Time to go to the mattresses.

So those of you who follow my blog know I have written about a person in my life who is unkind to and about my Piglet.  We are talking *very* critical.  Of my ONE year-old. Of my parenting style. It sucks.  Every single time (seriously, every single time) I soften my resolve, let my guard down and think there is actually a real friendship there, I get an open-handed, Tina-and-Ike style smack across the face.  

The kind of slap that says 

SUCKER. 

Why not retaliate?  Throw a couple of sucker punches myself?  It would be, after all, my child I'd be defending.  It's not that I'm such a great person that I wouldn't go manu-e-manu with this person.  

Because I would. 

And I would win.  

Because I'm bold and honest.

Not terminally passive-aggressive.  

Like this person.

But here's the problem.  She talks smack about P-I-G-L-E-T and I refuse to stoop to that level.  Sure, I could talk up some shizzle about her tot.  But I don't and I won't. Because her tot is just that - a tot, a baby.  Babies are innocent, blameless. Not to mention that talking crap about a baby is way below the diaper belt.  

Did I mention that most of the digs and insults strewn at Piglet are about his physical appearance?  Not even digs disguised as compliments.  Just outright rudeness sometimes followed by an awkward giggle.

For the record, she is criticizing the little one below.

Can anyone tell me WHAT could be so objectionable about the baby pictured above? 

Does looking at his chubby cheeks and boyish haircut make you want to lash out at him or at me?  Does his eager smile make you want to say "baby, I'm not really sorry but you are unattractive"?  I know, it's that his favorite pastime is kissing other babies, right?

Anyone? 

Anyone?

Bueller?

Bueller?

Several of my real friends have weighed in on this issue.  They say that the meanness comes from some sort of huge freaking chip on her shoulder or not so deep-seeded insecurity about herself or her kid. Probably true.  In which case, I should feel sorry for her.  I should probably pray for her.  Too bad what I want to do is pull her hair and poke at her eyes.  

And I'm not saying my child is perfect, but he's mine and I love him and that should be enough for anyone not to take him to task at the age of ONE.  Seriously.  Who does that?

Sometimes I wish she would say mean stuff about ME.  Then I wouldn't hesitate. Not for a second. I could retaliate and say

Take THAT. 

SUCKER.  

Passing go.

I started my second round of bcps last night and I do my first Lupron injection on the 4th of July (which is next freaking week, holy cow).  When I called to schedule my suppression check the scheduling gal said I would need to do a "refresher" about giving shots, mixing meds, etc. since my last cycle was March '07. Btw, I can't believe it's been over two years!  I was going through a dead spot so I waited until I got home and emailed Nurse Goddess.  Her response? "I'd be happy to go over it with you when you come in for your suppression check but you don't have to do it, you can just skip this part if you want."

What.

What?

What?!

I get to SKIP something?  The process is one tiny step shorter?  Suhweet!  Finally being an IVF psycho nerd has paid off!  I did tell her I would need her to do some "Sharpie art" on my *ahem* backside when the time comes for PIOs but until then, I am trusted to mix, draw in, flick the air bubbles out of and inject medications without further instruction.  Is it weird that I am completely excited about getting to skip the refresher?  I can't explain it but it's exhilarating getting to pass go.  Like I'm one of the kewl kids or something!  Like cutting class to go smoke behind the building.  Oh wait, I hate smoking. Ok, like cutting class to go SHOPPING!  Ah, yes, that's it exactly.  

It's the little things, folks.  

P.S. - When I apologized to Nurse Goddess for the glut of emails lately ("I swear I went down to five units of Lupron last time. Wait, let me dig out my old calendar...") she replied "Oh but I love hearing from you!  Makes my day."  Seriously.  Between letting me cut class and that response, she might as well have sat down and written me a seven page love letter complete with haiku.  I love my fertility dr. peeps.

 

We're going to show this at their wedding...

Piglet and Miss Cutie have been playing together since they were weeks old.  Not kidding - WEEKS old.  In the beginning neither was aware of the other (Miss Cutie playing hard to get) but now they play together like little buddies.  Turning around to see where the other is, tossing balls back and forth at the park, toddling around side by side.  It is utterly adorable.  Recently, Piglet decided he really liked kissing Miss Cutie (who wouldn't?) so I made this little vignette to document it.  You know, so we can show it at their w-e-d-d-i-n-g.  Shelly (Miss C's mom) and I have already started deciding which pictures should go in the slide show (is six shows too many?).  I know, we're dorks and soon our children will be old enough to tell us this themselves.  

