ATTC #2 Waiting for a BFP

There is a whole world of mommies. Mommies to be are included no matter what step of the process they are in. Many of us are out there networking online. We touch base with women across the world facing similar circumstances as well as divergent, but we all come together in places known as forums or groups. There are lots of options out there. It is sometimes difficult to determine where you fit in best.

They have all kinds of different boards within these groups. Natural mothers, new mothers, mothers over 35, mothers Under 35, mothers of children with special needs and so on and so forth. If you need to know you will find a board for you. There are pregnancy boards, birth boards, breastfeeding boards, boards about dealing with losses, and boards for those trying to conceive. The list is almost endless.

The other never ending list is that of acronyms mothers use on these message boards. BTDT, BD, TTC, BF, DS, DH, DD, BBT, O, CM, CP, EWCM, OPK, CH and BFP just to name a few. I sometimes think could I post an entire sentence written in just acronyms. I rest assured this is possible.

I am a BTDT mother. Because simply I have been there done that since my DS, dear son, is 1 and a half now. I still feel like some days I have a lot to learn from other women whether they are mothers or not. Especially now that we are TTC, trying to conceive, our second child.

With Brenton it was easy, we said hey maybe we should have a baby and surprise even though we were NTNP, not trying not preventing, it happened quickly. Now with our second we are ATTC, actively trying to conceive. I take my temperature every morning when I wake up with a basal body temperature thermometer, BBT. It happens before I move my head from the pillow after at least 3 hours of restful sleep to get an accurate reading. Then I log my temp into FF, my app called Fertility Friend. Then I look at my chart. Then I put down my phone and roll over and attempt to go back to sleep.

There is a lot that goes into charting. I also do OPKs, ovulation predictor kits, twice daily until I get a positive result of my LH, luteinizing hormone, surge. I have to tell you waiting for a positive OPK until CD25, cycle day 25, almost drove me crazy, but I made it! That smiling digital face made my real face smile back:)

Next we BD. This is perhaps my favorite because it means baby dance. Ideally you want to BD 3 days in a row once you get your positive OPK. You also want to be sure you BD if you have EWCM. I won’t say what that is but the ladies who know know what I mean!

And now after that positive OPK you wait to confirm O, ovulation. This is done when I get my CH, crosshairs on FF. Two red intersecting lines that we have O! CD 27 O! I knew it was going to be confirmed by the spike in my BBT. It is amazing the things you can learn quickly when you have a little bit of a type A personality and access to a computer and a board called “Getting Pregnant” full of women who want the same thing you do…a baby!

I rest assured that my DH, dear husband, and I have done what we can this month while we ATTC #2. When I got my temp spike I looked at Rolston and gave him a high five and said good job we did all we could this cycle. He smiled and I know although he is far more laid back than I am about everything he wants this as much as I do.

ATTC #2…This is in my signature on my baby board along with my name, Rolston’s name, our ages and Brenton’s name and birth date accompanied by my chart link and the link to this blog. Right now we are ATTC #2 and someday that acronym might change to a name, a name we have already picked out and a birth date yet to be determined, but anxiously anticipated. I can’t wait to look back on my journey when we get our BFP, BIG FAT POSITIVE, test and eventually get to tell my new LO, little one, exactly how much we did because we just couldn’t wait for him or her to join our family!

Happy Mother's Day!

This was my second official Mother’s Day. My husband and I dispute if it counts while Brenton was still in utero. He says no and I clearly say yes. In any case no matter how many official Mother’s day celebrations I have had this one was my favorite so far. We are trying to conceive our second child and it has been a little stressful for me I must admit. This day reinforced for me that I love being a mother and my two special guys love and appreciate me no matter what day it is.

Saturday was a surprise bouquet of flowers in a glass vase from the local flower shop. I recently mentioned how if he ever decided to get me flowers I wanted them from that shop and he remembered. Sometimes it is not just the gesture of flowers themselves, but the sentimental value of simply remembering a small detail. When we were young he would get me a single red rose just because as well as for special occasions. It was consistent and special. It was our thing!

