tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44543523746139895532024-02-07T17:59:10.510-08:00In Search of MotherhoodAn obsessive-compulsive, anal-retentive, neurotic, klutzy young woman with Turners Syndrome reflects on Operation Baby and on becoming a physician.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-75899099095768978992024-01-12T19:27:00.000-08:002024-01-12T19:27:44.514-08:00There is no silver lining.<p>I don't want a hobby.</p><p>I don't want a social life.</p><p>I don't want a break.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I want to be with my children every day.</p><p><br /></p><p>There is no silver lining.</p>Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-12882271107529266302023-10-27T13:26:00.001-07:002023-10-27T18:20:18.872-07:00In Which Our Heroine does not feel very heroic at all, and does not get her happy ending<p>Dear Reader,</p><p>Assuming there is actually still someone still out there? If so I hope you are well. You made it through the worst of the COVID-19 pandemic and that is no small feat. When I last wrote - 2017, goodness -- I had no idea the world would be turned upside down and I would watch patient after patient die while I had nothing to offer except empathy (including my own Zayde who died of post-COVID pneumococcal pneumonia complicated by bacteremia and empyema). I had no idea I would have tears in my eyes when I got to schedule and take the first dose of the vaccine -- on the eighth day of Chanukkah, what a miracle! Or that, almost a year later, I would say a Shehecheyanu blessing when my children got theirs. I never thought masks would be a political statement.</p><p>I didn't expect my sweet A to be diagnosed with a brilliant intellect yet struggle with ADHD. Thank goodness for dexmethylphenidate! (Yes, we are Pharm-free on this blog!)</p><p>I didn't expect my sweet J to be just as smart.</p><p>I never dreamed I would get to witness and love such miracles.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I also never thought I'd write the following: Husband wants to divorce. He feels we simply are too different and will be happier, better people and better parents apart. He wants to remain good friends. Thinks we could still visit his family together. So we are trying to work out an amicable, uncontested, divorce.</p><p>I feel crushed. Heartbroken. Humiliated. Sad. Angry Devastated. Everything everywhere all at once. I feel like we won't be a family anymore. I can't bear the thought of not seeing my babies (yes, I know they aren't babies anymore) every day. And I would still rather work this out. We can get along and we owe it to our kids to do so. What happened to commitment?</p><p>But once again, major aspects of my life are not mine to control - even fight to change. I couldn't do anything to make a successful transfer happen and I couldn't stop a virus. And I can't stop this.</p><p>But I did do something to control infertility, right? I kept trying until we got our miracles. And I kept putting on that N95 and holding patients' hands until things improved. So maybe I can get though this? I don't believe it at all right now. It's too fresh. But maybe once again, after another six years, I will be in a better place?</p>Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-8098216162001733442017-01-30T21:22:00.002-08:002017-01-30T21:23:34.762-08:00In Which Our heroine decidesSo I just made a Big Decision.<br />
I agonized about it afterward and was literally shaking, but I did it.<br />
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I turned down an academic position.<br />
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I only ever wanted an academic position. Teaching nourishes my soul. When I was almost suicidal, teaching still made me happy. As a devotee of lifelong learning, I also wanted the chance to participate in didactics, and grand rounds, and morning report, and scholarly activity. This particular position would also have allowed me to learn more about infection control, and get some special training, as well as training in how to teach. I would also see clinic patients one half day per week.<br />
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Sounds like a dream job, right? And at my beloved home institution.<br />
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It almost was, and I only barely was able to turn it down. Because my biggest dream came true, and I have (turn the Evil Eye) two precious miracles who are finally asleep, and that job takes precedence over everything. As that means spending at least half the year working six days per week and the other half working five days per week (probably with another few Sundays thrown in) is not the right fit for me at this point. Especially since I am no fool, I have seen the life of an attending, and I know that the stated hours are just the tip of yhe iceberg.<br />
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But it is so incredibly frustrating. I am forced to choose between a satisfying professional life and dedicating time to my children. It shouldn't have to be this way. There should be a paradigm for part-time academicians. We who want to be part-time are just as serious. In fact, maybe we are more intense, because we are truly trying to have it all, knowing that one can never actually have it all.<br />
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Another problem I think I grapple with is the perception - and probably even my own - that by taking this low-key, private practice position, I am being lazy. After all, I only want to work three days a week and every fourth weekend. Getting into and through medical school, residency, and fellowship is all about hard work and pushing onceself to excel. My personality is also such that I don't do things by halves. And my parents, for whom I have everything to thank, taught me to push as hard as possible to reach my full potential. But that is exactly the opposite of what I am doing right now. I am knowingly rejecting career advancement. Acknowledging that someone else will make the next breakthrough. Agreeing to watch others take over the field. And truthfully, it makes me feel like an underachieving loser.<br />
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I haven't figured out how to deal with this yet. But one approach I think I dislike is that I am "sacrificing" my career for my children. That approach paints children as a burden, a roadblock, and something to be resented. I am spending two days at week with my children because I want to be with them. It is draining and at least as exhausting as taking call. But there are too many precious moments that I would miss if I were at work.<br />
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At any rate, I have decided. I hope I can find ways to enjoy private practice.<br />
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On the plus side, the enjoying-the-children part is easy. But that's another post for when I am not typing on my phone and it isn't after midnightMimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-53639413457278996582016-11-25T20:03:00.001-08:002016-11-25T20:03:30.911-08:00If Gilmore Girls can broadcast a revival...NO SPOILERS....as I have not even watched more than five episodes of the original Gilmore Girls. So don't worry.<br />
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But I thought, dear readers, that I may as well update you. It's been almost a year.<br />
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How does one measure a(n almost) year in the life?<br />
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In a miraculous baby J, a beautiful baby boy. Born 31 August, 6 pounds, 2.4 ounces, 19 inches of pure blessing. In Hebrew we call him י. He has the most delicious smile and is starting to laugh. He is apparently small percentile-wise, but his thighs are just a little zoftig :o)<br />
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In a little girl who is sweet as sugar, now almost three years old, with a sense of humor that cracks me up and a sense of empathy that makes me proud. And yes, she has curls to die for. (Forgive my ending the sentence with a preposition.) She is working on toilet training and she loves Maisy books by Lucy Cousins and handing out stickers. She just graduated from the little pool at swim class to the big pool where mama watches from a side bench. I'm not sure I'm ready. She uses Hebrew as easily and sometimes more easily than English. World, I am raising a daughter whose primary language is Hebrew. This makes my Jewish-day-school heart so proud.<br />
