Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Infertility Urban Legends

OK, OK, enough about my bodily functions. I'm feeling much better this week and can now focus on much more interesting topics.

I got a call over the weekend from my childhood best friend ("S"), as we've been plotting over her plans to fly in for my baby shower at the end of the month. As a bit of background, S and her husband started trying to have a baby soon after they got married in 2003, went through 5 (or maybe 6?) rounds of IVF, suffered multiple miscarriages (including an ectopic pregancy that cost S one of her tubes), and were never able to get an explanation from any of their three specialists as to why she wasn't able to carry a pregnancy past 8 weeks. About two and a half years ago, they decided to find a surrogate, and last October they were blessed with two beautiful, healthy twin girls.

After the expense of going the surrogate route and the heartbreaks of the preceding years, S and her husband decided they were done. All three of their specialists agreed that since she was not able to get pregnant without IVF, there was no need to have her remaining tube tied or worry about birth control.

You know where I'm going with this, right?

S is pregnant. The old-fashioned way. No timed intercourse, no drugs, no nothing. She's not even sure how many weeks along she is, because her cycle's been so irregular with the one tube and the multiple IVFs -- a total change for those of us used to knowing and obsessing over every cycle day! They are totally in shock.

At the end of our conversation, S said: "You know what's the weirdest part? I hate that we're the infertility urban know, the couple who tried and tried and ended up using a surrogate and then just RELAXED and got pregnant. Because it was so devastating to hear that particular piece of advice from countless people during our struggles."

Personally, I'm thrilled for them, and am happy to be friends with an urban legend. It gives me hope that the next time around, maybe a good sperm will find its way to a good egg and we can make a baby just like "normal" people do. Maybe not, but maybe. What can I say, I'm a hope junkie.

What do you all think? Are you personally acquainted with an infertility urban legend? Does hearing their stories give you hope or drive you crazy?

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Missing DayQuil

Having a cold and not being able to take anything for it kinda sucks. I think I've expressed about a gallon of snot in the last 72 hours.

I know that I'm guilty of this myself, but it's really funny the way people look at you these days when you're out in public and either sniffle, sneeze or cough. OMIGOD IT'S THE SWINE!

But it's not. Just a week of poop, followed by boogers. SEXY!

The good news is that the Great Remodel of 2009 will be done in a couple of weeks. Everything's looking great. I promise before and after pictures.

Now, back to the tissues.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Car rental hijinks

This afternoon, I sent the following text to my husband:

"Ur wife is officially a WIDE LOAD."

Wanna know why?

Today, I arrived at LAX for yet another fun business trip adventure. The big red Avis rental car shuttle dropped me off at the following vehicle, which Avis had so kindly preselected for me:

It's a Nissan 350 Z convertible, which normally would be quite a fun little car for jetting about LA. I actually think Avis was trying to be nice to me with a complimentary upgrade (since I've rented roughly 37 cars from them in the last 6 months), and hey, intially I was pretty fired up.

Until I climbed in. Or tried to climb in. And my tummy was smooshed against the steering wheel. Even when I pushed the seat all the way back. And then I tried to get out and had to basically roll out of the door and onto the parking lot to get out. You see, the Nissan 350 Z sits about 2 inches off the ground. Apparently I have a little more work to do in prenatal yoga on the whole squatting thing.

So, I waddled over to the Avis counter and explained my problem. "Thank you so much, but there's only room for one person behind that steering wheel, and I've got 1 2/3."

So I got this instead:

A Ford Expedition, baby. Which I think could run over a Nissan 350 Z with its front tire and not even alarm the driver. I'm pretty sure I guzzled $20 worth of gas to drive the 10 miles to my office, but it was certainly an improvement over the minivan "upgrade" they gave me last week.

And the guy behind me in line was REALLY excited to get the convertible.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

The good, the bad, and the stinky

So, we're back from our chicklette-moon.

Let's start with the good, shall we? Late on Thursday afternoon, we checked in to the lovely Hotel Del Coronado on, you guessed it, Coronado Island. It's a lovely, historic, haunted hotel. I've always wanted to stay there. Nice, hunh?

As if that weren't enough, the Mr. in his charming charmingness managed to sweet talk his way into an upgrade to a suite. So we rang in the first night of our vacay looking out the window at this view:

Again, not bad. We watched the beach get invaded by Navy SEALS after dark (apparently they have the run of the island to train on as they wish), ate some totally carb-y Italian food, and went to sleep.

Things continued to look up the next day, as we got up early, hit Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte, and got to the San Diego Zoo nice and with PANDAS on the brain. No line, everything going well, pandas were cute, etc.

I should have known that furry panda butt was an Omen of Doom. About 10 yards outside of the panda exhibit, I started to feel funky. A little light-headed, a little hot (what else is new?), a little thirsty. I chalked it up to the fact that it was hot, I was pregnant, and, well, those two things seemed to be enough.

We made it to the nearest refreshment stand and I gulped down some water. And then immediately ran to the little pandas room to expel something looking strikingly similar to what that furry panda butt expelled right after I took that picture. It was not pretty -- in fact, the next person to enter the bathroom (while I was still moaning on the stall), exclaimed "UGH!"

Somehow we made it out of the Zoo (that place is FRICKIN' HILLY), and the Mr. drove us back to the hotel. I curled up in a fetal position and slept for two hours, thinking the worst was behind me (ha ha).

But no. I couldn't get to sleep that night, and had a vague feeling that something bad was going to happen. At about 4:00, it did. And then again at 5. And 6. I'm sure you get the picture. I DESTROYED the fancy bathroom. I woke up the poor Mr. (how he was still sleeping at this point was beyond me) and told him what was going on (although I'm pretty sure he got the picture as soon as he took his first conscious breath). He felt my forehead, determined that I was running a fever, got me dressed, and trucked me off to the ER.