Sunday I got the best gift of all. Sleep. I was able to sleep in and then when I woke the baby was sleeping and Rolston greeted me with cards from both of them and a spa package that Brenton picked out especially for me. It was perfect.

Next was brunch. Bacon and eggs and fruit. My favorite way to start the day is the big meal with the family and the bacon came out perfectly too! Afterwards Brenton played with the card he got for me because it had pop up flowers and played a little tune. His favorite cards are the cards that play music. He loves to open and shut them. He shrieks with glee. Then we were off to the store to pick up crab legs for dinner. We wandered around picking up a few additions and then I grabbed some Starbucks from the drive thru in the same shopping center just in time for Brenton to get sleepy. When we got home he was off to dreamland and I was off to the nail salon.

When I got home he was still asleep for a bit, so I watched some HGTV without a toddler climbing on me. Our next event was a walk around town and some time at the park. He climbed the steps for the first time and went down the slide. Then he decide he would walk back up the slide and he was successful. He clapped for himself. We spent time on the swings and the best sound is the sound of laughter as I pushed him higher and higher. I am not sure who enjoyed it more!

We walked home smiling and a little tired from all the fun. Then we snuggled on the couch and watched Super Why and then just a little basketball for daddy since it is the playoffs after all. A quick dinner for the baby and then some dancing and singing then up the steps for a bath and off to bed for him. After such a busy day he went right to sleep in my arms and I looked at him and thanked him for making me a mommy and kissed him on the forehead before finally placing him in his crib.

Back downstairs for a feast of crab legs! We just chatted about the day and about being parents and how much fun it is to listen to Brenton laugh and shriek with excitement. I glanced at my beautiful flowers as I went to sit and watch Game of Thrones with a glass of red wine and thought about how wonderful my guys are to me. When I was getting ready to head to bed I hugged Rolston and said “Thank you for my special day, it was absolutely perfect. It was just what I wanted”. He smiled and said, “That’s good I am glad”. I am absolutely the luckiest girl in the world!!!

Watching From The Middle

Since our son is being cared for in our home by his father, he is rarely in large social settings with other children. He has occasionally gone to a La Leche League meeting with me but those children were older and he was not mobile yet. He has also been to family functions with older children and had one on one playtime with his friend Logan, so he is not totally isolated. Still, none of these settings really allowed him to show his personality as it emerged in a larger group.

Now that he can walk and get where he wants to be it is now fun to watch what happens when he is with other children. I tend to sit back and let him do what he would like to do as long as he isn’t getting into anything dangerous. We started music classes recently and at the demonstration session he went from a temper tantrum, to a calm child, to one who wanted to walk right to the middle and see what exactly was going on. He turned around to see everyone and take in what they were doing.

This is his way as of right now. He watches from the middle. It is an interesting combination of my husband’s natural tendency towards quiet observation and my need to be the center of attention.

It is difficult to tell if he is aware that he places himself in the center of a circle. I often find myself seated in the spotlight, so to speak, if there is certain lighting in a restaurant. This made me wonder if he is as drawn to the experience of being on stage as I am.

Now we have been to two music classes. Other children run and climb and jump and dance and shout with glee. Brenton rarely does those things. Instead he watches intently. Many of the other parents in the class and when we are out and about remark how intensely thoughtful and observant he seems to be.

He does have a very expressive face. It’s the eyebrows. They give him away. My son looks at me and claps his hands a few times and smiles when he is pleased that is about the most we get in large social settings.

Maybe as his verbal communication skills strengthen he will come out of his shell more and tell us what exactly he is observing and why he finds it so interesting. If you get my husband on a topic he enjoys he can talk for hours, but usually he is a quiet man. Unlike me, I am the talker in the family.

This weekend we went to a birthday party and again he went right to the middle and just stood there waiting for something to happen. Even with older children playing ball he endangered himself to get right into the thick of it. We held him back and he would head right back for the action.

I admire his resolve to head for the middle of the circle and his quest for knowledge. I call it brave. It makes me want to find more group activities for him, so he can explore not just his environment, but also himself. He is physically changing so much so fast and I wonder if I will see in him later what I see in him now. Will he still watch the world from the middle? I cannot help but to hope so because I imagine it will be quite a unique perspective.

