All the Sun For You

A mom, two boys, a husband, and a whole lot of adventure!


Exhaustion Resulting in Cuteness

Matthew fell asleep in the car yesterday just before nap time.  I have been very lucky lately in that he lets me transfer him rather easily from the car to the crib, as long as he doesn’t need a diaper change.   Yesterday, he needed a diaper change because he was in a cloth diaper that was already wet.

Matthew was so tired that he slept through everything – the transfer out of his car seat and into the house, his diaper change, and transfer into the crib.  It was precious, even if it did result in a “short” nap for him (only 2 hours).

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Lucky Day

Two years ago today, we found out that Matthew was on the way.  I woke up early and literally jumped out of bed to use the bathroom – not because I really had to go – but because it was 7dp5dt.

I got my second pink line.

It wasn’t my first BFP – we’d had the empty sac the cycle just before and I’d tested with that “pregnancy” since 5dp5dt (first BFN, the BFP at 7dp5dt).  But this one felt different – it felt like it was “the one.”

And it was.

Today – I am 7dp5dt with this pregnancy.  If you haven’t been following for too long, you may not know that this pregnancy was transferred on the exact same day as Matthew – 10/12.  My children are exactly 2 years apart.*  I have the same due date with this one as I did with Matthew (06/30).  This used to bother me, but many of you at the time of finding this out reminded me that it could be good luck – that 10/12 is our day.  I believe you all now.  I believe 10/12 is the D family’s lucky day!

This time around feels different.  I’m not nervous for the beta, I’m not freaking out when my HPT is just slightly darker than the morning (or night) before.  I POAS, gaze at it for a bit, line it up just perfectly with the rest, smile, and leave the room.**  I only return to look at them a few times a day.  With Matthew, I carried the sticks with me (I even put it in my purse and took it to work with me = CRAZY).  I would have slept with them if B would have let me (or rather, if I hadn’t feared he’d think I was nuts – I never did tell him I wanted to sleep with them).

This time is just more peaceful.  I am loving it.

This morning, I jumped out of bed to use the bathroom – not because it was 7dp5dt – but because I really had to go  😉

* Matthew was breech so I had a scheduled c-section.  Because of that, we will most definitely schedule this next one for a few days after Matthew’s birthday so that each child has their own day.

** I have updated my IVF/FET timeline with a progression photo of the HPT’s, if you care.


Baby Crazy

This post is my contribution to the monthly theme post over at PAIL.  The timing of this was unreal – I woke up this morning knowing that I wanted to write about this very topic, and then saw it in my reader 2 hours later.  FATE!

This month, the ladies at PAIL asked if we are baby crazy.

Ummm… yeah!

Well…. I was.

The minute (and I mean, the minute) we decided to start trying for a family, I became obsessed with all things TTC and all things baby.  I bought the OPK’s, tracked every cycle (but did not do BBT charts), and made poor B do the deed every other day for 10 days each month – and I tracked every piece of that data in a spreadsheet (of course I did).  I even expected him to attempt to make a baby in a tent at the top of a mountain in Colorado in 40-50* temps.  He did not comply with my crazy, so I unleashed a whole new level of crazy the entire hike down the mountain the next day – and for the first time in our year of TTC, B told me that I was, “baby crazy.”  I resented it at the time.

But he was right – I was baby crazy.

Once we were seeing our RE, I became obsessed with all things related to IVF and FET’s.  I knew my clinic’s stats by heart for the last 3 years.  I created spreadsheets (of course I did) for each cycle and for tracking fertility expenses covered by insurance.  I planned out 3 IVF cycles on a calendar because the RE said that we would attempt it three times before changing our plan.  I told B that we could not take this trip (or that trip), or run this race (or that race) “because we could be cycling.”  Poor B planned a trip to Hilton Head for February 2011 and I lost my shit over it on Christmas morning (the trip was my Christmas present), asking how he could do that knowing that we had to do IVF.

If B could have gotten a nickel for every time I said, “we can’t do that because we could be cycling,” he’d be a very wealthy man right now.

We missed out on so much back then, because I had only one thing on my mind – and that one thing was making a baby.

Once Matthew was conceived and looking on ultrasound like he was going to stick around, I became obsessed with all things for the baby.  I knew every item that the baby would need, and every item that was not a need but a want.  I had spreadsheets (of course I did) of all things we needed and wanted, piles of baby stuff accumulating in the nursery, and a monthly plan of what items we’d buy and when (to spread out the big costs).  I bought baby food recipe books and researched which cloth diapers to buy (and then promptly bought my entire stash and all required accessories – one of our monthly “big items”).  I planned my work and worked my plan – every single night.  I don’t think I talked about much other than the baby, and the baby’s stuff.

I revelled in my pregnancy – I enjoyed it very much.  I joined several websites for weekly fetal development updates and would read a daily development journal when I woke up every morning (thank you, MBS).  I enjoyed feeling symptoms, I wished for more.  I created spreadsheets (of course I did) for kick count monitoring and pregnancy weight gain.  I looked at fetal development photos on the internet all day long while at work.  Even at work – there was nothing on my mind but my baby.