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In a last goodbye, at least for now, to the institution which has been my academic home since I started medical school. Technically I will still be there, but as a private practitioner, essentially competing with the university. I make no apologies. I wish they had been able to offer me a position. But they can't (and aren't interested in hiring part-time faculty), so their loss. And yes, I intend to show up and kick butt at grand rounds.<br />
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In a new home, two blocks from my old home and only one block from my parents and grandparents and one set of aunts/uncles and across the street from my other aunt/uncle. It was a crazy move, done within a week of returning from Israel and one week before flying out to meet baby J. The house has tons of potential but needs more work than anticipated. I believe that's what they call buying a house :o)<br />
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In tap dance class, and Jane the Virgin, and a wonderful novel called A Suitable Boy, and fights with Husband, and making up with Husband, and watching my sister become a kind, caring, competent young woman who makes me so very proud.<br />
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In wipes and diapers and pull ups. Loads of them.<br />
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In highlighters and Mandell chapters. My goal is to finish the book cover to cover at some point.<br />
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So where does this leave us? As I write with my little one snuggling on my lap, and my sweet girl in her bed, it's almost time to go back to work. I will start my first big-girl job next month. If all goes well, it'll be part time, giving me a chance to enjoy this motherhood for which I worked so hard. The physician whom I'm joining is a sweet, understanding woman committed to me being able to have a family. I would love to do academic medicine at some point, so we will see where things lead. A local academic program may have an opening soon, but I don't know whether part-time will be an option, and full time is just not an option.<br />
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People ask me if we will go for a third. I would love to, and N is willing -- she brought it up, not I. Yet it feels so greedy. I have two beautiful children, so it's not like I am trying to make sure A has a sibling anymore, and I am asking N to risk her body. And yet...I just don't know that I am done, and we do have good-quality frozen embryos. Husband isn't sure yet.<br />
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So we will see. We have several months before we have to decide. Right now we can't afford it anyway, and I don't want to ask my family for help.<br />
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We do know that, if we have leftover embryos at any point, we will donate them to someone/s trying to make a baby. We would love to pay it forward and it doesn't weird me out at all.<br />
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For now though, I will savor the sweet miracle sleeping in my arms and Husband and I are going to watch Monday's episode of Jane the Virgin.<br />
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But before I go -- four years ago I was on the verge of suicidal. I thought I would never hold a baby of my own. I spent Thanksgiving lying on the sofa so depressed and sick I didn't even have the energy to watch television. I can't promise that every one's happy ending will include babies. Or that if it does include babies, it will take four years and not longer. Or that it will be fair. But know that if you are in a hard place right now, it might look different in a few year's time, and I hope any change is only for the better.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-82420018942197403382015-12-17T12:33:00.005-08:002015-12-17T12:33:57.236-08:00Welcome to Denver...whose population at this time does NOT include Mim or ADear readers,<br />
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I intended to greet you all from Denver. This would have been the first time I actually attended an embryo transfer.<br />
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Apparently the travel safety authority felt otherwise. I have that dangerous, 104-pound baby-toting mama look. Clearly I am force with which to reckoned and a menace to society. When provoked I could poor milk on people's heads, or magnetic fish. I could even bore them to death by reading Goodnight Moon twenty times over. Or worst yet, I could give them all diabetes by providing too many animal crackers.<br />
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This must have been the thought process of the TSA, since they opened every single bag, took everything out, tested every possible surface of the stroller and carseat, and - as this took half an hour -- made me miss my flight. Which was the last flight that would have gotten me to Denver on time.<br />
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Thanks for keeping us safe, TSA. After all, now I stand absolutely no chance of an accident or attack on a plane since I won't be getting on one.<br />
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I *may* have thrown fit at the gate. Of course there weren't any passengers there since they'd all boarded on time and the jetway was already closed.<br />
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Also, may I just note that I asked the TSA officers MULTIPLE TIMES if I would be able to make my flight. I also asked them if it was possible to notify the gate that I was being checked and would be delayed.<br />
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I "would be fine." Except I wasn't.<br />
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So once again, I am not even close to the baby-making.<br />
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Whatever. At this point -- I am used to it. And it isn't as if I expect anything but failure anyway. It just stinks because I really wanted A to meet her surrogate mommy, and I too really wanted to see N. Husband says maybe we will fly out to N's home state of California if this all works out, and go to an ultrasound together. First of all, that would require a successful transfer, which has happened only one out of seven previous transfers. Second, I cannot take any days off between January and July and I will be working each Saturday from February on. So exactly how I am supposed to fly to California, I have no idea. And I don't remember them doing ultrasounds routinely after the 18-20 week anatomy scan. We could of course go just to visit, but that would likely be at the same time we want to go to Israel.<br />
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Let this not be misconstrued. I am still quite grateful the transfer is even happening, and grateful to N for going through all this especially without me there. And I ended up having delightful morning with my miracle baby, the sweetest most amazing little light of my life. I may never have another baby (despite my mother's unflinching optimism), but I am beyond blessed with the one I hold now.<br />
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To adapt my usual end-of-consult line: thank you for allowing me to blog the chronicles of this very "pleasant" (ha!) journey. Will follow.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-13027555823694120512015-12-04T20:38:00.001-08:002015-12-04T20:38:23.738-08:00Not updates in Internal Medicine, but updates from someone board-ceriotifed in Internal Medicine!Hello again, dear readers!<br />
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First off -- if you had a rough Thanksgiving, I was in that same spot three and four years ago. I can't guarantee each of you will hold a baby in your arms. I wish I could. But I can tell you that even when you are absolutely convinced you will never reach your happy ending, it might be just a matter of time. My happy ending is currently sleeping tucked beneath a quilt my grandmother made for me.<br />
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Since I last wrote, some updates are probably due.<br />
