11w5d Appointment Update (NEW UPDATE)

It turns out that the u/s machine at the RE office is only good to a certain point. I am sure they aren't used to having many patients there at almost 12 weeks getting vaginal u/s. Good news though, we were able to get the babies.. They were moving around so much he couldn't get accurate measurements though. His estimation for each was:

Hopper "A" 12w0d, hb of 178
Hopper "B" 12w3d, hb of 175

Is it weird that I was looking at the screen while these two babies were moving around and thinking to myself, " are these really my babies"? I still feel a disconnect that this is really happening to me. Although Al and I never planned for twins, we love them so much already. I know that I will do whatever it takes to give them the best life and let them feel so loved and wanted. I will also share with them how hard we tried and our struggles to get them here. I could never be ashamed of what we went through and I will never hide what we went through to anyone.

Okay back to appointment. I told Dr. H that I might not be able to get in for the NT scan because they were currently overbooked already. He told me that he was going to send an email to the Director at MFM and get me in for the scan. At the end my doctor truly came through for me. Although we had to get additional treatment in Chicago, he supported us and has helped me so much within the past 12 weeks. I am so grateful.

Here is a "bad" picture of the hoppers. Dr. H said they are getting to big to pick up with the vaginal wand.

Side note:

I just want those of you following me that are still working through losses and trying to get pregnant to know that I do think of you all the time. I hope my story gives you some hope and faith that you will succeed. I know some days it doesn't seem like it. It happened for us at the very end of our journey when we had decided to quit treatments and move on. I know it sounds like a total cliche, but it is true.

NEW UPDATE:
 
Just received a phone call from MFM office. I go in today at 1:00 for my NT scan!

Chapter Five & Pregnancy Update

Chapter Five:

During this time I had moved out of my hometown and closer to my job that was about 25 miles away. I started dating around for a while and then I met Michael. He was much younger than me. I think at the time he was about 24 and I was closer to 30. He was tall blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. I remember the night I met him, it was at a local bar and he was shooting pool. I sent him over a drink. Yeah I am not the type of girl who waits for a guy to make moves on me. We started talking and before I knew it half the night was gone. He gave me his phone number. I remember waiting a few days and then calling. A older woman answered the phone which I thought was very odd. I asked if Michael was there and rudely she had replied no he wasn’t. I left a message. About two hours later he returned my call and of course I asked about the woman. It turned out to be his mom. He said she was going through a rough patch and needed to place to stay for a while, so she was living with him. I really didn’t think much of it at the time. We met up a few more times and then I learned that he was actually an amputee like my dad. He was very self conscious about the fact that he had a prosthetic, but I had been around this so it really didn’t bother me. I learned that he was hit by a drunk driver and pinned against another car and lost his leg. Things started falling into place early in the relationship, but I didn’t see it. Maybe I knew in my heart what this relationship would be like and maybe I just wanted to fix him. He drank a lot, everyday. He was obviously still in a very bad place from losing his leg. He made himself a victim. I don’t play into the victim role so over time I tried to build him up. Come to find  out he lived with his mom, not vice versa. He didn’t work, he lived on social security and basically spent his time at the bar drinking his sorrows away. I saw more than that though. I saw someone I could help move on to a better place in life. We continued dating and eventually moved in together. I talked him into going to Vo-Tech. I thought this would give him some push to do something with his life. In the meantime I financially took care of all three of us. I paid all the bills. As time went on I realized that he just wanted to be a victim the rest of his life and get “poor me” attention from everyone. He graduated Vo-tech and that was the end. I was hoping he would find a nice job he liked, but it was always excuses. He leg her, his prosthetic didn’t fit right, he couldn’t stand, blah blah blah. Three years after we started dated I finally told him that I had nothing else to offer him and we needed to go our separate ways. He of course moved back home with his mother. She was the biggest enabler he had. I know that I never loved him, but I did care for him so deeply. There was so much potential in this person, but he never saw it. It was heartbreaking. I found out 3 years ago that he died in a car crash. I sat back and thought, what if I stayed? Would he still be alive? Of course I know that him dying is not my fault, but I still have the guilt of it. He was so young and had so much to offer the world. This still makes me so upset thinking about it. I know I have moved on with my life, but regardless he had a special place in my heart and always will. It is such a shame he was taken from this world.

After the break-up with Michael, I pretty well gave up on finding any kind of healthy relationship. I think at the time I was about 33 and single with my daughter. Over all the years I never had a good strong relationship with any man. I spent time with my best friend. When my daughter would go to stay with her dad we would go hang out singing karaoke and having fun. One day she had the bright idea that we join a roller derby team. I thought she had lost her freaking mind, but she was very serious. This is where my life takes a total 360 degree turn.

