Hey-ho Webbies,

Short of it: Yesterday, October 6th, a beautiful 8lb 10.9oz baby boy entered this world. I is happy.

Long of it (Medical icky details. Read with caution!): So yesterday around noon I had my due date OB visit, and I must say, my OB was slightly miffed at me for getting to my due date after she had assured me I was going to go early. After leaving the office I started to cramp and leak a small amount of fluid. I paced around my house for  2 to 3 hours before announcing to my husband I was in labor and we needed to head to the hospital. The next two and a half hours passed with me cursing my female body and breathing deeply while rocking back and forth on an exercise peanut. Finally at six centimeters I gave in and said I wanted tasty, tasty drugs. After a hellish IV placement, and not so hellish epidural placement, an OB from the practice I see came in and decided to break my bag of water. I was all good with that, as I was sure it would speed up labor and I would get to deliver sooner. As he broke it meconium spilled and I was informed I wouldn’t get to hold my son right away as they needed to be sure he didn’t breath any of the nasty junk in. I was worried, but knew it was a normal complication. That’s when this got interesting.

Kitlet’s heart rate dropped suddenly from the 140’s to the 30’s. Very not good. I suddenly had two nurses and the doctor right back at my side. The doctor decided I needed internal fetal monitoring. As the nurse went to pass it to him to put it in he said in a deceptively mild voice, “Prep the back. I have a cord prolapse.” He then proceeded to tell me we were going to do an emergency c-section, but “everything is going to be okay.” In his next breath he said to the nurse, “I’m holding the babies head up, we need to go now.”

‘Da Fox was held back from coming in to the emergency room with me, even thought I had pleaded for them to let him come. The next few minutes are a blur, even just the next day. My epidural hadn’t been strong enough for surgery so they knocked me out. All I remember is about ten people running around and one nurse saying, “The heartbeat’s at 23.” Then pain in my IV and I was gone.

When I awoke I was alone back in my labor room with a single nurse and a much smaller stomach. She quickly informed me that my son and husband we’re in the NICU, that kitlet #2 was having a hard time breathing. ‘Da Fox soon returned and informed me our baby was on oxygen and an IV. I am fine by the way. After about an hour I finally got wheeled down to the NICU on a gurney and got to hold my son. He looks so much like his daddy it isn’t even stinking funny. The kid even looks forty! As we left he was finally let off the oxygen, but in the NICU he stays for observation of his fluid levels and blood sugars.

I miss him. I want him. But I know he’s getting the care he needs. He shows no sign of long term damage from his tramtic birth, and all signs point to him being let out of the NICU in a few hours.

If you’ve gotten this far you are a brave soul, and all’s well that ends well. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to call to check in on my son.

Keep Surfing Webbies, and may all your Imaginings be Fertile!

Stara

Hey-ho Webbies,

Haven’t posted recently, whether it is writing prompt or personal. Some of that has to do with editing the novel; a lot has to do with laziness, and some just the state of affairs for your humble host.

I’m currently 32 weeks pregnant with kitling 2.0, and am amazed, awed, excited and terrified to find myself thus. It only took us seven months this time as opposed to the thirteen of kitling 1.0, who is doing great by the by. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to look forward to this birth with as much joy as the last. At around the 5th month mark of this pregnancy Da Fox lost his job and we’ve been dealing with the normal repercussions of that since then. I hate being poor.

Da Fox finally managed to snag a job with Google. YAY! But is away this week for orientation for said job. BOO! I miss his desperately, probably because of hormones or something. I feel almost oppressively lonely with him gone. Which, you know, is pretty sad when you sit and think about it.

The fun part is having the kitling all to myself and all the play we get to do. He is fascinating to watch. Today at the park I told him we needed to stay on the playground, because an impromptu meeting was taking place over on the park’s picnic tables. My boy is not shy and would have gone over and joined said meeting without Mommy’s new rule. In protest he sat down and started breathing really heavy. When I asked him what he was doing, he informed me in no uncertain terms he was having a contraction. I had to laugh. The last couple of weeks I’ve been having some doozies of Braxton Hicks, and I guess he has picked up on it.

The title of this post is because I just needed to get this all out of my head, and writing is the best way I know how to do that. So there you all go my brain dump. Hope it is as incomprehensible to you as my brain space has been for me.

Keep Surfin’ Webbies, and may all you imaginings be Fertile!

