Moving right along

Is it really October already?  More specifically, is my baby already almost 6 months old?

Also. You don't give up hobbies (i.e. blogging)for six month when your baby comes?  Well, you're a better human than I am.

This is the first week where Baby V has gone to bed at a consistent time. She  now has a bedtime of 6:00 p.m., but the process usually lasts until 7:00 p.m.  So my quiet time begins at 7:00 p.m. I can eat dinner, put my feet up, chat with Blake, and now I can write.

I swear my child has a sixth sense about whenever I sit down at the computer to write.  That, and when I try to take a shower.  Both result in a grumpy sourpuss baby in record time.  Generally speaking, she's a very happy and easy baby, but I think maybe she just gets lonely when I'm concentrating on something else?

I've resulted to laying her on a towel outside the shower while I sing silly songs to her and check on her every few seconds.  I realize that this probably won't be ideal once she's able to crawl or pull up on the tub, but for now it gives me a few moments to attend to my hygiene.    And now I have this lovely time in the evening to bore you all with my ramblings.

After six months of successfully keeping a baby alive, I can now attest to two things:

1.  I stand in awe of all the mothers out there who have multiple children, or who go it alone.  I never appreciated what a sacrifice that must be and how tired those mothers probably are.  You have my everlasting respect.

2.  The constant sickness through fertility medications, IVF, pregnancy, and then dealing with the miserable c-section...it was all worth it.  Our baby is the best.  The best, I tell you!

Virginia laughs at Bear constantly (and only at him, never at Blake or me no matter how silly a face we make or crazy a noise we make), gives big cheesy grins, almost sits up by herself, loves baths, thinks it hilarious when she burps or toots, and generally is just a big bundle of love.

We almost never call her Virginia, actually.  Usually it's BooBoo.  The first sounds she made were "boo" and for months she'd end every coo and gurgle with "a boo!"  So there, you go.  We're hoping she's a golfer because it would be an excellent golf name.  Also, women's golf scholarships are maybe the easiest sport scholarships to get, so we're pursuing that angle.

On that note, it's hard to believe she'll ever be old enough for college.  Heck, it's hard to believe she'll ever be old enough for kindergarten, but I've found that time has a way of speeding up (even the fussy days go by entirely too quickly), so I'm sure I'll be lamenting her leaving home before I know it.

Bear continues to be a lovable pest.  Sometimes I wish he could go on vacation alone for a few days to give me a break from the mud and barking, but then he walks into the room and BooBoo squeals with delight and I decide it's all worth it.  But talk to me tomorrow when my floors are a mess again and I may be singing a different tune.  Every day is an adventure (and a circus) with those two.

Well, with that rambling post as my first step back into blogging, I'm going to say goodnight and try to catch up on some sleep while the going is good.  

Surely

So here we are in November already...and I wish I could tell you that blogging is the only thing I'm behind at in my life.

Alas. I'm behind at practically everything.  Except my laundry.  I'll count that as a win.

We've had lots of lovely things going on lately, but our biggest news is that Maybe Baby is now Surely.  We're having a baby girl and she's due on April 17th.

The best part of all of this is that, at over 16 weeks along, my morning sickness is finally fading to manageable levels.

Cue the choir of angels! Bang the gong!  Celebrate in the streets!

I've had a few people ask me how my pregnancy has been going and how I would compare it to how I imagined it would be.  Well, it took me three years to get pregnant (and I desperately wanted to be pregnant), so I was hoping that I would adore it.

BUT

Let me tell you. This whole pregnancy this is highly overrated.  IVF was no picnic, but I was hoping that I'd get a break from some of the less fun symptoms.  No dice.  From six weeks on it has been one big party centered around crackers, string cheese, and the porcelain throne.  I've had vertigo, whooshing in the ears, hot flashes, restless legs, bloody noses, stuffy sinuses...you name it.  Set me in front of a teen audience with my zits and cellulite (no glow here!) and those suckers would never have sex again.

I feel silly for how useless I've been the past couple of months.  Looking at screens of any kind gave me headaches, so I avoided the computer and the TV like the plague.  A couple loads of laundry would take me all day (with naps in between folding sessions) and cooking has been practically non-existent in our home (the smells! the horrible smells!).  Whoever named it "morning sickness" was horribly mistaken.  Try all day/all night sickness.  Blech.  I'm so glad to be over the worst of it.

Now that I'm starting to see straight again, am able to eat salad, and am no longer cursing the heavens during every waking moment, I'm looking around in awe at all of my friends and family that have birthed multiple children. I've got a whole new respect for the women in my life.  I've also got a long list of questions as to how/why they had more than one child.  Women are tough cookies.

