I'm Having a Hard Time

I'm having a hard time.

Today would have been the due date of our baby, had our first attempt after Eddie been successful. I remember doing the calculations on the way home from the clinic and saying to Eddie, "if this works, we'll have a new baby just in time for Christmas!" It's hard for me to accept that not only do I not have a huge, gravid belly right now, my womb is completely empty. I won't hold my newborn today and it's looking a bit grim for 2017 as well.

"Rachel, relax. Don't think like that. Stay positive. You're putting too much pressure on yourself."

They don't get it. My mind obsesses over it.

This time around, I know what I'm missing out on. While trying to conceive Eddie I had a good idea what it was like to be pregnant, give birth, care for a baby and raise a child. This time around I know what it is like because I've already experienced it first hand. It's remarkable. Indescribable in this short text. It's all-consuming to wonder if I'll ever feel it all again.

Work's hard.
I care for other people's babies while desperately wanting another of my own.

Friendships are hard.
Her - "Come upstairs with me while I breastfeed!"
Me - "Ok!"
Also me - Sure, let me sit there like a doofus watching you do something I hope so desperately to be able to do again someday.

Her- "Want to hold the baby?"
Me - "Yes!"
Also me - No.

Family relationships are hard.
Her - "We're pregnant!"
Us - "Congratulations!" *hugs*
Her - "Your reactions weren't that good."
(There's enough guilt inside, do not assign me more.)

Holidays are hard.
For Christmas, I caved and bought Eddie a baby doll. He is so interested in babies and I figured by now he'd have a real one to play with. I feel sick that I can't give him a sibling.

His birthday is coming up, reminding me that the age gap between him and any potential sibling is growing by the day.

It's a strange feeling, to want something so badly but being so powerless to achieve it.
Unlike any other goal in my life -
I can't study for this.
I can't save up money to buy this.
I can't train for this.

It's out of my control and seemingly out of my reach.

(JF Photography)

The Two Week Wait

For those of you fortunate to not have fertility issues you are blissfully unaware of the acronym TWW. It stands for the "two week wait" and it is the period of time between a pregnancy attempt (in our case ICSI) and the blood work confirmation. These days are painfully long. The days...no, hours...seem to creep by while you wait for a "BFP" (big fat positive). These days are agonizing...but I adore them at the same time.

During these two weeks Eddie and I are hopeful. We day dream.

We discuss the joys of having another baby boy...
Me - "Remember that sleeper we have with the monster on the butt? Oh, I'd love to have another baby to wear that and cuddle him in it!"

...or a girl!
Eddie - "Maybe we'll have a girl this time, Mitz!"

We fantasize what our future baby will look like. 
Eddie - "What if this time the baby has your dark hair?!"
Me - "I'd love that!"

We bounce our ideas and feelings off of each other.
Me - (in true nurse form) "From 0-10, 10 being the most, how sure are you that it worked this time?"

When we lie in bed at night we talk about the possibility of multiples. 
Me - "Oh gosh, Frick. Can you imagine? What would we do?!"
Eddie - "We'd just do it. We're a good team."

During these two weeks, there is nothing more to do but to hope, pray and wait. Aside from inserting hormones 3 times a day, there is nothing more I can do to facilitate a pregnancy. I'm not required to be on bed rest and there aren't many other restrictions either. There is nothing more the doctors, nurses or biologists can do for us. It's just a matter of time. Either the embryo(s) stick or they don't.

I am terrified during these two weeks but there is still hope.

I pray to God and I ask him to keep us here. I ask him to let me hold on to these days a little longer. I feel good right now. I feel hopeful. I feel faithful. I feel trustful. I feel cheerful.
I know all too well that in a few days this enthusiastic and optimistic feeling can feel like a hallucination. 

After about a week goes by I feel the courage to take a pregnancy test. This just so happened to fall on my birthday and I took it to be the perfect sign.

On December 2, 2016, for my 4th 29th birthday I received this...



Negative pregnancy test number 212, followed in the evening by the soul-crushing bleeding.

For the seventh time in a row, my hopes and dreams, no, OUR hopes and dreams for the future...much like my uterine lining...were torn from me, flushed away like they never existed.

America vs. Germany

380.   You never see people in athletic wear unless, wait for it, they were just working out! Shocker...and unfortunate because I like to bebop around in some yoga pants/workout leggings.

381.   If a German asks "Do you do sports?" they're not asking you if you play an organized sport or on a team, they mean "Do you work out?" Either way...

382.   The bagpipes in German are called "Dudelsack." DUDELSACK!

383.   You know Crayola Crayons? I'm talkin' like the 64 pack or even the 96/120 pack with the sharpener in the back!...yea, um, nonexistent in Germany. German kids get the primary and secondary colors. Forget tertiary. Poor Kinder don't even know 'bout that...

384.   Germans transfer money from personal bank account to personal bank account a lot more often. It's terribly convenient. 

385.   Germans, or maybe Europeans in general, put a lot more layers of clothes of their babies. They will put a onesie on under the sleeper and then put booties/socks on on top of the *already footed* sleeper. In the US, just the sleeper and "Gute Nacht, baby!"

386.   Doesn't stop after the infant stage either. I once got a picture from a friend that said "It's finally spring!" and her daughter was wearing a hat, a scarf, a jacket, a sweater, (I assume a onesie under that), a skirt, thick tights, socks on top, then boots. Couldn't help but think, "Yep, spring has sprung...and so has her core temperature."

387.   The US is the only country that requires its citizens to file taxes irregardless of where they live/work in the world. A-nnoying.

