What 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.
Thoughts?
Monday, August 5, 2013
Sort 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.
I am more grateful than I can possibly express that things have been going well. This is a precious tiny hope.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Of course, keeping a big secret is easier without a big bump :o)
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!
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.
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?
I am more grateful than I can possibly express that things have been going well. This is a precious tiny hope.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Of course, keeping a big secret is easier without a big bump :o)
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!
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.
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?
Saturday, July 20, 2013
...and we have a decision. And some really cool cases at the hospital.
Thank you, Kim, for your encouragement. Means a ton. I told my father no again; we want to stay here and be close to family. I think I'm happy with this decision. Sure, the ego boost if I were accepted at a Big Name University would be fun. But the fellowship match is a binding contract; you don't get to choose between multiple acceptances. The computer algorithm matches your preferences and your program's preferences and that's where you go.
Today is beautiful. It's about eighty degrees, and sunny, and I'm sitting in my backyard preparing a presentation on a patient with acute GI bleeding. (Don't worry- I'll spare you all the details!) The sky is clear blue and it is so peaceful.
I really wish I didn't have to work tomorrow.
Oh, well. Surrogate is doing well, thank goodness. She had a course of nitrofurantoin for UTI (or was is asymptomatic? Either way, she's pregnant, and the guidelines suggest treating. We are waiting on the AFP triple screen and the nuchal scan. I'm so incredibly nervous that something will go horribly wrong. One of my friends who's pregnant the usual way was so excited for me when I just told her (without intending to disclose, but ended up stuck). I think people who haven't experienced infertility or loss don't understand what a ticking time bomb this seems.
In other news, I may have some fabulous cases at the hospital about which I can't disclose much due to HIPAA. What I can say is one might involve pneumococcal endocarditis presenting with subdeltoid septic bursitis, and another might involve Klebsiella endocarditis. (Endocarditis is a heart valve infection.) it's a future Infectious Disease doc's dream!
Today is beautiful. It's about eighty degrees, and sunny, and I'm sitting in my backyard preparing a presentation on a patient with acute GI bleeding. (Don't worry- I'll spare you all the details!) The sky is clear blue and it is so peaceful.
I really wish I didn't have to work tomorrow.
Oh, well. Surrogate is doing well, thank goodness. She had a course of nitrofurantoin for UTI (or was is asymptomatic? Either way, she's pregnant, and the guidelines suggest treating. We are waiting on the AFP triple screen and the nuchal scan. I'm so incredibly nervous that something will go horribly wrong. One of my friends who's pregnant the usual way was so excited for me when I just told her (without intending to disclose, but ended up stuck). I think people who haven't experienced infertility or loss don't understand what a ticking time bomb this seems.
In other news, I may have some fabulous cases at the hospital about which I can't disclose much due to HIPAA. What I can say is one might involve pneumococcal endocarditis presenting with subdeltoid septic bursitis, and another might involve Klebsiella endocarditis. (Endocarditis is a heart valve infection.) it's a future Infectious Disease doc's dream!
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Little Miracles
Also, I heard my little one's heartbeat courtesy of a recording from yesterday's ultrasound. It brought tears to my eyes.
Dear Readers: your advice, please! Or, whether or not to unleash the not-so-secret weapon
With kind thanks in advance.
Dear readers, I have a quandary.
I am applying for a fellowship in Infectious Diseases; that is, two years of additional training beyond my residency.
I have been called reasonably intelligent, occasionally even bright, and have decent evaluations. I have (I think?) good letters of recommendation. I have strong board scores.
I stand a decent chance of being accepted to stay on at my current institution, and life is wonderful here. Husband and I live within a brief walk of my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. Our neighborhood is charming and we own our home. And I was always taught that family is the most important thing. Plus, we may perhaps? have a little one on the way, though I still hesitate to believe it.
Here, then, is the debate: I have a not-so-secret weapon at my disposal. His name is _____, Division Chief of Infectious Diseases and internationally-renowned expert in the field. If ____ makes a call, I could go Elsewhere and train and Big Name Universities. At least, I am told so. If he tells you to take a candidate, you take the candidate.
Thing is, if you unleash The Division Chief, it is binding. You rank the Big Name Universities first on your match list. You can't have someone make a call and then change your mind.
Now, training at a Big Name University might be a life-changing opportunity. It has been known to Open Doors. But what if the doors I wish to open are those of a home down the street from my loved ones? And how would I effect child care if we do have a baby and we live far away from my family? My family is what is dearest to me in life.
Thoughts?
Dear readers, I have a quandary.
I am applying for a fellowship in Infectious Diseases; that is, two years of additional training beyond my residency.
I have been called reasonably intelligent, occasionally even bright, and have decent evaluations. I have (I think?) good letters of recommendation. I have strong board scores.
I stand a decent chance of being accepted to stay on at my current institution, and life is wonderful here. Husband and I live within a brief walk of my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. Our neighborhood is charming and we own our home. And I was always taught that family is the most important thing. Plus, we may perhaps? have a little one on the way, though I still hesitate to believe it.