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I am now officially certifiable...oops, I mean board certified by the American Board of Internal Medicine. And yes, I am darn proud. I may have bought myself a "pass present" in the form of a sapphire ring from Overstock.com -- which would have cost $75, except I had no idea of my ring size and consequently had to order four different sizes before getting it right.<br />
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My sweet A is now 22 months, sweet, loving, smart, funny, and generally the light of my life. But that wasn't news. She has her own personality. Tonight she force-fed me cake. She's also impressive. We took her to her first Nutcracker last weekend and she watched the entire thing. Actually watched, interested, enjoying herself. This, Dear Readers, is a Very Big Deal. The Nutcracker was my first ballet and the story goes that I thought intermission was the end and consequently threw a fit because I wanted more. I aways dreamed of taking a little girl of my own to the ballet and now that dream came true. Also yes, I will never stop wishing I had the talent, turnout, and arches to be a ballerina.<br />
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I went to a Mom's Night Out from A's nursery school class last night. It went better than I thought, considering my social awkwardness. I made it through the usual birth stories and interestingly, when it came out that we used a surrogate, I got a universally positive response. When I told them I was a physician, I was also met with unexpected admiration. It was a good feeling. Coming from a family of physicians, spending time with friends who are almost all physicians, it seems so normal to be a doctor. I am incredibly honoured by the privilege it is to practice medicine, but it never occurred to me that it is impressive. Yet think about all those people who wish they could get into medical school, or residency. I am pretty lucky.<br />
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As for Operation Sibling: we have six chromosomally-normal embryos "on ice" at CCRM and transfer date is approaching. This will actually be my first time attending a transfer. Yes, out of seven transfers, I have attended zero. We already had plans to be in Israel for the first transfer, and after that it was just too painful to be at Northwestern. Now I'm excited to see it from a medical perspective. I'm thrilled to see N again. I'll bring A, so I'm especially looking forward to N getting to see how much she's grown (although I send pictures all the time). Have any of you attended an embryo transfer? What was it like?<br />
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We have also decided to do a single embryo transfer. I'm a little worried. They quoted me a 75% take-home baby rate with our embryo quality (5AA), which is amazing, but still leaves a significant failure rate. But they also quoted a 60-70% risk of twins, with all the associated complications. I would love twins if you could guarantee they'd be born normal. But with a 20% prematurity rate, and a 15% gestational DM rate, and increased preeclampsia, my first priority has to be N's and Baby's safety. We probably won't have additional children after this one. It feels wrong to me to keep risking other people's health, and it feels greedy. before I knew about Turner's Syndrome I always wanted four children. But some women don't get any children, and I already have one. So I am pretty lucky, don't you think? But I do wish we could get to Beta day already. Positive or negative, I would just like to know.<br />
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Lastly...I suppose...career. it has recently come to my attention that this July I will graduate. I could be done with training forever.<br />
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Let me rephrase that. After twenty-seven years of formal education, I could be done. A real adult, looking for a job.<br />
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The last time I applied for a job it was a cashier position at Borders. This was in no way motivated by the 30% employee discount, of course.<br />
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Interestingly, there aren't exactly a plethora of jobs in academic infectious diseases. I don't want to go into private practice. I want to teach students and residents and fellows. I want to be a part of grand rounds and morning reports. But a highly-placed person at our medical school just told me there are no part-time jobs in academic medicine. I can either have a job that makes me happy, or I can be the mama I want to be.<br />
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If you know me at all, you know this decision isn't actually hard to make. A wins, every single time. But maybe I don't have to give up on academic medicine? Mama thinks Highly-Placed Person may be wrong. It remains to be seen. But another questions is whether I should take up Highly-Place Person on his offer of a two-year PhD in molecular micro (exact field TBD) which would provide me the research skills I need to continue in academia as well as the funding to do so. No need to find a grant.<br />
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Mama thinks perhaps with a PhD in hand, I could convince somebody to hire me part time. Anyone out there with experience? A doctor doctor? <br />
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Anyway, my eyes are closing as I write. Shabbat shalom everyone, and I will try to update again soon.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-83570956731878849792015-07-14T19:49:00.001-07:002015-07-14T19:49:44.623-07:00Another update -- also known as procrastination -- Change of place, change of luckBut not too much procrastination. I do need actually to pass my Internal Medicine boards, after all, and study time is scant.<br />
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But in brief: we have decided to change IVD clinics. I had no great love for our previous clinic, and as it turns out, their rates are below average and overall poor. I'll not get into specifics but basically we've noted serious detail problems and are ready to move on. We're considering two clinics. One is CCRM and one is on the west coast.<br />
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A Hebrew phrase goes, משנה מקום, משנה מזל, meaning "change your place, change your luck." In some ways I feel odd writing that as our darling A is a true miracle. But I think you all know what I mean.<br />
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I won't mention here the name of the centre which I just "divorced." I don't want to slander or speak ill and I can't remember if I mentioned it previously or not. I will simply say that I now know a much better centre in Chicago, and if anyone needs the recommendation, feel free to contact me.<br />
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Now -- practice exam questions and hopefully a new entry in my journal to A.<br />
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Goodnight!Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-67022918111952060342015-06-05T18:23:00.001-07:002015-06-05T18:23:17.886-07:00In Which Our heroine remembers she has a blogHello again, dear readers,<div>
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And no, there is no baby on the way as of writing. Life is just busy. Good, old-fashioned, real life. And I'm okay with that. I think we are supposed to be out there, living real life.</div>
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So, you might ask, what is going on in that real life? A is now sixteen months and counting -- I can't believe it! She's truly a toddler. I think the real transition happened while were in Israel, just around her fifteen-month "birthday." She started walking just before her birthday but by the time we were in Israel she was really running everywhere, and just everything about her went from baby to toddler. She started protesting naps (and anything else) she didn't want to do with a vengeance. She doesn't want to sit still, so restaurants were shift-work.</div>
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I miss babyhood, but honestly? This doesn't frustrate me too much other than the obvious nostalgia. Toddlers are learning independence and trying to understand how to convey their needs. And A can't speak many words yet, so she's frustrated that she can't communicate. Throw in the understandably short toddler attention span...</div>
