This time last year-

It's hard to believe where we were at this time last year. We'd already had our consult with my RE where she told us she knew she could get us pregnant again, but as far as carrying to term she didn't know... she said eventually, in theory, I should be able to but that she couldn't guarantee it. That was such a hard conversation. I left feeling so hopeless. The only reason we tried one more time was because she offered to donate us the medication we would need... or as I like to say, she bribed us to give it one last try.

And it worked.

At this time last year, we were growing a ton of follicles for our IUI. By April 2nd, we had around 6 mature and several measurable (but not quite mature). Any other person, and they probably would have canceled. But not me, with my womb of doom. Thank goodness they let us go ahead, because we caught one. One beautiful perfect egg, which turned into our darling son.

This time last year was so difficult. I mean, it's easy enough to try not to think about it, but it's impossible to forget it. How could I forget getting a positive test the week of our four year anniversary of trying? How could I forget that I was already spotting, bleeding, and terrified. My response of "Oh, shit," and feeling so defeated as if we'd already lost. My progesterone was so low, and I was stuck in beta hell for so long. My cramps were painful, the bleeding too heavy, that it felt just like the others. The ones I'd lost. All the symptoms of a miscarriage, but not a miscarriage.

That heartbeat just a couple weeks later was so beautiful. It was the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen, and that little being that I saw start, still amazes me each day.

I remember the horror a few weeks later, after just seeing arm buds and the heart still beating, what happened next. That exact moment is forever burned into my mind. I remember eating enchiladas, watching Doctor Who, and feeling pressure. I remember standing up, and finding myself covered in blood. I remember shaking. Screaming. Crying. Rushing to the hospital... and finding out that he was still alive. They weren't very positive that things would stay that way, but that night, despite the horrifying amount of blood loss and clots passed, he was still with us.

I don't take my son for granted for one moment. I try not to think about the horror of what I went through. It's easy enough to ignore most of the time, now that it's over. But I can never forget what I went through, the extreme terror that I would lose him just like I lost the other ones. There were beautiful moments and there was a living nightmare battling it out. I never expected things to be so bad, or to end so wonderfully. This time last year, I just expected to get another negative and to spend the next year trying to figure out how I could move on with my life.

My son's story is an epic to me. It was filled with great highs, and terrible lows. When I look at him, I think about how we beat it. How together, we won the battle against my body. And at this time last year, I never even imagined any of this could be possible. I never imagined I could be sitting with him today, listening to him coo. I never imagined I could actually be changing diapers, cuddling him while he sleeps on my chest, or giving him baths. I just knew that one way or another, we would be moving on.

It's painful to remember what I went through last year, but like I said, it wasn't all bad. There really were some wonderful moments. Like every time I heard his heart beating, or when I felt him move, his first breath as he wailed outside my womb. My little survivor.

It's so strange to think this all started just a year ago. It feels like a lifetime.

Transitions-

V is growing at such an amazing rate. Two weeks ago he discovered his toys, and just this past week he's learned how to spit. Now he plays with his ball all the time, and proceeds to get frustrated because he just can not get it in his mouth. Gotta love that he tries, ha. And the spitting... oh, sweet word. He spits all the time now. There is slobber everywhere. Parenthood... everything I thought it'd be :)

Of course, with his growth comes changes. He's officially too big for his bassinets... I haz a sad. We'll be transitioning him to his playards this weekend. Yeah, I was just not ready to put him in his nursery so we're keeping him in our room a bit longer. I know I'll have to let it go eventually, but he's not even 3 months and I'm just not there yet.

Nursing is on it's way out. As I mentioned, things just aren't going well at all. No matter what I do, I can't seem to make enough. As he eats more, the percent of breast milk he gets goes down. Right now, we're only doing about 50/50. And it really doesn't feel worth the stress it puts me through, not to mention the pain, the time consumption, him being upset with me... I know it's not really worth it. I've just been hanging on because I'm not ready to let go. I only have two days worth of Reglan, so I might stop this week. I may push it for a couple more weeks, but I think I just need to let it go already. I did my best, and that's all I can do.