(As I'm reading over what I've written so far, I'm thinking I'm sounding a little hard-done-by.  I'm not.  Life is good.  I've had it fairly easy.  I'm just grateful that the worst of it is coming to an end.)

Switching from complaints to SCIENCE...fertility science is THE COOLEST.  The more I learn about pregnancy and the human body, the more I think WHAAAA? and WOWWWW!

I have a picture of my "baby" at five days old.  It's 150 cells and looks more like a biology class slide presentation than what will become a baby, but it's pretty much the neatest thing ever.  Also, we found out the gender at 10 weeks!  10 weeks, people!  From a vial of blood drawn from the crook of my arm!

The day after we found out that Maybe is a girl, we celebrated by buying a couple baby dresses (Janie and Jack will probably take the majority of our bank account from now on. yikes!) and building some shelves in her room.  We've been working on other projects off-and-on as the whim strikes, and the room is really coming together.

Check out the shelves and the dresser we bought for $25 at a yard sale (and painstakingly refurbished)...and my favorite thing: the stuffed animal that looks like a mini copy of Mr. Bear.

Standish Treadwell

It's one of those days where I don't really have anything interesting to say.  That isn't to say I don't have a lot to talk about.  It's just that none of it is particularly interesting.

I'm nearing the end of my stimulation medications for my 2nd IVF cycle...which means I'm feeling bloated, bruised, and inclined to only wear waist-less clothing.  But honestly, I don't have a lot to complain about it.  I haven't been as nauseated this time around, which as been life-saving.  I've had much more energy to enjoy my days, so I've been trying to take advantage before the retrieval comes along on Friday and totally wipes me out.

Blake's been up in New York for the past three weeks, but he did get to come home last weekend. It was SO NICE to have him home.  We mostly laid low - swimming, watching movies, eating out - but it was just what we both needed.  He's coming home again on Friday for the retrieval, which makes the whole thing much easier to look forward to.

Also, my Mom is coming out on Friday to stay for a week to keep me company and help me out on my not-allowed-to-drive and too-sick-to-drive days.  I'm incredibly grateful that she'll be here for so long and it also feel like a great reward for making it through the next few days.

By the time the evening hits, I'm usually too tired to do much, so I've been doing a lot of reading and some seriously Netflix-ing.  Dawson's Creek, man.  It's so terrible! (But also strangely addicting).  Mostly I'm just watching it until I can't hold out any longer and end up purchasing season 2 of Orphan Black.  We'll see how long I last.

As far as reading goes, I've got a new goal to read all of the Printz Award winners and honorees.  I've made myself a chart on google docs to keep track of what I've read so far.  This, of course, appeals both to my love of charts and to my love of well-written YA literature.

I read Maggot Moon earlier this week.  It's a 2014 honoree and boy, it did not disappoint.  I'd characterize it somewhat as a mixture of 1984, Wonder, and a WWII holocaust bio.  I can't stop thinking about it.  It's told in 100 short chapters (some as short as a paragraph) by a 15 year old dyslexic boy named Standish Treadwell.  "Can't read. Can't write. Standish Treadwell isn't bright."  But he is bright.  And he changes the world.  And it's heartbreaking.  And fantastic. And fantastically creepy.  And I cried.

It's books like this that make me simultaneously excited to write, but panicked because nothing I write will ever be that good.

The sparse prose.  The perfect alliteration and use of metaphor.  The characters you want to jump in and save.  The characters you hate.  A story that makes you feel.

Field of Dreams

Sorry for the radio silence lately.  You'll be glad to know, however, that it's been a very productive silence.

We received bad news about our last IVF cycle last Friday.  I had a nice ugly-cry for a while, then turned to the interwebs to read all about my new protocol for this coming cycle.  Let me tell you, the internet is a great and calming place to a gal doing IVF.  There are so many chat rooms, message boards, blog posts, and articles that I can browse to my heart's content.

About twenty minutes after I got off the phone with the doctor, my parents arrived at our house direct from their flight from Italy (they'd been there for the 10 previous days for work).  So we all had another good cry.  It was a soggy day.

But the best part of their coming to town was that we got a mini vacation.  It took me a couple days to start feeling normal again as the meds left my system, but then we had a grand time together.

We tagged along with the BYU Law group to see West Side Story at the National Theater.  I'd forgotten all of the fun music in that show.  That said, this particular interpretation of the show was pretty darn dark and depressing.  Also, it's hard to buy guys as tough gang members when they're so obviously teeny dude ballerinas.  The Sharks and Jets have never looked less intimidating.