For now, we are celebrating their betrothal.  

PS - You may remember that Piglet also had a fling with Riley.  But until that is, you know, legal...

Dear Daddy

Happy Father's Day!  Thank you for carrying me around on your back (like a mule) while we take our long weekend walks.  Thank you for sharing your Americanos with me. Thank you for doing anything over and over again as long as it makes me laugh. Thank you for teaching me how to gently pet my dog, how to turn the pages of a book and how to do push-ups (to impress the ladies). Thank you for all the baths, books and bites of your dinner.  You are the absolute best daddy even though Mommy sometimes doesn't think so when you forget to empty the Diaper Champ.  

I love you Daddy!  

Your Piglet 

Chatterbox

Piglet has been really verbose lately.  He just chatters away to me, to himself, to the dog, to no one in particular.  It's so funny!  I'll hear him bossing around the dog, saying "dohhhh" (down) and "uh-oh" or rather his version of "uh-oh" which you'll hear in the video below. It just cracks me up! It's hilarious the way his little face gets very serious because he's inching towards the "oh" in "uh-oh."  As for his "excited" expression, he's been doing that for months, so it was great to be able to capture it in tandem with "uh-oh." Finally, in honor of his very favorite food in the world, I thought I would include him saying "cheese."  :)  

By the way, yes, I did finally just let the poor kid eat his wagon wheel. Ha!

A dose of reality with a side of repression.

My meds arrived last week. I've been trying to write about it, but I start, write two lines, delete those two lines and then close the window.  Not sure what my deal is. 

Those of you who have survived but only by sheer will endured an IVF cycle understand that the arrival of the box of meds is complicated.  The box holds so much more than meds of every variety - injectable, oral, adhesive and some *ahem* others.  The box represents the journey you are about to take and the baby you could potentially create.  The box represents hope itself.  And it is scary as crap. Seriously.  Because while the box represents hope, it could also just as easily represent failure.  Pain.  Traumatic experiences from which you may never recover.  No kidding.  What did I say?  Scary as CRAP and I'm not even talking about the needles, folks.  It's the EMOTIONAL stuff that really kicks you in the crapper.  

My friend and I were talking about how much we have repressed about the trauma of being infertile ever since we got pregnant and then had our miracle babies.  It's so true, though I never thought about it that way before.  I'm not much for repressing.  I'm all about getting it out there, dealing with it, talking about it.  I've always been very open about going through IVF and my fertility challenges.  So why in the world would I repress?  To reiterate what I said in my first paragraph - it is scary as crap. The maybebaby, the potential failure -- the UNKNOWN.  It's like bracing yourself for the scariest part of the movie.  

I hate not knowing.  I wish I could know RIGHT NOW if it worked.  Too bad since I haven't even done my first injection yet.  

Ready for the ride?  The fun begins on the 4th of July.  

Which is

right

around

the

corner.

Piglet's 17 Month Update

I can't believe I've been doing this for 17 months now, but here we are.  Piglet is just one month shy of being one and a half.  He has officially morphed into a toddler! Sometimes when I look at his sleeping face, I still see the baby I brought home, but when he's awake and toddling around, getting into everything (but miraculously not the wine rack), there is no trace of baby there at all. Tear.  It's okay.  I know it's inevitable and it's good for him.  He's getting more and more independent every day though there are always tears when dh and I leave him with a sitter.  He's starting to remember and anticipate things too. The other night my best friend came over and because we usually go OUT (cue choir of angels), he hasn't seen her in over a month so while she looked familiar, he did the math in his head. 

"Hm.  Female person. Here around my bed time. Mom is wearing makeup.  This cannot end well for me."  

He was wrong, as she was over to chillax with me while his dad put him to bed, but it showed me that he remembered the typical circumstances that mean we are going to leave him.  Poor baby.  Hopefully he remembers the part about us always being here when he wakes up in the morning too!  The other big change we've noticed is that he now uses inflection when he talks. He'll ask questions, call out to us wondering where we are, say things with definitive confidence.  So cute and fun!

 Without further adieu, here are the month 17 Piglet lists!