Pregnancy Update:

I am 11w5d today. Going to my RE for one last u/s at 3:30 for measurements and heartbeats on the hoppers. Dr. Kim has also cut Prednisone from 20mg to 10mg because of some issues I am having. Today is my 4th day at 10mg and thank goodness my appetite is going down some. I have also been able to sleep more than 2 hours for a few nights. 

Chapter Four

Chapter Four:

After the divorce I stayed in my home town where I grew up and got a lot of help from my dad and sister. One thing I haven’t made very clear through this story is the love I did have for my dad growing up. Most of what I have said so far has been my feeling after the fact. After finding out everything about him. Although we fought and had a very dysfunctional relationship, we were close. He was my only parent and I loved him. Despite everything I think he loved my daughter, his granddaughter. He was very proud of her. By this time in his life he was much older and in horrible health. On oxygen and had his leg amputated because of diabetes. My sister and I took care of him a lot. Things seemed to be better after I had C and divorced her dad. I won’t lie though, I still had no clue on being a mother, but I did take care of her immediate needs such as feeding her and clothing her and keeping a roof over our head. 

She was about 4 years old when my father died. I will never forget that day. He called in the afternoon as soon as I had walked in from work. I was tired and just didn’t want to deal with him at that point.  I already knew he was calling me to come over and either cook, clean or help do something. Just like my sister and I did every single day and most of the time it was multiple times a day. It was so overwhelming and exhausting. Although my sister did it for many more years then me. He called and asked if I could come over that he needed help with something. I told him I would be over in a little while. That was the last time I ever spoke to my father. The next phone call was from my uncle a few hours later saying I needed to come over to my dad’s house right away. My sister ended up going over there to take him dinner and found him dead in his bathroom. To this day I feel so much guilt about the decision to ignore him. Would it have made a difference? No. His health was horrible and it was bound to happen. I never told him that I did love him before he died. I know many people will sit here and ask how I could love such a person. Regardless what he was my father. He raised me. I do believe that most of my father’s problems were caused from family history and the abuse that I later found also happened to him throughout his whole childhood. The only difference between us, he couldn’t overcome his past or overcome what happened and I could. After he died I really felt lost. But at the same time I also felt free. This was the beginning of my new life and transformation into the person I am today, but I didn’t know it at the time. It took my father dying for me to take a good look at my life as a person as a mother as a sister and as a friend.

One thing I knew was that I never wanted to turn into what my whole family had become. I wanted better for myself and I wanted better for my daughter. Here I was a single mother with a high school diploma. There were so many decisions to make and I won’t lie, I was scared. I guess when my dad was alive, I always had him to fall back on. If I needed financial help with C or needed help paying bills, I could count on him for that. I was now realizing it was fully my responsibility to take care of my daughter. No lifelines left. I never would want to ask my sister for any kind of financial help. I mean I was the older sister. She was suppose to look up to me not me rely on her. It always happened that she was the responsible sister all along.

I think the first thing that helped change my life to the direction it is now, was a temp job I got. The receptionist was leaving for maternity leave and this oil company needed someone to take over for a few months. I was able to get the job. This job was the first real job I ever had. I always worked from the time I was 16, but it was always fast food, minimum wage paying jobs. A few months went by and the girl came back from maternity leave. There was another opening for accounting and she was offered the job so I was offered a full time position as receptionist. I remember my first quarterly bonus was $500. I couldn’t believe that I worked somewhere that gave not only one bonus a year, but 4! Wow I had insurance and made decent money to take care of C and I. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t going on any vacations, but were able to pay rent and eat. Months went by at work and an opening came available in the land department. I went into the land manager and asked if he would consider me for the position. I told him I had no experience with land, but I could promise him that I would work hard and learn fast. He offered me the job. The company started paying for all my land classes and other math classes etc I needed for the job over the years. Finally I was able to take the test and became a Registered Landman after five years. I finally found a place that I fit into . I love the industry and this job made me feel important. I remember at the time I was making $22,000 a year and thought I was rolling in the dough. After all these years things were finally starting to turn around.

Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

I think the most out of control part of my life was the next several years, from the age of 18 to about 21. I skipped around different places living and never stayed anywhere for to long. I finally hooked up with some old high school friends and that is where I met my first husband T. I can’t tell you till this day what attracted me to him. He was very selfish, egotistical, and didn’t really care about much in life either, I guess like me? He was four years older than me. We started dating and before I knew it, we were living together at his moms house. He would basically go out to the bars all night and I would be stuck in his room because I was to young. That is how most of our early relationship went. After about six or seven months we moved into an apartment and I got a job at Sonic. This is where I met J, sweet in her own way, but just as troubled as me. We hit it off from day one. While T would go out at night partying at the bar until 6 in the morning, I would hang out with J and smoke weed. At first it started off at weed only. Then one day our manager at Sonic introduced me to something much worse, cocaine and eventually crank. I remember the first time trying those drugs and feeling like I could walk on the clouds, nothing could touch me, I didn’t have any fears, any anger, any hurt, just a perfect world  in front of me. During this the next few years I was into drugs DEEP. It was a daily thing and I was also in the position on being around bigger drug dealers with big quantities of drugs and a lot of money. That was a very scary situation now that I look back and think of all the things that could have happened to me during that time, but I just didn’t care one way or the other.  I felt like I was just an empty shell existing at times. T and I were always SO broke and giving plasma to buy cigarettes, (yes the typical stereotype of a druggie, that is what we were). I was at my all time low weight of about 105 lbs and being 5’7 with bags under my eyes from no sleep for days, but still holding down a full time job. It was bad. Really bad.

As you all know I have a daughter that will soon be 17 (in July) so you know she fits into this story line pretty soon. This is the hardest part for me to write about. I have felt so much guilt over the years and I will continue to feel guilt until the day I die.

I WAS THAT “STEREOTYPICAL DRUGGIE GIRL THAT GOT PREGNANT” Yes the one that every single infertile person hates.

I remember being really late for my period and taking a test and it was VERY positive. Being only 20, I was so excited I was having a baby. I did quit every single drug that day and never took any drugs during my pregnancy. I was still scared that she would be deformed and messed up because obviously I was on drugs during conception and a few weeks into the pregnancy. I am not sure how long though. I didn’t end up going to see a doctor until January and I got pregnant in October. We had to go through the health department because we didn’t have a pot to piss in. Barely making rent, T still smoking pot daily and going to the strip clubs at night. I always knew I would be a horrible mother. How could I be a mother to a baby and not every have anyone teach me how to do this? I was told over and over that it would come natural, but it didn’t. It never did. Not by any lack of trying. To make matters worse I smoked cigarettes all throughout my pregnancy and though by cutting down to lights that I had fixed the problem. Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with me? The guilt. I never really worried much later in pregnancy. I never worried about a miscarriage. After we found out it was a girl and healthy, I never thought much about it. I guess it was my time to play house. I never knew how hard it would be. When C was born, she weighed 6lbs 14 ½ oz and was 21 inches long and healthy. I soon screwed up again after she was born. She was about a week old and my old friend J showed up. I hadn’t seen much of her when I was pregnant because I quit all the drugs. She came over my house to visit us and baby. We went out on the porch and she brought out a joint. I took three hits of it.

What happens next has caused me to have so many nightmares throughout my life and I would take it all back if given the chance. This is what makes me the biggest asshole in the world.

We went into the house and I picked C up out of her basinet so my friend could hold her and in mid air I dropped her. Thank whatever force out there that was looking over us that day, but my friend caught her. I lost it. Completely lost my shit and couldn’t believe what I had just done. What kind of mother gets high with a new baby? A selfish one who obviously doesn’t care about anyone but herself. I asked my friend to leave and called T’s mom to come over and sit with baby.  I went to my room and slept off the high. That was the LAST time for a very long time that I ever picked up weed again. After that night I tried to bond and be a good mom. I always felt myself getting so frustrated because T was never there to help me and I was alone and overwhelmed. As the next two years went on we moved back to my old town near my dad and sister and they helped me with C so much. T never gave up smoking pot, going to strip clubs or staying out all night so I filed for divorce when C was two. (the same time my mom and dad divorced).

First OB Appointment 11 Weeks

Not sure what I thought of my first visit. I had a PAP done and lots of blood work. He also did an abdominal u/s with the dinosaur machine to check on babies. They looked like babies and were moving around. He said they had nice strong heart beats, but I am not sure how he could tell since the machine didn't have measurements or a heart beat sound on there. So no measurements or heart beat. I was a little bummed. We went over all my risk factors and since I am 11 weeks he asked what genetic testing we wanted to do . I told him absolutely no on the Amnio. I thought the NT scan and the mateniti21 was the testing I would be willing to do . They are going to try to schedule me in for NT scan but aren't sure they can get me in before 13 weeks. So if not, I will have to settle for the blood work version of NT with no u/s. I hope they can get me in. He is also sending me to the Cardiologist for precaution because of the shortness of breath and constant heart palpitations I am having. He doesn't think anything is wrong and just wants to cover all the basis. They are also setting me up with the MFM, but not until 18 weeks. At that point I will have a u/s through them to check babies out and also give me genders.

