Letting Go of the Mother I Thought I’d Be

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on here, but there’s been something on my mind a lot lately that I needed to get it out.

So here we go…

Both pre and post getting pregnant, I had a lot of big ideas about the type of mother I wanted to be. The type of mother that society expected me to be.

  • Breastfeeding – Duh.
  • Make my own baby food – 100% organic or bust.
  • Screen time – What’s that?
  • Yelling at my child – I would never!

Essentially, I was the perfect mom…and then my daughter was born.

After Haddie’s birth, I quickly realized that things don’t always go as planned. That babies are merely tiny humans with their own preferences and volition. This small little 7 lb. 2 oz. creature could break me with the slightest whimper.

As I felt my expectations bending and breaking, I began to feel a since of panic. I was losing the parenting battle and was on the fast track to becoming the worst bad-word imaginable: a bad mom.

Main stream media, fellow mothers, and the general public have a lot of opinions on what type of mother we all should be. The checklist at the top of this post is only a fragment of the pressures that are put on us. When we let the ball drop, even just once, we are letting down a legion of know-it-alls that have somehow become the experts in all things parenting.

The pressure to act perfect, and to be perfect, can seem suffocating and makes us feel like failures. If we could only learn to support one another and cut each other, and ourselves, some slack, maybe we’d actually have a shot at raising decent children that know how to function in their day to day lives.

Unfortunately, there are days when I feel like I’m screwing everything up.

Days when my child has watched more episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse than I care to admit.

Days when she decides that listening to me is useless and that she’d rather scream like a banshee and blow through stores like a small tornado.

While I tried desperately to boil veggies and puree them into baby food gold, my little darling decided that she much preferred the taste of the pre-packaged creations found in your local grocery store.

There’s no answer to any of this. I can’t tell you why certain things work and why they don’t, but at the end of the day, here’s what I’ve learned. It is what it is.

So what if I’ve decided to take a half hour break and let my energetic little girl watch a show so I can catch my breath.

So what if I lost my temper one time last week and raised my voice rather than maintaining the zen-like calm of a monk.

While I’m thrilled that I was able to breastfeed for around 16 months, I still stick to the mantra “Fed is Best.”

What works for me, may not work for you. Learning ourselves and learning our own children is the only way to become a successful parent.

On the days when I find myself sobbing and telling my husband that I feel like the worst mother in the world, he reminds me to look at our daughter.

My happy, playful, funny little girl.

She has no idea that I’ve “messed something up.” She is laughing and smiling all day long. She is learning at a speed that makes my head spin. She has the sweetest nature and adores having the chance to take care of the things and people around her.

I hear her use words like “Please” and “Thank you.” I feel the love exuding from her little body as she wraps her arms around me tight.

No matter how I think I’ve failed, when I look at Hadley, I know I’m doing something right.

I may not be the mother I thought I’d be, and I’m certainly not perfect, but I’m learning to let go of those naive expectations.

I’m an over-protective, work-in-progress, that wants to eliminate the judgment I feel for my own choices and the ones of other people.

Having a child that is loved and cared for is what matters. Whatever path we choose to get there as parents is what works.

So next time you’re feeling down on yourself, please just remember that I think you’re amazing. I don’t care if you co-sleep or use a crib, if you vaccinate or not, if you breast or bottle feed, or if you baby wear or push a stroller.

You are a mother and you are a rock star. End of story.

 

 

 

5 Ways I Tried to Improve My Chances of IVF Success

Improving Your Chances of IVF Success

At times (as in always,) I have a tendency to be a bit of a control freak. I’m not the type of person who can just sit back and let things happen, nor am I the type to just let other people “handle things.” I love to be involved. Scratch that, I HAVE to be involved.

Our IVF cycle was no different. Despite trusting our wonderful team of doctors, nurses, and embryologists to do what they do best, I felt like it was up to me to take things to the next level. We had put so much of ourselves into trying to get pregnant, I was determined to give us the best chance possible of a BFP.

While I am no doctor, and can certainly make no promises of positive pregnancy tests, I thought I’d share a few of the things I did prior to our first embryo transfer.

Gorged Myself on Avocado & Other “Good” Fats

I once read an article claiming that diets rich in monounsaturated fats often resulted in live birth rates over 3x higher than those without.