And then Matthew was born – and the obsession stopped.

Sure, I was concerned about his development, his weight gain, breastfeeding, and sleep – but I wasn’t obsessed with those things.  I cared (and still do care) about everything Matthew eats on a daily basis, how much dairy he gets, how many times he poops (he’s never gone longer than 27 hours), how much sleep he gets in a 24-hour period, and how he’s doing with speech (because there are speech delays on both sides of our family).  I make sure we read to him multiple times a day (not a problem – he loves books), constantly converse with him, and let him entertain himself for at least 30 minutes each morning and each afternoon (“because a child who never learns how to be alone will always be lonely”).  But I’m not obsessed.

I’m happy.  I’m happy to have this little boy.  I’m happy to have such a happy little boy.  Matthew makes me smile constantly throughout the day – even when he’s being difficult (his latest temper tantrums are thwarted by him initiating a game of “where’s Matthew?”).  He does not deserve obsession.  He does not deserve to have a mother who scrutinizes his every move.  Doing that would make him unhappy – and that is the one thing I refuse to knowingly do.  I am an obsessive person by nature, but Matthew is like Prozac to me (I can make statements like that – I’ve been on my fair share of antidepressants) and as long as I have him (and B, of course) – I’m good.

I didn’t even obsess over growing our family and providing a sibling for Matthew.  Sure, I could get wrapped up in a mental marathon of how many cycles it would take, what if we ran out of embryos, how much it would cost, etc.  But those thoughts really were fleeting, even if they were intense.  I did create a cycle spreadsheet (of course I did) because that’s what ensured I got all my IVF stuff done (if you have never done IVF, I urge you to check out the sample calendar to get a feel for what all you have to remember to do – it’s a lot), but that was it.  In the past, I’d check that calendar ten times a day (and I’m not even kidding), but this time around, I check it every 3-4 days out of fear that I’ve forgotten something.

It’s just different this time around.  I have my first baby – and if that first baby is my only baby – I am at peace with that.  You may think I’m saying that because I’m currently in the earliest stage of a pregnancy, but if you’ve been following me for a decent amount of time, you know that I’ve always felt that way (and have shared that several times here on my blog).

It feels good to no longer be obsessed.

We booked a trip for January before our transfer last week.  I told B that we are not doing this the same way we did it before.  We continue to live our lives.  We continue to have fun.  We continue to love each other and our child.  We continue moving forward.  We spent too much time in the past standing still – and that makes me sad.

I’ve come a long way from that “baby crazy” lady who was hiking down a Colorado mountain in July 2010.


Even For Us

After posting yesterday, I read a post from Belle and it really made me want to POAS.  I mean, it was an urge like no other.  At 3.75dp5dt – I just had to do it.  (How crazy is that?)

Once the deed was done (third pee of the day – after only 2 hours of build-up time), I felt instantly better.  All my tension had been released.  Even before seeing the control line, I felt GOOD.  I could move on with my day.

After 3 minutes, I checked that little test and I thought I saw a shadow of a line – but I’m a veteran – I know where those lines are supposed to be.  My eyes were probably putting that second line there.  So I assumed it was a “crazy lady line” and moved on with my day.  It was so crazy that I told myself I would not even show it to B, because it’s not really there and he’ll think I’m… CRAZY.

I swore to SRB that I wouldn’t POAS again until this morning.

And then I headed to Tar.get for more tests because I was clean out and I wanted to be prepared for today with FMU and a batch of tests (of course, right?).

I texted my “bad influence” friend who always encourages me to test early.  😉  (K – I love you!)  I told her about my crazy line and she asked if I’d test later that night.  No – I’ll wait.  She said to test.  I knew she would say that – and that may be why I texted her in the first place.

The evening came and I was feeling great – didn’t even mention my crazy (non-existent) line to B.  No problem.

But then, as Matthew was being all cute and loving – I felt like I was cheating on him thinking about the possibility of Baby #2.  And just like that, I had to POAS again.  I had just used the bathroom an hour earlier, and didn’t even need to really pee – I just had to POAS.  I quietly excused myself (I slow-ran down the hallway = PATHETIC!).

I returned with stick in hand – there was a line.  I saw it, B saw it, it shows up on photos.  At 4.3dp5dt (we transferred at 2:30 PM on Friday), I had my definitive BFP!  I then showed B the “crazy lady” test from earlier in the morning (3.75dp5dt) and he saw it rather easily.  I knew ALL day that I was pregnant – but I didn’t let myself really KNOW IT!

Of course I tested this morning and the line is even darker.  5dp5dt (I am no longer splitting hairs and saying 4.7dp5dt – OK – that’s the last one, I promise!) and I have a BFP.  It has never happened this early!

I know it’s early – we’ve been here before.  As B said last night, we are tentative until we hear the number from the doctor.  But this is a great start!

