An Introduction

Here are the babies, from 3 days after conception to Saturday morning! Captions came out pooey for some reason, but if you click the pics they'll come out clear.

The Truth About Pregnancy and Infertility

I didn't post this back when I wrote it last fall, but it still applies.

Yes, it is miserable. I'm nauseated for most of my waking hours and many of the ones I'd rather spend sleeping. I'm SO dizzy. My digestive system will mutiny unless I walk on eggshells to please it. But even when I'm in the bathroom for the twelfth time of the day, or when I have to lie down in the middle of the hallway to avoid passing out, I couldn't be happier. I'm puking and potbellied and pitiful and it's AWESOME. Pregnancy is a misery better than (a) any other misery and (b) most of the dates I went on when I was single. Even if I could relive ice skating and chocolate with Mike what's-his-name, I'd still rather be puking my guts out. And let's face it, puking a few times for every ultrasound I see of those two little wiggling twins is SO much better than the movies I might go out to see if I didn't have such a heinous headache.

In other words, I made the right choice. It may just be the low flow of blood to my brain right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm thinking clearly when I say there's nothing I'd rather suffer for. When I wanted this so badly, I wasn't chasing some stupid dream that would make me miserable. I was chasing something that would make a life, though sometimes miserable, so worth every pain.

A lot of people try to comfort infertile women and men by making them feel better about not having kids. How great it is to travel and sleep in, or how much freer they are to do what they want. We all know none of those folks would trade their kids for a lifelong vacation in the south of France, so why the BS? My favorite words of comfort came from the husband of an old friend, who had a sweet toddler daughter: "It is so worth it."

If you're wondering what to say to your infertile friend, those are the words. I am most grateful for the people who supported my desperate desire, rather than those who tried to minimize what I wanted most. So many of my friends were so supportive, and I can't thank them enough. But I think a lot of people just have a hard time knowing what to say.

I think I posted an infertility etiquette article a while back, and those can be very useful, but I think it can be summarized into a few simple rules:

1. Be supportive of whatever they decide to do - and don't bring up the cons of the situation, because your friend almost certainly knows.
2. Don't talk about your friend's infertility success or failure story. Those can be super depressing either way, and everyone has their own situation.
3. Don't diagnose. "I have the same thing!" and, "You have the exact thing my cousin did!" are two of the least helpful phrases you can utter. Not only do most women have real doctors to diagnose them, but even when the condition name is the same, every woman is different, has different symptoms, thinks differently about solutions, and responds differently to treatment.
4. If you know your friend is at a dead end with her current doctor, or doesn't like him, be prudent about recommending one you know to be good. A friend recommended me to Dr. Young, who ended up being the perfect fit and sending us to the ICRM, where we did IVF. I'm forever grateful for the recommendation. Similarly, another woman recommended a specialist when I was fine staying with my doctor, and it was just a tiny bit annoying.
5. Support support support. Infertility can easily cause depression, and what your friend needs is people who will be her friend when she's having a hard time doing happy people things like throwing parties and going out with friends. Make lunch dates. Show up at her house, announced or unannounced (be prudent, again). Call or send an email. Social interaction is a natural treatment for depression, so this is the one case where you can be your friend's doctor. But maybe skip the baby shower and do something where you can talk (about infertility or not).

Those are the things my friends did for me that really helped get me through it. Also, not complaining about pregnancy, because every symptom is a blessing. Remember, you're not fat, you're carrying another human being in a life support system made out of your body.

And now that I'm there, I think I can say from experience that your pregnancy can't be worse than no pregnancy at all. Unless maybe you're teen pregnant (that is so an adjective now). But that's besides the point. Even if you are, there are hordes of women so jealous of your miracle.

And for the Record

My dad has a large movie collection that entertained me for hours during my youth. Not watching the films, but arranging the cases alphabetically, by genre, by how much I liked them, by how often I watched them, by color, and by age.

I was both psychologically and physically a very anal retentive child. Unfortunately it manifested in strange quirks like hording toiletries under my bed and using scissors to shred anything I could get my hands on. At least it saved my parents money on diapers.

In other news, after a brief trip to Kohl's, I am now both unreasonably tired and somewhat nauseated. And I have some clothes that fit over the basketball I'm digesting. And some that will eventually fit said basketball.

The Honeymoon Starts Early

Nausea mostly abated. Normal digestion. The ability to stay awake for almost 12 hours. It's too good to be true. Something must be terribly wrong.

Either that or my new nausea meds and exercise routine are doing too much good, but when has that ever happened?

Of course, I am completely powerless to do anything at this point and will have to wait until my next ultrasound in a week to know anything. And worrying in the meantime will simply make stress for me, which makes stress for the babies. And if the babies are too stress-prone, they'll probably both grow up to be accountants, managing their stress by organizing their movie collections alphabetically by genre while eating only the brown m&m's.

What I need right now is a good nap and for my Chick-fil-A breakfast to give me indigestion.

You Must Be at Least This Tall

I had an ultrasound yesterday and met my OB for the first time. We'll call him Dr. G. He is, of course, everything you can ask for in a doctor on the first visit. He even offered me both better nausea meds and an Rx for the acne I hadn't complained about. I suppose that's what I get for skipping the makeup.

The one thing that threw me was his shock that at my age, I had come from a fertility clinic having undergone IVF. I could attribute his shock to the fact that not many people my age could hope to pay for in-vitro, but then when he saw my twofer for himself, he said again, "Wow, twins at 23!"

And yes, of course I'm thinking, crap, how am I supposed to raise one baby, let alone two! And I'm fully happy with my decision to do IVF, even at my age, and even with twins. It's time for me to do the mommy thing, so I went for it. Adoption agencies wouldn't have a problem with me adopting. And I'm not even young to have kids. What am I saying, I don't need to excuse myself to you guys!

Anyway, I realize not many women my age get in-vitro, but that's because most women my age are WAY more fertile that I am, and respond better to weaker treatments. And, you know, don't have dangerous reactions to Clomid. And want to have careers.

Let's face it, I hated all the BSing required for a desk job. I'd rather be puked on regularly for several years than have a CEO who hates me hanging my job over my head every few months for no good reason. Not that I did this just because I didn't like working, but it certainly made me think about who and what I want to be.

And I figure if I'm going to kiss up to a-holes, I'd rather give birth to them first. I suppose I'm giving up the desk job grind for the rewards of screaming toddlers and messes made of poo (or for now, constant nausea, fatigue, and a pot belly). I suppose I might think differently in June, but even at 23, I'm happier than a very icky-feeling clam to be unemployed and expecting twins.

Blogcation Over

Okay, so I took a month off. I've been avoiding answering the question. Also, I've been increasingly sick and tired. The last month has been an everythingcation. Really. I mean, I probably should have showered more. So at this time I've decided to step back into the real world. Tonight, I blog. Tomorrow, I may change out of my pajamas into whichever of my clothes still fit (which may just be different pajamas).