We're Still Here!

Well, hello there!  It's me again.

So much to say and so much to update with Easton, but goodness.  Let me start by saying that I have NO idea how some of you stay on top of blogging.  I mean, if I have a second free, I sit in relative silence for a few and then usually tackle the housework that never seems to end.  :)  I've missed you all though and truly, I appreciate all of you checking in on me/us!

I suppose I'll update you about Easton and what's been going on with us.  Our son is adorable, stubborn, alert, happy, observant, feisty, hungry and most of all, hilarious.

We are still nursing and that's going as well as can be expected when your son has the attention span of a gnat and can't seem to stay latched on for more than a few sucks before quite literally yanking his head backwards to look around for something new.  He hates the thought of missing anything.  My nipples have requested a vacation.

Easton is a long, lanky fellow.  He was a little pudge but now that he has worked out the jumper, he has trimmed down a bit.  He is 15 1/2 lbs and is 26 inches long as of his four month appointment one month ago.  I believe he is even taller now b/c all of his clothes are too tight length-wise.  He wears 6 month clothing comfortably, but now and then, I squeeze him into a 3 monther if I am in the mood to show off his stellar physique.  Or if I want him to wear jams.  Do you remember jams? They rocked in the 90's.  He is clearly a fashion icon already.  Lil' trendsetter.

He rolled over from his belly to his back very early.  As in before he was 3 months old.  On Feb 5th.  It was crazy weird.  Once he did it once, it was a non-stop thing.  He HATED tummy time.  He is getting more tolerant these days in his older, wiser age.  He is almost going from his back to his tummy but he still seems to have trouble with the arm being in the way.  I have a feeling once he realizes what he's doing is putting him on his tummy, he will never do it again.  Our son is stubborn and set in his ways.  FOR REAL.

He ended up with colic pretty bad for a few months and that, paired with acid reflux, made one fussy little boy.  We had our days, trust me.  Thank goodness, those days are mostly a thing of the past.  I'm thankful for every single one of those days, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not glad they are mostly a thing of the past.  I remember someone telling me that once they turn 4-6 months old, it would pass and thinking I'd never make it that long.  Look at me.  I made it.

He just suddenly started sleeping through the night one night and going to sleep on kind of a schedule.  We thought about doing some type of strict schedule but it was never right for us.  He was noncompliant, his belly made it even more miserable and when it came down to it, I wanted to feed him  based on when he was hungry and needed to eat.  That to me was more important than having him sleep through the night very early.  I'm all for it and had hoped it would work out for us, but honestly, it just didn't.  I'm hoping that we're starting to get our own routine down now that he has pretty much made for himself in the past month or two.  So far, he is pretty happy now that his tummy and such feel better.

He started cereal a little bit before he was four months old b/c he was starving every two hours it seemed, sometimes sooner.  It started at about 3 months and I did everything I could to make him wait, then to accommodate him but finally, I decided to call the doc.  I knew my milk supply was fine but he was still hungry.  He was also starting to stare longingly at us while we ate and so I knew it was ok to ask the doc.  She said go for it.  They recommended feeding him from a bowl and spoon instead of cereal in the bottle.  We tried, it didn't work.  We tried again a week later and he was ALL OVER IT.  He was even grabbing the spoon and jamming it into his own mouth.  Poor chunker.

I've given him vegetables in the past two weeks.  He loves peas and carrots.  Not so much green beans. He enjoyed his Japanese sweet potatoes and apples.   That's all he's had so far.  He only had green beans once and since then, we've decided to stick to peas, carrots and apples for now.  I only give them to him once a day and even then, not every day.  I am terrified of causing him to be seriously constipated.  So far, that only happened once and it ended with him suddenly and delightedly pooping in my hand for about a solid minute between diaper changes.  Who knew poop could cause such joy? Especially when you catch it in your hand?  Ok, back to food.  What do you all know about Baby Led Weening?  Have I already screwed up by feeding him from a spoon?

Luckily, I was able to spend the first 3 1/2 months at home w/ the little scrip scrap.  Now, I'm working part time and it's been great.  I pump while I'm there and so far, he's only had to have a few emergency formula bottles, but I'm ok with that and he has been too.

To wrap this up before he realizes I'm not solely focused on him, I will share some pictures with you that you missed if we aren't hooked up on instagram.  :)  I'm @shannononthefly if you want to follow me there and catch up on some seriously adorable shots of my little guy, my dogs and pretty much nothing else.

I'll write again soon.  Getting over the hump is always the hardest part!  :)  I hope you all are doing well.  I will do my best to catch up with all your blogs now too!  I've missed you all.

One month old!

Two months old! (What a difference!)

Three months old!

(Four months is still on the camera! BOOOO MOMMY!)

Some time at the park on a cold day! Brrrrr!

Hey there, ladies....

A little baseball, of course.

There is Brave in Bravelle!

