January 30, 2009
I can’t help but be outraged
At the irresponsibility of an RE to transfer EIGHT embryos into a woman's uterus. I mean, seriously? Under what insane set of medical evidence was this doctor working to decide that eight embryos gives a woman the best chance at having a healthy baby? Isn't the goal of IVF to be the best chance of having a SINGLE healthy baby?
The woman had 6 kids under 7 at home already. Now, maybe they were all adopted (but they're not). Maybe she never had actually gotten pregnant or carried a pregnancy to term (also not true). Likely IVF was the only choice they had to get pregnant, because seriously–who would voluntarily use IVF to get pregnancy if they had a choice? But EIGHT FREAKING EMBRYOS??? Now, perhaps the grandmother in the CNN story is wrong and the mom actually underwent IUI with lots of follicles. But triggering and doing IUI with eight follicles seems pretty off as well. Or maybe they used fertility drugs (am I right in assuming they would have had to have been injectables to get eight follicles developing?) and then had sex against the advice of the RE.
This study says that REs, whether infertile or not, would do IVF *if* they were diagnosed with infertility rather than choosing to remain childless. And it says that they would choose to transfer THREE embryos for the first two cycles, but would go to four or more if a third cycle was needed. But EIGHT? Seriously??? Would ANY of them consider transferring eight embryos? Seeing as multiple studies show that the rates of pregnancy are about the same with the transfer of two good quality embryos compared to three good quality embryos, I can't imagine there being any justification for transferring eight. The American Society for Reproductive Medicine guidelines for embryo transfer don't appear to show justification for a mom in her mid-30s, like this mom, to transfer more than 3 embryos. And that's if the prognosis was bad.
I'm thankful that the octuplets seem to be doing OK and that she was able to carry them for 30 weeks, but am absolutely appalled at her RE.
January 23, 2009
Our kids? Are freaking angels.
I said those exact words to J last night. We went out for my birthday to a Japanese steakhouse–you know, one of the ones with the hibachi and they cook in front of you. They don't put the best chefs on Thursday nights, just so you know… Anyway, J was sitting next to P, who was next to K, who was next to me. P, of course, is 5 and K is 2. Soon after we were seated, another family was seated near us. They had boys who were 3 and 7 and a 5-year-old daughter. The other mom and I were sitting together so we chatted a bit through the ordering and while we were waiting for the cooking to begin.
Shortly after the chef came out, they started giving out the food. All of the kids were happy about this (I had no idea that K likes miso soup!) and started eating. They happily watched the cooking and ate for a little while. Then our kids kept eating and, when they weren't eating, were sitting in their seats*. Their kids ran around the restaurant. Literally ran around other diners at other tables. They played with toys along the floor in the main walkway. They yelled across the restaurant. Every once in a while the parents would pipe up with "Sit down and try to eat a little," but did nothing when the kids ignored them.
Had I been one of the other diners, I would have been really annoyed. I was slightly annoyed and I was there with kids! More of my annoyance came because P kept asking if he could get up and play with them after he was done–and was put out when we would say no. We've taken our kids to many restaurants and insist on good behavior there. We've never hesitated to leave a place if they're not behaving.
It doesn't normally occur to me to be proud of our kids for behaving properly at a restaurant because, hey, they're expected to act appropriately. But last night, I was so proud of them because I saw what it could have been otherwise.
*Actually, funny story about last night: at one point, K kept trying to stand up in his booster seat and was starting to cry (which usually leads to yelling loudly when he's upset). I asked him if he needed time-out because he couldn't sit nicely–and he said "Yesh!" (That's not a typo.) I scooped him up, told J that it was supposed to have been rhetorical, and took him to the outer lobby for time-out. He sat quietly in time-out on a bench and when we came back, he was ready to behave and finished his meal nicely.
January 21, 2009
Did I tell you about the one…?
The one where it took K 10 1/2 months before he said "I love you" to me?
When we first brought K home, I would often tell him that I love him and it would bring on hysterical screaming and crying. It took me a while to figure out that if I said it to him in the middle of a tantrum, especially those brought on by grieving, it would bring on fresh fighting and tears more than anything else I would say to him. Still, I kept saying it and he eventually he was OK with hearing it.
He started saying "I love you" himself several months ago, usually by being prompted to say it. He wouldn't always do it though, so it took me a while to realize that he never said it to me when prompted. He would say it to his daddy, his big brother, his grandparents, his teachers, anyone…except me. Eventually he started saying it freely–but still not to me. For a good three months, he would say it to anyone else but not to me. One time he did say it to me, but he looked so shocked that I think it was an accident and he was wishing he could take it back.