–Stara

Hey-Ho Webbies,

I am now one day shy of my 33rd week of pregnancy, and most of the time I still can’t believe it. I mean 13 months of trying and a PCOS diagnosis had geared me up for a long fertility war, then first cycle on Clomid and Bamm!  bouncing baby boy comin’ our way. Oh, had I forgotten to tell you that Webbies? It’s most definitely a boy, 4 ultrasound techs better not be wrong with all the blue I’m buyin’. And wowzer with the buying. I live far from family and my friends here are all male, so no shower of gifts upon me, although The Mom did get us a rocker/ottoman combo and a diaper bag filled with baby wipes and butt paste and stuff. Everything else though is being bought and paid for by ‘Da Fox and I. Babies are pretty expensive creatures I have found out. Not that I’m complaining too much though. I do so love spending money. I keep getting cute things in the mail that I ordered. It’s like every other day is Christmas.

We are of course preparing for the kitlet in more mental ways too. Taking the childbirth prep course, reading up on breastfeeding, and totally freaking out at the thought of a 4 year old trying to slide down the banister in our house. That last ones not really true, I only had a minor freak out. In fact I’ve been remarkably calm most of the pregnancy. I worry a lot, but I don’t really have hysterics. I worry about him being a geek, or being a jock. I worry about his relationship with his grandparents, or lack there of. I worry about him finding his passion in life and I worry about turning him neurotic. I suppose most of these are normal, but they are still there. And these don’t even count the stupid worries like: How will he and the cat get along? How old will he be when he falls into the creek by our house? (Because I know at some point he’s going to.) How can he learn to ride a bike on the hill we live on? How in the heck am I going to be able to push him out?!? You know stupid stuff like that.

I worry about the last one because we have been told to expect a 9 to 10 pounder. I believe the first doctor exact words were “He’s Humongous.” And my normal OB said we were “Doomed”. My ob made that observation because I was 9lbs 3ozs at birth and ‘Da Fox was over 11lbs. Still not encouraging. At this weeks appointment she said she hoped he would come early, and if he’s on track to be 10lbs I’m not arguing with her too much. We’re in wait and see mode currently, so we’ll… well you know. Oh and for those of you wondering, nope, no gestational diabetes, I’m just growing him big. That’s about it for now. I’ll try to write more later.

Keep Surfing Webbies and may all your Imaginings be Fertile!

— Stara

Hello webbies! So I started this blog after a year and some change of infertility as an outlet to help me work through the process. Little did I know that our first month on fertility drugs we would hit the jackpot. Yep webbies, that’s right! I is, are, will be for another 33 weeks or so, pregnant. The fox and I are delighted and excited.

My symptoms you ask? Exhaustion, occasional nausea, cramps, exhaustion. Yep, Stara is tired. I’m also a little scared. I hope I can do this right and our child doesn’t have to go through to many hours of therapy.

We actually found out about three weeks ago. The Fox found out first, as he peeked at the stick which I had so freshly peed on.  About four days after finding out I started to spot and promptly freaked out. The doctor has had me put my feet up and put me on progesterone to help calm down my uterus. I’m also on Glucophage to help my inside girly bits work with insulin correctly, a part of my PCOS. One of the few downsides to pregnancy is no leftovers. At least two websites I read say it was a no-no, so until my first doctor’s appointment that’s what I’m going by. The problem with this is leftover were my main source of lunch. Now I have to make a fresh lunch every day. Oh well. Anything for my parasite!

The other reason for my lack of updatey goodness is Dad decided he want to see what two heart attacks would do to the emotional state of his  pregnant daughter. Never mind the fact that he didn’t know I was pregnant yet with the first one. Both of his heart attacks were mild, and believed to be caused by his Marfan Syndrome. Which I may or may nor have inherited, and thus pasted on to my growing progeny.  He’s back at home now with tasty drugs to keep it from happening again.

My last bit of news is the death of Robert Jordan. I have read his books since my early teen years and his blog for the past two. I never met the man but his life and work touched mine, as well as thousands, millions of others. I keep erasing things here because none of it sounds fitting enough in tribute. I extend my deepest sympathies to his family. The world has lost a true storyteller and there are too few of those to let their passing go by quietly. Thank you Robert Jordan. May the last embrace of the Mother welcome you home.

Keep Surfing Webbies and May all your Imaginings be Fertile!

— Stara

Webbies! Come, sit, pull up and IP address. For those of you returning I did in fact have my appointment on Wednesday. I didn’t learn anything amazingly new. My blood test confirm I have borderline PCOS. On Monday I get yet another blood test to check for liver and kidney issues. If it comes back clean I get another drug on Tuesday to fix my ovaries insulin resistance, which is another part of the disease. I also get another ultrasound on Tuesday and maybe a shot to kick off ovulation. I am pin cushion girl! The other thing is the doctor thinks I might have some endometriosis. The only way to check this though is with surgery so, Blah!

Considering I’ve been told I have a not too happy issue, I’m doing pretty good. I’ve had moments were I have felt a little overwhelmed, but most of all I’m hopeful and ready to press forward. The part about it that does bum me out is of course, The Mom. She really doesn’t like this whole trying to have kids thing and since I talk to her at least once a week, I’ve been getting an earful.