For now – the FET worked.  That is all I need – to know that it works – that it can work – even for US!


On Earning It

When this transfer was done, I thought of our remaining five embryos and felt such peace knowing that if this cycle doesn’t work, there will be others.


I know that FET’s work – one of my best friends is proof of it.  Many out there blogging are proof of it.  A friend of a friend is proof of it.  It can work, and why can’t it work for us?

Well, it can.

And we’ve earned it.

“Deserve” is not a term I use often (ever?) – because I don’t really believe in it.  I believe you usually get what you get with the amount of work you put into something – or – sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don’t (which is the case with IF).  It’s that simple to me.  Does anyone “deserve” anything over anyone else?  I truly do not believe they do in most situations.  The word, “deserve,” implies entitlement to me, and I don’t believe in entitlement except when it comes to things such as family building.  I believe everyone “deserves” the family they want in their hearts, and no matter what journey anyone has travelled to get there, they don’t “deserve” it any more than anyone else.

So I won’t use that word here.

Some people have to work harder at building their families, and some don’t.  That’s just how it goes.  It’s sort of like life – some people always seem to land on their feet, when other people seem to struggle at every turn.  Many people earn their families more easily than others, and many of us fight the hard fight to get there.

Some harder than others.

And that’s OK.

I will never believe that I worked as hard as someone who has lost several babies, or suffered a stillbirth or infant death.  I truly believe that people suffering from RPL, stillbirth, and infant loss worked harder for what they earned in the end.

Right or wrong, I just do.

I can say, however, that after 2.5 years of trying for babies, having my ovaries probed twice, experiencing some very scary OHSS, getting hundreds of burning shots in the stomach, getting over 100 IM shots in my butt, having 2 unsuccessful IUI’s, having 4 transfers, and experiencing 1 early miscarriage – this cycle, as easy as it’s been, is hard-earned.

If it’s successful – we most definitely earned it (and it would also be a spot of luck).

It it’s unsuccessful – there will be others.



Another Minute or Two

As everyone knows, I had a two-hour massage before my transfer on Friday.  I was so looking forward to this and it did not disappoint.  I was wondering what in the world could take 2 hours to work out of my muscles, but there are still two knots that wouldn’t budge completely after an hour of work.  After that hour, we decided to move onto other parts that needed some relaxing.

I asked the therapist if people fall asleep a lot on the table, and she said yes – all the time.  I vowed not to do that – I was going to enjoy every minute.

I thought of all sorts of things on that table.  I thought about the transfer, about Matthew, about B and the trip we’re planning.  My thoughts began to be fleeting and I’d catch myself… falling asleep.  I’d rip myself from my dozing state to be back in the moment.  But there was one thing that came to mind at a particular moment and I let myself stay dreamy.

My grandmother and I were very close.  We were good friends most of my life, but really enjoyed each other in my college and adult years.  My grandparents struggled a lot with their relationship with my parents, and in turn, that struggle was unfortunately passed onto us kids.  It wasn’t my grandparents’ fault.  They tried very hard to be involved in our lives.  I have hundreds of good memories with them – and I like to remind my sisters of these memories because their memories are more jaded by my parents.

As my massage therapist rubbed my arms, I was in an in-between state of being aware of what was going on, but letting my mind wander with direction.  I remembered going to the circus with Grandma and Grandpa, my Grandpa dressing up as the Easter Bunny, us kids shouting for Santa Claus up the chimney with my grandparents laughing beside us, and sleep overs with my grandparents.  I thought of my grandma dressing up as Ms. Hannigan from Annie and filming a scene of the movie with  my older sister and me (Grandpa behind the camera), I thought of Christmases spent in the game room watching the adults play card games, and I thought of holiday dinners around the dining table that wasn’t big enough for everyone.

During holidays, the kids would sit in the kitchen at the kids’ table, which was fine by us.  We’d go into the dining room and say grace with the entire family, load up our plates, and step 10 feet away to enjoy dinner together goofing with our cousins.  Grandma insisted on having dessert at every meal (and why wouldn’t you????) and would dish up her famous red velvet cake (Waldorf Astoria Cake), angelfood cake with the lightest frosting ever (delish), or a black forest cake – all three of which are still favorites of mine.  Again, we’d eat at the kids’ table and then help clear dishes afterwards.

But we never did dishes right away.  Some people would get up and play games, some would go play the organ, and some (most) would sit around the dining room table and chat.  That was when I would move from the kids’ table to the adult table.  I’d cozy right up next to my grandma and she’d whisper sweet things to me.  And she would always take ahold of my arm, roll up my sleeve, and gently rub the soft underside of my arm – from my wrist to my elbow – from my elbow to my wrist.  Over and over again.  I would feel dreamy – I loved it – and I would wish in my head that it would never end.  Grandma did this throughout the entire conversation and as she would start to roll my sleeve back down (because it was time to open presents), I’d ask her for, “just another minute or two.”

She always said yes.

That’s what I thought about during my massage.

My grandma.

And about how much I miss her.