Monounsaturated fats…a fancy name for foods like the following:

  • Avocados
  • Nuts & Nut Butters
  • Olive Oil

Being that I have a rather intense fondness for avocado and guacamole, this one wasn’t too difficult. In the 1-2 months leading up to our embryo transfer, I aimed to eat at least one avocado a day. I also amped up my “fatty” diet with lots of olive oil based salad dressings, more nut butters than usual (I preferred peanut & almond), and I opted to snack on tons of nuts…walnuts are usually highly recommended.

Acupuncture

In my quest for “IVF Tools,” I kept coming across articles and forums that suggested the use of this acupuncture to increase your chances of successful implantation.

The idea behind acupuncture is that it not only helps the hopeful mommy-to-be relax, but it can also increase the blood flow to her reproductive organs.

I underwent treatments one to two times a week in the months leading up to our embryo transfer, including the night before and a few hours following.

Cayenne Pepper

There’s something you should know….I’m a wimp when it comes to spicy foods. I order my Thai food less than mild and am terrified of hidden jalapenos in my salsa. Before our transfer, however, I heard that the heat from cayenne pepper can actually help increase your system’s blood flow.

That was all I needed to hear. In the weeks before the transfer, I was sprinkling cayenne pepper on just about everything that touched my tongue.

  • Eggs – check
  • Pasta – check
  • Ice Cream – why not?

Ok, so maybe the whole ice cream thing is a little far-fetched, but the vast majority of our food included a delicate sampling of this spicy seasoning.

Warming Up the Old Uterus

On the quest for successful implantation, many of us IVF-ers have come across the concept of keeping your uterus happy and warm for incoming beans. They say that a warm uterus can help make things, how shall I put this – “stickier.”

You might be wondering, but how exactly does one “warm up” their uterus? I’m glad you asked. Here are a few of the things I did pre-transfer.

  • Kept My Feet Covered – ALWAYS
    • In the weeks leading up to our transfer, my bare feet were not to be seen. Closed-toe shoes, slippers, and thick, fuzzy socks were my best friends. They say your feet have a direct connection to your uterus, so keeping the chill away is a must.
  • Heating Pads
    • Lying around with a heating pad on your stomach is one of the best ways to warm up your uterus. Not only does it work perfectly, but it also feels cozy and relaxing.
  • Warm Food & Drinks
    • Avoiding cold food and beverages is another great way to keep things toasty. I chowed down on tons of soups and drank caffeine-free tea all the time. I even avoided cold water and opted for room-temperature bottles instead.

Pineapple (The Core, Specifically)

Pineapple, in my opinion, is nature’s gift to women undergoing IVF. Containing an enzyme known as bromelain, this tropical fruit has all the makings to help you achieve the sticky uterus you’ve been hoping for.

Here’s the important thing to remember, however. Most of the bromelain is found in the core of the pineapple, so when you’re cutting up your fruit, don’t leave this chunk out. Here’s how I used my pineapple.

  1. Cut up the pineapple into five slices, including the core.
  2. Starting the evening of the embryo transfer, consume one slice each day until you’ve eaten the whole thing.

In following suit with the warm foods rule, I chose to either grill my slices or warm them up in a skillet before eating.

Taking Control of Your IVF Cycle

I was blessed with a BFP after only one cycle of IVF. Whether these little tips and tricks had anything to do with it, I suppose I’ll never know for sure.

There’s one thing I do know, however.

When it comes time to try for baby #2, I will resort directly back to my life of good fats, pineapple cores, and fuzzy socks.

Have any of you tried any “old wives’ tales” to increase your chances of success?

 

 

12 Months, 52 Weeks, 365 Days

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Today is a day that I’ve been anxiously awaiting and dreading all at the same time. Today is the day that our little girl turns one! While watching her grow, learn and change has become the greatest thrill in my life, it breaks my heart to see her moving further and further away from that little baby we brought into the world a year ago. It really does happen in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, however, all sadness is erased when I realize how extraordinary that daughter of ours really is.

I know all parents think their child is perfect and wonderful and brilliant, but I swear Haddie is spectacular. She has the brightest smile and sweetest personality. She is incredibly smart and amazes me day to day with the things she’s capable of.

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While I was pregnant, I can remember thinking – what if I don’t like this kid? Yes, that’s a terrible thing to even consider and I should have known better, but it was a serious concern. Everyone tells you what you’re supposed to feel, and I had an overwhelming fear that something would be missing. From the moment she came into the world, high pitched screams and all, I knew there was nothing to worry about. Within seconds of seeing that gorgeous face, gravity had shifted. Everything before that moment was the gone with the past and this incredible creature was all that mattered for the future.