388.   I was denied a bank account in Switzerland for the mere fact that I have a US Passport.

389.   I was also denied benefits at work because Switzerland is not in contract with the US to do so with people living outside the Swiss borders.

Enough

July 12

Finally, he's gone. I usually hate when your daddy leaves but I'm happy today is Tuesday. He'll be gone at wrestling practice for hours. As for you, you're gone too, off dreaming sweet toddler dreams. I imagine you dreaming of your favorites right now - pretzels, watermelon, whales, and maybe Bob the Train. I just laid you down for the night. You didn't fight me at all. You probably know how kaput I am. ("kaputt" in German - exhausted, defeated, broken). I haven't been there lately for you. For about a week I've been mentally absent. You're a smart boy. I know you've noticed. 

We tried again, your daddy and I, to give you a sibling but it didn't work. This makes attempt number three. I'm sorry, son.

I'm happy I'm alone tonight. As soon as your daddy's motorcycle pulled away, the tears came. I'm really hurting this cycle and I can't seem to shake this funk. I crept into your room. I'm sorry if the rattle of the baby gate disturbed your sleep. I needed to lay eyes on you. You mean so much to me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed these last few days. You looked so peaceful. I pray you're happy with your life...all 1.5 years of it.

The next thing I knew, I raised up on my tippy-toes and lifted my one leg to straddle your crib side. I gingerly lowered myself next to you. I guess laying eyes on you wasn't enough. I needed to be next to you.

I wasn't sure the crib would hold me too but then I remembered "It's made in Germany. You know those Germans make good stuff!" (-ShamWow Guy, 2009). There was the perfect amount of space for me next to you. Did you do that on purpose, son? Did you leave me a little room because you knew I would be in here later? Our cuddles are getting a bit sparse these days so it's nice to have some time alone again with you. 

The tears started streaming again. I cried really hard. A deep, silent cry. My forehead touching yours. My eyes were clenched so tightly I thought my eyelids could turn inside out. I tried not to make a sound. My silent weeps spliced into multiple exhalations. The drool came. It's been a while since I wept this hard. I used to cry like this alone in the shower or on the bathroom floor. My drool and snot would string to the cold tile, but tonight, your blanket catches them. One of my sniffles startles you in your sleep and you kick me in my tummy. It reminded me of your little kicks and jabs from the inside. We used to always be this close, you and I. Do you remember? I loved you even back then.

I want you to know you're enough for me. If you're all I get in this life time, you are enough. You always were enough. What makes me sad is I'm not enough for you. Daddy and I will not always be enough for you. You love me now but one day you'll find me annoying. One day, in the not-so-far-away future, you may consider us embarrassing....impossible even! I want you to have siblings. I want you to have someone who knows exactly what you mean when you complain about your parents.

Your daddy has 3 siblings and mommy has 3 siblings - all of us very different from each other. We both agree it was a lot of fun growing up in a family with four kids. I want to provide you with a similar experience.

I want your children to have cousins. Maybe they still will, from your partner's side. But a high chance at cousins. Cousins are right behind siblings when it comes to the coolest people on the earth. I want you to know this, experience that, feel it first hand.

I don't want the burden to be only on you when I'm old. When my heart stops beating I want someone to be there to comfort you because they're in the same boat as you. I pray you have a supportive partner to help you through that time but a sibling would truly understand how you're feeling.

With this attempt I was so sure it would work. I even took this picture of you with your siblings on the way home from the clinic.

(See you in heaven babies number 11 and 12)

I sent the picture to your Oma labeling it the first sibling picture together.

It didn't work. I'm so sorry, son.

...

In the days following the transfer, Eddie and I went for a ride on his motorcycle. It was so relaxing on his bike that day. I remember the sun and the wind. My grandma always tells me that when I want something to happen, not only to pray about it (on my knees), but to say it out loud. So I did. On the back of the motorcycle, hugging Eddie tight, traveling at comfortable speeds and high speeds, I said the words out loud.

"I'm pregnant."

I whispered it at first.

"I'm pregnant."

Then a bit louder. Inside my helmet, it felt like I was shouting it, but I realized I was saying to only to myself and God.

Next, I opened the face shield and said it aloud into the open air whizzing by me.

"I'm pregnant."

Eddie turned around and asked if I said something. I smiled and denied it.

I waited for Eddie to give it some gas and during a loud engine rev, I yelled out, to myself and to God, but to anyone listening at all.

"I'M PREGNAAAAANT!"

About a week later, it was confirmed that I was positively NOT pregnant.

America vs. Germany

370.   German mailboxes don't have little red flags attached to them.

371.   In Switzerland they still have milk deliveries. Under the mailbox there is a box that is open for the milk, eggs, cheese, and/or yogurt deliveries.

372.   The Germans have a saying that if someone doesn't eat everything on their plate, it means there will be bad weather the next day.

373.   On New Year's Eve it is tradition to watch "Dinner for One" on T.V. It is an English play from the 1960s that eveyone thought I was crazy for never watching/hearing of before.

374.  Only 46 percent of Germans own their homes.

375.  "Schmuck" in German means "jewelry." "Schmuck" in English has a very different meaning of "a person who is foolish or obnoxious." Very different. 

376.   Apparently, in German schools they call such words "False Friends." Two words that you think translate easily or directly but don't.

377.   The average German carries 112€ in their wallet. Average American? Hm...0$? We use our credit/debit cards way more in the US.