In other news though, I get to go see a play this weekend! Stara is a big patron of the theater and loves to go.  So today I went out to treat myself to a shiny new outfit. At first I started looking for evening dresses. Do you know how difficult it is to buy plus sized evening wear? I sure didn’t. It’s either black, and I have a great LBD already, or it looks like it’s made for someone twice my age. My keen shopping skills kicked in though, and I hunted down a nice flared skirt and a beautiful purple silk top. The best part? They were both on sale. I rock! I also got myself a pair of flats, just ’cause. So I got some retail therapy in and a play tomorrow. Life is good.

So in my first post I mentioned fertile I am not. This is a recent bit of information, as for all my life before this it really wasn’t something I tested. So a little over a year ago (Thirteen months to be exact,) I went in for my annual check-up with my OBGYN and mentioned The Fox and I were thinking of trying for kidlets. She smiled and told me how wonderful that was and sent me off to get blood work with the admonition to call as soon as I got those two little pink lines. I expected to be back in that office in three months, happily in the family way. (Insert hysterical laughter here.)

A little over four months ago I receive a post card in the mail reminding me to make an appointment for my yearly check-up. My doctor’s office sends these things out months in advance so that everyones not trying to make last minute appointments. I call up to set my appointment for the end of July and casually drop the comment that we had been trying with no success at getting pregnant. The chipper nurse informs me that will all be handled at my appointment. So around three weeks ago the appointment finally rolls around. I bundle up six months worth of my temperature in chart form to let my doctor see when I ovulated, a whole lot of questions neatly typed up on a sheet, and oh yeah, The Fox, and I head down to the office. After my ice cold pap smear we get down to the nitty-gritty. Looking over my ovulation pattern the doctor admits I have a kinda short Luteal Phase. Now note Stara is not a doctor, although she would probably look smashing in one of those white coats, but from what I understand the luteal phase is the period between when the egg drops, or ovulation, to when Auntie Flo come to visit, or menstruation.

At this point she wants us to keep trying and come back later. I’m so not going for that, so she calls in the nurse assistant of the offices fertility expert. Between the two of them I get orders for two blood tests: one seven days after ovulation, and one for day three of my next cycle. (By the way webbies, for all you non-females of child bearing age out there. One cycle goes from the start of your period, to the day before the start of your next one.) I also get an appointment to meet said fertility specialist. That original appointment is actually set up for tomorrow, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Fox also gets a referral for a semen analyses.

So lets recap here, I get to get pricked with needles and Fox gets to orgasm. So not fair.

Anyway I go in for my first test and all they take is one little vial. Now for reference sake Stara does not like needles, but if she only gets stuck once and is able to lie down generally she does okay. (By the way I’m sorry I keep changing from first to third person. I talk that way too and it drives The Mom crazy.) Anyway one vial, I did it and I was fine. Period starts and I call to let the nice nurse lady know, because she asked me to tell her. Her response “Come in here Friday at 10:30.” I mumble my acceptance and wonder why I have another appointment but basically go on with my life. Friday comes and it happens to be day three of my cycle so I stop off at the vampire lair to get my blood work done before my appointment. It was suppose to be a fasting test, so I was pretty hungry when I got there. Laying down I see the lady take out five vials. This does not put me in a better mood, then two vials in my vein decides it doesn’t want to play anymore. Gratefully my other vein is more cooperative.

So as I head up to my appointment I’m hungry and a little shaky from my blood draw. I then find out my appointment is for an ultra sound, and not the usual one either. The good side is I met the fertility specialist. She was very nice and was very positive on our outlook for getting pregnant. We found out three things from the ultrasound. My uterus is tilted. This one I knew. I have all the parts in the right places. This one I figured. I probably have at least have boarder line PCOS. This one hit me out of left field. Now remember I am not a doctor, but this is what I’ve learned since then. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome is when potential eggs become little fluid filled cysts in your ovaries. These cysts put off male hormones that can cause obesity, skin tags, hair loss or growth, and infertility. I had fifteen in one ovary and nine in the other. It is thought to be genetic (Something The Mom refuses to even consider could be from her.)

The upside of this diagnosis is I got Clomidified. Clomid is a fertility drug that should smooth it all out. Don’t ask me how. I am, you guessed it, not a doctor. So for the past three days I’ve been taking a drug that raises my chance of multiples to eight percent. Dad will be so happy. I’ve had no side effects yet and I still have my appointment tomorrow to talk about my last blood test and other things. I’ll try to update about that then. So for all you people out there getting on towards that one year mark in trying to conceive, you can probably expect to have the same kinds of tests that I had. With your own diagnoses of course.

Keep Surfing Webbies and may all your Imaginings be Fertile!

— Stara