A Legacy

Greetings Humble Readers...

¹leg·a·cy
       noun \ˈle-gə-sē\

       pluralleg·a·cies

Definition of LEGACY

1: a gift by will especially of money or other personal property

2: something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past 

definition courtesy of miriam-webster.com

I mentioned in yesterday's post that I had recently been getting rid of my maternity clothes and some baby things.  My closet was getting ridiculous again, and as we are most certainly not going to have any more wee-lings (my Beloved goes for his snip-snip next week Friday), it was time to move on. 

And yet, it was hard.  From January 8th, 2008 (the day I took my last bcp... some dates really do stick) until May 10th of this year, it has at times felt like every breath I've taken was somehow connected to building our family.  And now I'm getting rid of things that I longed so desperately to need.  Pippin is outgrowing so many things so fast... the bassinet, the baby bathtub, the cradle and his too cute little track suit.   There won't be another wee-ling to need these things, and I'm 100% okay with that.

But it's still hard on my heart to get rid of them. 

The finality of where we are right now on this journey has me thinking about a lot of things. 

About my place in the IF community, about my role as cheerleader for those still in the trenches and as another voice to the world at large about what IF really is.  I may not have the communication skills of someone like Mel or Keiko, but I can share my experiences and what I've learned from my fellow IFers.  I can help my family and friends understand that IF is not only a physiological issue, but also a deeply emotional one.  I can help them understand terminology, procedures, and the realities of outcomes (as opposed to the sensationalized stories in the media).  And I want to be completely honest about our losses, be transparent about our journey.  I want to help remove the taboo and shame associated with miscarriage and IF.

But perhaps, most important of all, I will educate my children.

I will teach both of them, Ginevra and Pippin, about the realities of fertility.  I will encourage them to follow their dreams, and to seek out amazing experiences, but I will also teach them that the human reproductive system has limitations.  And that they can and should take their time to be sure of themselves and their life partners.  But I will also be honest and teach them that there will come an end date to attempting to have biological children. 

Sure, sometime in the future, medical science may come up with better and more effective forms of ART, but I want them to understand their bodies and how they really work.  I'm not going to leave it to the "if you have sex, you'll get pregnant" health classes in junior high to give them their only understanding of their reproductive systems.  I'm going to teach Ginny to pay attention to her body, to learn to recognize her cycles and what they mean.  I don't want Ginny's birthright to be being blindsided by her own body when she is trying to build her family. 

And, I'm sure sooner rather than later, I'll tell them about Emily and Olivia... about the two babies we never got to hold, but loved so deeply.  I'll tell Ginny about the dream I had about her, my beautiful dark haired blue-eyed dream baby in a pink dress, while I was still pregnant with Olivia.  I will tell Pip about the role his daddy had in holding me together when I thought I was going to break into a thousand pieces.

This will be my IF legacy.  This will be Emily and Olivia's legacy. 

Monday Snapshot: A Busy Day

Howdy Humble Readers...

Whew... it feels like it's been crazy morning already.  I'm pooped. 

The wee-lings' laundry has been folded and put away.  There's another load in the washer that I have to deal with. 

Everyone's dressed, beds are made and the diswasher is empty.  Breakfast and a snack have been consumed, and lunch is in process.

Pippin has been is major teething pain today.  Seriously, even with a solid dose of ty.len.ol he was still in sooo much pain, poor wee man.  He seem's to be mellow at the moment, which is a blessing. 

But the big task on today's list is well under way and I'm thankful that the hard part of it is over.  I peeled and chopped 50+ apples this morning to make applesauce.  Ginny was fascinated with how the apples floated in the sink full of water.  I had enough apples to fill my slow cooker and another large pot on the stove.  She also managed to munch down almost a whole apple, stolen from the pile of apples I had chopped.  As an added bonus, the hobbit hole smells divine!

Apples peeled and chopped, two cinnamon sticks and two
strips of lemon peel in a slow cooker on low for 5-6 hours,
stirring occassionally.

It goes a little quicker on the stove, but you need to add a bit
of water, and stir it often.

This should be enough to make enough applesauce in the freezer to get us through until the new year... I hope.  It's hard to say how much Pippin will like it, but Ginny adores having applesauce in the morning with her yoghurt and cereal. 