378.   This one I am pretty sure about but my research abilities are a bit limited. German men sit to pee. In public place, no. But at home and visiting other people's home, they typically sit down. German guy friends, am I right? Back me up here. As a girl with two brothers, I will tell you that that is NOT the case back home. I will teach my son to sit and pee at home too. I've lived here for 5 years and have never sat in pee nor cleaned it from the side of the toilet. Imagine that!

379.   With the warm weather, this one needs repeated. Germans do not drink warm beer.

The Woman in the Mirror

May, 2016 - Attempt 2

"Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry. You knew this was going to happen. You knew it didn't work. You took four pregnancy tests, Rachel. Four! Two of them in secrecy and two with Eddie and all of them were negative, remember? You knew your period was going to come eventually, so suck it up." I can hear the woman in the mirror reprimanding me as I wash my hands in the sink.

Do I feel like staying in the bathroom for a while and crying? Yes. Can I? No. Because in barges my toddler. He's getting fussy and probably wants a snack or to go outside. I can't completely lose it, not yet at least. I'll have to wait for his afternoon nap to do that.

Rewinding a bit -

I left off my last blog letting everyone know we were trying again and our attempt in March was unsuccessful. I also mentioned we had used up the rest of our frozen embryos meaning our next attempt, this one, would have to be a "fresh cycle." That means more hormones, more sub cutaneous shots in the abdomen, more blood work, more ultrasounds, more pain.

(Before anesthesia, I look like crap. Reappearance of the stork in the background,)

With the hormone stimulation I produced 15 eggs. ::cluck cluck:: From the 15 eggs they retrieved, 10 of them fertilized. From the 10 embryos, they froze 5 immediately and monitored the other 5 for 3-5 days. From those 5, 1 didn't make it during the observation period. 2 made it to an early blastocyst stage (5 days old) and were then frozen. The other 2 still left were put back in me 3 days after the egg retrieval. We spoke with the doctors and had requested that they be watched for 5 days their reason for putting them back in after only 3 days of observation was that those two were doing so well that in 2 more days (5 days total) they would have selected those exact two anyway to put back in. The thought is that the uterus may be a better place for them to grow than in the lab. Maybe they wouldn't have made it in the lab but back in me they would have.

(Before embryo transfer)

Fast forwarding a bit -

After a night shift one morning, I went to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. I made sure to buy the most sensitive one as I can never wait the full two weeks before my beta blood test. I need to take one as soon as possible, I don't care what the doctors (or Eddie) say. As the woman behind the counter goes to fetch the test (yes, you have to ask the pharmacist for a pregnancy test in Germany) I yelled after her "ZWEI BITTE!" ("TWO PLEASE!" for you non-German speaking folk...Volk.) She smiled kindly and maybe figured I was an excited new mom. In my head, however, I'm thinking, "it's probably going to be negative, so I better buy another one to test again in a few days." I need to keep my sanity somehow. If I were in America, I probably would have swept the whole shelf of pregnancy tests in my shopping cart. But alas, here I stand, alone, in Germany, buying two pregnancy tests, with a thick accent.

When I got home, it was hard for me not to take the test right then and there. However, they say the results are more accurate when the urine is the most concentrated. That means in the morning for normal people, but for nurses, after you sleep. So I force myself to finally go to sleep after working my night shift and when I awoke, I took the test then.

With our last attempt I didn't even get the chance to pee on a stick. I almost forgot how much it hurts to see one line. Almost. I almost forgot what a slow ache in my stomach it causes. Almost forgot how a negative pregnancy test renders me breathless for a few seconds. My face flushes - in disappointment, in anger, in shame. My heart pounds and I can feel the blood pulsate in my temples. I can hear it swish in my ears. The last pregnancy test I held in my hands was positive. (I still have it...um...is that gross?) I couldn't share my grief with anyone because I wanted to surprise Eddie for (German) Father's Day. How dumb. I even googled "unique ways to surprise expecting dads on Father's day." I took screen shots of the ideas I liked too. How dumb. How dumb, how dumb, how utterly dumb.

I took the second test one or two days later. Again, negative. Again, I sat there alone. I'm pretty sure I deleted the screen shots pf Father's Day ideas as I sat on the bathtub ledge. My reflection mocking me again "You're a fool for thinking it would work on the second try, Rach. A damn fool." I threw the test in the trash but not before secretly stashing it and its box under some other trash and used tissues. Oh crap, the bag and receipt from the pharmacy too! I almost forgot those! I shoved those in there too and put some more toilet paper on top for good measure.

After that, I remember I went to grab something to eat from the kitchen. Want to hear something messed up though? I was still chewing when I got the bright idea to go check the test again. ("But Rachel, it tells you in the directions not to read the test after 10 minutes" Yea, thanks, I know, now hush!) I went back into the bathroom, tossed the used tissues to the side,  and dug out the test. Why? Because, apparently, I love torture, and I needed to read it again. "Maaaaaybe, I didn't give the test enough time. Or maybe I missed the faintest of lines?" Guys, I actually took out my cell phone and turned on the flashlight to get a better look. I tried convincing myself that there is a possibility that the lighting in the bathroom is just too poor and I may have missed it. Are you understanding the desperation? 

Yea, what do ya know, still negative. I strategically placed the test back in the trash for the second time. As I passed by the mirror to turn off the light. I swear I could hear my reflection whisper and shake her head, "Idiot..."

A couple more days pass and Eddie excitedly gets the idea to take a pregnancy test. "Yoohoo..." I think, but I have to play along. I just didn't have the heart to tell him I already knew it didn't work. I humor us all - me, Eddie, God and my judging reflection - the woman in the mirror. Again, negative. Only this time, not alone. It was sweet to watch my husband try to hide his disappointment while trying to simultaneously convince me and himself that it was just too early to take the test.