Fear: An Evaluation

My little boy is not a big talker, at least not yet. As all children do, we have our well visits every few months to check growth and developmental progress. These visits have always produced some anxiety for me. To be honest many things produce anxiety when it comes to raising a child and some even provoke fear.

At his 15 month appointment I knew we would have to discuss his language development among many other things. He was still only saying “dada” for the most part. On occasion there were other “words” but none that were consistent. Mothers all know that by 15 months there should be at least 3 words. This is what the books and emails tell us and there were not and I reported this to the doctor.

He seemed unconcerned mostly since all other areas were within normal expectations, but advised that we obtain an evaluation from early intervention. After looking up the number online that same day I called and was greeted by a pleasant woman who took some basic information and explained we would receive a call do take the rest of the details and schedule the appointment. I took a long deep breath as I hung up the telephone.

It took some serious convincing that this was just an evaluation and if there was an issue he would just receive the help he needed to get back on track, but I got there eventually. Like my usual worst case scenario building extravaganza I ordinarily chose to put myself through, I ran through each awful prospect. Perhaps it is a need to prepare myself or remind myself that it was completely out of my control. Either way, I was afraid for him and for myself.

With society telling us how much we should fear in the world and even in our own homes and backyards, it isn’t any wonder when I put myself through the wringer wondering about the what ifs and could bes. It is exhausting and counterproductive and yet I do this to myself. Why? I truly believe it is a luxury and a curse of privilege.

When I imagine mothers of children who don’t have enough to eat or a place to live, a lightning bolt of guilt runs through me each time. I am lucky enough to not know what it is like to truly deeply fear for the wellbeing of my child. I try to remind myself of this feeling each time I run a worst case scenario through my mind. But the thing about fear is the irrational component that leaves us with that unsettled feeling we just cannot shake. So all we can do is keep going or allow it to cripple us.

So we keep going and I am happy to report that Brenton had his evaluation and all went well. His communication skills are low but within normal ranges. So we will attend a music class at the evaluator’s suggestion to spurn his language development.

Just last night I pointed to myself and said “mama” and pointed to him and said “Brenton” and he smiled and pointed to himself and said “Bretta”. In that moment immense joy and pride washed over me and filled my heart. That small amount of remaining fear I held onto even after I was told he would most likely be fine just melted away. My evaluation was complete.

American Mom

I am an American mom. This is an admission of guilt. I joined Costco and got an American made crossover SUV in the same week. I am not sure how this happened to me. Even as a child of 1980s excess I have wanted nothing more than to live a simple life and raise socially conscious children.

I believe the French have it right and that when you have a baby you should get like a whole year off to care for and bond with your infant and take 6 week holidays with your family don’t get me wrong. Even the idea of local markets and buying just enough bread or cheese for the day remains appealing. However, somewhere along the line my other ideals have been modified to suit fundamentally American ways. You can call it an evolution, but in reality I have made some compromises. My absolutes are reformed.

I still hold some firm beliefs about certain things. For example did you know Costco carries a variety of organic food options as well as eco friendly options for detergent and dish soap? I did not. Until now and I buy those things. As such my trips to Whole foods have been cut dramatically.

I find myself asking questions about my relationship to consumerism and what I am teaching my son about life as I wander the huge aisles filled with food and other sundries. Am I telling him this is what we need? I hope not, but still the organic soy milk Brenton loves is sold there in bulk and it is shelf stable. I could not be more pleased with this find.

Also my crossover SUV gets pretty good gas mileage despite its size. I was selective and did many comparisons on the subject. I am nothing if not an educated American Mom consumer. This Honda fanatic ended up selecting…GASP…a Chevy! My primary concern was finding a big enough seat in the back to fit two rear facing baby seats. How times have changed.

I recall my first car. The 1979 Plymouth Volare monster of a car that got perhaps 5 miles to the gallon. I actually ran out of gas twice in one day. Then my Taurus that I blew up for lack of fundamental understanding of cars and oil changes. Onto my tiny red civic with only two doors that I drove for 14 years and swore I would drive until the wheels fell off. They almost did until I leased the new 4 door silver model. Now my crossover SUV is my newest vehicle. Red, shiny and new!

