Babies Used to Make Me Cry

I have always wanted to be a mother. Not the June Cleaver type who stays at home, bakes, and vaccuums in high heels and pearls but a mother nonetheless. I used to have countless baby dolls, high chairs, strollers, and cribs as a little girl and I could play with my dolls for hours and hours. (Before you think I was a complete girly girl, I also was very fond of climbing trees and catching bugs.) I have always from even a young age been a very maternal person.

When I finally met and married Henry, I began to think that my dream of motherhood would finally come true. It is not that you need to have a man or be married to have a child but I saw what a struggle some single mothers went through and wanted to have someone to share all the trials and tribulations that go along with being a parent. We tried for about 8 months and then I decided to seek help for infertility.

At first, I was optimistic that infertility treatments would help. You take a little pill and then you get pregnant. Right? That was not the case for us. I was diagnosed with PCOS and other obstacles to conceiving. They prescribed Clomid. I was on that drug for 8 months. It was a terrible experience. Your body can go through such hormonal imbalances and depression and everywhere I looked I saw babies and everytime I saw a baby I would cry. I would see 13 year old girls come to the hospital pregnant and I would think why them and not me. I would see women with 6 or 7 unruly children who were screaming at them at the top of their lungs and I would think maybe they wouldn't miss one. I once had a woman with a precocious 2 year old ask if I wanted him in a joking manner and I burst into tears. It is hard to work in a hospital and register pregnant ladies all day and still keep it all together.

Every month I would have to go visit the OB GYN doctor for a 5 minute check up to see if the medication was working and do an exam. Every month it was a different doctor. No one answered any questions. No one would listen to how I was feeling. And I do not think 5 minutes is really enough time for an exam. Henry was beside me every time, but it got harder and harder to remain optimistic.

Finally I could no longer take it. I decided to get a referral to a large teaching hospital in the area and see if there was anything else they could do to help me. I met with one of the top reproductive endocrinologists in the country. The appointment lasted three hours. They listened through all my tears, explained what roadblocks I had to conceiving, and charted out a course we could try.

The first medications were not successful so the next step was injections. I told my husband that we were in this together and he would have to administer injections. He was there every step of the way. (Although he did have his eyes closed for the first round and I was left with quite a large bruise, but he improved.) It got to the point where I had to inject more and more of the drugs and have daily ultrasounds. If the drugs did the trick the next step was intrauterine insemination. One day they finally told me that I needed to cancel this round of treatment because after not enough growth, I had four follicles that may develop resulting in quadruplets. I told the doctor that I was willing to risk it. I had been through so much. So many painful procedures. Including a very invasive exam performed by a student who had never done one before where one of the doctors in the room for it decided it was the perfect time to announce her pregnancy to her co-workers. The doctor finally agreed to let me go through with it. The wait between the procedure and the pregnancy test seemed to last for an eternity. I was speechless when they told me that the test was positive. The next wait between the pregnancy test and first ultrasound also seemed unbearable. How many babies where there? One, two, three, four, more?

Henry was there holding my hand when we saw our baby for the first time on the ultrasound screen. One tiny little bean. I think we asked the ultrasound technician repeatedly to check to make sure she didn't miss any others.

Atticus Henry was born on April 29th this year. Today he is three months old. It was a long three year journey to get to where we are today and it was a very hard and difficult one. Everytime I look at him I can not believe that he is real and that he is ours.

We hope to have more children some day and I know that I will have to go through all of the same procedures all over again and I will do it all again in a heartbeat. Sometimes persistence and optimism pay off, but I know of so many others who are told that they can never conceive and I know how their heart breaks. I know how for some the sight of babies can make a person cry.

The Most Important Lesson

[First of all, I am sorry that I had to skip out of round 2. I developed tendonitis in my wrist and was stuck in an awful brace, but I received a shot of steroids in my wrist and I am now back in the game. I hope this does not lead to any doping allegations and random drug testing. Let’s hope Nathan just looks the other way.]

My most important lesson came to me from a Golden Retriever, a semi truck, and a country western duo. I guess that needs some explanation.