Fast forward another day or so, pregnancy test numero cuatro, again, negative.

What do you do when you feel so good about another attempt but the rug gets pulled out from under you again? I thought for sure it would work because they chose the best embryos that developed so nicely they didn't even need the full 5 days to grow.

What do you do?

I'll tell ya. You do nothing. You do absolutely. fucking. nothing. 1. Because there's nothing to be done and 2. because you don't have the energy to do anything.

(See ya in heaven babies number 9 and number 10.)

Germany vs. America

360.   Random and morbid fact - a crap ton of people jump in front of trains in Germany. It doesn't get reported in the newspapers but you hear it from witnesses, first responders and/or clean up crew. The news doesn't report it because they don't want others to get the same idea, I think I heard before. My personal explanation is because not many people own guns here. Moreover, in America, we don't travel by train very often.

361.   There is a tower in the area that I live that seems to be the people's choice to jump from to commit suicide. It's not even that high. They've tried to build higher fences at the top to prevent it.

362.   Bread and salt is a traditional housewarming gift in Germany.

363.   Germans love scarves. Maybe it's all Europeans. As soon as the temp goes below 70...scarves! Scarves, scarves everywhere!

364.   I live in a small village and when I go for a walk I greet the people I see. Apparently, this is not true outside of small villages. I was walking with some friends and we were pushing our strollers and when someone walked past us I would say "hello" until my friend asked me "Rachel, do you know them?" "Uh, no." "Then why are you saying 'hi?'" Oh, ok, whoops.

365.   There are no local news stations on T.V. here. Eddie said there are in bigger cities. If you want to get the scoop on the goings-on in your area, you read the newspaper. #aintnobodygottimeforthat

366.   Similarly, no annoying local car dealership ads.

367.   Lebkuchenherzen are gingerbread hearts that are typically seen at Oktoberfest and other German festivals/carnivals. I think people wear them around their necks too. They usually have cute German sayings on them.

This one says "Please arrive punctual to all appointments."

368.   Flammkuchen/Flammwaie are popular in the area where I live (southern Germany). They kinda look like really thin pizzas. I like a basic one with a creamy cheese, onions and thin strips of bacon. The name's literal translation is "flame cake." They're typically baked in wood-fired ovens.

369.   When you buy ice cream in Germany, they will put your ice cream cone in one of these while you pay and they handle your money. In America, they hand them to you one by one as they are made.

Secrets

How wonderful it must be to turn to your partner and ask "Want to have a baby?" or say "I think I'm ready for another baby! Are you?" And it happens. How splendid. How perfect! Or, gosh, to think, what if it wasn't even planned?! Like BAM! it just happened and everyone is thrilled! Yay, hooray! How exciting! How...romantic, even. There is nothing romantic about this journey. It's a bunch of hoping and failing...and shame and pain and frustration and secrets. 

When we decide to have a baby, there are dozens of people involved in the process. There is no late night intimacy or daytime spontaneity. (Well, I mean, there still is ::wink:: it just has nothing to do with baby-making.) It's not just charting out my ovulation and doing it. I first need to coordinate my personal wants with insurance companies, banks, secretaries, nurses, doctors - andrologists, embryologists, gynecologists, anesthesiologists, phlebotomists, pharmacists, lab techs, doctors' assistants, and even transport drivers. (I'm probably even forgetting a few specialists.) Literally, dozens of people are involved in the making of a Frick Baby.

Many people have asked me if I think it will be different this time around. If I will hurt less because I already have one child. I don't know how to answer that. I talked about it a bit at the end of the post - I Didn't Expect That. The volume level of the pain/stress of infertility was turned down while I was pregnant and for about the first 6 months after Eddie's birth. Eventually, I started hearing the negative thoughts begin to whisper in my ear again.
"You'll never be pregnant again."
"Enjoy the one you have."
"You'll never give him a sibling."
"You can't afford any more attempts."
"You can't handle any more attempts."
Today, those voices are loud and clear.

I want another baby. I want another baby badly and sometimes I feel selfish or greedy for it. Maybe even you're thinking it too. "Rachel, quit complaining. You got one. Be happy." Or maybe when I finally got pregnant last time you thought "Ugh, finally, maybe now she will stop her belly achin'!" (Heh, did you catch that small pun, belly achin' = pregnancy.) 

Sorry to disappoint, friends. Here we are again.

Many of you have offered your support. You've given me kind words of encouragement. Some of you have said you're happy I'm writing again. The thing is is I'm always writing, I'm just not posting. I have many drafts typed up. I write when I feel something strong. I don't post it because I think, "What's another infertility blog? There's literally thousands out there. Better ones. Why follow mine?"

I'm aware that not everyone that asks about us or that reads this cares. I get bombarded at work a lot. People point blank ask me in front of a group of people if we're trying again. I can't help but wonder if they ask other coworkers if they are planning on going home and having sexual intercourse with their sig others to try to make a baby too. It's hard to keep our attempts secret from people at work as I am usually written off sick.

Some of you may only be curious. It's strange to think that my suffering could be seen as a form of entertainment to some. While surfing Facebook one evening, "Hm, I'm bored. Nothing good here. Oh wait, look at that. Rachel posted another blog. Nice. That chick has got some major issues. Let's see what she's crying about today."

Then I think, I don't know, maybe you read this because you know me. Maybe you know others that have opened up about their struggles. When you hear about infertility or IVF/ICSI you can put a face to it now. 

