tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59994029100520486002024-03-08T01:26:46.919-08:00A Chick and EggsMy eggs don't work, so I've manifested a baby via egg donation. Let's blog and see what happens.TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-92077364961237713352014-06-16T12:10:00.000-07:002014-06-22T12:11:51.393-07:00Fuck You, Katie Couric: A Love Story
For those of you living under a rock or some other place where no one gives a shit about egg donation, Katie Couric recently did a segment about a donor egg conceived child and her family who met their donor for the first time on her show. The program went as one might expect: some nervousness, lots of sweetness, and tons of positivity.
Afterwards, however, the TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-32120043734647485932014-05-20T13:27:00.000-07:002014-05-22T13:28:16.671-07:00Gray Matters
You know the feeling: you're starving, and you really want a burger, but all you have is salad, so you eat the salad, and technically you aren't hungry anymore because the salad was huge and had lots of avocado and sunflower seeds and stuff like that, but it wasn't a burger, so you aren't fully satisfied.
I spoke to a friend today who asked for the lowdown on how it feels to beTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-53766719093439612262014-05-14T13:24:00.000-07:002014-05-22T13:25:55.352-07:00Eat, Play, Love
Eat.
I have video footage of my baby crying while nursing my left tit because I have almost no milk. She had better luck on the right, but not much. I won't go into the details of how awful breastfeeding has been, but suffice it to say that it's been both physically and emotionally painful for both me and my kid.
Now at 5 months, she's almost exclusively formula fed.TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-214006235494447872014-05-13T13:23:00.000-07:002014-05-22T13:26:15.100-07:00B is for Baby, Blog, and Banal
Here's what's happening: I keep trying to write. Not blog, but write. Entries like the ones I used to post about Frankenstein and my grandmother. But those take an admittedly embarrassing amount of time, and I don't have that kind of time now, and consequently, I haven't been posting anything.
So if I want to keep this record of my thoughts going, I have no choice&TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-30541995235019944842014-01-30T13:20:00.000-08:002014-05-22T13:26:56.833-07:00You Came Out of My Vagina
You came out of my vagina, but that's not when our story began.
Seven months before you came out of my vagina, I got a positive pregnancy test on the day my grandmother died, and I hoped this time I was really pregnant so that my dad (your granddad? weird.) could get some cheery news. Also, it would make me happy. I guess. Yes, of course it would. Happy. Obviously.
Five months before TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-71062080116811577922013-11-27T13:19:00.000-08:002014-05-22T13:20:25.660-07:00And Then There Were Three
SNG was born on Saturday, November 23rd, clocking in at 5 lbs 1 oz, 17.5 inches, and off-the-charts cuteness.
Labor was quick (not counting the weeks of hospital-bound preterm labor in September and October). I woke up with contractions at 3am, we got to the hospital at 4:30, and she was born at 6:01am. The delivery was unmedicated with the exception of half a glass of TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-58977748318842058522013-10-02T13:18:00.000-07:002014-05-22T13:18:55.124-07:00The Pre-Term Labor Movement
28 weeks and 1 day
10:00 am - Arrive at ultrasound to see if baby is still measuring 11 days behind.
10:15 am - Baby is getting back on track at 7 days behind. This is good.My cervix, however, is 4mm thick when it's supposed to be 4cm. This is bad.
10:45 am - I'm admitted to the Labor and Delivery ICU to see if I'm having contractions. I am.
11:00 am - Cervical exam #1: I'm not yet TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-62900770097555616382013-09-10T17:24:00.000-07:002013-09-10T17:24:19.197-07:00Stunted
This blog isn't developing the way I thought it would.
Over the past 2 months, I've started two posts that have yet to be completed: one about the effects of this pregnancy on my sex life (short answer: not good), and another on how I feel about being pregnant with a girl (short answer: not good).
Truth be told, I may still finish these posts and predate them for purposes of chronology. Yes,TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-3635226649346948952013-07-12T17:20:00.000-07:002013-09-10T17:24:53.397-07:00Battle of Wills
Here's a light-hearted query: who raises the kid if we both die?