It is often said that I am very hard headed and stubborn. Sometimes in life there are lessons that we need to learn and with some it takes a lot to make those lessons sink in. For me it took a dark night, a long road trip, my Golden Retriever, Charlie, a semi truck, and a couple who sang Country Western music to help me learn the lesson that I needed to learn.

In 1999 I became ill with a mysterious illness. I was very ill at first but I thought I had made a complete recovery. Then I began to have frequent high fevers, fatigue, and swollen lymph nodes. I underwent biopsies, MRI’s, CT scans, sleep studies, blood tests, you name the test I probably went through it. None of these tests yielded any answers, just more questions. There were several abnormalities but nothing pointed toward a definitive diagnosis. So true to my nature I decided to ignore my symptoms and my illness. If they had not found anything wrong then I would put mind over matter and ignore it. I pushed myself and refused to slow down.

One night in 2003 I was driving from Iowa City to my mother’s house in Springfield, Illinois. The trip takes about 4 hours one way. It was late and I had just gotten off work but I had made the trip countless times. I ignored the way I had been feeling and my fatigue. Then everything changed around Alpha, Illinois. I fell asleep behind the wheel. My Golden Retriever was riding in the passenger seat beside me and he bit my arm to try to wake me up. My dog was a puppy at the time and never really bit me like that before. I had not realized before that that I had fallen asleep. I lost control of the car, a small Toyota Corolla and then suddenly I could see the headlights of a semi truck in the passenger side windows. My car was perpendicular to the road and I never even heard the impact. The next thing I know the car is pulled over on the side of the road and all of my side windows are shattered, but remarkably neither my dog nor I even suffered a scratch. The fire department came and checked me over and then turned me over to a rather unpleasant state police officer. The cop gave me a ticket for improper lane usage and told me that I better just keep driving on to my destination. My car still drivable but the trip would be quite cold with half the car windows gone. I tried to drive off but the car died the cop reluctantly gave me a jump and one of the fire fighters came by and told me that there was a truck stop at the next exit and they might be able to help me find something to cover the windows for the rest of the trip.

I ended up at a truck stop in Alpha and I had no choice but to go inside with my dog in tow. The two ladies that worked there listened to my story and offered cardboard and duct tape to help cover the window. One of them yelled at a regular that was hanging around to go outside and help me and they watched over my dog. This stranger I never met patched up the windows and got the car pretty airtight. I got Charlie put him in the car and went to leave and the car dies. Here I am stranded with a puppy 2 hours from Iowa City, 2 hours from Springfield in the middle of nowhere. I call AAA for a tow truck and go back inside the truck stop. A couple who was dressed up in Country Western attire came up to me and asks if I was the one everyone was talking about. Was I the one who got hit on the interstate by a semi? (Evidently, I became quite the talk of the truck stop that night.) I admitted that indeed I was. They took me to the restaurant portion of the door and offered to buy me breakfast. I declined. I was too shaken up to eat. They explained that they just got done playing a show and were just having a bite to eat before going home. They insisted that they stay with me until the tow truck driver arrived. The man said that he knew most of the guys in the area that drove tow trucks and wanted to meet the guy who was giving me a lift before he would let me go with him. He said he wanted to make sure I got home safely.

The tow truck driver arrived about 45 minutes later and after chatting with the couple who were waiting with me it was determined that this couple knew the driver and he was a pretty decent guy. My mangled car was loaded up and the tow truck driver agreed to let me keep my dog on my lap for the ride back to Iowa City as long as he didn’t get in the way. AAA will pay for a tow within 100 miles and we reached Iowa City in 99 miles.

I can honestly say that getting hit by a semi truck is one of the best things that happened to me. It didn’t seem so at the time but looking back it was just what I needed to wake me up and teach me a thing or two. I learned that I have limitations and I need to listen to my body and pay attention to what it is telling me. It was still awhile after this incident that I was diagnosed with a chronic disorder affecting my immune system and causing chronic fatigue. I can not do everything. Sometimes I need to take a break and it is okay to admit that.