Piglet LOVES 

• Tillamook medium cheddar cheese.  Yes.  Still. 
• Sour gummy candy.  Yes, I bribe my child already. Not to worry, he has probably had the equivalent of one small gummy worm total. 
• Cars.  Emergency vehicles.  Tractors.  Buses.
• Peek-a-boo.  I swear this game *never* gets old.
• Gymboree class!  The whole thing!  
• Being outside
• His sand/water table
• Long walks in the Kelty with his dad
• Sitting on the poor dog.
• Going through the cupboard full of his cups and utensils
• His little red chair
• Climbing the play structures at the park (even though it's still pretty dangerous)
• Shoes!
• Using any and everything as a step stool
• Cuddling on the couch with his momma :)  

Piglet is OVER

• Sitting in his highchair.  He prefers to graze while toddling around.  Not good.
• Yogurt.  Again.
• Holding anyone's hand while walking around.  I am not a fan of this, especially not when we are walking around a parking lot!
• Asking for something and getting a "no" in response. 
• Scooting backwards down stairs, he still scoots down on his bum, but facing forward

Hug requests

Piglet has been sooooo sweet lately.  Don't get me wrong, he's had plenty of super "special" moments too (more on that later). But his newest thing is to request hugs from me.  I swear it is the cutest thing I have ever seen.  I am defenseless against him when he does this and he knows it. Stinker.  Usually what happens is he's playing with his toys, walking around torturing the dog or whatever, and then he'll see that I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop. He'll make a beeline for me and the next thing I know, a little hand is tap tap tapping on my thigh.  Then I'll look down at him and say "Hey baby, what do you need?" And then he will wrap his arms around himself and put his hands under his chin.

LIKE THIS.

  

Seriously. Could YOU resist?  

Then I move my laptop and scoop him up and kiss him about 800,000 times while he tightly clasps his arms around my neck and sometimes taps his little paw on my shoulder (like I do to him).  Sometimes he coos "mamamamamamamama." Melt.

Here is me "encouraging" a hug request, it's really better when he just does it on his own, but you get the idea.  You can hear me being all moony with adoration in the background.  I'm such a rookie like that.

 

So even though Piglet may have just fallen in a heap crying because I would not let him walk around with a fork in his mouth (call me paranoid), he recovers, goes about his business and then a few minutes later, I'll feel that tap, tap tapping again.  

And that is the rhythm of our day. 

Summer fruits

Peaches

and strawberries.

Love them BOTH!

Questioning perfection...

I've been following a lot of infertility/IVF blogs lately, reconnecting to that whole community as our next IVF cycle approaches.  It's been wonderful and heartbreaking all at the same time.  One gal posted this funny you.tube video of a song called "Pregnant Women are Smug."  I watched it and cracked up about the lyrics, understanding how someone suffering through IF would find it especially hilarious. Then my last post was all about sunny days and families and cute babies. This morning as I wait and pray for positive results for Josee, I wonder - was I a smug pregnant woman even though I went through SO much to get there?  Was my last post cruel to my IF friends who haven't yet had success?  Have I crossed over to the land of the smug?  

Though I certainly still would have enjoyed a sunny evening in the park, drinking wine and eating cheese with friends with or without a baby, having a tot of my own to chase around and compare notes about, and capture on film with the other babies - of course that made everything...perfect.  Maybe too perfect for someone reading who is trying to decide whether to take an HPT or just got negative beta results.  Too perfect and too painful.  I get that. I've been there.  I know.  

Suffering through infertility changes you, hardens you, bonds you.  And even once you succeed and you bring a baby home to love, you never forget the pain of the unknown. You never take parenthood for granted (though we still have our challenging days and moments).  And this is not to say people who have no problem getting pregnant DO take it for granted.  It's not that at all.  It's just that IF sufferers question our happiness more.  We might wonder if posting the picture of our child on Mother's Day will bring a friend pain.  We might question whether we should invite someone to our baby shower or ask her to weigh in about what our child should be for Halloween.  

With infertility, having been there and actually BEING there are two very different places. Right now I'm betwixt and between because while I did cross over, I am gearing up to start all over again, already facing a litany of challenges.  Still, I know I'm one of the lucky ones.  I saw two lines, sat in a waiting room while rubbing my large belly and wake up every morning to a healthy, smiling baby.  I wish with all my heart, the same thing for everyone who suffers from infertility.  I want you to cross over too.  Then everything would really be...perfect.