Well, if we can hold off for a dozen or so years, then our friend JB would be perfect. I trust his values, his parenting skills, and his integrity, so he and his wife are the top pick. No problem.
But that's only if we don't die for a while -- if I get to raise the kid for a good chunk of time, and I leave behind a child who's TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-19680511545389916332013-07-03T16:34:00.000-07:002013-07-05T16:37:01.228-07:00Tiers of Joy
Admitting that I don't know what to write isn't the best way to up my readership, but what can I tell you? I have no fucking clue what to say.
No, I still don't trust that this is happening. No, I'm still not telling people. No, I'm still not excited. Nothing's going on, and no one wants to read about my continued reservedness, so what am I supposed to post?
I will tell you, however, that I'mTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-72568023763853596902013-06-13T16:31:00.000-07:002013-07-05T16:33:00.513-07:00Therapy is Stupid
It's been months, and I still can't say it.
I can say, "I'm," and I can say, "pregnant," but so far I haven't managed to say them in sequence. Instead I default to, "I'm 14 weeks." Or to close friends I say, "I had a transfer at the end of March, and so far things are going well."
Or in the case of telling my parents, I just handed them my most recent ultrasound pictures, and I let them TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-52414772252519371582013-05-07T21:59:00.001-07:002013-05-07T21:59:38.886-07:00Belly Flop
A conversation at 8 weeks and 1 day.
Me [pointing to my double chin]: Do you see this?
Him: Your gullet?
Me: Just say "yes."
Him: Yes.
Me: Do you know what it means?
Him: That you're fat?
Me: Just say "what?"
Him: What?
Me: It means that we've been cooing at my fat.
Him: No, there's something in there.
Me: What's in there is theTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-27287015635325021652013-04-24T17:30:00.000-07:002013-05-07T21:58:25.494-07:00One
So, I was certain there'd be no one in there, but it turns out there is.
One heartbeat. We saw it flicker. It was awesome.
I'm not the kind of blogger that's going to post pregnancy play-by-plays, although I'll be adding updates to this page just for posterity (also linked in the header above under "Pregnancy Timeline").
PS: Seriously, though. There's a heartbeat. Can you TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-69993616408600789212013-04-03T20:30:00.000-07:002013-05-07T21:56:46.538-07:00Up's Tears, Down's Tears
I cried twice today.
Once from overwhelming sadness for my father's grief at the loss of his mother, and once when my doctor called to say that I'm pregnant.
They were very different tears.
Yes, my official test came back positive. Any number over 100 is considered great. Mine was 241.
Let's just hope whoever's in there sticks around for a while.
TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-15664366704154174432013-03-31T18:01:00.002-07:002013-03-31T18:01:47.634-07:00Death and Life. Maybe.
My grandmother died this morning. Also this morning, I found out I'm pregnant.
Yesterday my father learned that my grandmother was very sick, and within a couple hours, he was at the airport. They Skyped while be was waiting to board, and she didn't recognize him, but that wasn't unusual.
Her doctor originally predicted that she wouldn't make it through the night, but when my dad video TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-53166262169098281472013-03-26T19:35:00.000-07:002013-03-26T19:39:36.784-07:00"Grey's Anatomy," and Other Autobiographical Stories
I've been brainstorming ideas for how to borrow from popular culture to frame my autobiography. Here's what I've come up with so far:
"Grey's Anatomy" - An eternally-running television series about a middle-aged woman's eggs and their quest for McSpermy. (Genre: medical, dramedy)
"Snow White" - The story about how a Maiden turns into a Crone and only then decides to become a Mother with TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-40705728862572973982013-03-24T19:38:00.000-07:002013-03-26T19:39:22.137-07:00Prospective Perspective
I have a question.