(One face of infertility, mine. Waiting on a lounge chair that may or may not be specifically built to elevate the legs...to keep the embryos/sperm in with gravity? In my hands is an important red form (that I talk about a bit later) and also my "Customer Loyalty Card" (not really what it's called) for our fertility clinic. I don't even know what kind of information is on that. I assume details of our previous attempts. I'll ask next time.)

Or maybe if we go back a few chapters earlier, this whole mess started because of cancer. Chemotherapy killed Eddie's cancer, but also his sperm. Maybe you'll think twice about lighting up that next cig or not lathering up with some SPF 30 or higher sunscreen. Even the most treatable cancers can have lifelong effects.

Ok, let's rewind a bit.

So obviously, we're trying again. In my last post I mentioned "my one year old" and "my 13-month-old." And the very observant may even have noticed I was wearing boots and a scarf in the last pictures. Currently, I go to my appointments in a sundress with my almost 1.5 yr old. (It's easier to lift a dress/skirt than it is to drop trou...it's all about practicality these days.) So, not only are we back at it, we've been at it for a while.

I didn't tell anyone this time. Not even close friends and family. Don't take it personally that I didn't tell you or that I didn't write about it. My own mother didn't even know. I can still hear her complaining "Rachel! You need to tell me these things! I need to know when you're being put to sleep!" I dreamt of breaking the news to my family in America in person. We were planning a trip to the States in late May and I thought "How cool would it be to be picked up from the airport sporting a small baby bump?! To unveil it in my bikini on our family vacation?" I would love to see the look on my mom's, grandma's, aunt's, cousins', friends' faces in real life. My American friends and family never got the chance to see my big belly or feel the kicks.

Get this: I even kept it a secret from Eddie. Yea, you read that correctly. I wanted to completely catch him off guard. Like a normal person, maybe. After we do a treatment, he starts expecting something after about a week or so. Either a scream of excitement or despair from the bathroom. (It's usually the latter.) This time, I wanted to go at it solo. Hit him with the news that I'm pregnant completely out of nowhere.

Well, it didn't work.
The secret didn't work.
And the pregnancy attempt didn't work.

I was able to go to a few appointments and blood draws without him getting too suspicious of my absence. I coordinated things after my night shifts and told him I had to work a bit later. I told him I was meeting friends for lunch but drove an hour north to our fertility clinic. However, when it came down to the point where we both needed to sign the red form, I just couldn't bring myself to forge his signature. No matter how good my intentions were, I had to come clean. 

This attempt used up the last two of our frozen embryos. I was pretty sure they were two girls and I kept referring to them as such until it was obvious it hadn't worked. They were the last ones leftover from Eddie's batch.

(These girls waited over a year in a freezer for me, but just didn't make it.)

My grandma is convinced that I will meet all these babies one day. That I will be able to care for them in heaven. I don't know how to feel about that. They never attached to me but they were parts of us. They existed. Very briefly, but I have pictures of each one of our embryos to prove it. Sometimes, I dream of their little faces. Would they have looked like my son? Would they have looked like me? To picture Eddie and I chasing around a dozen (ok, not quite, but those two make #7 and #8) kids in heaven makes me smile...and perspire at the same time.

Germany vs. America

350.   If someone invites you out to a restaurant in Germany, that means that they are paying for your meal. "Ich lade dich ein." Literal translation - "I'm inviting you." Germans in America shouldn't make that assumption.

351.   People still iron in Germany. They wash, dry and immediately iron the clothes. I often see clothes hung out to dry here but in the States, not so much anymore. Sorry, Ed, but your fancier shirts get hung and gravity can work out the wrinkles until you're ready to wear them again. Also, I am not wasting my time ironing a basic T-Shirt. Call the Gestapo, I'm just not doing it. If something is still wrinkled when you go to wear it, by all means, iron it yourself. I refuse.

352.   Similarly, dryers are very intense here. When my clothes are in the middle of drying, I can't even touch them. Not just the metal buttons or zippers, but the fabric itself, that's how hot they get. I feel like my dryers in the US were never like that. Maybe that's why they hang dry them?

353.   Furthermore, it's commonplace to iron baby clothes. Apparently, it kills the germs. My mother-in-law was pretty surprised to learn my stance on ironing as she used to wash, boil, hang dry and iron her babies' cloth diapers. (Yes, hang dry them in the winter of Kazakhstan.)

354.   Speaking of winter, the cold is a HUGE issue over here. I mentioned socks in another "fact" of mine and not wearing a hat means you will get an ear infect but check this...not wearing socks will cause a bladder infection.

355.   Sitting on a cold surface...you guessed it...bladder infection! It's VERY frustrating to have studied the human body for years and to hear this "fact" come up ALL.THE.TIME! All the time. However, just as they could never convince me that sitting on cold concrete causes a bladder infection, I could never convince them otherwise. My coworkers believe this. Nurses! Doctors, people! European doctors pass this along. This is not a joke!

356.   Air conditioning causes illnesses here. ::eye roll:: Stop. STOP! 
Them - "It's true, Rachel. Whenever I go on vacation, I always get sick."
Me - "Yea? Because of the AC? Not because of the germs in the airports or the hundreds of people sharing recirculated air inside of a capsule for hours? Ok." ::thumbs up::

357.   God forbid a child drink a refrigerated drink or a drink with ice in it! (I don't even know what they think will happen if a child drinks a cold drink. I don't even think they know themselves what would happen if a child drinks a cold drink.) Spoiler alert: nothing. Been drinking cold drinks for 30+ years. Literally, everyone I know drank cold drinks as a child. All of them, still kickin' it. It literally has a 100% survival rate. 
Never once:
Teacher - "Class, little Timmy won't be joining us in school for a while."
Students - "Why? What happened?"
Teacher - "He drank refigerated juice!"
Students - ::gasp:: "The horror! The negligence!"