I have several things I'm mentally processing, but I just don't have time to tend them. I suppose they're for another post.

Struggling with PCOS and weight-

PCOS made my struggle to become a mother an uphill battle. It's made managing my weight hell. I know my lifestyle choices haven't helped that. However, before I got pregnant I had started jogging every other day, watching my calories, I increased my Metformin to 2,000mg a day, and really took charge of my PCOS. I lost 25lbs between January and March last year, and it felt amazing.

So far this year I've managed to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight and maintain it. But that's it. Because of breast feeding I haven't been able to restrict my calories for fear of further damaging my already low supply so my weight has stagnated. I believe it's slowly creeped back up a pound or two, but I'm afraid to look at the scale.

Anyone with PCOS can understand what a big deal weight management can be for us. It takes diligent effort for most of us just to maintain our weights, let alone lose weight. Right now, I know there isn't much I can do so I'm just trying to do what I can. I'm trying to get back to jogging, but between pumping, feeding, and entertaining V I really don't have much time or energy. I know I need to, but it's just really complicated right now.

I feel like breast feeding is the biggest complication by far though. Pumping every 3 hours is time consuming, it takes up a half hour of my free time I could use for other things (like cleaning, or cooking, or jogging...), not only that but I have to wait until V is napping or otherwise satisfied so I can pump. Then when I'm done pumping, it's time to feed him or entertain him. Before I know it, it's time to pump again. This cycle repeats from the time we get up at noon, until 1am. I do try to get the housework done in the evenings when A is here, but I really hate to bombard him with the baby every night as soon as he gets home from work. So, on the rare occasions I feel up to jogging I have to time it just right and make sure A is available. It's a lot of work.

I plan to stop breast feeding in a month or two. I gave it my best shot, but ever since the Mastitis/Cellulitus incident my supply has been low. It got increasingly lower for whatever reason (LCs and OB are blaming PCOS), and right now I'm barely making half what he needs. I'm getting to the point where I feel like the negatives of this situation are outweighing any benefits. I'm frustrated. I've done Fenugreek, Goat's Rue, Mother's Love Special Blend, Reglan, power pumping... and I'm still only making about 2oz a pumping session. It really doesn't seem worth it some days. So my old goal was to breast feed until one year, but my new goal is to make it to three months... maybe four. I feel like there are just so many negatives to this situation right now though. I don't have any time, I feel like I'm always chained to the pump, I get frustrated easier because of that, I don't make nearly enough anyway, also it hurts, and I can't do what I need to for my own health. I don't want to quit, but at the same time I am beyond ready to.

Once I stop nursing I'm going to start watching my calories again, in addition to the jogging. So I have a tentative plan in place. So now, I just need to focus on jogging and I need to hold myself accountable. So, here I am starting out:

weight 227lbs

That's my largest side due to my slight humpback (Have I ever told you how much Scoliosis sucks? Because it does.) Hurrumph.

It feels weird that I'm the same weight I was pre-pregnancy, but my body is not the same shape. My clothes all fit different, and I have a pouch on my lower belly. I'm hoping exercise will help me firm that up some... we'll see.

Anyway, so this is me holding myself accountable. I better stick to this.

Three years ago today-

Three years ago today I lost my second pregnancy. Well, I'd lost it before then; my body just refused to let it go. Three years ago today I finally went through the horror of passing the pregnancy, of taking Cytotec to induce my miscarriage. That began one of the worst nights of my life.

I used to say that it was six hours of "mini-labor" or contractions, and then I'd make a disclaimer that I didn't know what contractions felt like so I could be mistaken. I knew it was awful, I was in more pain than I'd ever been in before, but I thought labor was surely harder. I take all that back. It was labor, it wasn't less-than-contractions... it was full blown contractions, and I know that now.

The reason I knew I was in labor with V, was because I'd felt those same contractions before. I screamed, I cried; I'd felt that ripping pain already. Three years ago I went through six hours of hell, and just two months ago I went through nine hours of the same... but with a happy ending.