So any of you that know me won't be surprised when you read the following. I was not happy with my u/s today. I am calculated and need to know certain things such as measurements of babies and the hb. About 30 minutes after I left my appointment I called my RE office. I started off by asking how they liked the pie I sent then asked if I could come in for an u/s next week. She told me that they aren't legally allowed to see you after a certain point , but would check. I have an appointment for u/s on Monday at 3:30 two days before cut off at 12 weeks. Man I really love this office.

Here is u/s from today;  Next appointment is Monday with my RE for one last u/s and then May 21st with OB.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

My teenage years. Wow where do I even start on this? After all the abuse in my life, I just didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. The fights. I was in fights all the time. I learned this trait from my father. I was with him one day when a Indian woman in town cussed at him and we chased her down the roads in our town until my dad finally cornered her at a field and got the tire iron out of the back of the car. He had this woman down on her knees begging him not to kill her. So when I had problems with girls in town, I was given a choice. #1 kick their ass or #2 my dad would kick my ass. I knew which would be worst.  Who does this? As I started to grown into a young lady I was already sleeping around with any boy that would pay attention to me. I lost my virginity at the age of 14 I think? Pretty bad I don’t even remember huh. I do remember that I always thought that the only way for boys to like me was to give them sex or oral sex. I think by the time I was 18 I had slept with about 20 men. This is not something I like to talk about, but I want to show people my story and be brutally honest about it. I never even enjoyed sex, in fact if the truth is to be known, I hated it. But, for a the short time, I thought someone cared about me and only me. They smiled and showed me affection. That was such an amazing feeling.  If I was really lucky some of the boys or men would even cuddle with me for a few minutes. To have someone hold you tight, there was no other feeling. I was also drinking and doing drugs by this age. It helped numb the pain. Which is what I realized now. At the time I didn’t know why I was doing all of this or acting like that. I honestly thought it was normal behavior and just didn’t give a shit. I went to school high. I missed school half the time. I cussed out teachers. I threw chairs in the classroom. I picked fights. My family must have been so proud of me. Just another Throne in the making. Another dysfunctional monster to the mix. My dad moved us to California trying to start a new life. I then realized how different things were there compared to small hick town Oklahoma. I managed to piss off the gangs in the schools.  That wasn’t a good choice by any means. I had my head slammed into a few brick walls and found myself running home as fast as possible. I definitely couldn’t stand up to 10+ people. When I was caught, they would hold me and then the others would take turns punching the shit out of me. The worst that it ever got was having them confront me at the pool in our apartments and try to kill me. Yes I am not exaggerating . I called the police and they found knives and guns on these kids. By then my sister had totally distanced herself from me and wouldn’t even tell people we were relating in fear of being beating up. I never even stopped to think for a second on how all of this effected my sister. I rebelled and she stayed quiet and went to school and just took the abuse. She was so much of a stronger person then I.  While living in California I remember receiving the last beating my father ever gave me. My aunt and uncle came to live with us and I was fighting with  her and said something to the effect of “ I am tired of your shit” she told my dad and I remember him picking me up by the front of my face with my feet off the floor about a few inches and BAM head into the wall. I did pass out for a few minutes and I guess it scared the shit out of him. He thought he killed me. That was the last time he ever hit me. Shortly after we moved back to Oklahoma.

I had missed so much school in California that I failed my 9^th grade year and was left back. At this point I hated school and I hated almost everyone in school. I am sure it is pretty easy to believe that I wasn’t well liked at this point. I hung out in smokers alley a lot .  Keep up the same behavior all the way through high school until the beginning of my 12^th grade year and finally said fuck it and dropped out. My whole family told me that I was a drop out and would never graduate or make anything of myself and for years I didn’t . Just to prove them wrong ( and I promise that is the only reason) I went back to school to get my diploma. I couldn’t go back to my regular school, but was accepted into a school for drop outs. I also started up Vo-tech and got my cosmetology license and ended up with a high school diploma in 1993.

By this time I had already moved out of my dad’s house. I was pretty well living on my own from the age of 16. This whole time my dad and I had a very odd relationship. We were still close and he helped me out with bills etc. but was always very controlling of my life. So we would talk and then have a big blow up for months and not talk .  To this day I feel such guilt on leaving my sister to take care of him while I left the situation.