I pointed it out to J a couple of weeks ago, and he hadn't noticed until then. I can't blame him for not noticing–K's not that consistent with it and I get to spend more time with him, plus who notices something like that when it's not you? But once I did point it out, he realized it right away. If K was asked to say "I love you" to me, he would either say something else, pretend he hadn't heard, or go off and do something else. Sometimes he would even shake his head.
I tried not to force the issue. I'd ask him to say it sometimes, but just once and if when he didn't, I would leave it alone. I tried not to be impatient. I genuinely believe that he realized that it was more important to say it to me than it was to anyone else, and that he wanted to wait until he really MEANT it. After all, he was relinquished by his mom and then the nannies at the care center let this strange lady take him away from them–letting himself truly love me would be letting down a huge barrier. I'm sure he didn't rationalize it consciously (he is only 2, after all), but he knew that was a choice he wasn't ready to make.
Oh, I knew he loved me. You only had to see him with me to know how much we love each other. I didn't doubt that, which made it easier to wait. Still, though, it was really hard to hear him say it to his grandparents on the phone and yet watch him turn his head when he was asked to say it to me.
A week ago today, on my 31st birthday, K said "I love you" to me and followed it with a huge hug. I couldn't have asked for a better present. Every time he says it now (even unprompted sometimes!), it makes my heart melt a little more and a little more. It was so worth the wait, because it means so much that he really understands that those three little words are important and have meaning.
I had no idea how I could fall even more in love with this little boy simply by hearing him say three little words.
January 14, 2009
Welcome home!
I just wanted to post and wish Erin, John, and Azucena home from Guatemala! They have been through so much over the past years and are finally home with their daughter. HOORAY!
January 13, 2009
It’s always fun
To get your period 3 hours before your birthday, with nary a cramp of warning. It only comes every 7 weeks or so, and it has to start now? I thought I had two more days. Sheesh! I guess I can forget about my birthday nookie.
I guess the lack of cramps WAS my birthday present. The bar is set very low for J :-)
January 5, 2009
You know you want to do it…
Everyone wants to do it, but only a few are brave enough.
Come on, you can do it.
I know you can.
I know how much you want to.
You want to…comment.
Comment often.
Comment here.
Comment this week.
Because…
It's National Delurking Week of 2009!
Two years ago, I donated $1 for every commenter on my National Delurking Week post to Resolve. This year, I'm going to do the same thing, but I'm splitting it between Resolve and AHOPE, an orphanage for HIV+ children in Ethiopia. So comment! Impoverish me! Help me forget that we're supposed to get an additional 3-5" of rain around here, guaranteed to keep me depressed! Raise money for infertility and children in need!
You know you want to…
January 4, 2009
Melancholy month
I'm slightly melancholy lately and I'm trying not to be. The weather isn't helping. I'm one of those people who requires sunlight in my life in order to be happy, and Atlanta is usually a good place to live for that. (Forks would be my personal version of hell, cute vampires aside.) But if I don't have sunlight for an extended period of time, I start to get depressed. It's been pretty rainy and/or overcast for most of the last several weeks and it's wearing on me.
While winter break is wonderful because I get to have a lot of time with my kids, it's also too short to get into a routine. So we fumble about at odds, random playdates and errands to do but no real schedule. And, in the kind of weather we've had lately, we tend to get on each other's nerves. Patience runs a little short. Privileges get taken away. It can be great, and is most of the time, but today was one of those days where the house just felt a wee bit too small.
What I'm trying not to think about, and failing miserably at, is the pregnancy-that-wasn't. Because right about now that would have been the baby-that-wasn't. A staggering number of friends and acquaintances are due right now or have recently given birth. I've been fine most of their pregnancies, just the occasional unwilling thought about "I would also be at that point right now", but genuinely happy for them and able to share in their joy. And I still am incredibly happy for them–there have been some awfully adorable babies born lately. I'm just a little sad for me.
I'm having so much fun with my kids lately (seriously, the above whining is indicative of my mood and may not be particularly accurate. K is rapidly potty-training, which is something I wouldn't have even attempted now if we were about to have a new baby. I'm looking forward to being done with diapers for a while, if not forever. I'm looking forward to the classes that I'll be teaching starting next week, because they're all health-science majors. Our Ethiopian adoption group is getting together next week. I have a very full new Bradley class, which includes two former couples back for their next babies (funnily enough, they were in the same class last time also). J and I have been having a fabulous time recently. I've gotten to see a lot of wonderful friends lately, and even made some new ones. I don't WANT to feel melancholy. I keep trying to put mind over matter and it's just not quite working this time.
I wish it were sunny.
PCOS Baby 