I always swore that I'd never consider egg donation. My reasons were that it'd be creepy, it'd feel false, and it'd be socially confusing. But after years of failed in-vitro treatments, my doctor said that the only way to get me pregnant was to use a donor's egg, and now here I sit with fingers crossed, Viagra in my vag, and hoping against hope that tomorrow's transfer takesTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-23138863329910468652013-03-03T20:50:00.000-08:002013-03-03T20:50:47.251-08:00Dietary Supplements
Here's what happens 3 months into quitting gluten, soy, dairy, nightshades, caffeine, sugar, and alcohol:
You never have any gas or stomach pains
Your previously painful period cramps completely disappear
You have long, regular, perfect poops
Your donor gets pregnant
It's possible that the last of these things has nothing to do with my food intake, but they say dietary changes can TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-54122347287607794482013-01-22T12:33:00.000-08:002013-01-22T12:33:06.246-08:00Archetype Casting
For 2012, I had three new year's resolutions: to do more crosswords, to breathe, and to focus more on integrity than on goal-setting. I only succeeded insofar as I'm still breathing.
Because I tend to fail wildly at at these annual vows, you'd think I'd consider setting a lower bar, but that's not how I roll. Case in point: for 2013, I resolved to become a different person.
But TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-81390266128003712482012-12-20T09:13:00.000-08:002012-12-20T09:13:59.688-08:00Psychopathic Naturopathic Medicine
(Three posts in three days, I know. Shit's getting real.)
I've started seeing naturopaths. That's naturopaths plural. Meaning three of them.
My main naturopath says that the reason I can't carry a pregnancy is threefold: lack of circulation, elevated toxicity, and increased inflammation. To ameliorate those things, I am two weeks into abiding by the following protocol.
Acupuncture.TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-24985218074215218252012-12-19T22:18:00.000-08:002012-12-19T22:18:31.010-08:00Second Helpings
I've switched doctors at my clinic. I loved Dr. M, and I miss him terribly, but he seemed to be out of ideas, and I wanted a fresh set of eyes on my chart.
So, Dr. H and I sat down to discuss a March transfer, which would normally mean that I wouldn't be taking any pills right now, but he actually wants me on daily doses of:
Baby Aspirin for increased blood flow,
Vitamin DTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-39942370258150552202012-12-19T22:16:00.000-08:002012-12-19T22:16:21.382-08:00Festival of Lights at the End of the Tunnel
It wasn't the best Hanukkah for me. Lots of drama that's not worth getting into, so I won't, but in between the bouts of mayhem, there was an especially sweet moment.
My mother urged me yet again to think about adoption. She knows of some baby-manifesting lawyer who gives away infants, which means that (1) she clearly has no idea what she's talking about and (2) that she loves me.
Neither of TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-10584737425206403082012-11-26T17:03:00.000-08:002012-11-26T17:03:20.658-08:00Future Present Tense
I've always felt there was something eerie about the state of transition, and in trying to put my finger on it, I realized: it's not transition that I'm experiencing. It's suspension.
Suspension of time. Suspension of truth. Suspension of breath. All by a thread. Or perhaps something thicker.
I've set up permanent residence in this state of suspension, because here, a decidedlyTGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-29050229909825785032012-11-04T14:43:00.000-08:002012-11-04T14:43:16.513-08:00A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to Committing Murder
From the start, I had an "unexplained infertility" diagnosis. Or rather an "unexplained infertility, but we think it's an egg issue" diagnosis. As in:
You can't get pregnant on your own, but we think it's an egg issue, so let's introduce the sperm as close to the egg as possible. Four times.
Nope. Inseminations didn't work. What else you got?
Boy, that's strange. But we still think TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5999402910052048600.post-89315025147240675792012-10-31T15:42:00.000-07:002012-10-31T15:42:53.116-07:00Bust
About a month ago, I went lingerie shopping and bought myself six new bras. Three are basic black, but two of them are pink, and one has a leopard pattern -- the one I love wearing most of all.
For a while there, I was bummed that getting pregnant would mean that my boobs would engorge, and I wouldn't be able to wear any of them anymore, but judging from the negative home tests I've been TGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07035114992842631052noreply@blogger.com0