Well, I did it...and I'm smiling from ear to ear. I don't know why other than I'm really freaking proud of myself for not fainting! I am not even going to apologize for the horrible angle of this video, my super-southern accent, the whiteness of my flabby arms (are my arms REALLY that big!??!) or the hives on my chest....I gave myself a shot....with a needle! I am no longer a swooner. I did learn, however, it's best not to continue pressing the syringe into your tummy after it's already IN the skin....ouch. Thanks for all the support....I survived! :)~ Hopefully, I won't have to subject any of you to my midriff again until it's a baby bump. :)
love you guys.

Let the fright, fun and fainting begin!

Ok, if you're the praying type (I hope you are), please say a quick prayer for me.  I am about to give myself my very first injection and I'm going to need you all behind me (even if only in spirit) so that I have the confidence and wherewithall to go through with it.  Rik can't be here with me (or give it to me personally) so that means I have to buck up, suck it up and do it my dang self.  I was strong before, I can be strong now!  Raaaaaawwwwrrrrrrr!!!!!!

((For those of you that know my history with needles (I've come a loooong way), you know this is a huge deal right?  Keesha?  Mom?  You feel me right?  If I faint, I'll try to land on something soft!))

May or may not video.....we shall see.

The Not-So-Hostile Take-Over - Hubby Style (again)

So, Rik's back with a brand new edition and honestly, he had it ready before the weekend last week but I had to post something from me before posting another one of his or else it would then be HIS blog and we just can't have that now can we?  So, here he is....again, rocking my socks off.

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There probably isn’t a perfect way to feel about things, but there are some things I’ve felt throughout the process my wife and I are going through. Sometimes, the “observation deck” from which I’m watching everything is miles away from my wife’s observation deck, so much so that we end up seeing things from entirely different viewpoints. Other times, we’re standing shoulder to shoulder (well, my elbow to her shoulder).

Point being is that I don’t always feel the obvious things about all this.  Details, for example. I don’t typically dig to deeply into them.  “Oh, you’re having an IUI? Cool.” What I take this to mean is that there is a non-surgical procedure where the doctor will use a long skinny squirt bottle to shoot my boys up inside.  Shouldn’t take 2 minutes, right?

But I don’t think about the psychological effects.  Personally, I have no problem with getting assistance to put my fellas in the best spot possible to do their job (yob).  That doesn’t feel like a failure to me, or doesn’t make me feel like any less of a man.  It’s just one step in the process.  The ends justify the means.  And that could be where my wife and I end up looking at things from different observation decks.  The means are definitely important to her, especially since she’s the one that must endure said means. 

Cramping, bleeding, swelling, discomfort.  Naturally, I don’t want my wife to suffer those things.  But, since I don’t dig into details very often, I don’t always know all of these byproducts and side/after effects of having an IUI done on you.  Now that I know, I do feel a little differently about putting my wife through that.  Actually, after the trauma of the first one, and seeing how utterly miserable she was BEFORE the procedure, and then seeing the aftermath, literally made me state, “We’re not doing another IUI” to her.

Not doing another IUI.

That took a minute to sink in…for her.

She thought I had changed my mind about us trying to get pregnant through the fertility clinic.  She thought I was pulling up anchor and heading off to deeper seas to sail around for a while.  She thought we may never have kids together.  And all I meant, really, was that if the IUI process was going to be this emotionally and physically traumatic, then I cannot ask her to go through that again…but we’d find another way to achieve our goal.

I guess my “feelings” on this stuff is that if we have no better options, then we just have to go through with it – whatever that may be.  The endo surgery, for example.  I actually did a little research on that, but never real put myself in the shoes of having to go through it.  No, I didn’t like the idea of a probe going in through her belly button, but I never thought that she might not ever wake up from that (as mentioned in my last post).  It was just a step in the path along our way.  Just grab the ball, put your head down, run hard, and keep running until you reach the end zone (um, football analogy there – just kidding – I know you know it was a football analogy). You ignore the hits and the cracking of pads (bet you though maxi pads there, didn’t you? Stick with football just a minute longer) and keep fighting through the pain to make it to the goal. Period (um, not THAT period).

I do feel some anger, though.  Angry that it wasn’t easy.  Angry that it still isn’t easy.  Angry at that damn nurse at the other clinic that really and truly seemed to ruin everything.  Angry at seeing my wife become someone else’s science project…and sad about that, too, really.

~Rik

Guest Blogger - The Hubby Tells All (or at least some)

Alright Lady Bloggers (& Paul), my sweet hubby went out on a limb here and shared his feelings (gasp!) with all of you so that maybe you could share it with your hubby or someone who is going through IF and might need a little company.   Show him a little love.  He'll be writing more very soon because he didn't really get to write much of anything he really wanted to write about.....how well we all know that feeling!  It's what keeps us coming back.  

So, without further delay, meet my fella, Rik.  

I love this man.

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This article is geared towards guys who are going through the non-fertility experience.  My wife and I have been going through it for a while now, and she has asked me to write some thoughts from my perspective on the whole deal.  Not really sure where this will end up, by the way, but maybe something here will be useful.