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And there is so much sweetness, dear readers! My little baby (she will always be my baby) has learned to push her babydoll in a toy pram and now she calls herself "mama" and gives her dolly kisses. She is also learning to play ball, and she is so curious to explore everything. And she is identifying animals in her storybooks, and at the zoo. She knows some body parts. And she is just a silly, adorable, sweetheart. Every night I tell her she is our daughter and we waited a long time for her, and she makes us the happiest people alive, and that she is the answer to our prayers and the light of our lives.</div>
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This would be a lovely way to end this post, except it would be incomplete. No, there is no baby on the way -- but that is not for lack of trying. We have had two failed FETs, one in February and one in April. I struggled to decide on a next step. But eventually we agreed to do one more full IVF cycle, using the same lovely surrogate but a fresh donor. (We're out of embryos anyway). We just chose the donor, so hopefully I will be able to update you with some good news sometime soon. Our plan is to do a day 5 transfer w PGD to ensure we transfer chromosomally-normal embryos.</div>
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On the professional front...the professional front seems to mean so much less to me. But anyway. I'm on research right now, working with vancomycin-resistant Enterococcus faecium and the interactions between cathelicidin exposure and daptomycin susceptibility (fancy language meaning I play with resistant bacteria and try to find out if our immune system reacts to them in a way that makes the antibiotic resistance worse). My co-fellows are a great group. Learning to work in a lab is definitely a learning curve!</div>
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And now? I have a microbiology practical exam in two days, so it's study time.</div>
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Goodnight, everyone, and Shabbat Shalom!</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-29814889735234224932014-05-03T16:32:00.002-07:002014-05-03T16:32:38.190-07:00Fourteen weeks old! Loving every minute!Maybe this is cliche, but, dear readers, I am truly loving every minute with my beautiful little A. I hold her and watch her sleep, and have to force myself to put her down in her crib. I smell her baby smell. And she's smiling now -- smiling! It is the most heartwarming thing in the world. Oh, and the way her entire body wiggles with excitement when she plays with her kick and play piano? I myself want to squeal with delight.<div>
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A sleeps through the night most nights, which is wonderful timing considering I am about to embark on six weeks of Q4 call.</div>
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I'll write more later, hopefully. But work calls...</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-64665786353517382882014-02-24T14:52:00.001-08:002014-02-24T14:52:47.688-08:00One Month OldI can't believe it, but our little Babybug (double points to anyone who gets the allusion) is one month old today. She is the sweetest joy I could imagine. Her disposition is easygoing and she loves to snuggle and fall asleep in our arms. The only time she really cries is when she's hungry -- and then it's as if a switch went off: one moment calm and peaceful, the next moment "FEED ME!" She's already left newborn clothes behind and is making her way into the 3-6month.<br />
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Which means, I've some catching up to do for the blogosphere! Let us rewind to 24 January. Okay, actually 23 January. Husband, Mama, Daddy, and I flew to California. Our flights landed on time and our surrogate and her husband met us at the hotel where we would be staying. We visited with them and my parents got to meet them for the first time. I think Surrogate was glad the first time she was meeting them wasn't in a hospital gown with her legs spread open! Then we went to bed. I wasn't sure I'd be able to sleep but I slept…like a baby. (Yes, I know, bad pun intended.) I was tired as I had been too excited the night before the flight. But that night I slept well, and the hotel bed was quite comfortable - more than my own bed.<br />
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The original plan was to start the induction around 0600 on the 24, but Surrogate's hospital was full with five women delivering at once. So instead we went back to bed (which I definitely needed) and had a leisurely breakfast before making it to the hospital around 11:00. Surrogate had her pitocin infusion started but things were just at the beginning. She, her husband, and her friend and we chatted and passed the time. It was a slow day with a lot of waiting. In the evening Surrogate got her epidural, with some post-procedural hypotension which resolved with a bolus of normal saline. By 10:30 or 11:00 Surrogate was only at 4cm dilated, and everyone was tired. Surrogate had been made to position herself on her hands and knees to try to speed the process, but it hadn't done much. Finally we all dozed off. Surrogate had an epidural by now so don't worry -- she was quite comfortable. She had actually been a trooper, barely even moaning during contractions before she got the epidural.<br />
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There are other snapshots I remember. The First Wives Club was on television. My parents brought us Chinese food for dinner. The nurses were all incredibly nice.<br />
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At 11:55pm, the lactation consultant came in to speak to Surrogate about her pumping as she planned to donate her milk. Surrogate woke up and at first, thought her epidural needed adjustment as she could "feel something" -- but no, then she realized "I've gotta push!"<br />
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The could barely page the OB and break the bed down in time.<br />
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And then, with a single push, at 11:59, out came our perfect miracle.<br />
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I didn't cry. My hand didn't even shake as I cut the umbilical cord. (Granted, I'd done so several times during my third-year OB-GYN clerkship.) I don't know what anyone else was doing at this point as I was following my baby, my daughter, my little love of my life over the the incubator. After what seemed an eternity of Apgar scores, measurements, footprints, etc I was finally handed my baby. They had me change into a hospital gown so I could slip her underneath for skin-to-skin bonding. And then she was mine. Ours. I couldn't believe it.<br />
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I still can't believe it.<br />
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Soon afterward my parents arrived at the hospital to meet their granddaughter. My Mama cried. We called my grandparents and siblings and my best friend, who is so amazing she wanted to be called at 0300 even though she had a big exam (ABSITE - the surgical residency in-training exam) the next morning. I spent the hospital stay in the room with the Surrogate and Babybug as there wasn't a room for Husband and me to take together. Of course I tried to let Surrogate rest while I took care of my new charge. But she woke to pump colostrum anyway, which I was able to feed Babybug along with Enfamil newborn formula. Yes, I got no sleep, between feeding and diapering and holding our Babybug. But I loved it -- just me taking care of my baby, this new little person totally dependent on me, and it being all my responsibility without any help from my husband or my parents at this point. I did go to the hotel to shower and nap briefly so I'd be able to make it through the night, and of course I got some pointers on interpreting baby cues from Surrogate. But I loved having that time with Babybug. I spent so much time just holding her and kissing her and staring at her. I didn't want to sleep because I would miss it! But yes, I did fall asleep from about 0300 to 0700 each day, I think. It was a blur. I was tallying meconium diapers and wet diapers and bottles…and loving every minute.<br />