The reason I was able to labor so long without an epidural was because I knew I could; I'd done it before. I kept holding that in my heart the entire time I labored. It wasn't anything I hadn't felt before, so it became no big deal. I survived it when I lost my second pregnancy, I knew I could survive it to deliver my son.

Of course, then he became stuck, things didn't progress, my contractions started to come without a break, V's heart kept decelerating... and I needed a c-section. And that's fine. It was for the best, and I'm at peace with that. It was the labor experience I'd wanted, even if it didn't end quite the way I intended it to.

But the whole time I labored, I thought of her. I thought of my son, V. I thought of all the ones who passed before him. I thought of how far I've came, how much we've struggled, and who I've become. I knew I could handle anything, and I did.

And today, I think of her again. I miss her, and everything she might have been. It's gotten easier, but I'm still the mother to children who went before me. That will never change.

Working through life-

It's been over two months now since I had V. We had his well baby check-up the other day, and he's weighing in at 13lbs and 11oz already. He's grown another inch too. His size 3 month clothing is getting snug already. Yikes.

He has a blocked tear duct that's been causing issues, but hopefully he'll grow out of that. He favors laying on his head one way, so it's created a bit of a flat spot there, so that's another thing to keep an eye on.

Watching V grow is wonderful but it's hard too. He's getting so big so fast, and on one hand I love all the little milestones and I can't wait for him to get older so we can do so much more. I can't wait to take him places, to show him things, to let him see the wonders this world has to offer. But then, I want it to slow down because he's never going to be this small again, and I might never have someone so small and beautiful again. I got lucky, but I know that we might not be so fortunate next time. Not knowing if we'll ever have more children weighs on me a lot. I can't help it. I feel like a broken record, but this is something I'm dealing with and trying to process. Infertility didn't magically vanish, it just burrowed into another part of me.

Speaking of things I'm dealing with... My mother has been very trying. As I've mentioned, she is mentally ill. We don't know what she has, since she admits to being on disability for mental illness but then will change her story in the same breath. I wish her social worker could talk to us, I'd really like to know what her diagnosis really is. So, she comes over and visits V a lot now, forgets things, and rambles on like normal. She swears V likes things that I tell her he doesn't, but she thinks she knows better. Yeah, the woman that comes over for an hour once a week knows better than me, the woman who's only been away from him for 2 hours total since the day he was born... right. Anyway, the other day she was holding him, he started crying because of the way she was holding him, and she said that she knows he likes it and kept holding his weird. Which made him cry more. When I said, "Here, give him to me." and held my arms out to take him back, she jerked him away from me.

I almost went off on her, I really did.

I love her, but sometimes it's hard to be around her. Now, with V being here, she's around a lot more often so things get tense more often. With every passing year, her behavior gets worse. She gets frustrated because she doesn't understand things, so she starts getting angry, she gives up and fumes about it for awhile. It can be something as big as political issues, or as simple as buying something. I remember when I was pregnant, she got mad at a drive thru window person because my mom didn't understand that "two separate orders" meant the same thing as "a separate order" and she ended up screaming about the drive thru operator being a stupid bitch, yelling at the poor girl, and then driving off. Because she couldn't understand that it was the same thing, even though I tried to explain it to her. Then she yelled about it for awhile, about how dumb that girl was and so forth. It was bad. I mean, really really bad.

I don't know how things are going to play out in the next couple of years. I know that she thinks she's going to get V for sleep overs, and I can tell you that won't ever happen. She hasn't said anything about it, and I haven't either, nor do I plan to unless she brings it up. But I'm under the impression that she thinks I'm going to hand him over like my brother does with his kids. I just can't do that in good conscience. Just, no.

I know, not really my normal blog content, but something that's been weighing on my mind a lot. Sorry.

I'm just trying to navigate these new waters. I'm a stay at home mom now, no more worrying about work and everything. I love it, really. But it is not without it's challenges, such as seeing my mother more often, or needing more adult interaction (and getting my mother instead ha).

Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to a family get together, which is going to be awkward because of strained family relations. So cheers to that. Then Saturday we plan on getting a new family portrait done. I actually am excited about that. Then we're going shopping for V. The makings of a super busy weekend... hopefully the good will outweigh the bad.