The Plan

I've spoken with my doctor and the plan for now is to monitor my HcG levels for the week. She said they should be doubling every 48 hours, but even if its not doubling exactly but even just going up we will be happy. She sounded somewhat optimistic, saying that at least the pregnancy is progressing, as at least today there was an embryo with a heart beat. She said she's seen two other cases like this: in one the person miscarried but in the other it turned out OK. So I guess we will have to wait and see. Should know by the end of the week whether the numbers are going up or down. In the meantime I will be staying home from work and taking it easy.
I've done much reading on the subject and from what I can tell, my chances are slim to none. Here is a website where several other people have been in my same situation. If you have some time to read it's interesting stuff.
http://www.pregnancy-info.net/QA/answers-Low_fetal_heart_rate/

Good News/Bad News

Well, the verdict is in and it is......... inconclusive. The good news is that there's a little embryo in there now with a heart beat. The bad news: the heart is beating very low. It's beating at 85 where it should be in the 120-160 range. The radiologist said that's "very worrisome" at this stage and that there's still a chance it's not viable. Exactly what that chance is who knows. So I guess all I can do is keep waiting. Anyways, that is all for now. Just want to keep you informed of the latest development.

The waiting game

For the first time in my twenty nine and some years, I am actually wishing the weekend away. I simply cannot wait for Monday to arrive. Usually, when the alarm goes off on Monday morning I curse it, and then press snooze a few times, or vise versa. I'm not too sure of the exact order, I'm usually to groggy to remember. But this Monday I will be so happy to hear that shrill sound. I just want to have this ultrasound and know what is going on in there. About a third of the time I'm optimistic about it, thinking for sure it will be good news. But the rest of the time I'm like "I must be delusional to think there's still a chance- it was pretty cut and dry at the last appointment- no embryo." It's very annoying. But at least I'm not having any bleeding or anything. Every day that goes by without bleeding I breathe a sigh of relief. But not that that necessarily means much. I didn't have any bleeding last time, and the time before that I only started to bleed three weeks after the baby had died. I always think 'I'll feel better once I know", that once I know what I'm dealing with then I'll be able to deal with it. But then when you actually find out, and its bad news, then you just wish you could go back to not knowing, when there was still some hope, however bleak. Anyways, just to let you all know, there's a Burger sale today at C-Tire from 10-2 for Lorries nephews bnowling team. Be sure to go and get your burger before their gone. I'm going to take the whole family out. Well, that's it for now. Peace out.

Maybe Baby

Well, this week has gone quickly. Love those four day work weeks. Anyways, you might be wondering about the title of this blog. This is something that I have debated about a lot over the last two days and I decided to just post this now. See, I had this big surprise planned. Truth be told, I'm seven weeks pregnant right now. I found out a few weeks ago and have been keeping it to myself. I've even gone so far as to pry the lids off of Orange Smoothie Coolers, dump the alcohol down the drain and refill the bottles with orange soda for the purpose of appearing not pregnant at various family functions. Which actually worked like a charm. Although let me tell you, its not easy as you might think to drink a litre of orange pop in an evening. The first one is kind of OK but the last three are hard to get down. But anyways, I had this big elaborate scheme. I was booked for an ultrasound on Wednesday and I wanted to wait until I had a picture of my lovely little embryo before I broke the news. I was going to frame it and wrap it up and give it to my parents as an anniversary gift when I have them over for supper on Sunday and watch the surprise on thier face. But unfortunately, my ultrasound did not go so swell and I did not end up getting a picture of my baby embroy.
The ultrasound showed a gestational sac with a yolk sac in it but no visible embryo. So this was upsetting to me. But the technician said that it's too early to tell for sure for sure if it's going to be viable or not. By dates, I was six weeks and six days at that time, at which point he said that there should most definately be a visible embryo with a clear heartbeat, neither of which he could see. But he said that if I was five weeks, six days it could potentially be considered normal. So he said to come back in a week and recheck it. If it's grown, then it's all good. If it's still the same, then obviously it's not viable. So right now I'm just kind of waiting, my sanity hanging in the balance. I honestly did not consider the fact that I would lose this pregancy, too. I thought that I've had two miscarriages already, more than my fair share, so I should be safe with this one. But if I've learned anything over the past couple of years, its that the powers that be really don't hesitate to take from a person once, twice or however many times it damn well wants. I don't hold out too much hope at this point b/c the thing is that I know my dates, and I know I'm not off by a week. But I guess it ain't over til the fat lady sings and she hasn't quite sung yet. I go for my next ultrasound on Monday at 9:20. In the meantime, I'm going to just keep my fingers crossed (and my legs as well- don't want to disturb anything in there). Pray for me. I need it much more now than I did when I had the staple incident, although, in retrospect that was a close call. I could have died from the blood loss alone, to say nothing of the anesthetic or the surgery...
And I do apologize for not telling certain people in person (namely my parents) but I just don't really want to talk about it right now so it seemed easier to post it on here. And also, it's such a convuluted story at this point. I'm pregnant and I've been living a lie but now I might not really be pregnant but I still could be... surely you see what I'm saying. Anyways, I will let you know how things go on Monday. Hopefully it will be good news.
Have a nice weekend.

