parenting Friendly Daycare

1.  Small:  After touring both the big name facilities and several "home" (or close to it) daycares, I found that the smaller daycareswere generally more in line with my beliefs.  The smaller size meant that there was less bureaucracy, fewer ways things "had to be done" and more room for the individuality of the child.  In my experience, the "at home" daycares also tended to be run by and employ moms.  There is a comforting measure in someone caring for your child who has had his or her own children and then VOLUNTARILY choose to help take care of other people's kids.  Our daycare also employs a college age woman who has the pep to keep up with some of the really rambunctious toddlers and preschools, so naturally Liam loves her.  The other woman who spends a lot of time with Liam is a mother of FIVE boys.  She is the most calm and calming person I know and nothing alarms her.  She is wonderful.

2.  Mixed Age:  I found that I gravitated to places where the children were in mixed-age groups.  I love dropping Liam off into a room with one baby that is still crawling, a preschooler who is setting up trains and another toddler who is potty-training.  It feels like a big family.  I found that in a mixed-age environment, the younger children are encouraged to develop their verbal and social skills.  And, as a practical matter, the older children appropriately require a bit less attention from the caregivers and as a result, the younger children receive a bit more attention.  I found that places where there were 10-15 children, exactly the same age, all in one room overwhelmed me.  So many kids!  At the same developmental point!  With only three or four caregivers?!  If I was overwhelmed, I could only imagine how my kid would feel.   (As a side note:  I found that I could get a sense of how much attention each child received when I walked into a daycare by watching how many of the children ran up to me.  If the kids continued on with their activities, I felt as though the children were engaged in what they were doing and were not craving adult attention.) 

3.  Breastfeeding-Friendly:  It has been important to me to feel like my choice in breastfeeding my baby, and now toddler, is respected and valued.  I loved Liam's nanny, but she became less supportive of breastfeeding as time went on.  I felt pressured by her to switch to cow's milk, well before he or I was ready for that change.  Our current daycare is incredibly supportive of breastfeeding:  the owner was a LLL leader and breast-fed her own children for two years each.  As a result, I don't feel the least bit awkward or like I have anything to hide when I pick Liam up and he starts pulling at my shirt and saying, "Mommeeee" (the only time I say "mommy" as opposed to "momma" is referring to "mommy milk").  If Liam and I are going to run errands after pick-up, I will sit down on one of her couches and feed Liam before we head out.  The fact that the daycare is breastfeeding friendly is widely advertised in the policy manual, and a quick question by a prospective parent would reveal just how breastfeeding friendly the place is. 

4. Sleeping and Napping:  In the smaller day cares, I found that the providers were willing to try whatever I wanted to help Liam sleep.  "My child needs his blanket and his back patted."  Totally fine.  "My son is rocked to sleep."  They were willing to do that too.  But, I found the follow-up question even more important:  what do you do if a child will not go down for a nap?  Liam had a tough time adjusting to napping at daycare.  For a couple of weeks, he would only nap for thirty minutes -- not nearly long enough.  So, each of his daycare providers took turns sitting with him, reading him books, doing puzzles and other quiet activities while the other kiddos slept.  He was never left in his pack & play to cry. 

5.  Being Held:  After I received my current daycare's policy manual, I nearly started crying when I read a passage that said, "your baby will not be held all of the time."  I completely freaked out, thinking that it meant that any baby would be left on their own and would not be held, even though that feeling was contrary to my sense when we toured the daycare (and that Liam was no longer a baby).  Now that we have been at the daycare for a long while, this is what I have realized:  She is right, the babies are not held ALL the time, but they are held ALOT.  Every day when I go for pick-up, at least one of the babies is being worn by one of the providers.  There are two pack and plays set up for the two babies, but they are only in there when they are sleeping.  The rest of the time, the babies are being held or are in a jumper or are on the floor in the room with other children.  They are interacted with, held and loved by the providers.  My gut instinct about the place was right.

I think that is what it truly comes down to -- your gut instinct.  I wish there were a checklist: find the following things in a daycare and it will! be! great!  But I don't think it works that way.  Instead, I think any parent can get a sense from information on the web and then you really have to go for a tour.  Stay for a while.  Linger in the room where your child would be.  Talk to the providers that your child would be with, not just the person who runs the center.  Watch the children.  Watch the providers.  Ask questions.  And then, most importantly, trust your instinct.  After all, isn't that what attachment-parenting is all about?