I admit I judged my brother and my cousins in their large SUVs with only 2 children. Who really needs all that? And now I do or I think I do enough to follow suit. I mean really how else will I fit rear facing convertible car seats or get all that organic soy milk home from Costco?

Now I wonder if this happens to everyone. Do our youthful ideals always transform? Do I still have a social conscience? Am I fundamentally changed for my recent decisions? I am left to wonder about the ramifications of these shifts, but I do accept my own self prescribed label of American mom. Maybe I should start baking apple pies.

Evolution

There comes a time when you stand back and marvel at how far your baby has come. For me happened a few weeks ago when I walked down the stairs and there was my son Brenton standing there wearing jeans and an argyle sweater and his little tiny sneakers. He looked like a little boy. He was no longer a baby but a toddler.

I asked my friend if that happens to her and she just said wait until he is 8. I wonder if it will still happen when he is my age now. Will I be struck by how he has grown and changed before my eyes?

I still remember when I held him for the first time and kissed his sweet little face. That moment is when I begin the journey of watching my baby grow up. I can't stop it and I don't want to. It is marvelous. It is a kind of perfection.

There are times I do not remember my childhood but my mother does. I wonder if that will happen to Brenton and to me. Will I be able to tell him about the time he whacked his face on the coffee table and gave himself a huge bruise on his right cheek? Or will I forget? Will I remember what it was like to watch him really learn to walk and how he did laps around the kitchen island like it was a race track?

I like to think I will keep note of every moment although I know that may not be possible. Even now memories come back smack me in the face and I am right back there. Like when he had his first steps, his first bee sting, his first smile, first poopie diaper and when he first said Dada. All bringing up different emotions they bring me joy and comfort for many different reasons. Whether it was how brave he was or how cute he was it was all a part of his journey and mine. Intertwined and connected yet separate while simple and complex is our evolution as mother and son.

The Beach

Every year for the past 10 years my family has spent the week after Christmas on Long Beach island. Despite the impact of hurricane Sandy this year was no exception. It was, however, different.

I was apprehensive to see the island. I have had survivors guilt about how unscathed we were by the storm when so many around us lost so much. I even forgot the tradition of mocking the phrase my mother said whenever we came over the bridge "I remember when Ron Jon's was just a shack."

Debris was piled in front of homes and businesses and due to the heavy rain the night prior to our arrival the streets were flooded.  The Wawa was closed. Both were closed. The Acme was empty. Shops and restaurants were not just closed for the season. The damage was no longer as evident as it once was, but you could feel it. It was different.

We arrived at the new rental which was the best one yet! My parents were waiting for us. It was grand and the water view was exquisite. It is my favorite part of our annual tradition. Looking at the water while we spend time together as a family. You could see as far as Atlantic City from the roof deck.

We began the unloading of baby gear. The playpen/gate, the pack and play, the large bag of toys, the portable high chair, the diapers, the wipes, the monitor, the sound machine and even the jumperoo. Somehow it all fit just like it did in the car. We were settled in.

The fun began with the arrival of my brother and his family. Polish food was the fare for dinner. The baby likes perogies. After dinner Brenton came into my mother's room with me while she unpacked. Just as he was standing looking at himself in the mirror it happened. He took two tiny baby steps all on his own.

It was magical. It was just what I wanted. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he took his first steps at the beach?", my mother asked me at Christmas Eve dinner. I told her I was hoping he would. As always he did not disappoint.

Of course he did not do it again until we came home, but we had other special moments. He recognized the ocean as fascinating and made a bee line for it crawling so quickly I had to chase him. He dug in the sand in his fancy snowsuit my mother bought. He stood all by himself. He played with his cousin Carson. He played with his cousin Jason. We laughed. We ate. We took so many pictures.

As the days passed it happened as it always does. We relaxed. It was the perfect break from it all. And then after ringing in the New Year with a dinner out wearing our New Years hats and all the fanfare, it was time to go.

We packed the baby gear and it all fit. We headed out for one last meal together before heading back home to our separate lives. As we drove off the island I turned to my husband and put my hand on his leg and said, "I remember when Ron Jon's was just a shack."