We also ate out at all our favorite places with my parents.  Pacci's Trattoria (it says something that even though my parents had been in Italy for 10 days, they still wanted to eat here right away), District Taco, Parkway Deli, and Seasons 52.  It was a busy, and full, week.

My Dad left the day after the conference ended, but my mom stayed an extra couple days to hang out.  It was the first week in a long time that I haven't been abundantly medicated.  I can't tell you how wonderful it's been to start feeling more normal.  Even though I'd be happy to start right up again, I'm sort of glad that this new protocol has a built-in time off period.  No daily shots for a bit! Hallelujah!

My mom and I spent a lot of our time working on the someday nursery.  I think I'm going to start calling it Maybe - the Maybe Baby, just for ease of description.

Over the past few years my philosophy has been "don't count your chickens before they hatch."  I haven't really let myself buy or do anything baby-related because I didn't want it to bring more cosmic bad luck on me.  But, at this point, it's not like our luck could really get worse, so my philosophy has changed to one of "if you build it, they will come."

Now, as a self-admitted non sports enthusiast, it's funny that I'm governing my life with a quote from a baseball movie, but I've got to say that it's helping my outlook immensely.  So, with that in mind, Maybe's room got a preliminary gender-neutral make-over.

We painted the walls a soft grey and made black-out curtains for the big window that gets sun all day long.  These sheets from West Elm were marked down 50% and then an extra 15% off at the register. It's hard to tell from the photo below, but they're a white background with small navy blue arrows that almost look like polka dots from far away.  I bought the king set and used the flat sheet to make two panels.  We lined them with a heavy white black-out fabric (also 50% off at JoAnn's - it was my lucky day!) and they now hang beautifully.

After using the flat sheet for the drapes, I've still got two king-sized pillow cases and a huge fitted sheet.  I'm going to make a few crib sheets and a quilt with all the extras.  So, for $70, I'll be getting two lined curtains, three crib sheets, two pillowcases (for someday big kid beds) and a quilt.  That's not too shabby!

Lou Boo Designs

The lovely and talented Meg Walter and I just opened a joint Etsy shop - Lou Boo Designs.  Meg is making darling sundresses and tunics for toddlers, and I'm making notecards and crocheting baby blankets.

Truthfully, could we really call ourselves Mormon women if we didn't operate an Etsy shop?  I think not.  At least, not good Mormon women anyway.  Ha.

One of the nice (i.e. not nice) things about IVF is that you feel pretty crummy a lot of the time.  The medicines I'm on right now are giving me the fun experience of dizziness, fatigue, nausea, and my personal favorite: hot flashes.  If I needed another reason to avoid getting old, I now know how much I'd like to avoid menopause.

But there is an upside to all of this.  While I'm riding the waves of the non-existent deep sea fishing expedition that I feel like I'm on, I've got a great excuse to get lots and lots of crocheting done.  I've made two baby blankets in the last 48 hours.  That's definitely a personal record (and no blisters!).

The only issue I'm running into with these recent projects is that Blake loves each of them and wants to keep them for our (non-existent) someday baby.  An imaginary baby only needs so many non-imaginary baby blankets.  So, off to the shop they go, methinks.  After I take some non-iPhone and sans-Bear pictures, that is.

So if you're feeling so inclined, check us out on Instagram @LouBooDesigns or Etsy at Lou Bou Designs.

Dr. Frankenstein

I had a small surgery on Monday, so I've been off my game this week.  I'm starting to feel normal again, and am slowly working my way into the projects I'd planned for the week.

I'm currently Frankenstein-ing (it's a verb) a dresser together for the guest room.  I'm using things left from the previous owners, things I've found on eBay, and paint from good old Home Depot to create my monster - err, masterpiece.  It's turning out really well so far, and I'll hopefully be done later this week and have pictures in hand.

I've got about a thousand other projects on my list right now, but I have a feeling they'll be slowly drawn out through the summer months (and quite possible into the fall/winter knowing my track record).  We'll see how far I get.

On the top of my list is to get a violin specialist to look at my garbage-find violin.  It's 3/4 size and is an E. Martin Sachsen Stradivarius Copy.  Judging from what I've been able to find not the trust interwebs, it may actually be worth restoring.  A friend recommended Potters Violins in Bethesda, so I'm headed there soon to see what it'll take to get this fella in working order.  It's in bad shape now, but isn't it beautiful?

Addendum

So here's the thing about infertility.  It's an intensely painful and deeply personal experience.  And even though I write a public blog, I do like to keep my personal life fairly personal.  But, along with painful and personal, infertility is also very lonely.