One down, one to go

Well, here we are, a family of three, having successfully pawned off our oldest child for the entire week. We thought it couldn't be done- as he's the clingiest nine year old ever. But he actually decided to leave his family behind and venture north to Candle Lake with his gram and gramp. I'd like to say that I miss him terribly, but so far its been pretty OK. I took Payton shopping this afternoon to Old Navy. I made lasagne for supper tonight and put mushrooms in it--a big NO-NO when Gage is around because he has this thing that if a mushroom comes in contact with any piece of his food on his plate the entire meal is not edible, so he stubbornly refuses to just 'pick them out', claiming that the entire dish tastes like mushrooms. Because you know how overpowering mushrooms are. Eventually, I stopped cooking with mushrooms altogether just to avoid the fight. So for an entire week we can eat mushrooms to our hearts content. The weird thing is that he actually likes mushrooms when they're raw. But somehow once they're cooked its totally different. I'll never really understand how his logic works. Its like how he refuses to eat tomatoes on his burger but he'll smear the shit out of it with ketchup. Nine year olds. I guess I was one once, but I'm sure I was a lot more mature than that.
So back to work tomorrow after a luxurious four days off. A big shout out to Aunty Gail for the gala Easter festivity she held yesterday. The food was fanfreakingtastic and a good time was had by all!! The kids were entertained by an Easter Egg Hunt, which they really enjoyed. Also, a big shout out to Lorrie and Trent for hosting Terrys impromptu 50th birthday party on Friday. Again, a good time was had by all. Karaoke got going a bit later in the evening and it was quite the show. A lot of talent in our family. I was sorry, though, that I missed out on Jen and Trents Duet "the Purple Onion Song', which, by all acounts, sounds really intriguing. Word on the street is that their songwriting ability rivals their singing.
Other than that, not much is new with me. Some of you already know this, but my dear husband is booked for surgery next month. He will be having his testicles operated on, and I will be sure to post before and after pictures for all to enjoy. I'm not 100% confident that he'll go through with it, or even 55% for that matter, but he says that he's going to. So that will be that. No more kids in the Makepeace clan. But we can always keep getting puppies...
Speaking of which, I took my new puppy for a walk today along with JD (our Szi Tzu, 4) and Payton (our Human, 2). It was quite an interesting walk let me tell you. Two little dogs can actually cause a lot of mayhem, more so than you might imagine. Here I was envisioning this lovely stroll with my two perfect dogs walking along in tandem. People would be stopping to stare. They would call me "the girl with the cute dogs". But instead I think they were calling me "the girl with the retarded dogs." Their leashes kept on getting tangled up. They kept on wrapping themselves around me. JD was running ahead of me, choking on the leash, and Baxter was steadfastly resisting and had to be dragged behind me. And Payton was chugging along, sloshing through all the puddles with her new Pooh Rubber Boots (Wal Mart 9.99). It was OK, though. Hopefully future endeavors will be better as Baxter learns that the leash is your friend, not your enemy.
Anyways, that is all for now. Have a pleasant day.

More book

I watched CNN for a while. Well, actually it was only about twenty minutes but it felt a lot longer. And I didn’t even learn much about the situation in the Middle East. They were talking about the candidates for some kind of an election in the States. I’m not too into politics at the best of times, but American politics? No thanks. So I started to channel surf.
Jeopardy intrigued me for a little while, only because the people on it have the dullest lives. Ironically, they are so dull that they make the show interesting. The one guy began by telling this painfully bland story about walking his dog in the park when his dog (and here’s the kicker) caught somebody else’s Frisbee, which caused quite a ‘brouhaha’ (as you might imagine). He was absolutely beaming as he told this story. You could just tell that this was the highlight of his life, the wildest thing that has ever happened in his life. His dog caught an errant Frisbee. I almost felt sorry for him. But then he won thirty thousand dollars in final Jeopardy, so I stopped feeling sorry for him. He may be a bit dull but his brains will get him by quite nicely.


