Posts Tagged ‘ advanced maternal age ’

Computers and Ovaries

Friday, August 19th, 2011

Photo explanation at end

Photo explanation at end

ARRGHHHHHHHHHHH. I have 3 babies in my life: Fia, the one in my belly, and my computer. (Sorry Wayne, not feeling the love right now. You ate Fia’s turkey today).

With Fia, my husband and I were trying to have a baby. In other words not using protection. But with the other two I admit I’m at fault. I’m bad at protecting things/using a back up method. At least when it comes to computers and ovaries.

I was on my computer 4 nights ago when it started acting funky. I told my husband I needed to back it up. (Hasn’t happened since January.) But did I? No. It’s one of those million things on my “if I just had 10 minutes” list that inevitably doesn’t get done. I am sure many of you moms can relate. Then we kick ourselves because in the end, we spend far longer fixing what we didn’t do on the list that has now gone to sh-t. Like my computer.

On Wednesday I posted a blog about taking antidepressants when pregnant. It got amazing responses. I was sitting down reading them that night when bam. My computer just stopped working. That stupid little wheel that I already have anger issues about just kept spinning. I hate that thing. I shut the system down and it never came back. Just the wheel, taunting me: Hahaha. I told you so.

I had to book a sitter, go into the Apple Store yesterday only to be told the hard drive crashed. Everything was G-O-N-E. It will take $550 to try and recover my data. I go back to my “if I just had10 minutes” list and fume.

I left them with the computer to fix, and explored other options for my hard drive recovery (more time spent). Found someone who can do it for less. Wish me luck.

Booked another sitter today to pick up my “like brand new” computer. Brand-new sucks when you’re dealing with losing all your data.

Add up the subway, cab fares, time wasted, sitter fees, data fees and I’m well in the hole for those f–king 10 precious minutes.

But hey, I have a new blog post now. In fact, this is the only thing in my word documents. How sad. But it’s a start.

P.S. I’m writing this sitting inside a car repair shop somewhere in Brooklyn. I am trying to learn my lesson. That “maintenance required light” that keeps coming on in my car? Deaing with it. Now.  But it’s taking much longer than 10 minutes. Bleh.

P.P.S. The little Italian man who I asked to take this picture had clearly never operated a camera before. We tried 6 times to no avail, and then this. He was so sweet though…..

pic for blog

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My Big Announcement

Thursday, August 11th, 2011

Author’s note: I’m stealing a line from Julia’s blog on Parents. ie: If you are trying to get pregnant and having trouble conceiving, don’t read this.

At 14 weeks, baby in belly is the size of a lemon

At 14 weeks, baby in belly is the size of a lemon

When Fia was born we felt so lucky. She was healthy and happy. 20 months later, she is all that and more. And I continue to count my blessings. For that reason, and a few others, Phil and I didn’t see a sibling in her future–or ours. Neither of us wanted to jinx our perfect situation. We got a good one, why gamble? I figured maybe down the road we’d adopt.

Friends would say how great it is for kids to have siblings. I wasn’t convinced.

Half the time I hated my siblings and they hated me. There is no guarantee that everyone will like each other. It’s yet another roll of the dice. Just like procreating.

I also didn’t feel like going through another pregnancy. Granted, I had an easy one with Fia, but again, why gamble?  Plus, in my AMA–Advanced Maternal Age– (roll eyes at that stupid term) I didn’t want to risk all the things that can happen with old ovaries.

In May, we came back from a family vacation in Costa Rica. Life got busy. I had to make a final trip down to FL to say goodbye to my dying mother. Then I was off to LA for a business trip.

In the back of my head I had a nagging feeling. But my stomach cramps and sore boobs reassured me. Any day now.

One night when Phil was out of town, I poured a nice big glass of wine for myself. I opened up my calendar and began to count. “27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33”… hmmm. I took a sip. Recounted. Sipped again. Recounted. I finished my wine, might have poured a little more, and went into the bathroom to pee.

My internal dialogue went like this: I’ll just look under the sink to see if I have any left over tests–just going to put my mind at ease. Ahhh! There is one. Cool.

Pee on stick (no internal dialogue here).

Watch stick (?&^%*$#@?&)

Gasp. Scream. Run to phone.

“You gotta talk me off the ledge” I yelled.

“What? Are you in a fight with your siblings?” Phil asked with alarm.

“NO,” I shouted. “Fia’s going to have a sibling. I’m pregnant!!”

“What? Seriously? Holy f-ck. Wow. Whoa. …(3-second silence)…Ya know, I like babies.”  I grimaced.

“But you don’t have to carry one. And the beginning….”

I was already reliving those first few months when Fia kicked my ass. Lack of sleep and raging hormones turned me into the devil. Not to her—she had my entire heart–but she was the only one.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. Then added calmly, “I think we’re pretty good at it actually.”

He had a point. We never wanted kids. We’d been married 10 years before we decided to roll the dice. And after those initial “suicide months,” we fell into parenthood like strawberries in chocolate fondue. Swallowed up and coated with a layer of life so delicious neither of us could believe it.

So on the night I peed on the stick, called my husband, and poured the rest of my wine down the sink, I began to embrace this next chapter. It’s a chapter I would have never had the courage—or energy– to write for myself.  The universe made the decision for me (along with some recklessness on our part), and I’m going with it. I’ve always enjoyed a good game of blackjack–and have done quite well at times. Time to double down.

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