No one talks about infertility.   There's information there if you dig, sure, but it's not something that people are usually very open about. I get that.  It's hard to talk about things when you feel like you're so different from everyone else.  Like maybe everyone else has the secret to life that you just haven't pick up on yet.

I've debated back and forth for a long time on how open to be about my experiences.  Do I share and risk being embarrassed? Or do I keep quiet and perpetuate the loneliness?  Clearly, I've decided to share.  I don't want to be part of the cult of secrecy surrounding infertility.

I want to be available for friends with questions or as a shoulder to cry on (heaven knows I've cried on my fair share of shoulders so far).  I want to make infertility feel less inferior and more hopeful.

That's not to say that every post from now on is going to be medical-related.  Believe me, I'll spare you that.  I'll probably still write mostly about my dog, weird people on the metro, and good garbage finds, but I still wanted to put it out there.

If there are days when I feel like shaking my fist at the universe, you may hear about it.  If there are days when all I want to do is watch funny Jimmy Fallon clips on YouTube, you may get an eyeful of those.  Then again, that's what this blog has always been.  A blog about nothing and everything and the things of little importance in-between.

On Shutterfly and Infertility

Those of you who know me well know that Blake and I have been trying to start a family for a few years.  Those of you who don't know me well...um...you're about to.

Not getting pregnant is hard.  It's hard after 6 months.  It's hard after 27 months.  It's just hard.

I guess if there's anything I've learned from this experience it's empathy.  I had never understood what heartache comes with wanting something so badly and then being betrayed by your own body.  I feel like I need to personally apologize to all of my friends who have gone through this before me.  I just didn't understand.  And it kills me that I wasn't more present for them.

And so, here we are.  After a year of poking and prodding.  After a cancer sentence and a reprieve.  After countless medicines and doctors.  After false-positive pregnancy tests and un-endurable Mother's Days.  We are here.  Starting IVF.... And alive.  Which I feel like is a feat in itself.

If there's anything to take the wind out of your sails, it's IVF.  It's a very exciting and interesting process (SCIENCE!), but it has made me feel like I'm underwater.   It's been simultaneously worse and better than I expected.  The injections aren't so bad.  Sure, they're a bit painful and I'm running out of un-pricked space on my stomach, but that's probably the least of my worries.

I spent Monday crying all day.  Why?  I have no idea.  I wasn't even sad...I was just leaking tears all day.  Darn hormones getting the better of me!  I've spent the subsequent days waddling around feeling like two sacks of marbles have been inserted into my lower stomach.  I've developed a small beer belly that's as hard as a rock.  And I feel the need to wear stretchy pants all the time.  Ahh. That's the life.

Early in the week I also received a rather timely (except the opposite of that) email from Shutterfly congratulating me on my new baby and asking if I'd like to buy baby announcements.  Thank you, Corporate America, for that slap in the face.  No wonder I prefer getting my goods through the garbage.

Honestly, I wasn't that upset by it...however, the irony was not lost on me.  I wrote a short email to the Shutterfly team asking that they re-check where they are getting their marketing data because an email like that was in rather poor taste.  i wasn't rude about it, but I just let them know to double check so that it doesn't happen to other people in my situation.

I got an email back directly from the Chief Marketing Officer with his sincere apologies.  So there's that - at least they are reachable.  Guess you haven't lost my business after all, Shutterfly...you'll live to send me another inappropriate email.

But lest I come off sounding extremely whiney, I'm actually feeling really lucky.  I fall into that small percentage of women with "unexplained infertility," which has been frustrating at times, but it means that the doctor has no reason to think that this won't work.  And that's comforting.

I've got a husband who has been supportive and kind (even on my non-stop crying days) and who encouraged me to quit my day job to do something I love.  He has held my hair back when I've puked from procedures, bought me ice cream when I need it, listened to more information about women's bodies than he's ever wanted to know, shuttled me back and forth to appointments when I've been too stressed to drive myself, and generally been the best husband and friend a girl could ask for.

I've got family that pick up the phone just to let me cry or talk when I need a listening ear.  And family to send me flowers to brighten the days, or clothes as a fun surprise.  And family to share in our heartache and our excitement, and support us through this process.

I've got friends who have brought me meals, offered to drive me to appointments, sent me texts to check up on me, sent me encouraging emails, and forwarded funny videos to brighten my day.

I've got a home that I love in a city that I adore.  I've got a puppy that starts crying when I cry...that snuggles me when I'm sad and makes me happy with his goofy grins. I have the chance to do what I love from home even if it doesn't make much money.

I've got a team of the kindest doctors and nurses I've ever met working with me to help us start a family.

So even though I've had my fair share of bad days in the past few years, for all these reasons I feel lucky.  And blessed.  And hopeful.