By then end of the day I was getting bored. I started to look around the room, trying to decide which items I would bring with me in the event of a fire. There were only a few things. The photograph of my baby niece, Sam. The jewelry box my dad got me the year before he died. And maybe, time permitting, the afghan that my grandma knit for me years ago. Interesting, I reflected. The only things I’d chosen were those items with some sort of sentimental value. It was like an ink blot test, it offered up rich data about a person’s inner values and feelings. For example, had I chosen my make up and mirror, it could be said that I was vain. If I had chosen my lap top and papers from work it could be said that I was a workaholic. I wonder if I could get this published in Modern Psychology as a new psychometric tool for assessing personality. The phone interrupted me from my reverie. I cringe when I saw my moms name on the phone.
Now, you know that I had planned on telling my mom about this whole surrogate thing as soon as the details were finalized. But then I started thinking- perhaps it would be wiser to just wait and see what happens first. Because in reality, they say that it usually takes two or three attempts at in vitro before it’s successful. So there’s a high probability that I won’t get pregnant, anyways. And why cause all that drama if it turns out that nothing comes of this? Right? Even though I know it’s perfectly logical, I can’t quite help but feel a tug of guilt as I consider answering the phone. The problem is I need to try to avoid her for two weeks, when we get the results of the pregnancy test. I don’t think I can keep it from her if I see her face to face. I’ve been dodging her calls for some time now, afraid that I would spill everything as soon as I heard her voice.
The ringing let up. A stab of disappointment shot through me. My mom and I had always been close. It’s wasn’t like me to keep secrets from her. I guess I really should have just told her, but the thing is is that it was not that easy to bring up.
What’s new?
Nothing much. I might be carrying my boss’s baby, or rather, babies, but other than that, same old, same old.
You get the point.
It’s just not something that lends itself to casual conversation.

More of the book

Here is more of my book. I am too lazy to post a blog, but I shall make more of an effort tomorrow. Its just so hard right now in the middle of Idol season.


Perhaps it was jet lag, although, in reality, that seemed unlikely. The flight from Calgary to Saskatoon was only forty minutes. Perhaps it was the side effects from the sedative they had given me the night before the ‘procedure’, as they call it. Or perhaps it was just the stress of it all. Whatever the reason, I fell fast asleep almost immediately after setting foot into my apartment. I slept for twelve solid hours and woke the next morning to the angry ringing of the phone. It was like waking from a dream. As consciousness broke through the fog of sleep, so too did the dawning of my new reality. The reality that I could be carrying the offspring of Cynthia and Horrace Jacobson right now. Right now those blasted blastocytes could be multiplying and dividing away (do they multiply or divide—surely it can’t be both?). I sat up in bed very still, trying to somehow sense whether there was any activity going on in my uterine cavity. I couldn’t tell, but I did feel a little bit of a shiver up my back. I wasn’t sure if that had any significance or not.
Finally, after the phone rang a bazillion times I got up and picked up the call.
“Hello,” I answered groggily.
“Have you been drinking?” Cynthia’s voice assaulted my ear, even more accusatory and unpleasant than usual. I looked at my clock. Quarter after nine in the morning. Even if I had been drinking, which I couldn’t fathom, I surely wouldn’t be admitting it to anyone, let alone my boss. “Yeah, just fixing myself a boilermaker to get the day started.”
“No,” I replied with a yawn, more annoyed than defensive.
“You sound like shit,” Cynthia said. I suppose she wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just how she is. But what I don’t understand is just what it was that she was expecting me to sound like? I had just had my body invaded by sharp metal objects. Was that supposed to make me chipper?
“I feel like shit,” I said candidly. I had never really been one to speak to my boss in thatmanner, but once you have their genetic material inside you, all bets are off.
“That’s a good sign,” she said emphatically. “I spoke with Dr. Lytchendracht, he said that things went very well.”
“Yeah, it went good,” I concurred, holding my picture of the blastocytes. Four little grey blebs all blobbed together. Precious.
“That’s good. Horrace and I are in France for the week. We just needed some time to decompress after all the stress we’ve been under, with the procedure. But I thought I’d better let you know that I’ve booked you off for the week. I’d like you to lay low. Just take it easy for the next couple of weeks. You know what I mean?” she said/asked. It was hard to tell if it was a question or a command.
“Sure, good. Uh, I wanted to ask you a quick question about the number of blastocytes they put in. Dr. Lythen… blag (I fumbled with the name for a minute. Why did his name have to be so complicated? Couldn’t we have had a Dr. Smith or Dr. Black?) he said something about four, or something?” I trail off pathetically, hoping that it’s all a big misunderstanding.
“Oh-oh, I think I’m losing the connection now, Kris. Just remember what I said. Strict bed rest. Bye,” she called out with heavy emphasis on 'strict bed rest', as though the connection were breaking up, which, incidentally, it wasn’t.
Strict bed rest? Is that what she said?
I trail off into bed and lie back down. But wasn't tired. I had just slept for the last twelve hours. How could I possibly be tired, short of suffering from a major depression or being ninety six years old? I flip the TV on and switch it to CNN. It was finally time to get caught up on the situation in the Middle East.