Hadley Sutton, you are my life, my love, and my unwavering happiness. I vow to do everything in my power to protect your dreams and give you the most beautiful life possible. Things will not always be easy. There will be scrapes and bruises, bullies, and break-ups, but I will use every ounce of my strength to build you up and help you through…kissing away your tears and reminding you of the possibilities. I want you to live the life that brings you joy, and I promise to always be your biggest fan and cheerleader.

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Each day, you remind your daddy and I just how blessed we really are. You truly are our miracle.

Happy First Birthday, Haddie Girl.

Infertility Awareness Week

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For so many of us women, we start to dream about our fairy tale lives at a very young age. There will be Prince Charming, a beautiful wedding, and the arrival of a gorgeous, bouncing baby girl or boy to make our family whole. Unfortunately for a large majority of us, that sweet little baby will not come easy.

The National Institutes of Health has discovered that 1 in 6 couples will struggle with infertility. If you have never dealt with the uncertainty and heartbreak that comes with this disease, I will tell you this…There are simply no words to describe it. Whether you have dealt with miscarriage, stillbirth, or simply the inability to conceive, there is no way to explain to someone how you feel. In honor of Resolve.Org’s National Infertility Awareness Week, I offer this post as an ode to all of my fellow warriors in this journey.

You are all beautiful, courageous men and women. I stand beside you and rejoice in your strength. For those of you who have achieved your dreams of a little one after a long and strenuous journey, I have so much gratitude and joy.  If you haven’t yet found your happily ever after, I offer you sweet dreams, lots of luck, and more baby dust that you can imagine.

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Our little girl is truly a miracle that I never thought possible. All of the cards were stacked up against us, but yet here you are. Our lives are so much brighter and more fulfilled because of you, little Hadley. I thank God for you every day.

What’s in a Name?

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You know what I think is funny? The way people react when I tell them my daughter’s name. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand that her name might be slightly unconventional, but in a world full of North West’s and Spurgeon’s, I really didn’t think Hadley Sutton was that strange.

And yet somehow, whenever people hear her unique moniker for the first time they tend to look at us like we have three heads. We get questions like:

  • How did you come up with a name like that?
  • That’s kind of different isn’t it?

And my favorite…

  • So that must be a family name, right?

Because apparently, my husband and I would only choose a name so ridiculous because we have some sort of familial attachment to it. And of course, there’s always the people who simply respond, “Huh?” I guess they think it’s so weird we must have been mistaken when we spoke it. Now I’m not saying that the people who ask these questions are trying to be outright rude or hurtful, but we need to consider how statements and questions like these might come across.

Choosing a name is not an easy task. I reached a point in my pregnancy where I legitimately thought we’d just wait until she turned 18 and let her choose for herself. She could have just been kid or girl until then! What a daunting undertaking it is to determine what a person will be called for the rest of their life. The name on their report cards, driver’s license, and job applications. A person’s name is often the very first thing that we learn about them…the very first impression we have. As parents, we want to make it a good one.

Hadley’s name is inspired from a few different sources. When Ryan and I first started watching the show Parenthood, we fell in love with the name Haddie…somehow though it sounded too much like a nickname to make it official, though. When I read a book about Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley Richardson, I fell in love. After mentioning the name to Ryan, we thought on it for awhile before finally deciding it was perfect. After seeing Sutton a few different places, we both felt like it was such a uniquely, beautiful name.

When I hear the name Hadley Sutton, I think of elegance. It feels like such a strong, feminine name that will stand the test of time. To our ears, our daughter’s name is something beautiful.

While we might not always agree with the names that people choose, goodness knows I’ve heard some doozies, we should try to remember that a mom and dad worked hard to choose that name. A lot of painstaking thought and emotion went into the decision and who are we to pass judgment? And if we feel like we there’s no way around being slightly judgmental…maybe let’s not do it to their faces?

That Whole Giving Birth Thing – Part 2

When we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the special OB Emergency Room where they hide the crazed labor-ridden women, I was informed that I was still sitting tight at 2cm…maybe 2 1/8, if I was lucky.  That was impossible!  I’d been contracting for hours at this point!   The nurse told me that with such little progression, my midwife would more than likely not want to admit me.  She must have seen the terror on my face because she suggested that we walk laps around the hospital courtyard to get things moving.