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Right now, my little wiggly (as my sister calls her) is waking up and is going to want a bottle, so I'm going to post this and more updates later.<br />
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Thank you all for your support on this journey and much love.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-60441481563063176582014-01-26T19:46:00.001-08:002014-01-26T19:46:18.106-08:00In Which Our heroine meets her happy endingFive IVF attempts.<br />
Four years.<br />
Three egg donors.<br />
Two surrogates.<br />
<br />
One miracle baby.<br />
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Welcome to the world, Little One. You are our dream come true.<br />
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<br />Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-31647988742178533972014-01-15T19:01:00.001-08:002014-01-15T19:01:39.597-08:00In Which Our Heroine waits, and not with particular grace or patienceToday marks 38wks, 2 days. We are so close. One week from tomorrow Husband, Mama, Daddy and I are supposed to fly to California to meet Surrogate for her induction.<div>
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A week is no time!</div>
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A week is a VERY LONG TIME.</div>
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The other day Surrogate had what I thought were serious contractions, but they turned out to be Braxton-Hicks. They stopped when she went to bed and cooled off thereafter. And they never were closer together than eight minutes, and not too painful. I had a few hours of excitement, but am now pretty much accepting the fact that it's going to take time.</div>
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Okay, perhaps "tolerating with great grumpiness" is a better descriptor.</div>
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Anyway, I will update when there is what to update.</div>
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Goodnight!</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-77180818333152583182014-01-05T16:36:00.000-08:002014-01-05T16:36:01.094-08:00In Which Our Heroine is very, very impatientDear Readers,<br />
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I wish you all a Happy and Healthy New Year, and that 2014 is better than 2013.<br />
<br />
I should be eager and excited right now. We're thirty-six weeks, six days along. Theoretically it's just a matter of time. But here's the thing: I DON'T WANT TO WAIT.<br />
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I know it's ridiculous. After four years, two and a half weeks should be a piece of cake. But we're so very, very close. And I'm still worried that something might happen, and we'll get some horrible call.<br />
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Also, I really want to meet this little girl!<br />
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Baby, please hurry up.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-229277925168123532013-12-27T07:49:00.001-08:002013-12-27T07:49:32.430-08:00In Which Our heroine takes a big leap of faithHello Dear Readers,<br />
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I hope you are all well, and those who celebrated had a wonderful Christmas. While I don't celebrate (the whole Jewish thing,right?) I love the lights with which people decorate. It's like a fairyland! I may wax eloquent later.<br />
<br />
For now, though, a small post about a large leap of faith. I bought Baby Girl Surname a plane ticket home from California. Jews, especially Ashkenazi Jews, especially Ashkenazi Jews who are baby-loss infertility fake pregnants, don't buy ANYTHING before the baby's born. But we can't very well get stuck without a plan ticket. So with great trepidation, we went ahead and purchased a seat.<br />
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That's the update for today. Vacation is almost over, so I'm off to go enjoy it!<br />
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Shabbat Shalom -- there may be a later update on a new challah recipe, and whether it's as good as my current one.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-21940724166274594162013-12-21T10:35:00.000-08:002013-12-21T10:35:16.294-08:00So, what else is new?Enough (more than enough) about the difficulties converting a baby who isn't even born yet. What else is new in the life of Mim?<div>
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Because I know you were all staying up nights wondering.</div>
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I hope not. You might be disappointed.</div>
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So I will bring my vacation to you in brief scenes:</div>
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Scene one, Thursday afternoon: my beloved grandmother comes over for lunch. Mainly she drinks coffee (teaspoon of Nestle instant and a heaping spoon of powdered creamer), reheated at regular intervals in the microwave. I don't believe she's ever actually finished a cup in one sitting. She tastes and proclaims good my coconut-milk based soup. (I threw together onion, carrot, celery, cooked in fake chicken broth with cumin, cinnamon, ginger, etc, then added coconut milk and chopped spinach and red lentils.) My attempt at imitating the Cheesecake Factory avocado egg rolls was slightly less successful. Maybe next time. Anyone have a good recipe? And then we are in the library, moving Husband's double-sized desk into the alcove once a closet in the houses's former incarnation. Except we're short about an inch on either side thanks to moldings. So I find myself in the basement hunting for a hammer, and then my grandmother is attacking the moldings. Score: grandmother 2, moldings 0. Abridged is a description of the tumult once tucked neatly in the alcove, now spread over the entire floor of the library, including but not limited to every letter I've received since I was twelve and a milk crate full of photographs. Finally, however, we have everything rearranged, electronics plugged in, and the room looks fantastic. We take a step back and imagine how perfect it'll look with the armchair moved out and a sofa bed for our guests instead.</div>
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Scene two, last Monday afternoon: three siblings at the movies, watching Disney's Frozen. My brother has the extra-large popcorn which passes between us over the course of the movie. My sister's seeing the film for the second time, except she missed several bits the first time around. I try to resist analyzing the plot and the animation, but -- English major. We do that sort of thing for fun.</div>
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Scene three, repeated several times over: my basement treadmill (about the only article not in our basement for storage), Hopkins Internal Medicine modules (power-walk your way through hypertension and dermatology for the internist), and some great music. The satisfactory post-workout sweat at the end of 5.75 miles is impossible to imitate. </div>
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Anyway, just a few scene from my vacation. Looking forward to another work-free week!</div>
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To everyone celebrating next week, I wish you a Merry Christmas (or a Happy Christmas if you're British) and to all, a happy and healthy 2014!</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-22231121918542038992013-12-18T19:39:00.000-08:002013-12-18T19:39:04.581-08:0034 weeks: Update, and asking for advice PLEASE IF YOU HAVE!Hello everyone,<br />
<br />
Hope you are all doing well. Things are looking pretty good for us. Surrogate just had a 34-week appointment (technically today is 34wks2days) and Little One has chubby cheeks, is vertex position (i.e. head down just like it should be), has plenty of amniotic fluid, and is practicing breathing! I just hope things continue to go well. I still worry every single day.<br />
<br />
But now I have a new worry, for which I ask your advice, dear readers. (If you aren't, Jewish, apologies for a rather long question below using terms you might not know.)<br />