I learned that there are a lot of good people out there. We hear so much negativity about people these days that we forget that there are so many people willing to help out others even strangers in any way they can. When you need a hand you never know where you may find it. I never found out the names of those people who came to my rescue that night, but it is comforting to know that when you are in trouble sometimes angels come your way, even in the form of an older couple who sing country music at bars in central Illinois.

I also learned that I have a good friend sitting right beside me. My dog Charlie is still by my side even as I am typing this he is sitting, waiting patiently, for some attention. I do not know how things would have turned out differently had he not woken me up, but I am glad that I never have to find that out.

The "Best Life"

Blog Off for Babies

Topic: Oprah has popularized the phrase, “Best Life” with a series of shows centered around so-called “experts” talking about how to have, “the best life”. What is your definition of a “best life” and how do you think you are — or are not — fulfilling your conception of it?

First things first, I am brand new to the world of blogging. I really do not know why I got myself into this as I stare at a blank page and contemplate a “best life.” So I am asking forgiveness for my boring blog page, my run on sentences, my grammatical errors (which I am sure my husband will gladly point out to me). You will just have to look past that. I am jumping in with both feet and giving it a go.

With a full time job and a two month old infant, who is currently asleep in a sling on my chest, I do not watch Oprah. I am trying to read her website to see what insights it may hold for those attempting to achieve their “best life,” but I can not get past all of the new age mumbo jumbo. Phrases like “be present in the moment,” “discover the soul and its path”, and “open your heart to feelings”. All of this alongside articles on how to achieve the perfect eyebrows. I can’t take it. I just had to stop reading. I think we each define our own “best life” and can not expect experts to define it for us.

So what is a “best life” to me? To me it is about living each day and trying to make the best out of that day. Some days I achieve that goal and other days I don’t. I try not to let negativity weigh me down. My life has thrown me more than one curve ball, but it is not what life throws at you, it is how you deal with the cards you are dealt. I don’t want to live my life complaining or worrying about what might have been. Maybe if I had just done “this” differently, my life would be completely different now. You have to make the best of what you have and appreciate the life you got.

I don’t need so called experts to teach me how to live the best life. Everyday I am faced with real world experts. To help you understand, I should explain what I do for a living. I am that person that you meet on one of the worst days of your life. I work in a hospital and register patients when they arrive. It does not seem like much. It seems like a rather ordinary job, but I am the first person you see when the OB doctor tells you she can no longer hear your twin’s heartbeats and you need to go to the hospital to have an emergency ultrasound. I am the person you talk to you after the doctor tells you that the results of your lumpectomy are in and it is indeed cancer. You will need to go to the hospital to register for your mastectomy. I have to collect all of the trivial details of your life when you are rushed to the hospital to be admitted after your failed suicide attempt. I have to ask those questions that only point out your perceived failings in life. “Are you married?” “Are you employed?” “Do you have someone we can contact in an emergency?” “Do you currently have any medical insurance?”

Everyday I see how people react to one of the worst days of their lives. Does the old man hold his wife’s hand to comfort her when she has to be admitted after a stroke? Or do they sit on opposite sides of the waiting room barely speaking? Does the young mother going through chemotherapy have to face it alone or does her family come with her with games and activities to help keep her mind off the pain? You can learn a lot from viewing how people deal with adversity in their life. You learn that it really is not the big of a deal when the jerk beats you to the parking spot right next to the door. It really is not worth getting angry when the old woman in front of you has 12 items in the 10 items or less line.

I do also encounter the routine visits. I see people who just need to have lab work to see if their new medication is doing the trick, people registering for a routine colonoscopy, pregnant women registering for the birth of their baby. I have to deal with grumpy people in the emergency room who complain about what is taking them so long to be called back to a room when their daughter has a rash. They don’t seem to care when you try to explain that heart attack trumps a rash. I never know what the day will bring. But if you come to see me at my job, I will greet you with a smile and try to help you in anyway I can.

So am I leading the “best life?” No, probably not. I am hypercritical of myself. I could probably be achieving more if I went out on a few more limbs. I have a tendency to underestimate my potential. But today, today was a pretty good day. I have a loving husband, an adorable baby, and my health. Can I ask for much more? I will work on the rest tomorrow.