So we walked.  And walked.   And walked.  I’m not kidding you when I say that my sweet husband and I did laps for almost 3 HOURS straight.  Only stopping for periodic breaks when the nurse would check me, tell me I was still not progressing, and then send us out to walk some more.  Finally, around 3am, after one final check, she gave us the glorious news that I’d made it to 3.  She called my midwife and begged her to admit me.  The midwife said yes!  We picked up my bags and I waltzed (waddled) my butt up to labor and delivery!

After calling our parents to tell them we’d been admitted, I started trying to live out the zen birth I’d been dreaming of.  I fully intended to deliver our little girl sans medicine.  First things first…into the tub I went.  I had put in a special request for a delivery room with one of the big fancy whirlpool tubs.  As soon as the nurse had checked me out, I started pushing to get into the tub.  She filled it up, helped me undress and assisted in lowering me into the water.  I leaned my head back, turned on the jets and felt my labor pains melt away.  That is until the aforementioned nurse came back in and started freaking out that my monitor was off.  She made me leave my super relaxed position and told me I had to sit a certain way.  On my knees, hunched over with my arm hovering out of the water…not exactly the experience I was looking for.  Out of the tub, I went.

I walked around my room, bounced on a birthing ball and huffed essential oils like a feen.  Around 10am, the midwife came in and discovered that I was still hanging out around 3cm.  She decided it was time to break my water and speed things up.  After breaking my water (a lovely experience, by the way…blech!)  she made me get into a warm shower.  She looked defeated and didn’t seem to have much faith in my dilating capabilities.  Before walking out, she warned us that we were in for the long haul.

As I waited for them to get the shower ready, I felt a sudden shift in my contractions.  They’d gone from bearable to a ton of bricks hitting me over and over every two seconds.  They got me into the shower and my poor hubby practically had to hold me up.  In a matter of minutes, I felt compelled to sit down and found myself hanging out in a hospital shower in the fetal position.  For the first time since contractions started, I began to cry.

The nurse told me that I may want to reconsider the epidural.  If I couldn’t handle the pain I was currently in, there was no way I’d make it through the rest of labor. And per that nurse, I still had a LONG way to go. My resolved weakened and I frantically begged for the anesthesiologist.

They prepped me for the epidural and had to keep reminding me to sit still.  The contractions were coming constantly, and were hitting harder and harder each time.  I saw the nurse and anesthesiologist give each other a funny look.  Once the drugs were pumping, I heard one say to the other, “I think you better check her, I think she might be in transition.”  The nurse leaned me back, checked me out and looked up with a shocked expression.  I’d gone from 3 to 9 1/2 in less than an hour…about ten minutes later I was pushing.

In the beginning of my pushes, my midwife gave me the impression that I had no idea what I was doing.  At one point, she even said, “I think you’re forgetting what we’re trying to do here.”  Well that just pissed me off.  I put on the most intense focus face I’ve ever had in my life and pushed like a champ.

I pushed for a little less than an hour, and have never felt more empowered than I did in those moments.  My body felt strong, and I knew that I was completely capable.  When they asked me to take breaks between contractions, it almost pained me.  I felt like I was going against what my body so naturally wanted to do.  Out of nowhere, I felt an excitement taking over the room.  The nurses were breaking down my bed and the midwife was suiting up for the big “catch.” I gave one big push, and from the look of unequivocal love on my husband’s face, I knew our sweet Hadley was here.  The midwife lifted that tiny body up and placed her on my chest.  I felt like a woman possessed.  I bawled like a baby and showered my daughter’s face with kisses.  She was perfection.

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When I think back to my birthing experience, there’s a lot of things I could say.  But if you were to give me a one word allowance to describe my feelings about labor and delivery, there’s only one that seems to fit.  Yes, ladies and gentleman, I’m one of those annoying women…my experience was beautiful.

 

That Whole Giving Birth Thing – Part 1

Both before, and after, I got pregnant, I would often hear mothers talking about how beautiful their birth experiences were.  Really, ladies?  Beautiful?  Perhaps they’d suffered from some sort of post-baby amnesia and forgotten all of the pain that comes with labor and delivery?  That was the only valid explanation since beautiful seems a far stretch in the adjective department.  I mean sure, the final product of the experience was bound to be pretty extraordinary but the path getting there, not so much!  I hated these women…I just knew they were lying to me.  They wanted me to suffer right along with them.  When thinking back at this mindset, however, I must meekly admit my mistake.  I’d been wrong (this rarely happens…just ask my husband!)