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As Judaism is matrilineal, this Little One will need to be converted to Judaism. And without getting into a very complicated discussion on religious politics, suffice it to say she needs an Orthodox conversion to be fully accepted as Jewish in all circles. This may seem unimportant. But try getting married in Israel without being Jewish by Orthodox standards. And here in the States, too -- depending who she might one day want to marry, this could be a Big Deal.<br />
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One might think it then becomes simple: just get an Orthodox conversion and drop her in a mikveh (ritual bath). Except the vaad harabbonim (council of rabbis) will not perform an Orthodox conversion unless the parents promise to raise the child in an Orthodox home. And I am masorti, meaning Conservative. I don't cover my hair, and while I dress relatively modestly, I do wear (appropriate length) shorts and I do wear pants. And I use electricity on Shabbat although I won't shop and I don't intend to work once I finish fellowship. And I keep kosher but I put things in the dishwasher (different sides) together. And I plan to send my daughter to a Solomon Shechter Day School, not Akiva (the Orthodox school). Actually, if you really want to know it's not keeping Shabbat or anything<br />
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What's a mother-to-be to do? Dear readers, anyone out there with experience having a child converted to Judaism? Anyone who wasn't frum succeed in arranging an Orthodox conversion? And anyone reading from Israel (if there is someone), is it any easier through the giyur office? We will visit, G-d willing, when the child is 6 months old for about two weeks.<br />
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And one last question: if I take the baby to the mikveh, I assume I cannot be nidah? So I'd need to adjust my cycle?<br />
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It just stinks that this same child would be unquestionably Jewish if I bore her myself. I love being Jewish. But sometimes -- it REALLY gets frustrating.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-46361381173842159832013-12-07T13:46:00.002-08:002013-12-07T13:46:41.451-08:00Updates, and asking for adviceThanks, K for the good wishes! It was overall a wonderful Match Day with congratulations flowing between the residents. Actually, even my kindergarten teacher sent me a congratulations on Facebook! I treated myself to my favorite artisan pizza (fresh basil and roasted garlic, and a mixture of sumptuous cheeses on a perfect thin crust). Several of us in the third-year class met afterward at a local movie theater-bowling alley where I thoroughly embarrassed myself by bowling gutter ball after gutter ball. But it was good fun. Actually, we very much looked like a commercial for world peace: an observant Muslim girl wearing the traditional hijab, several Indians from various states (and probably castes too), and little Ashkenazi Jewish me.<div>
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So how will this fellowship work? I will do seven months of consults (meaning, seeing patients in the hospital) followed by twelve months of research followed by another five months of consults. Throughout, I will see patients in the Infectious Diseases clinic one half-day each week. Mostly I will follow them for HIV, some for bone or joint infections, and some for hepatitis C or confection with HCV and HIV. I am so excited! The program director is excited too. And I have no regrets at all that I will be staying in my current location.</div>
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My enthusiasm is somewhat tempered, though, because a friend who applied for gastroenterology didn't match. He is a hard worker, a great physician, and really should have gotten a position. Worse, the GI program at our institution took another resident who isn't as strong. It must feel like such an affront and I heard he is despondent. I sent him a text message, letting him know I am thinking of him and his wife and that he is a wonderful physician and that I hope happier times are ahead and that I do believe things will eventually work out for him. I didn't call because I thought he might not want to talk when so upset. I might text him again in a few days. But it sure feels unfair. He really deserved a spot. You can't be happy when you know other people are sad.</div>
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I have also had the challenging experience of leading "morning report" twice this week. Morning report is a tradition in Internal Medicine. Interns (i.e. first-year residents) or senior residents present a case from the hospital, while the rest of the residents (and sometimes students) are asked to discuss the case: differential diagnosis, workup, and sometimes treatment. We have historically had an outstanding morning report. The level of discussion, the faculty participation -- it's actually one of the reasons I chose Internal Medicine. But a large part depends on the chief resident, who is the facilitator. Those are people one year post-residency who dedicate that year to educational activities and administrative duties as well. Our program added two junior chief positions this year, one for a second-year and one for a third year. I was chosen.</div>
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I have always wanted to lead morning report. It's been my dream since I was a third year student. But teaching is NOT as easy as it seems! And it is SO DIFFERENT teaching a large group from the teaching I do leading a small team on the wards. I still haven't got the hang of it. I learned a few things: I summarize three key points from each case at the meeting's end. I have a a question or two from an internal-medicine question bank at the end. But I don't just want to be adequate. I want to do as good a job as the fabled SH, former resident and now awesome attending.</div>
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How do I get there, dear readers? Anyone in an educational field -- tips? Because I could use them.</div>
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In baby news, things are, thank God, going okay. We are thirty-two weeks and five days today. Surrogate was diagnosed with gestational diabetes but her HbA1C (a measure of glycemic control over the last three months) was only 4.5, and her glucose readings have been very well-controlled with diet alone. She will soon start doing NSTs and more frequent monitoring, I guess because she is advanced maternal age now that she's thirty-six. We will start looking at flights soon! I still refuse to believe fully, but it feels nice to tell people. And, I actually had a very fake-pregnant moment last weekend: I was at a baby shower, and the mom-to-be received a copy of the book <u>Love You Forever</u>. It's about a mother and baby, and the baby grows into a mom, who ages and becomes ill. I have never been able to read it without crying. My sister was at the shower too, and asked about the book. I burst into tears. Seriously! Full-blown tears, over a book! And I wasn't even reading it! I thought you had to be hormonal for that sort of thing, but apparently not.</div>
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Anyway, we are off to a family friend's holiday party, so have a good rest of the weekend everyone.</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-41790473289380307262013-12-06T20:38:00.001-08:002013-12-06T20:38:39.978-08:00ID? I do! Yes, I have officially matched into an Infectious Disease fellowship at my top choice institution, which also conveniently happens to be my home institution. I can't wait to get in the Gram stain game :o)<div>
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I'm not especially surprised, but I am still one hundred percent thrilled about this next step in my training. The ID docs at my university are the best, and the current fellows are so smart that it will really make for a great training opportunity. I do have small doubts about being "inbred" (i.e. doing all my training at the same institution) but I can't imagine a better program. And yes, that includes what locals call "the U."</div>
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Otherwise, things are going well. My loved one is doing well. And so are Surrogate and Baby. We're really getting close, now. We still haven't found a name, though. It's tougher than I thought!</div>
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I'm currently on Rheumatology. It's very interesting and the pace is relaxed. I will hopefully write more tomorrow,</div>