While Ginny naps later, I'm going to put our Christmas lights out on the balcony because it's rather nice out today (above freezing).  Then I'm hopefully going to give my kitchen a real deep cleaning.  After that it will be time to prep for dinner (Pork Souvlaki, Greek salad, and lemon roasted potatoes. YUM!).  And I'm hoping to get to the dollar store after dinner.

Man oh man... all this while I'm still feeling the effects of the crud.  No wonder I'm tired.  :)

*****
This was posted as a part of PAIL Bloggers' Monday Snapshot!  Click over and see what others are up to today.

Memorable Moment Mondays: Potty Time!

Howdy Humble Readers...

Well here we are... Twenty and a half months into this whole Mummy-gig, and I'm facing one of my biggest fears. 

POTTY TRAINING!

We started this morning after breakfast, and so far I think things are going pretty good.  We're at about a 50-50 success rate.  Ginny is getting used to the pavlovian response thing... I've got the alarm set on my cell to remind us every 25-30 minutes to go take a potty break. 

One lesson already learned... Do not assume she doesn't get it.  She was sitting in her high chair at lunch, and saying "Potty!  Potty!" at the top of her lungs.  I thought she was just repeating the word... When we went to get her out of her chair, she had wet through her training pants.  Big oops on Mummy's part.

It is a big step for our wee sweet girl, and I'm so proud of her for just going with the flow.  ummmm.... no pun intended. :)

***
Posted as a part of PAIL Bloggers' Memorable Monday Series.  Click over and check out what everyone else is sharing today!

Memorable Moment Mondays: Welcome To Crazy-town

Hey Humble Readers...

I'm trying to relax in a relatively quiet hobbit-hole, after a very chaotic day. 

Ginny, wearing a pair of her new training pants
on her head. 
This about sums up my day.

I think Ginny is heading into another growth spurt, or maybe her two year molars are starting to come in.  She was just a bear all day, into everything and not wanting to sleep at all (even though she had black smudges under her eyes all day).  Grumpy!  I think she's also very frustrated with her limited vocabulary.  She's doing remarkably well, learning new words every day, but she still can't express what's bothering her.  And she's gotten her Mummy's stubbornness... poor wee girl.

And Pippin... I don't know what's going on.  He's just been a grumpy gus.  If it was a few months from now, I might think it was separation anxiety.  He has been a little gassy, his eczema is still pretty rotten, and he's been wanting to eat a bit more than normal.  So, not really indicating a growth spurt, but maybe? 

Overall, it has just been a loud, frustrating kind of day.  Tomorrow will be better. 

*****
This post is a part of Memorable Moment Mondays, hosted by PAIL Bloggers.  Click over to see what others are sharing today, and to join in!

Memorable Moment Mondays: On A Roll

Howdy Humble Readers...

The lovely ladies at PAIL Bloggers host a fun little bloghop on Mondays to give us an opportunity to share some of our memorable moments.  Please click over to check out what others are sharing, and to join in!

We had a pretty big memorable moment this weekend.  Wee Master Pippin decided that it was high time he rolled over! 

And of course, no one saw it happen...

Nope!  Not gonna do it now that you're watching!

I was napping, and my Beloved was watching some of the Olympics while Pip was doing tummy time.  I knew he had been getting close to rolling, much earlier than his big sister, but we weren't expecting it just yet. 

But, one minute he was on his tummy and when my Beloved looked back a minute or two later, there he was, on his back. 

Ginny offering some advice on the mechanics of rolling over

We tried to get him to replicate it while I had the camera, but of course Pippin wasn't going to cooperate with that idea at all.  Still, we had some fun with him trying to get those hips to turn over. 

I don't imagine it will be too long before he's going from back to front, as he's always twisting away from me when I change his diaper.

They grow too darn fast!

PAIL: Memorable Moment Mondays

Hey Humble Readers... 

The wonderful ladies over at PAIL Bloggers have begun a fun little weekly blog-hop type of thing and I've decided to join in. 

Last week, Ginny and I conducted an experiment.  Ok, it wasn't a real experiment.  Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a lesson in cause and effect. 

Using a pan filled with a thin layer of baking soda, vinegar tinted with a bit of food colouring, and an eye dropper, we spent a half-hour engrossed in fizzy fun.  Yes, she did try to eat the baking soda and the vinegar, resulting in some pretty hilarious facial expressions.
I did most of the eye-dropper-ing, just to save her cute little white skirt that she was rocking that day.  But I look forward to doing this again in the future, with a whole rainbow of colours to inspire her.