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One Week Past My Due Date

It was a Tuesday morning, 10 days past my due date.  My stubborn little girl seemed to have found a nice comfy spot that she was not so willing to leave.  I’d begun mentally preparing myself for the induction that I hadn’t wanted, but was apparently going to need. After another appointment with my OB, he decided to “check me” one last time.  I assumed this was purely for shits and giggles since I hadn’t been making any progress thus far, but I dutifully placed my feet in those stirrups and waited for him to tell me nothing had changed.  Well this particular check was slightly more intense and seemed to take longer than any of the  others had.  Slightly concerned, I began wondering what he was up to.  Once he’d finally finished, he informed me that, I’d dilated to a lovely 2 cm!  I lie there in disbelief and then heard him say, “Oh, and I went ahead and did a membrane sweep today.”  Thanks for the warning doc…that explained the extra lovely examination.

Despite the fact that my doctor insisted the sweep would not put me into labor, I started having some sporadic, but intense, contractions.  Throughout the rest of the day, they would come and go, but I chalked them up to the same Braxton Hicks I’d been experiencing for about a month.  The hubby and I had dinner that night, cleaned up, lounged around, and then climbed into bed.

Around 10pm, my contractions started coming every 7-8 minutes.  I told my hubby, Ryan, to get some sleep; called my mom and told her the same thing.  I had a funny feeling we’d be taking a trip to the hospital early the next morning.  I tried to lay down and was increasingly uncomfortable.  The contractions started getting closer, and before 10:30 they were 1-2 minutes apart.  At this point, Ryan was awake again and insisted that we go to the hospital.  I got up and started calmly walking around the house, putting the last minute things into my bag, while Ryan frantically raced around.  He was looking at me like I was insane and couldn’t quite understand how I was staying so calm.  By about 11, we were in the car and making the 45 minute drive to the hospital…

The Beauty in Breastfeeding

Recently, one of my Facebook friends posted the most adorable photo of her newborn daughter breastfeeding. It was completely tasteful and displayed such a genuine love between a mother and her little girl.  There is nothing quite like those first few days after delivery when you and your new baby are trying to figure one another out and simply enjoying the little moments together.  Sadly, though, a few hours after that lovely picture was posted, it was abruptly taken down.

It would seem that some individual on this new mama’s friend list reported the image as “nudity” and Facebook saw fit to remove it.  I’m here to tell you, there was nothing inappropriate about this picture.  This makes me wonder though…why are people so ignorant?

As a breastfeeding mama, myself, I am so insulted by the constant negativity that is still hurled at us. As many years that women have been doing this, one would think that we would be more accustomed to the idea.  How is it possible that people are still so revolted by a mother wanting to do something that’s completely natural for her child?  Do they not understand the extensive number of benefits that come from breastfeeding?  Can they not comprehend what a sweet bond a mother can develop with her baby through such a simple action?

I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with formula feeding.  Most of the women in my family have formula fed their children, and we’ve all turned out just fine.  But if formula is so widely accepted, why does there have to be such a stigma to breastfeeding?

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I was on Facebook one day and noticed a post containing an article about the many reasons a breastfeeding mom should learn to just cover up.  The individual who posted the article was in complete agreement, and seemed appalled by the idea of a mother nursing their child without a cover.  Okay fine, have your opinion, but here’s the irony, my darling readers.  Over half of this individual’s Facebook photos consisted of them wearing low-cut tops that put her boobs on full display.  Riddle me this…what’s the difference?

How is it okay for a woman to walk around with her boobs hanging out for fun, but when a nursing mother accidentally flashes you, it becomes a scandalous affair?  Personally, I don’t feel comfortable nursing in public without a cover, but that’s simply because I’m a modest individual.  If you’re brave enough to do it, though, go for it, because let me tell you…covers are a bitch!  A wiggly baby does not quite understand that they have to eat with a giant piece of material over their face because you don’t want to risk seeing our boobs.

So can’t we just let it go?  Deciding to breastfeed is something to be proud of.  Despite what a lot of people may think, it’s not very easy.  It can be tiring, painful and a bit of a time suck; but I, personally, wouldn’t have it any other way.  Nursing my little girl, is one of the highlights of my day.  For a moment, even if only briefly, it gives me the chance to slow down and just focus on her sweet face.  The fact that I can provide such a beautiful thing for her makes me feel so strong and happy.