358.   Drafts are the worst thing imaginable for children. Every single time I am at any type of gathering with babies or children the mothers and grandmothers are always yelling at people to close the windows and the doors. "Es zieht! Mach die Türe zu! ES ZIEHT!" (Literal translation - "It's pulling. Close the doors. IT'S PULLING!") "There's a draft! Close the doors! THERE'S A DRAFT!") 

359.   I don't see many people wearing shorts here. If you prematurely wear a dress/shorts you will most likely get a comment from a German somewhere along the lines of "Du wünscht dir aber Sommer!" (Literal translation - "You're rather wishing for summer!") A.K.A. I find it slightly inappropriate that you're wearing such little clothing already.

It's Not What It Looks Like

As we pull into the parking garage at the fertility clinic, my pulse quickens. Eddie drives down to the lower parking level even though the green light clearly indicates there are parking spots available on this level. I question his decision and he replies, "Oh, sorry, habit." We haven't been here in about two years yet we're falling into old habits? That surprises and scares me at the same time. He backs into the ridiculously small, European parking spot and I feel a lump in my throat. Ed asks me how the spacing is on my side and I open my mouth to speak but, of the three words "it looks good," only "good" squeaks out. Shit. Did he notice? He will surely scold me if he notices me getting emotional already. I can't let him see that I'm having a reaction this soon in the game or he may call the whole thing off.

As I get out of the car, I hastily fan away the tears in my eyes and pack "Baby" Eddie into his stroller. Our family of 3 boards the elevator and I feel the all-too-familiar dizziness kick in. Why is it that EVERY TIME I step foot on and off of it, I feel light-headed? I'm convinced they siphon the oxygen out of this tiny elevator. It's either that or my body reacts physically to the stress associated with this building.

We enter the office and I give the place a once-over. Nothing has seemed to change except for some of the staff. They ask my name and I think "You don't know me now but you will soon." If this turns out anything like the last time(s), they'll soon recognize my face when I open the office door. I'm not even sure these women know what I look like when I smile as I leave about 75% of my appointments in tears.

It was strange walking those halls holding my son's hand. Just down the hall was where he was cryopreserved for months (frozen in sub-zero temps). He had the tendency to run (waddle) in that direction. I wondered if something in him remembered this place. How many times have these walls seen me cry? Walk with my head held low? This time, I was looking down, but into the eyes of my 13 month old son. Hallelujah!

The waiting room is different now. It's the exact same but it has a different feeling. My skin used to crawl as I waited here back in 2014. I waited with my eyes closed in fear of getting a glimpse of someone else's gravid stomach. Before, I never looked twice at the toys in the corner but now I am removing my one-year-old from his stroller to go play with them.

(Note: There may have been an egg mix up as my son looks NOTHING like me.)

As I entertain Eddie with a toy T-Rex, I see another couple round the corner into the waiting room...and I freeze. I have the gut feeling that I'm doing something wrong, something I shouldn't be doing. I abruptly sit up straight and the smile fades from my face. I swallow hard and begin to have an imaginary conversation in my head.

Dear fellow-woman-in-the-waiting-room-at-the-fertility-clinic,

I know what this may look like. We brought our son with us to our appointment today. If you're anything like the former me, you may be thinking "Look, lady, you already have a baby. Go home and give the rest of us a chance to get our first!" My son, much like his Daddy, is a charmer. He noticed you walk in and hasn't taken his eyes off of you since...(my son, that is). I wish I could whisper to him to be gentle with you. I tell him to wave "hi" but he doesn't. Maybe it's better that way. I don't know how deep your wounds are or how badly you're aching for a little one yourself. He finally flashes you a smile, complete with his new pearly, stubby teeth. You give him a genuine smile back and I relax a bit. Part of me wants to blurt out "IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!" I feel the urge to explain myself to you. I feel the need to confess that I wasn't always this happy! I am laughing and whispering things to my son now but if we could rewind 2 years you'd see me weeping on my bathroom tiled floor. You'd see that my arms weren't always full with a toddler, stroller, diaper bag, sippy cup, toys, etc. Instead you'd see me and my husband sitting exactly where you are now - alone, tired, exhausted, desperate, broken...bro-ken. I'm tempted to tell you not to give up - that it does work sometimes. If we make eye contact again, I may hold up 4 fingers and point to my son. I'll mouth "he was our fourth try." But none of that happens. No words are spoken at all. Our name is called first to go back and see the doctor and I feel the need to apologize that, yet again, it was our turn before yours.

(It's been a while since my Psychology 101 course, is this some twisted form of projection?)

I gather up Eddie and jokingly tell him "Let's go meet your earthly creator!" Our doctor greets us at her office door and tells us how nice it is to see us with a baby. We talk about the specifics of our next attempt and a bit about our last one. I find it strange that she keeps referring to our last attempt, the successful one, the one that made us parents, as "the blastocyst." 

"Blastocyst: A thin-walled hollow structure in early embryonic development that contains a cluster of cells called the inner cell mass from which the embryo arises. The outer layer of cells gives rise to the placenta and other supporting tissues needed for fetal development within the uterus while the inner cell mass cells gives rise to the tissues of the body. -MedicineNet

In my head, I laugh thinking "Yea, 'the blastocyst' you keep referencing is trying to gnaw on the corner of your desk right now."