Long story short, things are fine, baby is fine, my tummy is now fine, but I spent about 48 hours in lockdown with only Gatorade, bananas and dry toast (oh, and lots of expensive movies from the hotel TV) for company. I felt so bad for ruining the babymoon, and now owe the Mr. a very large (probably sexual) favor for the fact that he carried a specimen of my poop from the hotel back to the hospital for analysis. Is that love, or what?

So, the babymoon was not quite what we expected. But that's not even the worst part.

After ALL THAT POOPING, I was still up 4 pounds at my OB appointment this morning.

4 pounds. WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?!?!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

We're off to see the pandas.....

The wonderful pandas of.....San Diego??

That's right, the Barefoots are off for a long weekend babymoon tomorrow morning. I am so excited for a break from work, work travel, remodeling, and sleeping with a husband and two fluffy cats in a very small bed. Just the husband for a few days, thankyouverymuch.

The last time we were in San Diego, a couple of months ago for my sister-in-law's graduation, we went to the Zoo with a large group and no one wanted to wait in line to see the pandas. I was, in a word, crestfallen. So on this trip WE WILL SEE SOME EFFING PANDAS, even if it means I have to camp out at the gate. Baby needs pandas.

Other than the line, now all that is standing between me and my pandas is a workday in LA, a flight home, an unpack, a repack, a snap decision about bathroom paint color, a trip to the hardware store to purchase said paint, and a flight back down to San Diego.

That doesn't sound so bad, right? RIGHT?!?

Friday, September 11, 2009


Eight years ago this morning, my mom was in her car on her way to work in Lower Manhattan (about 2 blocks from the World Trade Center). The cat had upchucked on the carpet that morning, so she was running about 15 minutes behind schedule. She was about 10 blocks away from the WTC when the first plane hit. Close enough for debris to land on her car. She turned around, headed back up to her apartment to grab the cat, and called me in San Francisco to let me know that she was OK as she was heading off of the island. She was one of the last people to cross before they closed all of the bridges and tunnels.

This morning, as I watched the footage from that morning in my bed, I thanked God for the who-knows-how-many-eth time that she got out safely. (And that Persian cats puke a lot -- in this instance probably saving my mom from being in a nearby building.) As my little eggplant-sized daughter delivered some soft morning jabs to my belly, I talked to her about how excited I am that she's going to be able to know her Grandma, who, aside from being the bravest person I have ever known (for so many reasons), is also one of the most fun.

My heart goes out to each and every person who lost someone near and dear to them on September 11, 2001. I realize that in this, as in so many things, I am so very blessed.

And so very thankful.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Kickety kick kick kick

The last couple of days have brought a significant upsurge in kicking -- both in frequency and strength. It's cool but totally weird -- last night I was in the tub at my hotel (dreaming of my soon-to-be-tub in my house) and could see my tummy jumping around THROUGH THE BUBBLES. It probably didn't help that I had raided the minibar for M&M's right before bathtime. Minibars are dangerous.

I'm curious, for those of you who have been through this -- how do you keep a straight face in a meeting when your belly suddenly starts doing the Alien thing? Do you get used to it after a while and kind of forget it's happening?

Monday, September 7, 2009

Remodel hell

Apologies for being remiss in blogging. We've been trying to adjust to our first week out of the house, and every spare minute has been consumed with visiting virtually every Home Depot, Lowe's, flooring store and plumbing supply store in the area to get what we need on short notice.

My rant for the week:  Why on earth is every non-Home Depot-like home supply retailer CLOSED ON SUNDAY (and sometimes Saturday)??  And even when they're open on Saturday, their distributors are almost always closed, so if you need to order something that's not on premises, they can't tell you if they have it in stock?? Presumably, most people doing remodels have JOBS so that they can PAY for all of their faucets and tubs and tiles and high-efficiency flush toilets.

(And on a related note: why can't anybody ever tell you exactly when an order you place will arrive?? Or accept an extra fee for extradited shipping? If only carried whirlpool tubs.)

Consequently, we've ended up buying a lot of big items at Home Depot. Sure, we saved some money, but we would have much preferred dealing with a smaller shop on most things. But we didn't have that option, since, you know, work and stuff. Doesn't strike me as the best business model, but what do I know?

And finally, if I have to hear one more salesperson say something to my husband along the lines of "Oh, we should give you wife what she wants, and keep her happy (wink, wink)," I am going to blow a serious hormonal gasket. The reason why I am making most of the decisions here, buddy, is that I HAVE DONE MOST OF THE RESEARCH AND KNOW WHAT I WANT. I've almost walked out of a couple of places for this reason alone, but have not (because I am actually a rational BUSINESS PERSON in "real" life and not just a PREGNANT WIFE) in the cases where we had managed to negotiate a good deal. 

OK, end rant. Sorry for all of the caps -- they felt good. Things are going along on schedule, which is great. We're surviving at my mom's house -- she's been great, so no real complaints except we're sleeping in a very small bed and the location of her house adds 20 minutes on to anyplace we want to go.

The fun news is that the chicklette is kicking. A LOT.  And we think we have a name. And I'm having a prenatal massage today. And my shower date is set for October 24th. I'm sure there will be many posts on that, since apparently all of the various limbs of my family tree (most of whom don't speak to each other, at least not in a way that would be considered appropriate for a baby shower) will be flying to and converging upon the Bay Area. 

So, life is good, but life is crazy. Good practice, I guess!