Breastfeeding: Am I A Sucker For Punishment?

Greetings Humble Readers...

When I was expecting Ginny, I had great grand intentions. 

I was going to exclusively breastfeed for at least six months.  I followed all the well-intentioned advice I was given by other women in my life... my sister, my MIL, friends, nurses, my childbirth class instructor.  I got rid of all the free samples of formula that I had in the house, and I didn't buy any bottles.  I totally bought into the idea that if I didn't have it handy, then I wouldn't be tempted to 'cheat'. 

My birthplan indicated that I wanted skin to skin contact as soon as possible and that I wanted a lactation consultant to visit early to help us get started.  I wanted to do everything I could to make breastfeeding a reality for us. 

Then, thanks primarily to the gestational diabetes, I went through a three day induction that led to a c-section.  Ginny was born at 8:42pm.  Because of the c-section, and Ginny needing to be monitored (for blood sugars) in the Special Care Nursery for a few hours, it wasn't until after midnight that I got to hold her. 

Right away, we got started trying.  But just like getting and staying pregnant, breastfeeding did not come easily.  It wasn't long before my poor wee girl was screaming in frustration and hunger, and I was in tears. 

The problem?  I had nothing to give her. 

I knew that I had strikes against me... obesity, gestational diabetes, being induced, and the c-section... all are things that play a role in how challenging breastfeeding can be.  I had the perfect storm.  But I believed when everyone told me that it would happen, it would just take some work. 

The nurses I had that night tried to show me how to do a football hold, how to express milk manually, and how to use the breast pump.  Nothing worked.  After trying to follow their instructions on how to express milk myself, and not getting anything, one nurse grabbed my already sore bo.ob to show me what I 'was doing wrong'.  After a few agonizing minutes, all I was left with was a feeling of failure, a very bruised bo.ob, and two drops of collostrum. 

A nurse (who was supposed to be THE nurse on the maternity ward... the one who could get any baby to latch and get the process started for even the most challenging case) came to see me the next morning.  She went through everything that the nurses tried the night before, commented on my bruised bo.obs, and watched as I used the pump as I had been shown.  After 15 minutes of pumping, I had less than 5 millileters of milk from ol' Righty and nothing from Lefty.  This guru of the maternity ward just shrugged, said to keep trying, and left. 

Each new nurse I had during my three days after delivery had some sure-fired way to get things to work.  Different holds, different ways to express milk, pump one side at a time, pump both together, feed her through a tube while holding her to my breast, feed her through a tube while she sucks on my finger.  Each one told me something differently.  And on the second night, when I was having a major melt-down, right along with Ginny, one nurse told me that I was being ridiculous and that if I would just relax everything would work the way it was supposed to.  (Sound familiar?)  She said that I should stop starving my daugher, just give Ginny the bottle and in a couple of days, if I wanted to I could try again. 

I caved.  I gave her the bottle.  When we got home, we had nothing to help feed her except a couple of little bottles that came with the pump we rented.  I had to send my Beloved out to get bottles and formula on his own. 

I continued to try to breastfeed, with varying levels of success.  When the public health nurse came by for her routine visit, she set me up with an appointment with a different lactation consultant.  That LC went through the same things that all the other nurses did.  I was put on the highest dose allowed of dom.peridone to increase my milk supply, and following the LC's advice I started taking fenugreek.  I bought and read the La Leche League book (which honestly I found useless and just more damaging emotionally). 

When Ginny was 4 weeks old, things started to improve a bit.  I was pumping constantly, and yes I cried over spilled milk a few times.  At our best, we were down to one bottle of formula a day, along with breast feeding and pumped milk.  I still dreaded every feeding, but at least I felt like it was being productive.  But when Ginny hit her 6 week growth spurt, I just couldn't keep up. 

Our breast feeding saga slowly wound down from there, until my wee girl was three months old, and nursing for five minutes, twice a day.  That was the end. 

Since that time, I have learned a few things. 