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Good night and shabbat shalom!</div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-75276058470279644272013-11-14T22:24:00.002-08:002013-11-14T22:24:26.085-08:00Not-so-happy birthday beginningsAccording to the English calendar I have been thirty years old for one hour and eight minutes (well, technically I was born at 14:24 so I suppose there's still a bit of my twenties left), and by the Hebrew calendar, 9 Kislev passed a few days ago. Thirty! A new decade, hopefully filled with exciting changes.<br />
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Except I'm not excited, even by the thought of birthday cake. And I have a sweet tooth that should be in a dental museum.<br />
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Someone I love very very much is suffering from a serious alcohol problem which has worsened dramatically in the past couple months. This person is one of the most wonderful people in know: generous, loving, creative, and always putting other people first. And this person has no insight into the problem alcohol is causing. And the rest of the family is concerned enough that they are talking about organizing an intervention and inpatient rehabilitation.<br />
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I love this person so much! He or she (I'm trying to respect this person's privacy) is not a bad person, but is suffering from an addiction which has led to lack of insight and poor decisions. If anything happens to him or her, I don't know what I would do. And as a physician, I'm scared to death because I have seen end-stage alcoholism, and I could not bear to see my loved one in that place.<br />
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I hope there is a chance for recovery. This person is a strong individual and has been through a lot but always come out resilient, and this person wants to be healthy to be there for our Little One. That's a pretty strong bit of motivation. I wish somebody could give me a hug and make me a glass of tea with sugar and lemon and tell me everything will be okay. But I know it doesn't work like that, and even if someone is motivated to quit, it's a lifelong uphill battle.<br />
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So I have spent the first hour of my thirties trying not to cry too much, because it makes it hard to read about dizziness and Meniere's diease -- oh, yes, I also have the pleasure of starting my birthday working overnight at the local VA hospital -- and trying to self-sooth with Chopin.<br />
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At least there will be Shabbat dinner tomorrow night (today now, I guess) and my brother has ordered a delicious lemon-white chocolate cheesecake torte in which to drown my sorrows. (The meal will be dairy.)Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-59250002931110048532013-11-11T08:23:00.001-08:002013-11-11T08:23:18.489-08:00..And yes, things are going ok, thank God.Surrogate is twenty-nine weeks today. She and Little One are doing well, thank God. But I won't truly exhale until the proverbial fat lady sings.Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-19901367842504961082013-11-11T08:16:00.000-08:002013-11-11T08:20:25.313-08:00A stand up routine that does NOT make me laugh.A college acquaintance recently shared to Facebook a stand-up routine entitled "People with no kids don't know." I consider myself possessing a reasonable, if somewhat dry, sense of humor. But this particular routine did not tickle my funny bone.<br />
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The premise of the routine was that couples without children don't have a clue how much more difficult everything is with children, and how these couples are living a carefree life of ease because they haven't any responsibilities outside themselves.<br />
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I nearly vomited.<br />
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Many people come from large families and raise their younger siblings. I was changing diapers at ten, driving carpools and reading bedtime stories in high school, and was entrusted for an evening with a nine-day-old baby at eighteen. We may not be the true parents, but we witness the demands of parenting and we do our share of helping out.<br />
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Many people care for elderly parents or grandparents. And let me tell you, a fully-dependent adult is a lot more difficult. Have you changed a diaper on someone who weighs two hundred pounds? Or tried to dress him/her? I have only the minimal experience of caring for geriatric patients in the hospital, and even from that small bit of experience I see how difficult it is caring for ill adults.<br />
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Other people are not carefree because they take on tremendous work responsibilities, or volunteer, or fill their lives in other ways. I can understand the argument that it isn't the same of having children, but it doesn't mean one doesn't have true commitments.<br />
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But mostly -- what infuriated me was this: a good percentage of the people with children chose to have children. Did they know what they were getting themselves into? (Forgive my ending the sentence with a preposition; it just sounds so much better.) If so, then why complain? After all it was a choice made fully informed. And if they didn't, then why should they mock those who are in the SAME position the parents were prior to having children.<br />
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And honestly, here's the true hurt: WHAT ABOUT ALL OF US WHO WOULD GIVE EVERYTHING TO JOIN THEM?<br />
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You see, fertile people also don't know.<br />
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<br />
<ul>
<li>They don't know what it's like to lie in bed wondering if a baby's cry will ever punctuate the night.</li>
<li>They don't now what it's like to cry oneself to sleep after a third miscarriage and wonder if it's possible to be happy again.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to face the embarrassment of providing a sample as a man, or of a transvaginal ultrasound as a woman, or the pain of a progesterone-in-oil injection.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to hear "you're next" for the hundredth time.</li>
<li>They don't know how painful it can be to answer the seemingly-innocent "Do you have kids?" question.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to attend a baby shower just after you learn your road will be infinitely more complicated.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to hear someone tell a new mother how much a baby looks like her, when you know yours never will because you have no viable eggs.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to worry every minute that a pregnancy will end in disaster, no matter how far along into the "safety zone" one is (because there is no safety zone).</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to hate one's uncooperative body.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to question what defines female because one's body can neither create nor sustain life in the way that is classically the epitome of womanhood.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to sing someone else's baby to sleep and wonder if your turn will ever come. And I do mean "if" and not "when."</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to time intimacy until the romance is gone, or how tortuous a two-week-wait is.</li>
<li>They don't know what it's like to feel out of synch with everyone else, who are now having their second child when you started beforehand and are still empty-armed.</li>
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I could go on, but I just want to leave it with this: They don't know how much it hurts when someone complains about that which you want most.<br />
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This same routine could have been far less hurtful. The comedian could have done it as "before kids vs after kids" and that would have made me chortle along with the rest of the audience. Because of course life changes, and gets more complicated.
