Baby on a Plane!

This has been a week of big firsts, soon to be followed by more firsts. Last Saturday we did what some would consider criminally insane: J and I boarded not one but two airplanes with a ten-week old baby. The looks one gets when one flies with an infant are priceless. You either get "bless-your-heart-look-at-that-sweet-baby-it's-hard-to-be-a-parent-good-luck!" or "I'd-rather-deal-with-snakes-on-a-plane-with-Samuel L. Jackson-than-your-screaming-child." There is no middle path. Fortunately, Henry was a model citizen and did very little vocalizing in the air. Breastfeeding mamas, when in doubt, stick a boob in it. Works like a charm.

Our two flights brought us to Asheville, North Carolina. J's mom and stepdad picked us up from the airport and drove us to their vacation rental an hour and 45 minutes southwest in Highlands, NC. So, 2 plane rides, 2 airports, and 1 winding drive through the mountains later, we arrived with very little drama. We only had to pull over once so that I could stick a boob in it. 

You may "put a bird on it," Portlandia, but Chicago sticks a boob in it.

Our trip here has been lovely. First, it's ridiculously gorgeous. Lush green mountains, waterfalls, placid mountain lakes and a charming main street. We've taken H on his first two real hikes. The trails have been lined with rhododendrons and flame azaleas. We have gotten great photo ops of me breastfeeding Henry on the top of mountains (out of necessity, not to mark my mountain mama territory) and changing his diaper on the trail (baby carriers make excellent changing pads). This week, Henry has come out of his little cocoon and is discovering the world right in front of his face. Literally. On Sunday evening, he found his hands. Mind blown. He stared cross-eyed at his fists and tried repeatedly to bring them to his mouth, instead slowly bumping them into his nose and cheeks. He can suck on his hands no problem when operating by Braille but hand-eye coordination is a son of a bitch. I know; I seriously can't throw or catch a ball with any degree of accuracy. Just beyond his hands, he found the trees and sky so fascinating on our hikes. His little face looked up from the carrier in total awe as we climbed. He's also becoming more vocal. His coos and squeals are getting louder and he is clearly delighted when he hears himself. He is the smiliest baby. Yesterday night at dinner, my favorite thing happened: he discovered my face. He's looked at my face, or some blurry version of it, since the moment he was put on my chest when he was born. But last night he reached out and touched it repeatedly. He flapped his hands on my lips and chin over and over. Maybe my heart-meltiest moment yet. God, I love this boy. My love for him overwhelms me to the point of aching sadness sometimes. I can't describe the manic range of emotions.

Tomorrow we fly back to Chicago with this newly adventurous, curious boy. New toys for the plane ride include hands, improved vocal chords and Mama's face. J goes back to guilt/volunteer work/obligation at the cluster$#%* of a family business I'm impatiently waiting for him to extricate himself from. I will try to savor my last few days of maternity leave. I either want to go to brunch, lunch and coffee with my mom friends every single day or stay at home, never shower, and stare at Henry's face. I go back to the office on Friday, June 27th. I know it will be fine. I am telling myself that daily. I'm not worried about Henry. He's going to do so well at hippie daycare. Just worried about me, my angst over work, pumping in a file room, missing my boy, resenting my superiors, yada yada yada. The usual bullshit plus lactation and the haunting feeling that I should be rocking someone.

The Junkie is Back.

I return. I return from the land of spouting geysers, bubbling mud pots and ornery buffalo. Yellowstone done me good. I challenge you to stay in a wifi-free cabin surrounded by mountains and wild flowers and to remain hung up on your shit. You basically can't do it, at least for most of the day. To be honest, I still laid in bed at night with thoughts of infertility dancing in my head but that's apparently unavoidable. A little bit of that baggage clings on wherever you go. Regardless, it was a true vacation. I barely worked (a victory) and my evil brain spawn stayed largely at bay. Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons are awe-inspiringly, spectacularly gorgeous. I've been lucky to spend time in a lot of beautiful, natural spaces but this one knocked my socks off. You must go. You simply must. I am committed to going back because after a week, I feel like I didn't even crack the surface of what those two national parks have to offer.

I title my post "The Junkie is Back" because in every sense, I am. Back from Yellowstone and, significantly, back to elbow crook track marks and pinpoint belly bruises. For the first time in quite a while, the universe did me a solid and held off my period until I returned from vacation. (The park ranger first aid cabin surprisingly does not provide ultrasounds and blood work unless a rabid bull elk stabs you in the uterus. Fortunately, I did not incur this wrath.) On Monday, the flood gates opened, the angels sang, and I got a real, normal period for the first time since the longest miscarriage ever. That's just shy of three months since confirmation of fetal demise if anyone is counting. I was due for some bleeding. Yesterday I went in for my baseline ultrasound and blood work. All normal, good to go. I started stims last night.

This cycle, my meds are wildly switched up. For my first IVF, I was on a very standard protocol: 3 weeks of birth control pills, followed by Lupron, then Follistim & Menopur before trigger. The results were solidly meh: 11 eggs, 7 mature, 5 fertilized, 2 sorta-kinda-decent embryos, 1 frozen blastocyst, 1 lackluster BFP and 1 miscarriage. Let's do better, shall we? This go round, no birth control pills so as not to over-suppress my cranky reproductive system. Yay! Day 2 of my cycle started with stim drugs Follistim and Menopur. I'll shoot up with those for the whole cycle. Next Monday I add in Human Growth Hormone. I expect to get taller and more beautiful. Then, when my follicles reach 14mm or so, I add in Ganilrelix to prevent premature ovulation. Soon after, it's party time. This protocol makes so much more sense to me. In the long Lupron protocol, you shut down your hormones (Good morning, menopause!) until you no longer have the will to live. I slept through my days, typically in a pool of sweat. Then you kick your hormones directly into high gear until you're ready to burst. Apparently this works well for people. Not my cup of tea. With the Ganilrelix protocol sans birth control, you take your natural hormonal low point - onset of period, progesterone dropped off, estrogen just beginning to climb - and add in the stimulants then. At least conceptually, I like this. We'll see if my body likes it too. Dear God, pleeeeaaaase. Mama's getting tired of all this shiz. 

Westward Ho!

Blogging while sleeping has got to be dangerous. 

I'm currently sitting at O'Hare airport, blinking my way through a coma. The green tea is only somewhat helping. 4:45 is such a horrible time to wake up. J is off "exploring" terminal 2 and I am holding down the fort. Why, you ask, are we camped in the airport like Edward Snowden? Well, not exactly like Snowden as we have a guitar in tow and valid tickets out of here. J and I are heading off to Yellowstone National Park for a week-long vacation with his mom, step-dad (recall the crazy pills?), and all their kids and spouses. I think there will be 14 of us all together fighting off grizzlies and riding buffalo through fields of geysers. I have never been to Yellowstone or any other of the great Western national parks but I assume that's how it is. Bison burgers and buffalo rides every single day. (My God, this is incoherent.)

I am very genuinely looking forward to this trip. I'm a sucker for a dramatic landscape and I here Yellowstone is lousy with 'em. Also, I get to cozy up with J's step-sister, SDN, my partner in crime (is knitting a crime?) and comadre in fertility woes. IVF veteran, regional champion eye-roller, and a Binny's frequent flyer, she's queen of the hop. I can't wait to see her. 

Ooh! Boarding! Love to you all. My next post will be from under the spray of Old Faithful. 

To tide you over, I leave you with an image of me in the future.