• My bo.obs hardly changed at all during pregnancy.  Other than being sore during the first trimester, they didn't change in shape or size.  This should have been an early sign that things weren't going to be normal.
• I never experienced 'let down'.  My sister talked about the sensation hurting, especially the first time.  My Beloved's niece-in-law talked about the tingly sensation she experienced whenever her little guy cried.  Other than a few twinges in Righty, I never felt anything.  Another red flag.
• Women who have dealt with diabetes should really not expect their milk to come in until the latter half of the first week after delivery.  No one told me this, ever.  I found it out on a GD-mommies message board.
• Fenugreek does not work for women who have (or have had) diabetes.  In fact, it has the opposite effect.  I was working against myself just by taking the herbs. 
• I'm a large woman.  And those involved parts of my anatomy aren't delicate little flowers, by any stretch.  This made latching hard for Ginny.  Also, big bo.obs do not have anything to do with the amount of milk you have. 

So, given the experience I had last year, will I try breastfeeding this Halfling that I carry now?  Yes, but (and it's a big old BUT) I will have formula in the house.  I won't expect things to work automatically.  I will go easier on myself.  

I have found that I can express a few drops now from either side (Righty is still more productive), but just like last time the girls haven't really changed all that much... they hurt more than they did last time, like a constant premenstrual bo.ob ache.  I hope that these things are signs of good things to come, but I'm trying not to put too much faith in it.   

Breastfeeding is a natural thing, but that certainly doesn't mean it comes naturally. The benefits to mother and child are astounding. But the pressure we put on ourselves or that we allow others to put on us can be detrimental.

Like everything in life, it requires balance and patience.  Oh heavens, it needs patience. 

Defining Community

Greetings Humble Readers... I have waffled considerably about writing this post, and while I may not be as eloquent as some, I feel it's important to speak to the issues that have arisen this past week within the ALI (adoption, loss, infertility) community. 

(In an effort to be completely transparent, yes I am parenting after battling IF and RPL.  And yes, I am currently pregnant with what will hopefully be our last Halfling.  This colours my view, just as the past four years have shaped who I am.)

For me, in this whole mess, the ultimate issue comes down, not to who's a parent and who's not, but who we are as a whole.  How do we define community?

Merriam-Webster defines community this way:

com-mu-ni-ty (noun)

• 1: a unified body of individuals: as
• a : state, commonwealth
• b : the people with common interests living in a particular area; broadly : the area itself
• c : an interacting population of various kinds of individuals (as species) in a common location
• d : a group of people with a common characteristic or interest living together within a larger society
• e : a group linked by a common policy
• f: a body of persons or nations having a common history or common social, economic, and political interests
• g : a body of persons of common and especially professional interests scattered through a larger society
• 2: society at large
• 3
• a : joint ownership or participation
• b : common character : likeness
• c : social activity : fellowship
• d : a social state or condition

(emphasis mine)

I think, whether we care to admit it or not, we all crave community.  A place we fit, a place to belong.  A place where we can find others who understand us and share our values or key parts of who we are.  Some fill this craving with diverse circle of friends, extended family, or even strangers who support the same favourite sports team.  For those of us who felt outside our culture because of our struggles to build our families, we found that online. 

As a part of our various interpersonal groups, I think we all hope that we can both give and receive support and fellowship.  Having your voice heard is just as important as hearing others.  

I don't know about you, but there have been many many times when I wish you all lived down the street or around the corner.  I wish I could physically, tangibly offer you support in your trials and celebrate with you in your joys.  I wish I could bring you dinner when I know you've had a rough time.  I wish I could wipe away your tears when you are devastated.  I wish I could share a hug with you when you are victorious. (But as an old friend often reminded me... if wishes and buts were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry Christmas.) There have been monumental occasions when this community has pulled together in the most astounding ways to provide such support, but logistically, it can't happen on an every day basis. 

So instead, as Mel so wisely says in her intro to ICLW each month... 'comments are the new hug'.  Comments are how we, within the ALI community, show our support and provide feedback to our community. 

How can we as the ALI community continue to support each other, even when our circumstances change?  Does someone choosing life without children after IF or those parenting after IF need less support than someone who is still in the trenches?  Are they in too different a place to reasonably expect that the friendships forged over months and years of cycles, treatments, losses, and hard choices can continue?  And is looking for a community within a community a bad thing?

Relationships, within any community, grow and change.  This is a universal truth.  People will inherently seek out those who are like themselves in some way.  But does that negate their previous relationships? 

How do you define community?