But go easy on those of us without children. It wasn't always a choice. And we aren't all "free."Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-933019349111100232013-10-08T23:40:00.002-07:002013-10-08T23:40:41.039-07:00Yes, it is 2:38am in my time zone.<div>
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And yes, I have to be at the hospital close to 5:30am. And I will be giving a presentation on secondary syphilis in an HIV +ve patient at 11:00am.</div>
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I have yet to finish the presentation to my liking.</div>
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I am not sure I will even be awake enough to give this presentation.</div>
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On the plus side, thank God things are going well with dear Surrogate. We are just over 24 weeks. Continuing to hope and pray.</div>
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More to come...if I ever get a break from this rotation!<br /><br /></div>
Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-11964975829685408002013-09-11T14:18:00.002-07:002013-09-11T14:18:45.590-07:00Happy and healthy and sweet 5774 שנה טובה ומתוקה לכולם! And it's a...but you'll have to read to find out.Welcome to the year 5774. Or, תשע"ד. I'm still terrified, but I am a little excited that it might be a really wonderful new year.<br />
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Yes, thank God, things are going well. We are about halfway there, and our Little One is doing well, as is her dear Surrogate Mama. And yes, that was a "her" -- it is a GIRL! Husband and I would of course been thrilled either way, but I have to admit I would have no clue how to raise a boy. (And then of course there would have to be the conversion asap before the brit milah, meaning within eight days. So a girl sounds like sugar and spice and everything nice.<br />
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Which brings us to the Name Game. Welcome and prepare to play as often as you like, free of charge. We're looking for L names that sound good in both Hebrew and English, and preferably Biblical. Husband doesn't like Leah, although I do. And while the Internet has provided numerous options, none of them appeal.<br />
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And one other note -- while I wish I could grow this baby myself, it IS definitely amusing to tell people we are this far along and have them stare confusedly at my lack of bump.<br />
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When life gives you a fragile aorta, you gotta get a few laughs for it!Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-21062800483613335372013-08-05T10:50:00.000-07:002013-08-05T10:50:00.714-07:00Question for all the Intended Parents out thereWhat have you done to make a surrogate pregnancy feel more real? Our dear Surrogate lives on the other side of the country so physical contact isn't much of an option.<br />
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Thoughts?Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454352374613989553.post-24611098584304526692013-08-05T10:37:00.002-07:002013-08-05T10:37:26.816-07:00Sort of...We are, God-willing, fifteen weeks today. Or rather, I am nothing, but our dear Surrogate is fifteen weeks and feeling well, thank God.<br />
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I am more grateful than I can possibly express that things have been going well. This is a precious tiny hope.<br />
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But I am not excited. I am terrified. I am tense. I wonder when the ticking time bomb will explode. I wonder if I could withstand it. I have friends and cousins who are pregnant, with similar due dates. Where they are excited I am scared what the next day will bring. Two years since losing Peanut I miss him just the same, and feel the same numb disbelief and longing and hurt I did on 19 August 2011 when they told me I had to terminate a pregnancy with a beating heart. <br />
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And then there is that feeling of being a fake mommy-to-be. I know pregnancy doesn't make the mother, and I am grateful not to be part of the conversation about nausea and constipation and bloating and heartburn...But at the same time I feel like an outsider, or perhaps a junior member of the club who will never have a full-fledged card, or maybe someone peering in a window to somebody else's party.<br />
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But please don't think I am complaining when science is working a wonder. I mean it when I say I am so very grateful. I am however confused, and worried, and trying to sort out the feelings of being "sort of" pregnant.<br />
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Other people will announce their pregnancies. There will be Facebook posts, and discussion at work. But I am telling only my closest friends, and I weigh each one carefully. I am telling about twenty people outside of my immediate family (and Mim's "immediate" family includes grandparents and aunts/uncles) and that's it. And those twenty include my program coordinator and the scheduling coordinator, and the program director of my future fellowship, who obviously need to know.<br />
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Of course, keeping a big secret is easier without a big bump :o)<br />
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On an entertaining note, I ended up visiting the emergency dept. Saturday night after a needlestick injury where the patient on whom I drew the arterial blood gas was hepatitis C positive (but with a virla load of only 14,000, thankfully!). Of course one of the nurses asked if I could be pregnant. (She obviously didn't know about Turner's Syndrome.) I told her I am pretty sure that requires functional ovarian tissue!<br />
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Of course, the fact that one of the ED docs who I know assessed me for the needlestick injury makes me feel all sorts of weird about her knowing I have TS. I am not ashamed of it. But it is sort of private health information and a bit of a bigger deal than the HTN and hypothyroidism which I readily disclose to anyone.<br />
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TS sisters, what's your disclosure policy? Whom do you tell? Or if you don't have TS, who would you tell if you did?Mimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14594061750426441635noreply@blogger.com1