Every mother should do what they feel is best for their child, and our job as individuals is not to judge them, but to support them in their efforts.  Whether you’re a mother, a sister, a friend, or just a member of the general public, learn to raise one another up instead of knocking each other down.

Have a wonderful week, Everyone!

The Difference a Year Can Make

So this past Friday night, my whole family gathered together to help celebrate my Papa’s birthday.  As we sat around, chowing down on pizza and wings, I realized that it had been exactly a year since Ryan and I told my family we were expecting.  What an incredible moment that was!  I was very stealthy, you see.  I disguised the big news as a photo-op!  I told everyone that I wanted to take a family photo and announced that after the count of three they should all say, “Kristen’s pregnant!”  It took a moment for the words to register, but I’ll never forget the excitement I felt once they understood just what I was telling them!

Right when I made the announcement!
Right when I made the announcement!
When they realized what I'd said!
When they realized what I’d said!

This September didn’t just mark the 1-year anniversary of us announcing to my family, though.  We also decided to let Ryan’s family in on our little secret this time last year.  Color us shocked when we realized we were actually the ones in for a surprise!

Each September, the whole Bergeron clan gets together to celebrate all the different birthdays for that month (there’s a lot of them!)  One of the birthdays happens to be Ryan’s dad’s.  We went out and purchased a grandparent’s day card and told Ryan’s mom and dad that it was more of a gift for the two of them and that they should open it together.  When they opened that card and realized we were expecting, the whole family blew up with excitement.  There was so much screaming and laughter it was contagious, until I noticed Ryan’s sister and her husband whispering quietly off to the side.

“Oh no,” I remember thinking.  Were they disappointed?  I knew they’d been trying, and I was so afraid they were upset by our announcement.  I tried to brush my fears away but couldn’t help but feel nervous.

After the excitement calmed down a little, Renee said that they had a gift, too.  When I realized they were handing Ryan and I a bag, along with the other couples in the room, I became suspicious.  Why, you ask?  Because neither Ryan or I have September birthdays!  Before Ryan could even open the bag up, I remember saying, “Oh my gosh!”  I just knew that she was pregnant, too!  Sure enough, we pulled out the most adorable card that said “Our family is growing by two feet!”

At that moment, I’m pretty sure the Bergeron’s may have broken the sound barrier!  We were laughing, shouting and crying like crazy.  Everyone kept looking at Renee and I asking if we’d known…if we’d planned it that way!?! The correct answer is, NO!  We were completely shocked by it all!

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I’ve got to admit…I was a little nervous when I first found out we’d be pregnant together.  Would everyone compare us and our choices?  Would we all compare the babies?  In the end, there was nothing to be scared of. I look back and realize that the timing of everything was the most extraordinary blessing.  It was so comforting to know that I was going through pregnancy with somebody else.  We could bounce ideas and questions back and forth, and were often able to comfort one another through the toughest moments (like when both babies decided to be super overdue…stubborn little things!) And now that the babies are finally here, we have the most amazing time watching them grow together.  These sweet little cousins make our lives so much richer and fun!  I’ll leave you with some shots of these besties looking all cute and stuff!

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IVF (aka Our Year of Anxiety and Anticipation) – Part 3

After a couple of weeks on birth control to regulate my hormones, we were ready to start the shots (picture the word shots being said in a super scary, dramatic tone of voice and you’ll have a better understanding for how I felt about them!)  I shouldn’t be so melodramatic, though, they honestly weren’t that bad. Each evening, Ryan and I would sit down at our kitchen table with our vials of medicine, needles, and alcohol swabs.  I would then proceed to give myself three shots in the stomach.  It was like ripping off a band-aid; just do it quick and try not to think too hard.  These shots gave my ovaries the boost they needed to produce multiple follicles, which meant the potential for more eggs to work with.

Because of my PCOS, I was at risk for something called hyper stimulation.  To help prevent this from happening, Ryan and I made daily treks to our doctors office for about two weeks.  We’d wake up early, drive an hour for our 7am appointment, and they would test my blood and perform ultrasounds to make sure things were progressing on schedule and not too quickly, or over-abundantly.  Thankfully, I remained healthy the whole way through my stim cycle.  Healthy, but rather miserable. Continue reading “IVF (aka Our Year of Anxiety and Anticipation) – Part 3”