First, I'd like to share a quick story.  My wife, Shannon, had to face one of her biggest fears very recently.  Namely, exploratory surgery on her girl parts (laparoscopy and hysteroscopy - Google them).  Yep, she was freaked out about it for at least 4 days prior (probably more, but she kept it bottled up pretty well if so) and we went through countless "what if" scenarios.  My job was to convince her that no, her abdomen will not explode and that yes, I will definitely still find her very attractive after it's all said and done.  But, to be honest, some of her fears gave me a little spook as well (although I kept that to myself).

So, anyway, after a few sleepless nights, we found ourselves sitting in the waiting room.  She was fully decked out in her hospital gown and kick-@ss hospital socks, kicked back in the chair and waiting to be taken back.  This was big. She was certainly terrified.  Terrified of being put to sleep. Terrified of what they might find - or, actually, what they might NOT find.  We wanted endometriosis to be in there because that would mean there was hope for us to get knocked up, and that it was the endo that was the culprit.  But still, this was big and pretty scary for her (and, ok, I was nervous as well).

In my mind, I figured she'd freak out when they came to take her back, throw some punches around, latch on to the arms of the chair and just refuse to go.  This idea couldn't have been farther from the truth.  She stood up when they came in, made some sort of joke about walking the halls with her backside exposed, smiled really big, kissed me as she walked by and said "See ya later."  That was it.  That was that.  Off she went.

Surgery was supposed to take between 30 to 90 minutes, tops.  I was prepared for this.  What I wasn't prepared for was the phone call I got from the Operating Room.  It had been a while since she'd gone back there, so I thought this was the call saying she was in the recovery room.  Nope.  This was a call to say, "Hey there this is Nurse Suchensuch from the OR...just wanted to give you a quick call...to let you know that it's taking longer than expected...due to poor visibility."  Poor visibility. Poor visibility?  So I asked the nurse, "Poor visibility?"  She said yes.  "What causes that?" "Hold on" she said, and put her hand over the phone.

I heard muffled voices and then she came back to restate, word for word, what she had already told me.  This concerned me.  I said, "Okay" and we hung up.  And now the mind starts racing.  You know that feeling you get when you know you're being lied to?  Yep.  Had that feeling.  Actually, I knew she had just lied to me, because why would she call to tell me something so meaningless?  I interpreted it to mean, "Hey, things are not at all what we planned for down here, and the doctor is still working and yes, your wife is still alive, we think, but we have some problems down here that we didn't expect and hopefully, if all goes well, neither you nor she will know the difference."  Not good. (By the way, she WAS lying to me. The reason it was taking so long was due to way more endo than the Doctor had expected, as well as some on an ovary...which makes it pretty serious. Poor visibility, my @ss).

For the next 45 minutes, I admit to you that I was scared.  What if she dies? Never considered that. What if they have to take out her ovaries? Never considered that.  What if she doesn't make it out of the OR?  I don't sit around at home on rainy days and think about these types of what-ifs, but a couple what-ifs were currently kicking my @ss in that waiting room.

Thankfully, the doctor came in a little later and first words out of her mouth were "She's ok."  I don't remember much of what she said to me from that point, but it involved photos and some pretty crazy stuff.  Truth be told, I was pretty shaken up.  Didn't expect that. Not at all.

And so, here are two points I'd like to make.  First, my wife is much more brave than I could have ever imagined.  Second, I'm not as bullet proof as I once thought.  What do these two points mean?  I don't know, probably, but I think recognizing both points are crucial to "the guy's portion" of the non-fertility process/experience/mind-bomb.

I have made progress on sharing my thoughts and feelings on things with Shannon, even though there is still room for growth.  But, recognizing and acknowledging to my wife that I am impressed how brave she has been through this whole cluster, and that she is showing strength that is truly admirable, can make a huge difference.  Think about it - think about how many different times you have said to yourself, "Man, I'm glad I'm a guy."  Women definitely got the short end of the stick, but they really, really, really, really get the short end of the stick (actually, make that the "sharp" end of the stick) in this whole non-fertility thing.  All we have to do is make sure we get as much as possible into the cup.  Damn, I'm glad I'm a guy.

To the second point (I ain't bullet proof), it probably is important to avoid the whole Macho Man Randy Savage (RIP) approach.  You can't bulldoze your way through this.  You can't put on that stone face and hit the mute button.  You need to acknowledge, to your wife/pincushion, that you aren't immune to the left field emotions that crop up during this stuff.

Combining these two points will bring you and your wife closer together in that she is getting stronger and you are getting...well...more open to being, well, less of a robot, I guess.  At any rate, it will help you both feel like a stronger team in this, and it does make it easier - on BOTH of you.  You still have to man-up and pick her up when she's freaked or worried or emotional or just pissed off at you in general.

Now that this article is ending, I had a ton of other things to say but...it is what it is.  Good luck and go kill some rabbits! (that means go get her pregnant, by the way).

- Rik