I watched her flip through our chart and briefly saw the picture of "the blastocyst." I wanted to snatch it from the pile and show it to my son and say "Looky here! You were 5 days old here!" but I held myself back.

We left the office and gathered our coats from the waiting room. I looked at the couple still seated and contemplated wishing them luck. On second thought, she may already be pregnant. For all I know, she could have 3 little ones at home and is finally enjoying some peace and quiet. After all, maybe it's not what it looks like.

America vs. Germany

340.   It is considered bad luck to wish someone a happy birthday before their actual birthday. Similarly, if you are going to have a party, it must be in the days after your birthday. Never before.

341.   They do not have wedding showers or baby showers here. Probably because celebrating anything before the actual event date brings bad luck?

342.    You still have to weigh many fruit/vegetable produce before proceeding to the check-out. Whereas, in America, they weigh it for you at the register.

343.   Sometimes after a guest speaker gives a presentation or a speech, the crowd or the students will knock on the desk/table in front of them to show their appreciation instead of clapping. That was strange the first time I witnessed that.

344.   In nursing school and throughout my career as a nurse, we were always taught to clean a newborns eyes from the corner of the eye and outward. Apparently, once you cross the Prime Meridian, it's the opposite. They clean babies' eyes from the outside inward toward the tear duct.

345.   The cops don't sit on the side of the roads as much here. You're more likely to see a speeding camera than a cruiser hiding.

346.   Companies are no longer allowed to give plastic bags out for free. You must now pay for them in an attempt to reduce the plastic pollution. Makes me think of this in the US -

 

347.   When getting on and off an elevator, you greet the others taking a ride with you.

348.   I may have mentioned this one before but the "Close Door" button on elevators actually works in Europe.

349.   Since having a baby I learned that animals make different sounds over here too.

Frog - "ribbit ribbit" - "qvuark qvuark"

Duck - "quack quack" - "nack nack nack nack"

Rooster - "cock-a-doodle-do" - "kickeree kee"

Dog - "bow wow" - "vow vow"

Donkey - "hee haw" - "ee aw"

Horses don't say neigh...they don't really say anything.

I Didn't Expect That

It's been a while since I wrote anything...exactly one year to date. Turns out, I've been a bit busy raising a little human for the past 365 days. So far, so good! I've only accidentally hurt him a few times. There was the fan incident, the time I was eating a sandwich and offered him a bite, oh and let the record show, he has fallen off the bed under my watch.

Honestly, I don't even know where to start with this one.

With my last post I kinda, sorta, accidentally wished him out a bit early...about a month earlier than expected. Oops. My water broke in the middle of the night and 16 hours later, he was there! He spent about 9 days in the NICU. I have a new respect for the parents of my patients.



All-in-all my birthing experience was great. I'm thankful for that because I know it can go awry all too often. I'm going to try to keep this as real as possible without getting too gross. There are a few things from being a new mom that I didn't expect.

I didn't expect SO much amniotic fluid/"water." 

I didn't expect 16 hours of pain to feel like it flew by.





I didn't expect so much pain when I peed...I actually had to breathe through it like contractions. Sorry! No more birthing details but first-time mothers need warned!

I didn't expect to feel so lonely after all was said and done. It was late the night of his birth. I had no roommate, Eddie had gone home for the night, and they had taken Baby Eddie to the Neonatal ICU. My room was empty, my belly was empty, and crib next to me was empty. For 9 months I hadn't been alone-alone. I swear I felt him kick that night and the next morning...probably just my organs going back to their original places...but weird.




I didn't expect to cry when he cried. He had to be stuck multiple times for blood draws and for IV fluids. During one of his last blood draws they needed a venous sample and as I held him and tried to calm him tears began to well up in my eyes. I was one of "those moms." I think I'll blame it on the hormones. I'm tougher than that!



I didn't expect to cry so much because of breastfeeding. Way too much at first changed to worry if he was getting anything at all. Oh, the uncertainties! 



I didn't expect to feel slightly panicky when he's not with me. I know my mother-in-law likes to be alone with him. I can also tell when she's trying to shoo me away. It usually has to do with his feeding schedule and I hate the thought of him needing me and me not being there. Although, it has gotten better as the months have passed.

Similarly, I didn't expect to feel Mama Bear anger so soon. When Eddie was just a few weeks old, we went to a friend's birthday party. Eddie was in his stroller a few feet away from me while I was dancing on the dance floor. His stroller was next to our table where a few of our friends were still sitting. One of our guy friends said he would keep and eye on the baby and let me know when he starts to wake up. I kept turning around to check on him and to make sure he was still sleeping. I knew he would wake up hungry soon. Each time I turned around the guy told me everything was fine and to go back to dancing. Until the one time I came to peek in his stroller and the man placed his two fingers on my bottom lip and pushed me back from the stroller ...  I don't recall ever wanting to punch a grown man in the face so badly in my life. Rage filled my body. I actually felt my face flush. And strangely enough, there was no doubt in my mind that I could knock him out with one punch too. The anger made me so confident that I could go fisticuffs with a man twice my size. Luckily, I was able to get it together and I simply told him he was annoying me (in not so nice Russian words). I pushed the stroller outside to cool off a bit. Word to the wise, never push a mom away from her baby. Don't. Do. It.

I didn't expect to co-sleep. Eddie has a baybed right next to ours, yet we both sleep a little more soundly right next to each other. Despite me preaching about safe sleep and SIDS prevention at work.