Here, then, is the debate: I have a not-so-secret weapon at my disposal. His name is _____, Division Chief of Infectious Diseases and internationally-renowned expert in the field. If ____ makes a call, I could go Elsewhere and train and Big Name Universities. At least, I am told so. If he tells you to take a candidate, you take the candidate.
Thing is, if you unleash The Division Chief, it is binding. You rank the Big Name Universities first on your match list. You can't have someone make a call and then change your mind.
Now, training at a Big Name University might be a life-changing opportunity. It has been known to Open Doors. But what if the doors I wish to open are those of a home down the street from my loved ones? And how would I effect child care if we do have a baby and we live far away from my family? My family is what is dearest to me in life.
Thoughts?
Monday, July 1, 2013
1 July: a day of terror in hospitals across the nation.
That's right -- it's the day yesterday's medical students become today's doctors, still unable to form the word "Doctor" without hesitating. "Me -- a doctor?" they think. It's a word that embodies knowledge and confidence, neither of which most interns have or really should have. Med school can never prepare you enough.
And then there are those of us who suddenly find ourselves the most senior members of the team. We're third-year residents, meant to know Lots of Stuff and Take Excellent Care of Patients, while Teaching Said Stuff to the eager young minds waiting to lap up our every word. This would work out so well if we actually knew something worth teaching.
I sure hope that when graduation hits, I'm ready.
My very long day will be chronicled in more detail after I finish my Infectious Disease Fellowship application, due today but not likely to be done until hopefully, maybe, tomorrow. But it was an interesting one, I promise.
In other news, none of the three hundred students have yet to mention anything about our little hope, so I will keep quiet as well. I just applied for Surrogate's maternity insurance which was scary as it requires acknowledging this little hope and pretending I am hopeful enough to purchase insurance. There are still a long 29 6/7 weeks to go. But all I can do is pray and hope and try to protect myself from attachment, right?
But for now? Sleep, blessed, beautiful sleep. I do miss you, dear Bed.
And then there are those of us who suddenly find ourselves the most senior members of the team. We're third-year residents, meant to know Lots of Stuff and Take Excellent Care of Patients, while Teaching Said Stuff to the eager young minds waiting to lap up our every word. This would work out so well if we actually knew something worth teaching.
I sure hope that when graduation hits, I'm ready.
My very long day will be chronicled in more detail after I finish my Infectious Disease Fellowship application, due today but not likely to be done until hopefully, maybe, tomorrow. But it was an interesting one, I promise.
In other news, none of the three hundred students have yet to mention anything about our little hope, so I will keep quiet as well. I just applied for Surrogate's maternity insurance which was scary as it requires acknowledging this little hope and pretending I am hopeful enough to purchase insurance. There are still a long 29 6/7 weeks to go. But all I can do is pray and hope and try to protect myself from attachment, right?
But for now? Sleep, blessed, beautiful sleep. I do miss you, dear Bed.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Just between close family, friends, and THREE HUNDRED MED STUDENTS!
Dear readers,
I always knew my mother (while able to keep a secret -- I thought) had no filter. She gets it from my grandfather. But I thought she had a reasonable amount of common sense.
What, then, prompted her to tell three hundred incoming third-year medical students that her daughter (yes, the one at the SAME MEDICAL SCHOOL/RESIDENCY) is expecting via surrogate and is nine weeks along? And that she requires a surrogate because her aorta is a delicate flower waiting to dissect?
No, gentle readers, she did not first ask my permission. Nor did she tell me she had told them. I found out from a friend who is in the third year class.
Oh, and she also told them about how we had and lost Sweetpea.
I realize you all know this story. But I post anonymously, and there is only one person in my real life who knows of this blog's existence (who I doubt reads my posts and who knows me better than I know myself).
So there goes my grand plan of keeping all a secret until, G-d willing there is a baby. And what if this puts an Evil Eye on everything?
So here we are. Now what? Do I just hope people don't bring it up? Do I now have to start telling people? I don't want to tell people. I want to keep this secret because I am still terrified something could go wrong at any minute, and I don't want people asking how the baby is when the baby isn't.
Thoughts?
I always knew my mother (while able to keep a secret -- I thought) had no filter. She gets it from my grandfather. But I thought she had a reasonable amount of common sense.
What, then, prompted her to tell three hundred incoming third-year medical students that her daughter (yes, the one at the SAME MEDICAL SCHOOL/RESIDENCY) is expecting via surrogate and is nine weeks along? And that she requires a surrogate because her aorta is a delicate flower waiting to dissect?
No, gentle readers, she did not first ask my permission. Nor did she tell me she had told them. I found out from a friend who is in the third year class.
Oh, and she also told them about how we had and lost Sweetpea.
I realize you all know this story. But I post anonymously, and there is only one person in my real life who knows of this blog's existence (who I doubt reads my posts and who knows me better than I know myself).
So there goes my grand plan of keeping all a secret until, G-d willing there is a baby. And what if this puts an Evil Eye on everything?
So here we are. Now what? Do I just hope people don't bring it up? Do I now have to start telling people? I don't want to tell people. I want to keep this secret because I am still terrified something could go wrong at any minute, and I don't want people asking how the baby is when the baby isn't.
Thoughts?
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