"Mom" is another word for Love

Life has been so crazy for me lately, I haven't paid much attention to the poor little blog. And now, woah... ICLW is here. Now I know you all aren't exactly waiting around with baited breath to read what WannabeMommy has to say, but it is about time I wrote something for the 1.5 people out there who might care. 

So this post may take a bit of a departure from the same old fertility blah-blah-blah. This post is about my mom. She has been suffering from a condition called atrial flutter/fibrilation, where her heart suddently and out of the blue races at more than double the normal rate, for the better part of a year. Her home is about one and a half hours away from mine, and I'm pretty much the only close family member she has around the area. I worry about her a lot, as she is 72 now and dealing with this worsening heart condition. In the last 3 weeks alone she has visited the ER 3 times. And on top of that she takes care of my severely disabled brother. He can't walk, talk, go to the bathroom, or eat on his own. My mom takes care of every basic human need for him. Or at least she did until last week.


Last Thursday, I was sitting at my desk in my office doing the usual (probably reading blogs) when I got a very distressing call from my mom. In a weak and warbly voice, she told me her heart was racing uncontrollably; that she thought this one was "it" and she "wasn't going to make it". I of course panicked; my mom isn't one to be overly dramatic so I took the call very seriously. But unfortunately, there isn't much you can do when you're an hour and a half away.


She managed to call 911 and have the ambulance rush her to the hospital. Frantically, I bolted to her side as fast as I could, and met her in the ER. She was very glad and relieved  to see me, but I could tell this time was serious. She held my hand and told me that she remembered the day I was born, that she was indeed there when it happened. I stared into her eyes and noticed there was something different about them; a peacefulness amid the chaos. It scared the shit out of me, but I tried desperately not to show it. Three hours later, she was moved to a different hospital and whisked into surgery—a procedure called catheter ablation. Thankfully, it was deemed a success, and mom is now living at my house, recuperating until we figure out what's next. 


Meanwhile, with my mom's frail health, it finally became apparent that she could no longer care for my brother. He is now living in a care home with 13 other disabled people and a full staff. I worry about him a lot now, too. Is he scared? Is he eating? Will he be happy there? These are all questions I slowly tried to answer for myself as I traded visits between his new home and my mother's hospital room. I think they are both taking it one day at a time.


Needless to say, this craziness has left me little time to obsess about my fertility, and maybe that's the silver lining here. I can't imagine getting pregnant without having my mom around to share in the joy, the planning, the shopping, the excitement, and the worry. It has crossed my mind a few times that maybe my IVF failed for a higher reason; maybe right now it's time to focus on Mom. So that's what I'm going to do. 


That, and maybe a little frenetic, obscure blogging on the side.

Follow-Up

Today we had our follow-up appointment with the R.E. Terrified I'd crumble into a blubbering mess, I was actually quite proud of myself when I only required one tissue.


Luckily, the meeting didn't turn into a finger-pointing melee like it had with the first IVF ("Well... YOU have diminished ovarian reserve so it's really all YOUR fault".. or at least that's how my little mind remembers it). My R.E. calmly explained that the latest revelation of the endometriosis is most likely affecting my egg quality, if not also my fallopian tubes. We will know more, of course, after my laparoscopy. I told her that I'd basically do the surgery tomorrow if we could. I want answers, damn it, the sooner the better.


She said that with women with endo, their highest chances of getting pregnant occur 1 - 6 months after a lap. With that in mind, she said we should decide SOON how we want to proceed. (Meaning... if we want to jump right back into another cycle). I'd rather remove my toenails one-by-one with a pair of rusty pliers.


I just don't get how some women do it... cycle continuously for months at a time. Any of you girls out there do this? I just don't have the stomach for it. I need time to lick my wounds and pick up the pieces.


While we're asking questions... anybody out there undergo a lap? How'd it go? What did you find? And of course... anybody get knocked up after it??


Oh... before I forget. Much love and thanks goes out to fellow SF-bay area girl Melissa from "Banking on It" for my Kreativ Blogger award. Behold: 

 

It was so sweet of her to think of me, and I of course could really use the boost. So, here's the rules that accompany this esteemed honor:

1-Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2-Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3-Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4-Name 7 things about yourself that people may not know.
5-Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6-Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7-Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they’ve been nominated.


Here's my 7 things you don't yet (but are about to) know about me:


1. I used to think that when I grew up, I'd be a nun. 

2. I've been addicted to Chap Stick since the first grade.

3. My favorite color is red.

4. One of my most unforgettable moments in life is when I sang at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland and helped my band win first place in the 'Battle of the Corporate Bands'. I've definitely lived out my rock n roll fantasy!!

5. I met my husband and love of my life on match.com.

6. As a kid, I used to hole myself up in my room for hours at a time, just drawing and drawing until my hand hurt. Guess I always knew I'd end up doing something creative for a living.


7. I'm a huge animal lover and just can't get enough of snuggling up with my hairless mutt, Grady. I vow never to live without a pet ever again!

So to pay it forward, I'd like to pass on this award to A Woman My Age, Eclectic Effervescence, My Mind's Ink, This n' That From the Mountain, Womb for Improvement, Conceiving Insanity, and Circus Children. Enjoy!

Grieving

When I got my news, I couldn't wait to get off the phone with that goddamn nurse and cry my eyes out. She blabbed on for what seemed to be hours as my face slowly turned red and my eyes welled up. The second thing I did, after bawling like a child, was call my husband. His initial reaction was to yell "FUCK!!!!" as loud as I've ever heard him say it. 


I drag through the next day like some kind of zombie on downers. That evening, I race home as fast as I can to commence another session of unabashed wailing. My husband gets home and proceeds to slam every door, yell at the dog, and otherwise just act very pissed off. 


We grieve very differently. We are a sad, mad, sorry mess-of-a-couple.