I didn't expect such bizarre advice. It's common knowledge that everyone likes to give advice to new parents but some of them were just plain STRANGE!
-Put a hat on him or he will get an ear infection.
-Don't put his ears in the bath water or he will get an ear infection.
-Should he get said ear infection, squirt breast milk in his ears.
-Also squirt breast milk in his belly button and eyes.
-If he hasn't pooped for a while, put a piece of soap in his butt.
-Watch out! He head is lower than his feet.
-Give him water when he has the hiccups.
-Shave his head at 1 year old to get the hair to grow in faster.
-Put fish oil on his stork bite to get it to go away.
-His hands are cold, he is cold.
-His feet are cold, he is cold.
-Isn't he cold?
-You're not going to put a snow suit on him?
-Isn't he cold?
-Put vodka/whiskey on his gums when he teeth start to come in.
-Are you SURE he isn't cold?
-Everything is the "number one choker!" Grapes...number one choker. Hotdogs...number one choker. Bread...number one choker.
-The best thing to clean a baby's bottom with during a diaper change...olive oil. (Croatian roots)
-If you don't satisfy your pregnancy cravings, the baby will be born with a birthmark in the shape of that food. (Irish roots)
-Use a urine compress on sore muscles.

I didn't expect for Teddy, our dog, to be downgraded so abruptly. I realize now he is "just" a dog. I will still refer to him as my son but it's so clearly not even comparable. 



I didn't expect my baby to look nothing like me. I carried him all those months, dreamed of him and pushed him out (intense work, BTW)...all to see zero similarities. Nope, none. I search daily. Sometimes when he smiles, maybe then, but nah, looks just like his dad. Luckily, I think his dad is good looking too.



I didn't expect my body to ache so much. My back hurts (must be because I no longer have the ab muscles I once did). My wrist hurts from carrying him and so many bags. After carrying around a car seat for 1 year, I'm pretty confident I could win an arm wrestling match in a biker bar. Have you felt those things? Is there no better system?

I didn't expect the urge to squeeze, pinch, and bite him to be so strong. I love him so much and think he is so adorable that I have to be careful not to hug him too hard. To quote my best friend Sam, I feel like Elvira from "Tiny Toons." It's crazy to me that, in all my years of working with babies, I've never heard of a baby coming in because the parents squeezed them too much or bit their cheek or sucked in all their hair through their nose. Ok, that last one was a bit weird but the URGE...ugh! Indescribable. 

I didn't expect to sympathize with other parents so strongly. I recently apologized to an old friend for not helping out more when her baby was born. I could have offered to babysit more often or just come over with pizza. I just didn't know. I didn't "get it" then, please forgive me.

I sympathize with complete strangers. Whenever I hear a story involving a child I always think of the parents. A missing child. (The worst! Can't fathom it. Stop.) I think about the mom. Like, what kind of meds is she on to function? If Eddie went missing, I wonder if I could request to be put into a medically induced coma. "Hi, yea, um, I'm going to need heavily sedated. Wake me up when he comes back alive. K, thanks." You'd live your whole life thinking "what if?"

The refugee stories/pictures...no, I can't process that. How blessed am I to have food for my baby? Warm water to bathe him in? Heat? Clean clothes? How would you feel as a mother if you, for some reason or another, couldn't provide? That must be torturous! I never thought about that before I had Eddie, or at least not with such feelings.

I didn't expect to work differently. I've been back to work for a few months now. As a Neonatal ICU nurse in my hospital we have to go to every C-Section and every "high risk" birth. Whenever I attend a birth, I start to get emotional. I think about the parents and how, at this very moment, their lives are about to change. SO much. I think back to my birthing experience and what those hours and minutes meant and felt like to me. I used to look right through the mother. It sounds cold but my patient is the baby and the moms are kind of in the way of me and my patient. Now, when I come into the room, I try to make eye contact with her and give her a reassuring smile from a distance. How scary it must be during the birth for multiple people to barge into the room. We usually stay off to the side in the room but in case we have to get actively involved in the retrieval of the baby I am more encouraging now. I remember during my birth that I just wanted someone to look at me and tell me if I was making progress - that everything was going to be ok.

I didn't expect to be brought to tears from child abuse stories or, thanks Facebook, videos! I stumbled across a video that showed a mother...I can't and won't describe what I saw but it was sickening...and the air was taken from my lungs. Eddie looked at me and asked what was wrong because the color had drained from my face. The tears started streaming uncontrollably from my eyes. Why would she do that? How could she do that? The baby was looking to her for help! Eddie had to hug me until I calmed down. After that, I made him promise me that we'd never call the police, should we find out someone hurt our child like that. I will personally, slowly murder that person and sit contently in a jail cell for a decade (banking on - plea deal, clean record, act of passion, good behavior).


I didn't expect to be so sad to say goodbye to his birth year. 2015 was so good to us. From 2011-2014, my brain was fried with the process of conceiving. God finally blessed us with a pregnancy and healthy baby. I have been focused on that baby ever since. It's not easy raising a baby but the stress has a wonderful purpose. I was at the end of my rope with our 4th try and it was so nice to have "a break." Yes, I'm telling you, a newborn was a break for me from the pains of infertility. For 3 years, I was plagued with negative voices in my head about ever conceiving.

The scary thing is, I'm starting to hear those old familiar voices again. They're whispers now but they're growing louder...I didn't expect to hear them so soon.



*As always, pictures courtesy of Johann Frick at JFPhotography. Thanks Hannes for capturing these memorable moments.